Plubnic burp

    Mr T leapt out from a banana-bush (el), wheelied wildly, wellied wobblily, cleared his throat, stoat, goat and moat (sorry) and started climbing into the floor.

    "Well, that's just about all we've got room for on this page," lied Jeremy Beadle, who was dying of bubnic plag. "Well, you should visit the dentist more frequently," lied Jeremy Beadle, who was dying of plubnic burp. "Well, thank you for watching — and remember, next time the star of the show could be," said Jeremy Beadle, who was dying of trognic blurk. "Hello, it's MEEEE!" said non-Beadlo. "You," finished the sentence yes-Beadlop.

    "Hello, my name's John Collins," said Neil Kinnock, "and I'd like to explain Labour's tax-eating proposals."

    "Non capisco," said Michelangelo, who didn't.

    "Non capiscum," responded the Czech Philharmonic, as it certainly wasn't pepper.