CLAUDE         Believe me, Monsieur Rosbif, I am ere by accident. Zere is no way on earth I would wish to make such a journey to try your boring, tasteless Engleesh cooking. 

BOB                Oi! Not so rude, my froggy friend! Remember where you are! 

CLAUDE         Ow can I forget? One minute I am appily enjoying ze icing of a delicious fresh currant bun in ze window of ze finest bakery in Paree, and ze next Paff! I am trapped in ze bag of a silly oliday maker from Luton oo is booked on ze 5:45 train to London. 

BOB               That’s well unlucky, that is. 

CLAUDE         I did not panic, owever. Just relax Claude, I say to myself, some time soon zis greedy woman will begin to feel a leetle, ow you say, pickish - 

BOB                Peckish mate. 

CLAUDE         - peckish, yes, and zen she will remember er currant bun, open ze bag and Voila! you can escape. Easy as pudding! 

BOB                Pie. 

CLAUDE         Pie, yes. Out of ze window, zen just wait for ze next train going ze ozzer way, back in through ze window, and in a nour and a naff you will be back in Paree, sinking ze nashers into ze best cheeses known to man. 

BOB                So why you ere then? 

CLAUDE         Unfortunately zat silly woman ad eaten so much eggs and bacon for ze breakfast zat as soon as we left ze station Zonk! she was away wiz ze fairies, mouse open like a giant black ole, snoring so loud ze ole carriage woz shaking. Ze next time I saw daylight woz when she opened ze bag for ze afternoon snack wiz a cup of zat disgusting brown water you Engleesh call tea. I opped out ze window, followed my nose and ere I am.