RUDYARD: You can't have French words in an English game! ANTIGONE: But we're closer to France! GEORGIE: Vive le Piffling.

(DOOR FLIES OPEN.) ANTIGONE: WHAT?! RUDYARD: I'm back. ANTIGONE: I'd rather look at the corpses! (DOOR SLAMS SHUT.)

ANTIGONE: I'm perfectly capable of going outside to do ordinary things and to live my life like an ordinary person! Now, if you need me, I'll be in the mortuary! GoodNIGHT! (DOOR SLAMS) GEORGIE: Does she sleep down there? RUDYARD: We won't pull on that particular thread.

Sir, your other jacket's been eaten by moths. I saw the whole thing.

RUDYARD: What sort of benefits do you think he offers? Discounts? Private healthcare? ANTIGONE: Maybe he doesn't ruin every waking moment of his employees' lives. RUDYARD: Puh! Hippy.

Mr. Askey. The man we've been waiting to die for six weeks. Because, so help me, I need to embalm somebody, and it could quite easily be you.

His spirit is undoubtedly looking down at us from his place with God. Unless you don't believe in that sort of thing, which I won't hold against you. Mind you, God probably will, unless He doesn't exist, in which case He won't have anything to complain about, really.

RUDYARD: Five hundred pounds?! Are you mad? SID: Listen, I've got a dynamite story here about a cat with twins—it's going to cost you a lot to bump that off the front page!

SID: Antigone Funn? We all thought you were dead. ANTIGONE: In many ways, Mr. Marlowe, I am.

ANTIGONE: There's this chemical agent, I made it myself: it removes every stain and blemish from the corpse's skin. But if you spill it on yourself, you get a rash and your... clothes fall off. ERIC: Well. ANTIGONE: (CONFLICTED TREMOR) Yes.

RUDYARD: You can't have French words in an English game! ANTIGONE: But we're closer to France! GEORGIE: Vive le Piffling.

RUDYARD: This isn't my only gig today, you know! I've got Mr. Askey to measure up in half an hour. JERRY: He's not dead. RUDYARD: He doesn't look healthy, though, does he?

RUDYARD: This isn't my only gig today, you know! I've got Mr. Askey to measure up in half an hour. JERRY: He's not dead. RUDYARD: He doesn't look healthy, though, does he?

RUDYARD: We're valued for our tradition and service. SID: Then what d'you need the advert for? RUDYARD: To remind everyone that they value us for our tradition and service.

RUDYARD: What's on page five? GEORGIE: A cat's had twins. RUDYARD: Are we in the story? GEORGIE: 'A local man also has a twin cat.'

ANTIGONE: But I don't go out on Friday. I go out on Thursday. HERBERT: But you could go out on a Friday just this once? ANTIGONE: I don't understand. HERBERT: Some people... leave the house more than once a week. ANTIGONE: I'm sorry, you're just not making any sense.

You see, I want to tell you all about a man named Rudyard Funn. He owns the funeral parlour, and he's responsible for all the funerals in Piffling Vale, and today he experienced what was undoubtedly the worst day of his life—which, to be honest, was probably long overdue.

ERIC: You mean you're not watching the film? RUDYARD: No. I mean yes. ERIC: OK, what's happened so far? RUDYARD: Er. Nothing? ERIC: Well, his story checks out.

RUDYARD: You can't have French words in an English game! ANTIGONE: But we're closer to France! GEORGIE: Vive le Piffling.

(DOOR FLIES OPEN.) ANTIGONE: WHAT?! RUDYARD: I'm back. ANTIGONE: I'd rather look at the corpses! (DOOR SLAMS SHUT.)