Dim: Hello, Lucy. Had a busy night? We've been working hard, too. Pardon me, Luce.
Mum: But you've not been to school all week, son.
Alex: Got to rest, Mum. Got to get fit. Otherwise I'm liable to miss a lot more school.
Chief Guard Barnes: Violence makes violence.
Alex: Initiative comes to thems that wait.
Alex: Hi, hi, hi there! At last we meet. Our brief govoreet through the letter-hole was not, shall we say, satisfactory, yes?
Frank Alexander: Food all right?
Alex: Great sir, great.
Frank Alexander: Try the wine.
Alex: Appy-polly-loggies. I had something of a pain in the gulliver so had to sleep. I was not awakened when I gave orders for wakening.
Alex: The Durango '95 purred away a real horrowshow - a nice, warm vibraty feeling all through your guttiwuts. And soon it was trees and dark, my brothers, with real country dark.
Alex: You needn't take it any further, sir. You've proved to me that all this ultraviolence and killing is wrong, wrong, and terribly wrong. I've learned me lesson, sir. I've seen now what I've never seen before. I'm cured! Praise god.
Dr. Brodsky: You're not cured yet, boy.
Alex: One thing I could never stand was to see a filthy, dirty old drunkie, howling away at the filthy songs of his fathers and going blurp blurp in between as it might be a filthy old orchestra in his stinking, rotten guts. I could never stand to see anyone like that, whatever his age might be, but more especially when he was real old like this one was.
Alex: Viddy well, little brother. Viddy well.
Alex: And the first thing that flashed into my gulliver was that I'd like to have her right down there on the floor with the old in-out, real savage.
Alex: Hey dad, there's a strange fella sittin' on the sofa munchy-wunching lomticks of toast.
Dad: That's Joe. He lives here now. The lodger, that's what he is. He rents your room.
Alex: As we walked along the flatblock marina, I was calm on the outside, but thinking all the time. So now it was to be Georgie the general, saying what we should do and what not to do, and Dim as his mindless greeding bulldog. But suddenly I viddied that thinking was for the gloopy ones and that the oomny ones use, like, inspiration and what Bog sends. For now it was lovely music that came to my aid. There was a window open with the stereo on and I viddied right at once what to do.
Alex: Ho, ho, ho! Well, if it isn't fat stinking billy goat Billy Boy in poison! How art thou, thou globby bottle of cheap, stinking chip oil? Come and get one in the yarbles, if ya have any yarbles, you eunuch jelly thou.
Minister: Punishment means nothing to them, . They enjoy their so-called punishment.
Alex: You're absolutely right, sir.
Chief Guard Barnes: Shut your bleeding hole.
Minister: You seem to have a whole ward to yourself, my boy.
Alex: Yes, sir, and a very lonely place it is too, sir, when I wake up in the middle of the night with my pain.
Minister: Yes... well, good to see you on the mend.
Alex: It had been a wonderful evening and what I needed now to give it the perfect ending was a bit of the old Ludwig van.
Alex: What you got back home, little sister, to play your fuzzy warbles on? I bet you got little save pitiful, portable picnic players. Come with uncle and hear all proper! Hear angel trumpets and devil trombones. You are invited.
Alex: We were all feeling a bit shagged and fagged and fashed, it being a night of no small expenditure.