Can I tempt you Marge? Just a small one. Excellent nosh, Petunia. A bit more. Usually just a fry-up for me, what with 12 dogs. A bit more. That’s it, boy. You want to try a little drop of brandy?
A little drop of brandy-brandy windy-wandy for Rippy-pippy-pooh? What are you smirking at? Where did you
send the boy Vernon? St. Brutus’. It’s a fine institution for hopeless cases. Do they use a cane at St. Brutus’, boy? Oh, yeah. Yeah, I’ve been beaten loads of times. Excellent. I won’t have these namby-pamby wishy-washy nonsense about not beating
people who deserve it. You mustn’t blame yourself about how this one turned out, Vernon. It’s all to do with blood. Bad blood will out. What is it the boy’s father did, Petunia? Nothing. He didn’t work, he was unemployed. And a drunk too, no doubt. That’s a lie. What did you say? My dad wasn’t a drunk. Don’t worry, don’t fuss Petunia. I have a very firm grip. I think it’s time you went to bed. Quiet Vernon. You, clean it up.