ROGER THE SHRUBBER: Are you saying 'ni' to that old woman?
ARTHUR: Erm,... yes.
ROGER: Oh, what sad times are these when passing ruffians can say 'ni' at will to old ladies. There is a pestilence upon this land. Nothing is sacred. Even those who arrange and design shrubberies are under considerable economic stress at this period in history.
ARTHUR: Did you say 'shrubberies'?
ROGER: Yes. Shrubberies are my trade. I am a shrubber. My name is 'Roger the Shrubber'. I arrange, design, and sell shrubberies.
French Soldier: I don't want to talk to you, no more, you empty-headed animal, food trough wiper. I fart in your general direction. You mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries.
(actually, from the same newspaper)