Mr Barnard: What do you want?
Man: Well I was told outside that...
Mr Barnard: Don't give me that, you snotty faced heap of parrot droppings!
Man: What?
Mr Barnard: Shut your festering gob, you tit! Your type really makes me puke you vacuous, toffy-nosed, malodorous pervert!
Man: What? I came in here for an argument.
Mr Barnard: Oh, oh oh I'm sorry, this is "abuse'. You want Room 12-A just along the corridor.
Man: Oh sorry. Thank you very much, sorry, thank you.
[Shuts the door]
Man: Stupid git.
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