BMr. Barnard
What do you want?
MMan
Well I was told outside...
BMr. Barnard
Don't give me that you snotty-faced heap of parrot droppings!
MMan
What?
BMr. Barnard
Shut your festering gob you tit! Your type makes me puke! You vacuous toffee-nosed malodorous pervert!
MMan
Look, I came here for an argument!
BMr. Barnard
[apologetic] Oh, I'm sorry. This is abuse. No, you want room 12A next door.
MMan
I see, sorry!
BMr. Barnard
Not at all. [the man exits] Stupid git.
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