Hope Springs: It's not her fault she has to wear a falsie.

Sid Fiddler: What do you mean, "a" falsie?

Hope Springs: She's got one bigger than the other.

Sid Fiddler: Is that right?

Hope Springs: No, left.

Connie Philpotts: It's your girls I'm talking about, I've heard them all night long, doors banging ...

Sid Fiddler: Blimey, when you've got young dollies around you have to expect a bit of banging.

Connie Philpotts: Well, I expect you to get them into bed at a reasonable hour.

Sid Fiddler: I promise you, I'll do my very best!

Augusta Prodworthy: And since I am strongly of the opinion that we are already providing more than enough entertainment for visitors, I wish to propose the motion that the provision of more would be detrimental to the good name of the borough.

Sid Fiddler: Knickers!

Mayor Frederick Bumble: Please, Councillor! I should strike that from the minutes, Miss Drew.

Miss Drew: Ah, I beg your pardon, your worship?

Mayor Frederick Bumble: Don't take down 'knickers'.

Sid Fiddler: Chance would be a fine thing, wouldn't it, love?

Mayor Frederick Bumble: Councillor Fiddler, I really must request you moderate your language while in committee.

Augusta Prodworthy: I second that.

Sid Fiddler: I do beg the Committee's pardon, your worship. But all this bleedin' codswollop about mucking up the good name of the borough gets on my wick!

Miss Drew: Should I...?

Mayor Frederick Bumble: No, no!

Connie Philpotts: Hello, Mrs. Dukes, I thought you were going to the cinema.

Mrs. Dukes: I did, but I had to leave. A young man sat next to me and started to make improper suggestions.

Connie Philpotts: Again? Really, you should complain to the manager.

Mrs. Dukes: I can't - he's after me too, you see!

Connie Philpotts: Well, Mrs. Dukes, perhaps you shouldn't make yourself look quite so attractive.

Mrs. Dukes: Oh it's not that, I can't help it. I give out waves, you know.

Connie Philpotts: Really?

Mrs. Dukes: Yes, my late husband used to call it OOMPH!

Connie Philpotts: You and a bunch of beauty queens? It's like asking Dracula to be in charge of a blood bank!

Sid Fiddler: Now, now, wait a minute, that's not true. You know I don't go for beautiful women: I like you.

Connie Philpotts: That does it! Go on! You lecherous so-and-so, go on, GET OUT!

Miss Dawn Brakes: Excuse me, is this the train to the beauty contest?

Peter Potter: Yes, that's right.

Miss Dawn Brakes: Oh good.

[to Paula]

Miss Dawn Brakes: Are you coming?

Paula Perkins: Certainly not!

[Miss Dawn Brakes looks Paula Perkins up and down]

Miss Dawn Brakes: Perhaps you're right.

[Looking into the carriage; to Peter]

Miss Dawn Brakes: Are you in this one?

Peter Potter: That's right, I am.

Miss Dawn Brakes: I'll join you then.

Paula Perkins: [Suspiciously] You didn't tell me anything about a beauty contest!

Peter Potter: I think I'd better go!

Ida Downs: What do you want us to wear?

Sid Fiddler: Oh, anything that brings out your best... points Miss...?

Ida Downs: Downs, Ida Downs.

Sid Fiddler: Ah, I bet you come from Beds.

Ida Downs: No - Bristol.

Sid Fiddler: I should have guessed.

Ida Downs: I've got a rather smashing two-piece swimsuit.

Sid Fiddler: Great - just wear one piece of that!

Ida Downs: Will they publish pictures like that?

Larry: Not in my paper!

Ida Downs: Oh! You're a dirty old man!

Admiral: [to Connie] Mrs. Philpotts, I wish to complain. This young woman molested me.

Ida Downs: Well, I like that!

Admiral: Whether you like it or not, my dear, is quite immaterial.

Sid Fiddler: [to Ida] Yes, all right, darling, I'll sort it out.

Admiral: Cheeky little thing! I'd like to put her across my knee.

Connie Philpotts: I'm sure you would, Admiral!

Miss Bangor: Excuse me, are you going to Fircombe?

Peter Potter: This train's going there, yes.

Sid Fiddler: Connie, have you got a room for this young lady please?

Connie Philpotts: Well, of course, Sidney!

[Handing over the key]

Connie Philpotts: I think you'll find this an ideal one.

Sid Fiddler: Thank you, Connie. Hey, just a minute, that's for the broom cupboard.

Connie Philpotts: That's right: where we keep all the scrubbers!

Sid Fiddler: [to a furious Hope] All right, all right, keep your hair on!

[Hands her another key]

Sid Fiddler: Here, go and change in mine. I'll sort it out later.

Hope Springs: Ta. I heard that - does she fancy you or something?

Sid Fiddler: You know how it is, a widow with a place like this, things get on top of her.

Hope Springs: Yeah, I bet they do. Frequently!

Augusta Prodworthy: Is that you, Rosemary?

Rosemary: Yes.

Augusta Prodworthy: [In reference to the morning newspaper with a picture of Mayor Bumble on the front with his trousers down] Have you seen this?

Rosemary: Yes - bloody disgrace! Still, what can you expect from a man?

[at the railway station, Susan asks Peter where the train is going in a flirtatious manner]

Susan Brooks: Are we all right for Fircombe?

Peter Potter: [eyes glued on Susan] I'm sure you are!

Paula Perkins: I'm beginning to see why you don't want me down there.