Bedazzled

George Spiggott:
What terrible sins I have working for me. I suppose it's the wages.

George Spiggott:
You fill me with inertia.

Stanley Moon:
Well, I suppose Lust and Gluttony really have to be rather near the bathroom.

Margaret Spencer:
"Dear Miss Spencer, This is just to say cheerio. Yours Sincerely, Stanley Moon. P.S.: I leave you my collection of moths."

Lilian Lust:
Can you hear my pores breathe?

Lilian Lust:
Hot toast - or buttered buns?

George Spiggott:
Don't let me interfere with your doing away with yourself.

George Spiggott:
You realize that suicide's a criminal offense. In less enlightened times they'd have hung you for it.

George Spiggott:
I'm the Horned One. The Devil. Let me give you my card.

George Spiggott:
Oh, um, have you got sixpence? I've only got a million-pound note.

George Spiggott:
You're not wearing nylon underwear, are you? It disintegrates at high speeds.

George Spiggott:
This is the club room. Quite nicely decorated and painted - early Hitler.

George Spiggott:
You see, a soul's rather like your appendix: totally expendable.

George Spiggott:
It's the standard contract. Gives you seven wishes in accordance with the mystic rules of life. Seven Days of the Week, Seven Deadly Sins, Seven Seas, Seven Brides for Seven Brothers...

George Spiggott:
All we need to do now, then, is get it witnessed. Sloth would be best. He's a lawyer.

George Spiggott:
Now, then, what'd you like to be first? Prime Minister? Oh, no, I've made that deal already.

George Spiggott:
You're quite safe. It's only a 300-foot drop.

George Spiggott:
The garden of Eden was a boggy swamp just south of Croydon. You can see it over there.

George Spiggott:
There was a time when I used to get lots of ideas... I thought up the Seven Deadly Sins in one afternoon. The only thing I've come up with recently is advertising.

George Spiggott:
Everything I've ever told you has been a lie. Including that.

Stanley Moon:
Including what?

George Spiggott:
That everything I've ever told has been a lie. That's not true.

Stanley Moon:
I don't know WHAT to believe.

George Spiggott:
Not me, believe me!

George Spiggott:
Just putting a tiny little ventilation hole in this oil tanker.

George Spiggott:
Most of the saints throughout history have been a pain in the neck.

George Spiggott:
Job was what you'd technically describe as a loony.

George Spiggott:
Tell God not to go away. I'll be back in a minute.

George Spiggott:
And the magic word: Julie Andrews!

George Spiggott:
You are the Devil!

Stanley Moon:
Incarnate. Pleased to meet you.

George Spiggott:
We've been hit very badly by this peace scare.

Stanley Moon:
You're a nutcase! You're a bleedin' nutcase!

George Spiggott:
They said the same of Jesus Christ, Freud, and Galileo.

Stanley Moon:
They said it of a lot of nutcases too!

George Spiggott:
You're not as stupid as you look are you, Mr. Moon?

Stanley Moon:
I thought you were called Lucifer.

George Spiggott:
I know. "The Bringer of the Light" it used to be. Sounded a bit poofy to me.

Stanley Moon:
Here, my ice lolly's melted. You really must be the Devil.

George Spiggott:
Incarnate. How d'you do?

Stanley:
What a dreary thing to do — I hope you're proud of yourself.

George:
It was pride that got me into this. I used to be an angel, you know — up in heaven.

Stanley:
Oh yeah, you used to be God's favourite, didn't you?

George:
That's right — "I Love Lucifer" it was in those days.

Stanley:
If you're the devil, why didn't you try that vicar over there?

George:
Oh no, he's one of ours.

Stanley Moon:
Apart from the way He moves, what's God really like? I mean, what colour is He?

George Spiggott:
He's all colours of the rainbow, many-hued.

Stanley Moon:
But He is English, isn't He?

George Spiggott:
Oh yes. Very upper class.

[George climbs up on a London postbox.]

George Spiggott:
I'm God. This is my throne, see? All around me are the cherubim, seraphim, continually crying 'Holy, holy, holy'. the angels, archangels, that sort of thing. Now you be me, Lucifer, the loveliest angel of them all.

Stanley Moon:
What do I do?

George Spiggott:
Well, sort of dance around praising me, mainly...

Stanley Moon:
What sort of things do I say?

George Spiggott:
Anything that comes into your head that's nice - how beautiful I am, how wise I am, how handsome...that sort of thing. Come on, start dancing.

Stanley Moon:
You're wise!, You're beautiful! You're handsome!

George Spiggott:
Thank you very much.

Stanley Moon:
The universe! What a wonderful idea - take my hat off to you!

George Spiggott:
Thank you.

Stanley Moon:
Trees - terrific! Water - another good one!

George Spiggott:
That was a good one...

Stanley Moon:
Yes! Sex - top marks!

George Spiggott:
Now make it more personal... a bit more fulsome please. Come on.

Stanley Moon:
Immortal... invisible... you're handsome... you're glorious... you're the most beautiful person in the WORLD!

[Stanley performs a headstand, removes his hat and wipes his brow.]

Stanley Moon:
Here, I'm getting a bit bored with this. Can't we change places?

George Spiggott:
That's exactly how I felt.

The Devil:
Do hope this isn't an awkward moment.

The Devil:
Suicide, really — that's the last thing you should try.

The Devil:
Pick your clothes up. You're due down at the Foreign Office.

The Devil:
Release your doo-dahs.

The Devil:
In the words of Marcel Proust — and this applies to any woman in the world — if you can stay up and listen with a fair degree of attention to whatever garbage, no matter how stupid it is, that they're coming out with, till ten minutes past four in the morning — you're in!

The Devil:
I lost Mussolini that way, all that work, then right at the end with the rope around his neck, he says, 'Scusi. Mille regretti,' and up he goes!"

The Devil:
Everything I've ever told you's been a lie, including that.

The Devil:
Don't ever believe anything I've said; believe me.

The Devil:
He's OMNIPRESENT. I'm just highly maneuverable.

The Devil:
I've done a good deed. I gave that little twit his soul back. Wasn't that generous?

The Devil:
All right, you great git, you've asked for it. I'll cover the world in Tastee-Freez and Wimpy Burgers. I'll fill it with concrete runways, motorways, aircraft, television, automobiles, advertising, plastic flowers, frozen food and supersonic bangs. I'll make it so noisy and disgusting that even you'll be ashamed of yourself! No wonder you've so few friends; you're unbelievable!

Stanley Moon:
I, Stanley Moon, hereinafter and in the hereafter to be known as 'The Damned' — The damned?!