Edward Catflap: [During a brainstorming session to come up with a new idea for an advert] I've always thought that Corn Flakes look a bit like people.
Richard Rich: [sighs] And after briefly dipping his toe in the waters of reason, the man with no brain happily retreats to frollic on Insanity beach.
Richard Rich: [off screen] Oh, I'm stretched on the rack of my own genius!
Ralph Filthy: And what is wrong with the boy Richie?
Edward Catflap: Well, he's trying to write a novel but he keeps on coming up against the same huge lack of talent.
Richard Rich: Despairing of modern technology, I allowed my genius to flow through a simple, old fashioned medium. I dug out me old ballpoint.
Edward Catflap: Oo-er.
Richard Rich: Please Eddie, I'm not in the mood.
Ralph Filthy: So you have written a nov then?
Richard Rich: Better. I have mastered the highest and most complex art form known to man: I have perfected a game show formula.
Richard Rich: This is my minder, Edward Catflap.
Jumbo Whiffy: Terrific, terrific, well look, go get yourselves in there and we'll have a drink, you pair of old tarts.
[laughs and slaps Richie on the back as he pushes him in]
Edward Catflap: Don't mind if we do, you rectum-faced bucket of sex sauce.
Jumbo Whiffy: You've met Jill, I take it? I don't know what I'd do without her, terrific pair of eh... eyes, eh?
[indicating her bosom with his hands as he laughs]
Richard Rich: Yeah, and fantastic knockers as well, hasn't she?
Jumbo Whiffy: Richie, let me put it this way: when I first came into this office, there was a fat old drunk sat behind that desk mumbling platitudes. And it was me. And I'm still there. You see the way I'm thinking, Richard?
Richard Rich: Yes.
Edward Catflap: No.
Richard Rich: Selina Scott! Am I forever to be surrounded by poltroons?