The Goodies

(coming in and finding Tim out cold on the ground) Bill: Oh, hello… what's the matter with him, then? Graeme: I killed him. Bill: Oh you are careless, y-you really are, honestly! What's for dinner, Graeme? Graeme: We were doing Kung Fu… Bill: I'm not eating that!

Bill: Oh that Kung Fu, load of rubbish, doesn't work that. Tim: (wakes up) What happened? Bill: There you see, that proves it doesn't it. You said he was dead! Like Chinese food that is… half an hour later you have to kill him again.

Tim: (about Ecky Thump) Is it good for hurting people? Bill: Honestly… really! You come on like a poncy, public school pansy. Underneath you're a savage little devil you, aren't you? (Tim nods enthusiastically)

Graeme: Ecky Thump! You know, it's our own fault. We should of let him keep his little secret. Tim: Little secret? He just belted us with black puddings! Graeme: It's extremely effective. Tim: Yeah, extremely hard!

(about setting up Ecky Thump classes) Bill: Who am I to deprive the world of a little harmful fun, eh?

(Bill has left to march on Parliament) Tim: Right, that is the end of civilisation, as we know it. Graeme: Not necessarily. Now how are we gonna stop him? Tim: I don't know… Graeme: I do. (smiles smugly for a moment) Tim: Well how? Graeme: Well it's obvious isn't it?! He's useless without his pudding! Tim: Aren't we all?

(plotting to stop Bill) Graeme: How are we gonna get our hands on his pudding? Tim: Most of all, on everybody's pudding!

(Graeme has just fallen into a vat of black pudding) Tim: I found the recipe! 500 gallons of pigs blood, 3 grosse of calves stomachs, 400… oh, poor little tom kittens. Monosodium glutamate, rats brains, dung… hey get out of that!!! Graeme: What? Tim: You'll absolutely ruin the flavour.