Mr. Burns: So, Smithers, what are you doing this weekend. Something gay, I expect?
Mr. Burns: You know, light and fancy free! Mothers, lock up your daughters! Smithers is on the town!
Smithers: Oh! Of course.
Mr. Burns: "Ooh, the Germans are mad at me. I'm so scared! Oooh, the Germans!"
Mr. Burns: "Look at them, Smithers. Goldbrickers.... Layabouts.... Slug-a-beds! Little do they realise their days of suckling at my teat are numbered."
Mr. Burns: Nonsense! Dogs are idiots! Think about it, Smithers. If I came into your house and started sniffing at your crotch and slobbering all over you, what would you say?
Smithers: If you did it, sir?
Mr. Burns: "Ah, Monday morning. Time to pay for your two days of debauchery, you hungover drones."