Brian: Can I borrow a tea-bag? Tim: [sarcastically] Only if you bring it back. [pauses] You can HAVE a tea-bag, Brian, you can't borrow one. [turns around, sees Brian dressed as a painting] You've got paint on you. Brian: It's a literal tribute to the self reflexivity of Rembrandt. Tim: Did he like it? Brian: He's dead. Tim: Bloody hell, that really backfired. Brian: What are you playing? Tim: Tomb Raider 3. Brian: She's drowning. Tim: Yeah. Brian: Is that the point of the game? Tim: Depends what mood you're in really. Brian: What sort of mood are you in then? Tim: Well, I got a letter from my ex-girlfriend this morning, 3 months too late, explaining why she dumped me. It was full of 'you'll always be special' and 'I'll always love you' platitudes designed to make me feel better whilst simultaneously appeasing her deep seated sense of guilt for dumping me, running off with a slimy little city boy called Duane and destroying my faith in everything which is good and pure. Brian: So it didn't really work then.
I eat too much, I swear too much, I hit too many children with a stout stick and I poke too many old ladies out of the way as they shuffle forth to their respective doom. Arguably (though not by me) I drown too many women too.