George: What's your electric bill like? Algernon: Sort of a long counterfoil!   Professor Foot: MIT wanted me, you know. Wanted me to rule the world for them.   Professor Foot: With a ring like that I could - dare I say it? - rule the world.   Paul [to a belly dancer]: Doesn't the blood rush to your stomach?     John: What's this? Ringo: It's a season ticket. What do you think it is? John: Oh. I like a lot of seasoning in me soup.   Superintendent: I used to be quite an imitator in my day. James Cagney... [imitating Ringo on the phone] Hey, this is the great Ringo here, gear fab. George: Not a bit like Cagney.   John: How do you feel? Ringo: I used to use me hands. John: He used to use his hands.   John to Ringo whose arm is trapped inside a mail box: What are you doing? Ringo: Posting a letter.   George: Hey, it's a thingie! A fiendish thingie!   Lady: Where you been, eh? You're as bad as your sister comming home from work all hours and all colors.   John: How do you know your not just as filthy and sent by them to nick the ring by being filthy when you have lulled us with your filthy eastern ways?   John: There's somebody been in this soup.   Ringo: What was it that first attracted you to me? John: Well, you're very polite, aren't you?   Clang offering a bagful of gold: Psst! Hey, Be-a-tle! You shall have fun, yes? John: Sorry, I'm rhythm guitar and mouth organ.   Superintendent cowering under his desk: There's a strong case for arming the police. We aren't all masochists, you know.   Algernon: Stop him? Me? It's more than my job's worth to stop him once he gets started. He's out to rule the world... if he can get a government grant.   Professor Foot: He's an idiot. Degree in woodwork. I ask you.   [John and Paul are trying to get Ringo to cut his finger off.] Paul: You don't miss your tonsils, do ye?   Ringo: They have to paint me red before they chop me. It's a different religion from ours. I think.   Back to Help!