I'll transcribe yo.
Jip: I'm sexually paranoid.
Nina: That's nice, I can voluntarily perform a fanny fart at all times.
Jip: I'm having a monumental case of Mr Floppy.
Koop: This could turn Hare Krishna into a bad boy.
Moff: I'm making love to the music man and believe me, I can go all night.
Jip: Yeah, we wanna go somewhere else. We're not threatened by squirrels anymore. All our insecurities have evaporated. We're in the clouds now. We're wide open. We're spacemen orbiting the earth. The world looks beautiful from here, man. We're nympholeptics, desiring for the unobtainable. We risk sanity for moments of temporary enlightenment. So many ideas. So little memory. The last thought killed by anticipation of the next. We embrace an overwhelming feeling of love. We flow in unison. We're together. I wish this was real. We want a universal level of togetherness, where we're comfortable with everyone. We're in rhythm. Part of a movement. A movement to escape. We wave goodbye. Ultimately, we just want to be happy. Heh, yeah, hang on, what the fuck was I just talking about? Ken Griffey yeah?
Koop: Are your legs open you filthy little harlot?
Lulu: Is that you koop?
Koop: Oh fuck, shit, sorry Lulu. Yeah, is Nina there please?
Jip: He who daresbury, my son! He who dares!
RLP: Oy, Oy, Oyvind Leonhardsen!
Jeremy Faxman: Every club is different, but in the Asylum it's the manager. He has a string of homeboys dealing the pucker Es to the party people in the club. He makes the most coin out of this enterprise. His homies will make just a couple of quid on each pucker. His homies are also scoping for other dealers on the block. Where the homies have an illegitimate pucker E dealer in their website they tell the bouncers. The bouncers grip him, nab his stash and kick him out with a physical warning. They give the pucker Es to their homies and they sell it on to the kids in the club. What's your name? What have you had? Reach for the lazers. Safe as fuck.
The end.