Natalie: Hello, David. I mean "sir." Shit, I can't believe I've just said that. Oh, and now I've gone and said "shit" - twice. I'm so sorry, sir.
Prime Minister: It's fine, it's fine. You could've said "fuck", and then we'd have been in real trouble.
Natalie: Thank you, sir. I did have an awful premonition that I was going to fuck up on the first day. Oh, piss it!
Harry: Tell me, exactly, how long it is that you've been working here?
Sarah: Two years, seven months, three days and, I suppose, what, two hours?
Harry: And how long have you been in love with Karl, our enigmatic chief designer?
Sarah: Ahm, two years, seven months, three days and, I suppose, an hour and thirty minutes.
Harry: I thought as much.
Sarah: Do you think everybody knows?
Sarah: Do you think Karl knows?
Sarah: Oh that is bad news.
Harry: Well I just thought maybe the time had come to do something about it.
Sarah: Like what?
Harry: Invite him out for a drink and then after about twenty minutes casually drop into the conversation the fact that you'd like to marry him and have lots of sex and babies.
Karen: Tell me, what would you do in my position?
Harry: What position is that?
Karen: Imagine your husband bought a gold necklace and come Christmas gave it to somebody else...
Harry: Oh, Karen...
Karen: Would you wait around to find out if it's just a necklace, or if it's sex and a necklace, or if worst of all it's a necklace and love? Would you stay, knowing life would always be a little bit worse? Or would you cut and run?
Harry: Oh, God. I am so in the wrong. The classic fool.
Karen: Yes, but you've also made a fool out of me, and you've made the life I lead foolish too.
DJ: Well. Thanks for that, Bill.
Billy Mack: For what?
DJ: Well, for actually giving a real answer to a question. Doesn't often happen here on "Radio Watford" I can tell you.
Billy Mack: Ask me anything you like, I'll tell you the truth.
DJ: Uh... Best shag you've ever had?
Billy Mack: Britney Spears.
Billy Mack: No, only kidding. She was rubbish.
Natalie: He says no one's going to fancy a girl with thighs the size of big tree trunks. Not a nice guy, actually, in the end.
Prime Minister: Right. Goodness. Well, well. You know, being Prime Minister, I could just have him murdered.
Natalie: Thank you, sir. I'll think about it.
Prime Minister: Do. The SAS are absolutely charming. Ruthless trained killers are just a phone call away.
Parkinson: This must be a very exciting moment for you, fighting for the Christmas number one. How's it looking so far?
Billy Mack: Very bad indeed. Blue are outselling me five to one. But I'm hoping for a late surge. And if I reach number one, I promise to sing the song stark naked on TV on Christmas Eve.
Parkinson: Do you mean that?
Billy Mack: Well of course I mean it. Do you want a preview? You old flirt.
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