HINCKLEY: Be faithful! I commend you to be faithful!

WOMAN: Commend, eh? Who does he think he is? Heh.

HINCKLEY: I am your Prophet!

WOMAN: Well, I didn't vote for you.

HINCKLEY: YOU don't vote for prophets.

WOMAN: Well, how did you become Prophet, then?

HINCKLEY: The quorum of the twelve,... [angels sing] ...their voices joined in the purest holy unity, held aloft their hands with the burning of the bosom signifying by Divine Providence that I, HINCKLEY, was to carry the keys. [singing stops] That is why I am your Prophet!

DENNIS: Listen. Old Men voting on the most senior member of the club is no basis for a system of religion. Supreme religious power derives from a mandate from God, not from some farcical touchy-feely ceremony.

HINCKLEY: Be quiet!

DENNIS: Well, but you can't expect to wield supreme religious power just 'cause some geriatric committee raised their hands for you!

HINCKLEY: Shut up!

DENNIS: I mean, if I went 'round saying I was a seer just because a bunch of wrinkled grandpas had voted for me, they'd put me away!

HINCKLEY: Shut up, will you? Shut up!

DENNIS: Ah, now we see the repression inherent in the system.

HINCKLEY: Shut up!

DENNIS: Oh! Come and see the repression inherent in the system! Help! Help! I'm being repressed!

HINCKLEY: Bloody peasant!

DENNIS: Oh, what a give-away. Did you hear that? Did you hear that, eh? That's what I'm on about. Did you see him repressing me? You saw it, didn't you?

"Whenever he found his speech growing too modern--which was about every sentence or two--he ladled in a few such Scriptural phrases as 'exceeding sore,' 'and it came to pass,' etc., and made things satisfactory again. 'And it came to pass' was his pet. If he had left that out, his Bible would have been only a pamphlet." - Mark Twain

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