Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

- Ew. - Figure of speech.

It's a working title. Idiots.

LANA: Archer. - What? Oh.

It wasn't all that long ago that everybody hated the Irish for swarming over here in their potato boats and taking all the jobs

- Ha, ha. What? - Archer.

Plus God knows how many cancer patients have been taking that stuff.

Yes, idiot. I do.

- Regis is the best. - No, Ruth, you're the best.

I said, I had your mother for three days at Dûc Quay.

Ugh, I never thought I'd say this, but I really miss the Zima.

- Lana, did you see my scarf? - Yes, Archer, I saw your scarf.

...because the doctor says my cancer is in remission.

What am I doing?

You know who you're messing with, boyo? You have any idea who our boss is?

Still, though. Ew.

Fair amount of gastric distress

Can you, uh, go ahead and repeat that?

Even if I can barely pay for it.

The day my pet Dobermans accidentally ate my father.

Stand your ass up.

Oh, I think it's your sweetness.

Yeah? To where? Some bigger mansion somewhere else you bought...

See? The striking lever's the same, though.

MALORY: Oh, for the love of...

ARCHER: What are you doing? Delaney's not here.

- Yeah, well, what about your father? - No, he was a scientist.

LANA: No, but my ENT doctor is.

Like an SSP racer.