`Sgt. Pepper's Magical Mystery Board´

[AnyRoad69]

http://beatleshelp.50megs.com/sounds/



Clang: Something must be done. Without the ring, there can be no sacrifice. Without a sacrifice, there will be no congregation. Without a congregation...no more me!
Bhuta: This is so.


Neighbor: Just so natural. And still the same as they was before they was.


John: Stop tryin' to drag things down to your own level. It's immature, son.


Clang: Oh, dear!


Ahme: Is not the Beatle with the ring, he.
Paul: Aren't I?
Ahme: No. Unfortunately. (giggles)


Clang: Hey, Be-a-tle.


Clang: Hey, Be-a-tle. You shall have fun, eh?
John: No thanks, I'm rhythm guitar and mouth organ.


Ringo: What was it that first attracted you to me?
John: Well, you're very polite, aren't you?


George: Ho ho!
John: Ho.
George: Ho ho.
John: Ho.
George: Ho ho ho ho ho ho.
John: Ho.
George: Ho.
John: Ho ho!


John: It was you buzzin'! You naughty boy!


Ahme: Your friend is in mortal danger. I can say no more.

Ahme: He has three hours to live.
Paul: Say no more.
Ahme: I can say no more.


John: What's this?
Ringo: A season ticket. What do you think it is?
John: Oh, I like a lot of seasoning in me soup.


Jeweler: The wheel.
John: Not the wheel!
Jeweler: Even the royal house of Hanover had the wheel, sir.

Ringo: The fire brigade once got my head out of some railings.
John: Did you want them to?
Ringo: No. I used to leave it there when I wasn't using it for school. You can see a lot of the world from railings.


John: How do you feel?
Ringo: I used to use my hands.
John: He used to use his hands.


George: What's your electricity bill like?
Algernon: A sort of long counterfoil.


Algernon: It's green, the earth in America.
Paul: Some places it's brown, you know.


Foot: He's an idiot. Degree in woodwork, I ask you.


Algernon: He's out to rule the world...if he can get a government grant.


Foot: Fantastic! With a ring like that I could, dare I say it, rule the world.


Ahme: Hold! Release him or I shoot!
Foot: Shoot?
Ahme: And I am a dead-eye shot, shooting.


Foot: It's the brain drain. His brain's draining.

John: Now see what you've done with your filthy eastern ways?
Ahme: No, it is Clang, the high priest, who is filthy in his eastern ways.
John: How do we know you're not just as filthy, and sent by him to nick the ring by being filthy, and you've lulled us with your filthy eastern ways?
Paul: What filthy ways are these?


Ahme's mother: You're as bad as your sister, coming home from work all hours and all colors!


Ringo: Gum?
Paul: You're sure it's not mainlining or habit-forming?
George: No, as long as you don't swallow it.


John: Get me the home office. He's wreckin' my home!


John: It's me, you fool!
George: Sorry!
John: Well, stop it!


Thug: Kaili! He is red! Kill him!

George: Hey, it's a thingy. A fiendish thingy!


George: RUN, RINGO!

Superintendent: Red?
Ringo: They have to paint me red before they chop me. It's a different religion from ours…I think.


John: Hold on. It's them! ‘Cause only me and Paul know we're here.
George: I know we're here.


Superintendent: Allow me. I'm a bit of a famous mimic in my own small way, you know...James Cagney..."Hello there, this is the famous Ringo here, gear, fab. What is it that I can do for you, as it were, gear, fab?"
George: Not a bit like Cagney.


Clang: Go to the window. Go to the window. Go to the window. Go to the window!


George: Are ya gonna cut, or aren't ya?
Ringo: No I'm not gonna cut, and let that be an end to it. END TO IT!


Paul: It is a rela...tela...comenza...
George: Bad machine!


George: We are going for a friendly walk with the police down by the river.

John: Oh, why don't ya chop it off, Ringo?
Ringo: Look, John. I've had some great times with this finger. And how'd you know I wouldn't miss it?
Paul: You're a rat underneath, aren't you?


George: I'm always getting winked at these days...used to be you, didn't it, Paul?


Superintendent: All you have to do is sing Beethoven's "Ode to Joy" from the famous 9th Symphony in D Minor.
John: Of course! Why didn't you think of that, you twit?


Clang: Signpost.
Bhuta: Signpost.
Clang: Guidebook.
Bhuta: Guidebook.
Clang: Feet.
Bhuta. Feet. Feet? Oh, feet!


Paul: Easterner with greasy feet speak with forked tongue.
John: Does he? What's he say?
Paul: Passing this way, hot foot! Many moons to temple.
George: Don't encourage him. You've got the part, Paul.
John: Dare we ask how you know?
Ringo: How?
Paul: How! I saw those footprints. And this guidebook which points out places of local worship.
John: To the temple.


George: I'm off!
Paul: Typical.


George: Thanks for the lift, sailor!


John, Paul, and George: RINGO! RINGO! RINGO! (etc.)


Ringo: Get sacrificed! I don't subscribe to your religion!

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