(getting up from a deckchair and screaming with indignation and rage:
he has a knotted handkerchief on his head and his trousers are rolled
up to the knees)
Well I, I think that, er, nobody who has gone abroad
should be allowed back in the country. I mean, er, blimey! Blimey! If
they're not keen enough to stay here when they're 'ere, why should we
allow them back, er, at the tax-payers' expense? I mean, be fair. I
mean, I don't eat squirrels do I? I mean well perhaps I do one or two
but there's no law against that, is there? It's a free country.
(enter a knight in amour)
I mean if I want to eat a squirrel now and again,
that's me own business, innit? I mean, I'm no racialist. I, oh, oh...
(The knight is carrying a raw chicken. The man apprehensively covers
his head and the knight slams him in the stomach with the chicken)...
--Monty Python (what else?)