bout an enormous pile of meat they stole] chard Rich: Good lord Eddie, how'd you get all that meat down your trousers! ward Catflap: That's what all the girls say. chard Rich: Smut is the last recourse of the emotional cripple, Eddie. For it is a psychological truism that they talk about that which they cannot do. ward Catflap: Oh, is that why you're always talking about acting, plop-pants?
uring a brainstorming session to come up with a new idea for an advert] ward Catflap: I've always thought that Corn Flakes look a bit like people.
chard Rich: We've got two problems. No food, and the Nolan Sisters. What should we do? ward Catflap: Eat the Nolans!
ward Catflap: Richie, if you don't stop talking, I am going to cut off your head, put it in the microwave until it goes pink, mash it up with a bit of milk and butter, and ram it up your backside!
chard Rich: [Eddie is sleeping in Richie's bed] What's the matter with your bed? ward Catflap: It's covered in lager. chard Rich: You mean, you threw up on it. ward Catflap: There was a certain amount of unpleasantness, yeah. I don't see what you're so upset about, I've been very considerate. I could've easily thrown up on your bed and slept in my own. chard Rich: And what is wrong with the lavatory? ward Catflap: Richie. You know I hate sleeping in the lavatory, you can never get comfy.
