[looking at a suicide victim in the mortuary] Dangerous Davies: Are you sure that he's dead? Pathologist: Well I do have his brain in a jar here. So I presume he's dead... or he could be a detective constable working in North London. [Mod Lewis has just joked that Dangerous Davies is starting to lose his hair] Dangerous Davies: What do you call a row of rabbits marching backwards? Mod Lewis: Dunno. Dangerous Davies: A receding hare-line! Dangerous Davies: I think I'm being stalked. Mod Lewis: I knew a woman who wouldn't leave me alone. She'd follow me everywhere, buy me clothes and give me money. Dangerous Davies: Did you go to the police? Mod Lewis: No. It'd be a cruel man who'd turn in his own mother. Dangerous Davies: Fancy a pint? Mod Lewis: Well, I've never seen an unattractive one. [Dangerous is trying to give Mod a driving lesson. As Mod is changing gear, he crunches the gears] Mod Lewis: That didn't sound too healthy, Dangerous. When did you last have this thing serviced? Dangerous Davies: [yells] Clutch! Clutch! Depress the clutch! And I don't mean tell it your life story.