Fool (novel)

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Fool is the eleventh novel written by Christopher Moore.

Pocket (Black Fool)[edit]

  • Heinous fuckery most foul!
  • Fuckstockings!
Ch 14 - On Tender Horns - pg 176
  • At your fucking service.
  • Said I, in perfect fucking French.
  • Gentle spook, if it is a warning you bring, state it true. If action you require, ask outright. If music you must make, play on- but by the wine-stained balls of Bacchus, speak your bloody business quick and clear and then be gone, before Time's iron tongue licks away my mercy bonk with second thoughts!
  • And once I shagged Regan on a platter of pork in front of Muslims.

Drool[edit]

  • She's a bloody vision of loveliness.
  • I shagged a ghost!
Ch 14 - On Tender Horns - pg 167
  • I fink I gots deaf on me willie.
Ch 14 - On Tender Horns - pg 170

Cordelia[edit]

Thalia[edit]

  • And so that is the story of how St. Rufus of Pipewrench was licked to death by marmots.
  • [To the Bishop, after being found servicing Pocket] Fancy a spot of stony bonking before vespers?

Kent / Caius[edit]

Regan[edit]

Goneril[edit]

King Lear[edit]

Raven[edit]

  • Tosser!
Ch 1 - Always A Bloody Ghost - pg 3
  • Piss off!
Ch 1 - Always A Bloody Ghost - pg 3

Dialogue[edit]

Mary: You can read?
Pocket: I was raised in a nunnery, wench. I'm a walking library of learning bound in comely leather, suitable for stroking at your service, should you fancy a bit of culture to go with your lack of breeding...or vice verse of course.

Cordelia: You honor us, Fool. Did you hear rumors of small animals to hurt or were you hoping to accidentally surprise me in my bath again?
Pocket: I was lost, Milady.
Cordelia: A dozen times?

The Ghost: I'm sorry to haunt you while you're rogering the help.
Pocket: The rogering has not commenced, wisp. I have barely bridled the horse for a moist and bawdy ride. Now, go away!

King Lear: What is your name?
Kent / Caius: Caius.
King Lear: And whence do you hale?
Kent / Caius: From Bonking, Sire.
King Lear: Well, yes, lad as do we all.

King Lear: How hath my fool offended?
Regan: He hath shagged me roughly, against my will, and finished too soon.
King Lear: By force- Pocket? He isn't eight-stone on a feast day- he couldn't shag a cat by force.
Pocket: That's not true, sire. If the cat is distracted with a trout, then - well, uh, never mind.
Ch 14 - On Tender Horns - pg 177

Regan: Smell him. He reeks of sex, like fish and mushroom and sweat, doesn't he?
Pocket: Aye, your honor, I'm sure I have an odor about me. I must confess, I was sans trou today in the kitchen, while awaiting my laundry. Bubble had left a casserole out on the floor to cool, and it did trip me and I fell prick-deep in gravy and goo- but I was on my way to chapel at the time.
King Lear: [To Pocket] You put your dick in my lunch?
King Lear: [Now to the bailiff] The fool put his dick in my lunch?
Regan: No, in your beloved daughter.
King Lear: Quiet, girl! Captain Curran, send a guard to watch the bread and the cheese before the fool has his way with it.
Ch 14 - On Tender Horns - pg 179

Pocket: Do you know that there's no fool piece on the chessboard, Kent?
Kent: Methinks the fool is the player, the mind above the moves.
Pocket: Well, that's a scratchy spot of cat wank. But bloody well said.
Ch 15 - In a Lover's Eye - pg 184

External links[edit]

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