"My final offer. Half a shekel for an old ex-leper"
"Did you say...'ex-leper'?"
"That's right, sir. Sixteen years behind the bell and proud of it, sir."
"Well, what happened?"
"I was cured, sir."
"Cured?"
"Yes, sir. A bloody miracle, sir. God bless you."
"Who cured you?"
"Jesus did, sir. I was hopping along, minding me own business. All of a sudden, up he comes. Cures me. One minute I'm a leper with trade, next minute my livelihood's gone. Not so much as a by your leave. 'You're cured, mate." Bloody do-gooder."
"Well, why don't you go and tell him you want to be a leper again?"
Ah, yeah, I could do that, sir. Yeah, I could do that, I suppose. What I was thinking was, I was going to ask him if he could make me a bit lame in one leg during the middle of the week. You know, something beggable, but not leprosy, which is a pain in the arse, to be blunt. Excuse my French, sir, but uh..."
"Brian! Come clean your room out!"
"There you are"
"Thank you sir. Thank- Half a denarii for me bloody life story?!"
"There's no pleasing some people."
"That's exactly what Jesus said, sir!"