"There's nary an animal alive that can outrun a greased Scotsman."
Willy: Do you have any grease?!
Lunch Lady Doris: Yes, yes we do..
Willy: THEN GREASE ME UP WOMAN!
Lunch Lady Doris: Okiedokey.
Skinner: "Willie. Go into the vent and get him."
Willie: "What!? Have ye gone waxy in your beester? I canna fit in the wee vent, Ye Croquet-Playin' Mint-Muncher!"
Skinner: "Grease yourself up and go in you.. guff speaking work slacker."
Willie: "Ooh. Good comeback."
"Ach! Back to the loch with ye, nessie!"
"Argh, I'll kill that Mr. Burns!! And wound that Mr. Smithers!"
"Bonjourrr, you cheese eatin' surrender monkeys."
"Now look boy. If your da goes ga-ga, you just use that 'shin' of yours to call me and I'll come a-runnin'. But don't be readin' my mind between four and five. That's Willie's time."
"If elected mayor my first act will be to kill the whole lot of ya, and burn your town to cinders!"
Skinner: "Would the world judge me harshly if I threw away the key?"
Willie: "No. But the PTA would tear you a new arse."
Skinner: "Wise councel, William. But the potty talk adds nothing. "
Willie: "Aye sir, you bath-taking, underpants-wearing, lily-hugger."
"Get your haggis, right here! Chopped heart and lungs boiled in a wee sheep's stomach! Tastes as good as it sounds. Good for what ails ya!"
"Ya used me Skinner! YA USED MEE!"
Kent Brockman: ... and the fluffy kitten played with that ball of string all through the night. On a lighter note, a Kwik-E-Mart clerk was brutally murdered last night.
Kent Brockman: We win again. But the real winners here are Marge's Hors D'Oeuvres.
Homer: How do you come up with such witty remarks?
[focuses in on ear plug/mic]
Guy in the van: I guess you could say its my racket.
Kent Brockman: I guess you could say I'm Iraqi.
Homer: Get off my property.
Kent Brockman: Now, over the years, a newsman learns a number of things that for one reason or another, he just cannot report. It doesn't seem to matter now, so...the following people are gay...
Kent Brockman: Scott, things aren't as happy as they used to be down here at the unemployment office. Joblessness is no longer just for Philosophy majors - useful people are starting to feel the pinch.
Kent Brockman: Just miles from your doorstep, hundreds of men are given weapons and trained to kill. The government calls it the Army, but a more alarmist name would be... The Killbot Factory.
Kent Brockman: Top o' the mornin' to ye on this gray, drizzly afternoon. Kent O' Brockman live on Main Street, where today, eveyone is a little bit Irish! Eh-heh, everyone except, of course, for the gays and Italians.
Kent Brockman: Ladies and gentlemen, I've been to Vietnam, Iraq, and Afghanistan, and I can say without hyperbole that this is a million times worse than all of them put together.
Kent Brockman: I'm Kent Brockman, on the eleven o'clock news tonight...a certain type of soft drink has been found to be lethal, we won't tell you which one until after sports and the weather with Sonny Storm.