Mr Wiggin Yes, well, of course, this is just the sort blinkered philistine pig ignorance I've come to expect from you non-creative garbage. You sit there on your loathsome, spotty behinds squeezing blackheads, not caring a tinkers cuss about the struggling artist. (shouting) You excrement! You lousy hypocritical whining toadies with your lousy colour TV sets and your Tony Jacklin golf clubs and your bleeding masonic handshakes! You wouldn't let me join, would you, you blackballing bastards. Well I wouldn't become a freemason now if you went down on your lousy, stinking, purulent knees and begged me.
Second City Gent Well, we're sorry you feel like that but we, er, did want a block of flats. Nice though the abattoir is.
Mr Wiggin Oh (blows raspberry) the abattoir, thats not important. But if any of you could put in a word for me I'd love to be a freemason. Freemasonry opens doors. I mean, I was...I was a bit on edge just now, but if I were a mason I'd sit at the back and not get in anyones way.
The Architect Sketch, with John Cleese, Graham Chapman, Terry Jones and Michael Palin. Episode Seventeen: The Buzz Aldrin Show.