Wallace:
Cracking toast, Gromit!
Wallace:
Ah, well, it's no use prevaricating about the bush...
Wallace:
They're techno-trousers, ex-NASA, fantastic for walkies!
Wallace:
It's the wrong trousers Gromit, and they've gone wrong!
[
last lines]
Wallace:
Ah, but I do like a bit of gorgonzola!
Wallace:
[
of the trapdoor that slid him out of bed onto the kitchen chair] Well, that went as well as could be expected, didn't it, hmm? Though I might have to make a small adjustment to the drop, a touch painful on reentry.
Wallace:
No more lodgers - more trouble than they're worth!
Wallace:
[
as he goes flying around the room] Don't worry, Gromit! Everything's under control!
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