Robin Hood: For my first order of business, I wish to appoint a new Sheriff of Rottingham. My friend, Achoo.
Achoo: All right.
Crowd: A black sheriff?
Blinkin: He's black?
Achoo: And why not? It worked in Blazing Saddles.
Mrs. Doubtfire: I hope you don't mind me being a tad rude, but... How was he? You know, on a scale of 1 to 10?
Miranda: Well, that part was always... Okay.
Mrs. Doubtfire: Just okay? Well, he was probably a Casanova compared to poor old Winston.
Miranda: What was the matter with Winston?
Mrs. Doubtfire: Oh dear, Winston's idea of foreplay was "Effie, brace yourself."
Crawl: Let's just get the rules straight here. There'll be absolutely no partying in this hall between the hours of 5 and 6 in the morning, without my express written permission. OK cool. Carry on.
Max Goldman: If I had known I would be doing a nude scene, I'd have asked for another million.
Wallace: Ah, well, it's no use prevaricating about the bush.
Athletic Cone: I have learned much from watching the Garthok battle. It has weaknesses. I believe I can take it.
Beldar Conehead: Uh-huh. And let me know when Elvis gets here.
Charlie Mackenzie: Harriet. Harry-ette. Hard-hearted harbinger of haggis. Beautiful, bemuse-ed, bellicose butcher. Un-trust... ing. Un-know... ing. Un-love... ed?"He wants you back," he screamed into the night air like a fireman going to a window that has no fire... except the passion of his heart. I am lonely. It's really hard. This poem... sucks.