[the boys manipulate T-Rex's voicebox to amplify their call for help:]
Bill: Right, here we go. Help, please help us! We are trapped - repeat, trapped! - inside a prehistoric monster. Billions and billions of years old. Miles below ground. If you can't send help, at least send us a good ventriloquist.
[peering into the hole Graeme has just plunged into]
Tim: Oi, Graeme? You were right.... Good grief, I can't see the bottom!
Bill: I can't see *any* of him.
Bill: If you can't move, who is going down there?
Tim: [falsetto] You are.
Tim: Yes, you are. We're doing this according to the book. Listen.
Tim: "Rule Number One: Don't do it. Rule Number Two: If you're silly enough to try, one man should remain secured on the surface. He is known as the Anchor Man."
Tim: Right. "The second man will go down the hole. He is known as the Reckless Loony."
Graeme Garden: [as they enter the Tyrannosaur's stomach and look at the dried bones littered about] Fascinating! It's lain here undisturbed since the Cretaceous Era! Look at this - the remains of its last meal!
Bill: [Starts rooting through the bones] Oh yes, very tasty, too. Look at this. A couple pterodactyls, for starters. A sabertooth tiger, one buffalo off-the-bone, and one cheese and chutney sandwich...
Bill: Wait a minute. I thought you said this had lain here since the Cretaceous Era.
Graeme Garden: I did.
Bill: Well, there weren't any Sabertooth Tigers then, you fool! The subfamily of Sabertooth Tigers originated in the Oligocene period!
Bill: Would you mind telling me why that "stalactite" there has a gold filling?
Tim: HELP! We've been gobbled by a prehistoric monster!
Bill: Tim! Panicking does not help!
Tim: Yes it does!
Bill: Yes it does...
Graeme Garden: Stop it, you two - that isn't doing any good! We'll just have to try and lift it. Right, one, two, three, HEAVE!
[They strain and struggle to re-open the dinosaur's mouth, with minimal success]
Tim: Aaah! My hand! My hand! It's caught between it's teeth! IT'S TEETH!
Bill: All right, all right, all right. Oy, Graeme! You got a toothpick?
Graeme Garden: No, you fool! One, two, three...
[He and Bill lift the mouth enough to get Tim's hand free but can't get it open the rest of the way]
Graeme Garden: Oh dear, this is no good. We'll just have to find another way out.
Tim: Just be careful WHICH one you choose.
Bill: [Bickering with Tim] I'll tell YOU something, mate - we only keep you on because you can type!
Tim: That's not true! I do the washing up as well. Which is more than you do, you... you...!
[Finds himself unable to come up with an insult]
Tim: Oh, get your hair cut!
Bill: Hair? What about YOUR hair? You look like Susan Hampshire!
Tim: Maybe, maybe! But at least I don't DRESS like her! Trouser suits and necklaces...
Bill: Yeah, well I've seen you getting dressed, haven't I? Yes, and I happen to know that YOU tuck your shirt inside your underpants! You do!
Tim: Only in the winter!
Tim: [Offended] Ooh! Oh, that does it! If you want me, I shall be in the spleen!
Graeme Garden: [pondering how to get out of the T-rex's innards] I wonder if I could get up its nose?
Bill: With the very greatest of ease, I should think! You get up mine, mate!
Graeme Garden: [after he and Tim escape, he sees Bill's not with them] Bill! Bill!
Tim: Never mind him, let's go home!
Graeme Garden: [Splutters] But we can't just leave him! I mean, I know you don't like him...
Tim: That has got nothing to do with it! I was thinking of the insurance!