|
One day in Northern Ireland ...
|
|
|
|
 | |  |
| Ha, ha, ha, ha! I have captured you, you wicked alien, and you will no longer be able to corrupt Irish culture with your devilish crop circles. | |
 | |  |
|
 |
 | |  |
| You sodding gloopy soomka, my droogs will save me. We're here, and we're queer, and there's nothing you can do about it. | |
 | |  |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 | |  |
| Oh yeah! We'll see about that. Tobor, whack this alien upside the head! | |
 | |  |
|
 |
 | |  |
| I cannot comply mistress. The first law of robotics prevents me from harming a human being. | |
 | |  |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 | |  |
| What the sodding hell is wrong with you?! Are your brains made out of cal? This is a grahzny alien, not a human being. | |
 | |  |
|
 |
 | |  |
| Excuse my faulty programming, but all you fleshlings are the same to me. I cannot discriminate between you. | |
 | |  |
|
|
|