Cecil: Hello, Brother. All's Well, I Trust? Bob

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Cecil: Hello, brother. All's well, I trust?
Bob: It most certainly is _not_. The workmen you've given me don't
know their asses from the hole in the ground they blew up
Cecil: Come now, you speak as if they were nothing but a gaggle of
slack-jawed yokels.
Cletus: Mister Terwillidjer, come quick. There's trouble down to the
See-Ment mixer, sir!
-- "The Brother From Another Series"