Discworld II: Missing Presumed...!? (Video Game 1996) - Eric Idle as Rincewind, Bone Idle

Rincewind : One croquet hoop. Or, if we're being foreign, we'd say hoopla.

Rincewind : [describing himself when the player right-clicks on him] Rincewind. Homo-Sapiens Sorcerus Irritabulis. In reality I'm a full foot taller, bronzed and rippling with muscles but it's been a hard night for the artist.

Mrs Cake : I am, too!

Rincewind : You're not really a psychic!

Mrs Cake : I will!

Rincewind : Prove it!

Mrs Cake : Alright! Ask them!

Rincewind : I know, answer my questions.

Mrs Cake : Blue!

Rincewind : Describe my favourite colour!

Mrs Cake : A rash!

Rincewind : Describe what I got for my birthday!

Mrs Cake : Fat, toothless and covered in sauce!

Rincewind : Describe my breakfast!

Mrs Cake : Frilly underwear!

Rincewind : Nope... I just can't remember what I meant to ask just then.

Mrs Cake : I do, and you ought to wash your mind with soap and water. Now, why don't you just go off about your business or I'll tell all the nice audience about what you keep in your sock drawer!

Foul Ole Ron : Spiders... spiders... mumble-mumble-muhhuh. Sticking like sticky paper, and lying. Millenium hand and shrimp! Lying!

Rincewind : [aside] You know, some might say that this chap lacks a firm grasp upon reality.

Foul Ole Ron : Ehh, bugger 'em! Bugger 'em all!

Rincewind : My personal theory is that he has a very firm grasp upon reality, it's simply not a reality the rest of us have ever met before.

Rincewind : Collect a babe, a jingle and some novelties... I don't suppose you'd consider collecting them yourself?

Cut-Me-Own-Throat Dibbler : No, mate! What sort of fool would waste his valuable leisure time voluntarily going off on annoying little quests set by stupid and ungrateful people, eh?

Rincewind : Ha ha ha. Yes, he'd have to be some sort of idiot, wouldn't he?

Rincewind : Hello there! And what are we doing in this awful place, eh?

Susan Sto Helit : What are WE doing here? Well, I'm minding my own business, as for you're doing, some of us would rather not now. Apart from that there doesn't seem to be much going on.

Rincewind : Look, I was only trying to be friendly.

Susan Sto Helit : Yes, probably not a good idea seeing as you're wearing that dress. I was always told not to talk to strangers and it'd be hard to be stranger than you.

Rincewind : Well, excuse me! All I thought was "Hello, here's another mortal in the land of death, then"! I mean, it seemed we might have a few mutual talking points, information to exchange, pleasantries, something in common, that sort of thing.

Susan Sto Helit : Well, it looks as if we buy our clothes in the same shop.

Rincewind : So, you're a clickie star now, are you?

Milkmaid : Yeah, isn't it fun! They said my assets and experience perfectly suited me to the job.

Rincewind : Experience? You were a bloody milkmaid!

Milkmaid : So?

Rincewind : I fail to see what milk production has to do with qualities of screen charisma... Ah. Well, forget I said that.

Rincewind : My dear, faithful old Luggage. Quiet as a log, and just about as smart.

Rincewind : The Archchancellor, my imperious leader, who thinks shouting is the same as intelligence.

Rincewind : Ah. The Shades, I know it well. An area where curiosity not only kills the cat, but also weighs it down with bricks and tosses it into the river.

Rincewind : [if the player tries to use the money pouch on something] You can't just throw money at something and expect it to work!

Rincewind : [if the player looks at the jars in the Wandering Shop] Jars. Yes, once again, a closer inspection does reveal that they are in fact jars. What's the matter, don't you trust the written description?

Rincewind : An imp with curious, steel-soled boots. That looks... curious. Look, I hope you're writing this down. I mean, what do you want me to do, shout "Hint!"?

Duckman : Spare a gold piece, sir? Spare a gold piece?

Rincewind : A whole gold piece? Most people don't earn that in a month!

Duckman : Well, the streets are swarming with beggars, sir, so I just thought I'd establish myself in a different niche market. You know, beggar to the upper gentry.

Rincewind : Oh really?

Duckman : So, as I say, sir, any gold pieces to spare? Perhaps raw bullion? Shares, futures, that sort of thing?

Rincewind : Oh, stop it! And go and do something about that duck!

Duckman : [has a live duck on his head] What duck?

Rincewind : Why do people lapse into insanity when they talk to me?

Rincewind : [ending a conversation] Excuse me, I... I think it's probably time for me to take my medicine.

Old Woman : Hey there, your Highness! And aren't you a pretty little girl!

Rincewind : I'm not a little girl, I'm a powerful and dignified magician.

Old Woman : Why are you dressed up as a princess, then?

Rincewind : I most certainly am not!

Old Woman : You've got a tall, pointy hat. All princesses have tall, pointy hats.

Rincewind : Look, it's not...

Old Woman : And a dress! A tall, pointy hat and a dress, that's a princess in my book!

Rincewind : So how do you explain the beard then, eh? Eh?

Old Woman : I thought that was just probably your peasant blood, dear. A lot of men find a bit of hair sultry and attractive.

Rincewind : I wish a lot of women did.

Foul Ole Ron : Talking! I'm good at that. Most of the time I talks to myself, cos it's nice to hear an intelligent person speak. Millenium hand and shrimp! You can blow that out of your teapot and no mistake. I'm as sane as the next man, listen!

Rincewind : I just hope I never meet the next man. But I probably will.

Rincewind : A rodent bar. How lovely.

Gimlet : Prime eatin', sir. Vole-au-vents and rat-tatouille. Fresh caught at the table, sir.

Rincewind : And do you cook them?

Gimlet : Cook? Ha, and ruin the flavour?

Rincewind : Gimlet - here's a dwarf who knows the meaning of the word 'hygiene', he thinks it's a greeting. Still, at least his shirt front can act as a sort of menu.

Rincewind : So, we're into clickies now, are we? At last the monkey has found the banana plantation.

Cut-Me-Own-Throat Dibbler : Yep, moving pictures. Clickies! Ah, now there's romance for you. Hot dogs, popcorn, drink stands, the merry rumble of candy rolling down the aisles.

Rincewind : And the shows? Don't forget the actual clickies themselves!

Cut-Me-Own-Throat Dibbler : What? Oh, oh yeah, I mean the shows go without saying. Chocolate-dipped ice cream, novelty drinking cups, collectable lobby cards...

Rincewind : I don't believe this! You mean to tell me that art has to take a second place to cheap licensing and marketing? Well, I can tell you that I'm above that sort of thing! Catch me being involved in some damned licensing scam? Hah! Fat chance. The last think I'd ever do is allow myself to become involved in a shabby marketing ploy designed to use a famous name to sell a product which is in itself devoid of any real... Hmmmm... right. Well, good luck with the career and I'll be off.

[Rincewind walks away]

Cut-Me-Own-Throat Dibbler : Did we mention the range of pewter figurines and exciting T-shirts this time?

Rincewind : Shhhh.

Rincewind : If I promise you that I'll find a way of making you popular, will you come back?

Death : People will like me, you promise?

Rincewind : Cross my heart and hope to meet you in your professional capacity.

Rincewind : Are you sure there's no one else's life you'd like to ruin?

Archchancellor Mustrum Ridcully : At the moment, I'm content to merely ruin the life of Assistant Wizard Rincewind. I suppose if pushed, I could try ruining the life of Gardener's Assistant Rincewind... Assistant Street Sweeper Rincewind... Actually, I feel a certain yearning to really come down like a ton of rectangular building things upon a Sewerage Systems Blockage Removal Technician Rincewind!

Rincewind : Um, so that was 3 sticks, mouse's blood, glitter, stench and candles. Right, back in a tick! Or maybe a jiffy!

Rincewind : [to the Archchancellor] You know, when I get older, I want a job where I just sit drinking milky tea all day too.

Rincewind : [if the player double-clicks on him] Ooooh, you handsome little sea weevil, you!

Rincewind : You wouldn't say there's anything in the slightest bit unusual in your appearance at all?

Duckman : [has a live duck on his head] No. Why?

Rincewind : Nothing that, say, when viewed in a mirror might give you pause for thought?

Duckman : What's a mirror, sir?

Rincewind : Ah! We may, in fact, have reached the root of the problem. However it's a silly problem and so I am suddenly going to stop talking to you.

Rincewind : A black sheep? But he's a skeleton! Ah, I get it, he's died in the wool. Er, this is a pun or play on words. Go on, let the groan out. It's therapeutic.

Rincewind : For you, "irony" means "sort of like iron", doesn't it?

Rincewind : Just tell me what alcohol you have to drink. And by that, I mean something which neither eats through the glass bottle, serves as host to a colony of sentient protozoa, or ends me up in any obscure, farcical little problems with chaos theory and butterflies.

Troll Bartender : [grunts] Uhh, dat's all we got. Protozoa. They're only little protozoa.

Rincewind : Ciliate or non-ciliate?

Troll Bartender : [grunts] I think they're mostly rotifers.

Rincewind : Brilliant. He can't tie his shoes but he can classify microorganisms. There's one for the education system.

Rincewind : [about S.T. Ungulant, an insane hermit prophet] They say it comes from chewing on too many lead toys when you're a child.

Rincewind : I wonder why they always make coffins so sturdy. I mean, who do they think is going to break out?

[in Death's library, books float in the air with quills writing in them]

Rincewind : A biography of somebody's life, still being written. Let's see what's happening now. "ZZZZzzzz, ZZZZzzzz." Hmmm. Must be the Archchancellor.

[in Death's library, books float in the air with quills writing in them - biographies of people's lives, being written as they live]

Rincewind : Let's see, whose is this? Ah, Albert. Now what does it say at the moment? "Albert sits and takes it easy, dreaming up more silly quests for the little twerp in the dress."

Rincewind : [ending a conversation] Pah! That's enough of this conversation for me.

Rincewind : [ending a conversation] Let's just stop all this now.

Rincewind : You want me to find out where Death has gone?

Archchancellor Mustrum Ridcully : Oh, only if you don't want to spend the rest of your life staring out across a pond... at all the other toads.

Rincewind : Frogs.

Archchancellor Mustrum Ridcully : If you prefer.