Bad Taste

Barry: I think Derek's turned his toes up, guys. Coldfinger: I think this is a job for real men! Lord Crumb: [Sniffing on bowl of alien vomit produced by Robert] Mmmhh, exquisite bouquet, Robert! Lord Crumb: [drinking bowl of alien vomit] Aren't I lucky, I got a chunky bit!

Bad Taste, CC BY-SA 4.0

Derek: [on the radio] I think you better kill him Barry. Barry: Jeez, he could be Ministry of Works or something. Derek: Nah, he's moving too fast.

Bad Taste, CC BY-SA 4.0

Barry: Why can't aliens be friendly? Derek: There's no glowing fingers on these bastards. We've got a bunch of Extra-Terrestrial psychopaths on our hands. Like a... like a visit from a planet full of Charlie Mansons. They've wiped out a small town for starters, it's my guess they'll go onto something bigger next time. Christchurch, Wellington... Barry: Auckland? Derek: Yeah, well that wouldn't be so bad.

Bad Taste, CC BY-SA 4.0

Frank: This isn't gonna be another false alarm like the Manor Street invasion over there, is it? Derek: Well, how do you explain the disappearance of an entire township, Frank? Oh! The Kiwi Jonestown, of course, that's it! Drinking beer laced with cyanide from little polystyrene cups.

Bad Taste, CC BY-SA 4.0

Frank: Well, I guess we'll have to issue a gun to Ozzy. Barry: Yeah, but don't forget about his personality disorder.

Bad Taste, CC BY-SA 4.0

Barry: What are we gonna do if we're spotted, Frank? Frank: Well... I guess we shoot the bastards.

Bad Taste, CC BY-SA 4.0