"D'ye hear thon Paulin one! Jaysis ... ye'd near think he'd ate a dictionary!"

"Away outta thon! Sure thon wee stripe o' piss doesn't look like he ates anyhing. A good feed would do the crayter the very best! ... Mine yoo ... thon Eamonn Holmes boyo wud ate a dictionary if it was in front of him! Or an encyclopeeja. Or the good book itself!"

"He wud in sowl! He's the boy wud ate, I dare say! He didn't get a hole on him thon size from sendin' the dinner plate till heez ma wi a cupla spuds still left on it!"

"Not at all! The same boy wud ast if there wuz anawr drap left in the pot! The size of him! He's blew up like a poisoned pup!"

"I'd say thon boy's champ wud be swimmin' in butter!"

"Oh stop! Riverin' wi butter! And it drippin' aff heez oul wobbly chins!"

"And then he'd let an oul' rift outta him and waddle on down to the Ashburn or the Silverwood to try to get his oul graisy kisser roun some wee drunk girl from out the country."

"He's the fella to be watched. You mark my words, now! Oh, God! The thought of his graisy oul' chops bearin' down on ye! And the oul' smell of scallion champ on him. And Arctic Roll. And then maybe he'd have slapped a couple of dozen Baileys intill him, as well!"

"It'd make ye bad, just thinkin' about it!"

"It would, in sowl! Well, there's my bus. I'll see you again."