"Walcome! Whit like? Regent Morton at Aberdour Castle here, strolling the grounds in 16th Century Scotland, reinforcing the daily standard and keeping an extra eye for puns! Wot say here?"
"To-ma-toes. A silly pun. Ultimately harmless. Off you go, rascal! We'll have none of your tomfoolery this evenin'!"
"Ha! In Tents. It's a good laugh. I'm a kind regent with a horse's breadth of leeway. I send thee away with a wink and a slap!"
"Oy, jobby! That is a horrific example of a pun! Two nights in the castle brig for you, Skittles point-of-purchase display!"
"Meh. Me sensibilities are intact, not insulted here. Try harder, you dobber."
"Wheelie cool. Wheelie lazy and lame. I banish thee to the Highlands without a map."
"Bolt, ya rocket. This tote is heavy from being full of shite!"
Groooaaaan. "The complete prick of a tosser who wrote this should be pummeled with a plançon."
"Two puns in one sentence? Out with the halbert poles! Into the bridewell cage with this wallaper!"
"Gah. Three awful puns in a row. And to a sixties song, to boot! Gonnae no' dae that! Shut yer puss, fannybaws! Bastinado for thee!"
"FOUR?! O mine Gott. Haud yer wheesht! We shall boil them alive, birch them, break the beetroot on a wheel and then behead the lavvy-headed, wispy-haired, leather-faced, bawbag-eyed, huffy wee fuckbumper."
