Subject: Shabby...

Shabby: (lasciviously) Oh yeah ... you know... get 'em when they're young eh... eh! OOOOH! Know what I mean eh, oooh! (makes obscene gesture involving elbow)
Father :Well I'm sure you know what I mean, Mr ... er... Mr... er .. er?
Shabby: Shabby... Ken Shabby...
Father: Mr Shabby... I just want to make sure that you'll be able to look after daughter...
Shabby: Oh yeah, yeah. I'll be able to look after 'er all right sport, eh, know what I mean, eh emggh!
Father: And, er, what job do you do?
Shabby: I clean out public lavatories.
Father: Is there promotion involved?
Shabby: Oh yeah, yeah. (produces handkerchief and cleans throat horribly into it) After five years they give me a brush... eurggha eurgh ... I'm sorry squire, I've gobbed on your carpet...
Father: And, ah, where are you going to live?
Shabby: Well round at my gran's... she trains polecats, but most of them have suffocated so there should be a bit of spare room in the attic, eh. Know what I mean. Oooh!
Father: And when do you expect to get married?
Shabby: Oh, right away sport. Right away... you know... I haven't had it for weeks...
Father: Well look I'll phone the bishop and see if we can get the Abbey...
Shabby: Oh, diarrhoea. (coughing fit)
(edited)

Woppa, have you stopped drinking again?

Fan-tabulous.

Dudley Moore and Peter Cook, if I'm not mistaken.
(edited)

No you fool. I am Imran.

Must ignore the idiot.....


Damn.

Jane Mansfield.

Huge tits, lovely arse.

But them damn lobsters can't resist themselves,

Lobsterissimus Bumbicissimus...

Ha!

I read Peter Cook's biography recently. It was good.