Rex the Runt

Wendy:
Let's have an adventure!

Bad Bob:
But we've got no money.

Dr. Dogg:
Blackpool, mate - and don't spare the horses.

Dr. Dogg:
Saved my bacon, and no mistake.

Bad Bob:
Look. A voucher. Oo! 10p off all sheds! Today only!

Wendy:
What do you need a shed for? You've got a perfectly good shed, Bob.

Bad Bob:
[sniffs sadly] Used to have. Last night it was mindlessly thrown into a river by some squirrels.

[Rex and Co. are flying over the Pacific in a helicopter]

Rex:
Bob, you're supposed to be navigating!

Bad Bob:
I am doing! Go on, ask me anything.

Rex:
Okay. What are our co-ordinates?

Bad Bob:
Over the Pacific. There, you see?

Rex:
What time is it?

Bad Bob:
Dinnertime!

Rex:
How much fuel have we got left?

Bad Bob:
We're gonna run... out... now!

[the chopper sputters to a halt and drops like a stone]

Rex:
Ah, there now, you see, this looks like Vince's frontal lobe. I reckon that Random Pavarotti Disease is a psychological phenomena and that we should be able to locate it in the otherworldliness of his brain.

Bad Bob:
Ow, rubbish! I reckon his disease is a physical problem. Let's go and look at his bum.

Vince:
Jam!

Vince:
You plant your brassicas in May, cover them in mulch.

Wendy:
Rex, if I die, I want you to tell my mum.

Rex:
[Very drunk] And now, now... we're avin' adventures. And we're on the telly, ain't that right, gang?

[Bad Bob and Wendy groan in annoyance]

Easter Island Head:
Little top up, old chap?

Rex:
Thanks, yeah... Yeah, on the telly, right now, honest! [drinks more from the flask] On our way to New Zealand, ran out of shool and crashed the hekilopter.

Rex:
Well, okay, cheers guys... yeah... great... Thanks for the... huh ink... [Turns to see Bob and Wendy glaring at him] What? What? I think they're a really nice bunch!

Wendy:
They're creepy, AND they're aliens!

Rex:
Ah, just jealous you are!

Bad Bob:
Oh, here we go...

Rex:
Yeah jealous. They think I'm cute and intelligent and they gave me a drink and they're nicer to me... than you lot have ever been... that's for sure [passes out]

Additional voices:
ARMY CAPTAIN: What's your name then?

Rex:
Hello, I'm Rex, and welcome to my world... sir! [salutes, title theme plays]

Additional voices:
ARMY CAPTAIN: What's thaaaat? There's no room for wobbly bobbly dribbly squigglyness in this army! Get out!

Rex:
[opening the lottery cheque] Congratulations, you have won the sum of... Birmingham.

Bad Bob:
Come on Rex, what have we won?

Rex:
...Birmingham.

Rex:
The events you are about to witness may disgust and apall you. We strongly urge young people and those of a weak character not to emulate these dramatised scenes of unspeakable wounding. It's not big, it's not clever and it's not legal. Oh, no.

Rex:
Your honour, we plead mitigating circumstances. Firstly, the weapon in question was a toy gun, using a cap strip and potato pellet hybrid. While we all abhore the use of such a replica as a plaything, it does not in itself constitute a danger to life. Secondly, Mr Vince is made of plastecine and can sustain no damage.

Rex:
These are really quite nice, if you marinate them overnight.