“Gentlemen,” shouted I, for the breeze made it necessary to speak out, “I beg to disagree with all that the last speaker has said.”
“Gentlemen,” came the answering voice of Flitwick, “in consequence of a donkey braying somewhere near, I fear I shall find it difficult to make myself heard.”
“When people have nothing to say,” continued I, “the less they try to say the better.”
“I will not imitate the idiots who call themselves Philosophers, and yet don’t know what gender a simple Latin word like corpore is.”
“It is sad to think how many afflicted ones there are, close to us, who cannot possibly be as big fools as they look, or look as big fools as they are.”
“The one kind of remains you can’t find are the remains of a Philosopher’s lunch. ‘Greedy’ is a mild word to use for their sickening gluttony.”
“If you want to look for beauty, gentlemen, you should look anywhere but straight in front of you.” (Cheers.)
“Gentlemen, as I hear some geese quacking, as well as the donkey braying, I find it difficult to say what I want.” (Laughter.)
“I deny that there is any beauty in the laugh of a pack of hyenas.”
“If there was anybody here called Sarah,” continued Flitwick, wandering farther and farther from his point, “who has been brought up in a girls’ school, and wears tan boots and lavender gloves in school (loud and derisive shouts), and is well-known as the dunce of his house (hear, hear), I should advise him never to look in the looking-glass if he is afraid of chimpanzees.”