"She's a nice girl, but she doesn't have any breasts. It's got to be like making love to a twelve-year-old boy."
"You're driving too fast!"
"The speed limit is 35, and I'm doing 30."
"Look out for that stop sign!"
"It's two blocks away . . ."
"You're too close to the parked cars!"
"If I move any farther to the left, we'll be in the on-coming lane."
"A yellow light doesn't mean 'speed up!'"
"Perhaps Her Highness would care to drive herself?"
"Don't worry, men, they couldn't hit an elephant at this dist-"
"When I die, I want to be cremated, and have my ashes scattered on the peasants."
"Umm, okay . . . do they have to be full-time peasants, or can I rent them for the occasion?"
"Any cops around?"
"Just the one behind us, why?"
"No, your honour, I didn't steal the car. I found it before it was lost."
"Once we pull the pin, Mr. Grenade is no longer our friend."
"Icebergs ahead? What's the worst that could possibly happen?"
"Jesus Christ! Does he think we killed her?"
"Well . . . he does now."
"You can't say that Dallas hasn't been good to you today, Mr. President."
"Read my lips: no new taxes!"
"Your honour, I didn't make an illegal u-turn, I made a series of interconnected, ninety-degree left-hand turns."
"But, occifer, I'm not half as think as you drunk I am."
"You were in the military. I'm surprised you're not worried about Y2K."
"That's because you people are worrying about how you're going to staff the houses if it happens. Me, I'm going to grab my rifle and my kevlar and head for the hills . . ."
"This doesn't look so bad . . . this isn't so bad . . . umm . . . can't I just take the chairlift back down the hill?"
"Sir, do you know how fast you were going?"
"Yep."
"I will not send American boys ten thousand miles away from home to do a job that Vietnamese boys should be doing for themselves."
"Come on, baby, I swear I'll pull out . . ."
"What's that red light on the dashboard mean?"
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