(To Ali G): My skin is so dry. So for being a bad boy, I want you to rub oil into me, paying special attention to my breasts and my batty crease.
An' he bes free times as old as herself, he wailed, an' ugly as a squid ! But he bes rich — rich as any marchant — an' for the bread an' the fixin's an' the gold she bes takin' 'im.
An' he bes free times as old as herself,
an' ugly as a squid ! But he bes rich — rich as any marchant — an' for the bread an' the fixin's an' the gold she bes takin' 'im.
When the great pow'r that e'en the gods commands, / Who ſends the bolts from his [Jupiter's] almighty hands, / Summon'd th' immortals, who obey'd his call, / He thus addreſs'd them in th' olympian hall.
I don’t believe the story you have been telling me, either, and think it far more likely that you are hiding from justice on account of some devil’s work you have been engaged in. Bah! Tell your story to the marines!
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