BIRD: Still fookin' hot here, Buff. Got any plans for today?
BUFFALO: I'm off shortly to meet the Bobbsey Twins for breakfast. Me Ma and her identical twin sister are a pair of ducks, to say the least. They live to confound the locals with their matching trousseaus. We're dining at the Ocean Breeze, where the wheezers line up to ask me: "Are they... you know... twins?" I roll my eyes to Heaven, groping for a bon mot... "No, love, they're clones. Gregory Peck had them done up in Brazil for Terry Gilliam. They're part of the master plan to corner the market on pastel-colored pants suits and matching costume jewelry, like." Pray for me, dude.
BIRD: Film at eleven.
BUFFALO: Hey, wait. What about the title?
BIRD: Ah, yes. Well,... Puck here...
BUFFALO: Puck's on Sky Pee?
BUFFALO: Hi, Puck. How's it hanging, dude?
PUCK: Wikkid. Am I in?
BIRD: Oh, you're in all right.
BUFFALO: But you might want to push just a little bit more. That's better.
PUCK: Way-hey! So what do we do now, like?
BIRD: You tell us 50 ways to leave your octopus.
PUCK: Well, I was thinking we could leave it on the roof, like. Whose octopus is it, anyway?
BUFFALO: Well, we got it for a sketch. Long story.
BIRD: And now we don't know what to do with the booger.
PUCK: Wot about the zoo, like?
BUFFALO: Tried it. Apparently, kiddies experience "considerable difficulties attempting to bond with today's octopus".
PUCK: Well, then why not cook the fooker and eat it, like?
BIRD: Er, that was the sketch. Shhh, don't give it away, we're looking at big money from the BBC for that little baby.
PUCK: OK. Well, what if you hoover it up then chuck the bag away, like?
BUFFALO: Fookin' A!
BIRD: Now why didn't we think of that?
BUFFALO: Coz we're kinda fond of the bagpipes shagging, ink squirting octopod.
PUCK: But youse was saying you want to leave it.
BIRD: On amicable terms, of course.
BUFFALO: We'd like it to go to a new home.
BIRD: YOUR home.
PUCK: Well, I dunno wot me mam'll have to say about that.
BUFFALO: He's very affectionate.
BIRD: Waves his little tentacles at you when it's time for lunch.
BUFFALO: And plays Nessun Dorma of an evening on the old bagpipes.
PUCK: Well, I dunno...
BIRD: You'll love him.
BUFFALO: Be teaching him tricks in no time.
BIRD: Taking him down the park for walks.
BUFFALO: Introducing him to all your friends.
BIRD: He's a real chick magnet.
BUFFALO: You'll be screwing like a weasel with all the minxes in town within a week. Guaranteed.
PUCK: Well, if you put it like that.
BIRD: That's settled then. Welcome to the flog, Puck.
PUCK: Cheers, guys.
BUFFALO: Film at eleven.
BIRD: Write the cheque out, Momma.
BUFFALO: Arf, arf!