I’m not a roman mum, I’m a kike, a yid, a heebie, a hook-nose, I’m kosher mum, I’m a Red Sea pedestrian, and proud of it!
Manacles! Ooooh, my idea of heaven, is to be allowed to be put in manacles. Just for a few hours. They must think the sun shines out your ass, sonny. This is boring. Let’s go watch a stoning.
All right, but apart from the sanitation, medicine, education, wine, public order, irrigation, roads, the fresh water system and public health, what have the Romans ever done for us? Well, I think I should point out first, Brian, in all fairness, we are not, in fact, the rescue committee. However, I have been asked to read the following prepare statement on behalf of the movement. “We the People’s Front of Judea, brackets, officials, end brackets, do hereby convey our sincere fraternal and sisterly greetings to you, Brian, on this, the occasion of your martyrdom.”
Oh, what wouldn’t I give to be spat at in the face? I sometimes hang awake at night, dreaming of being spat at in the face There’s no Messiah in here. There’s a mess all right, but no Messiah. Now go away!
At this time, a friend shall lose his friend’s hammer and the young shall not know where lieth the things possessed by their fathers that their fathers put there only just the night before, about eight o’clock.
Stwike him, Centuwion! Stwike him vewy wuffly! I will not have my fwends widiculed by the common soldiewy. Anybody else feel like a little… giggle… when I mention my fwiend… Biggus… Dickus? Hey! Your nose is going to be three foot wide across your face by the time I’m finished with you!
There’s no Messiah in here. There’s a mess all right, but no Messiah. Now go away! Hey! Your nose is going to be three foot wide across your face by the time I’m finished with you!