I get the feeling this ending won’t satisfy Rip’s giggling knuckles.
I don’t know. I’m pretty sure if I needed an attorney, I’d hire my cousin Vinny.
In my house, Christmas would have to be known as Prime Rib Day.
Build a wall!
Or baste a leg . . .
It’s like a Rolling Stones-Norman Rockwell mashup.
Sorry, Ollie!
Let’s not get our nickers in a knot . . .
Okay, I’ll bite: who is Chris Doyle?
Do you now spend time worrying about your prostate?
I get the feeling this ending won’t satisfy Rip’s giggling knuckles.