One day before the events in 'The Gathering'...
KOSH: Old woman!
DENNIS: Man!
KOSH: What race lives in that space-station over there?
DENNIS: I'm thirty-seven.
KOSH: What?
DENNIS: I'm thirty-seven. I'm not old.
KOSH: Are you not a ‘man’.
DENNIS: Well, you could say 'Dennis'.
KOSH: Irrelevant.
DENNIS: Well, you didn't bother to find out, did you?
KOSH: <Heavy Breathing> Yes.
DENNIS: What I object to is that you automatically treat me like an inferior!
KOSH: I am a Vorlon!
DENNIS: Oh, Vorlon, eh, very nice. And how d'you get that, eh? By exploiting the workers! By 'anging on to outdated imperialist dogma which perpetuates the economic and social differences in our society. If there's ever going to be any progress with the--
WOMAN: Dennis, there's some lovely filth down here. Oh! How d'you do?
KOSH: I am KOSH of the Vorlons. Who's space-station is that?
WOMAN: Kosh of the who?
KOSH: The Vorlons.
WOMAN: Who are the Vorlons?
KOSH: Well, I am. You are of the younger races, and I am your Vorlon.
WOMAN: I didn't know we had a Vorlon. I thought we were an autonomous collective.
DENNIS: You're fooling yourself. We're living in a dictatorship: a self-perpetuating autocracy in which the working classes--
WOMAN: Oh, there you go bringing class into it again.
DENNIS: That's what it's all about. If only people would hear of--
KOSH: I am in haste. Who lives in that space-station?
WOMAN: No one lives there.
KOSH: Where is Sinclair?
WOMAN: We don't have a ‘Sinclair’.
KOSH: What?
DENNIS: I told you. We're an anarcho-syndicalist commune. We take it in turns to act as a sort of executive officer for the week,...
KOSH: Yes.
DENNIS: ...but all the decisions of that officer have to be ratified at a special bi-weekly meeting...
KOSH: Yes, I see.
DENNIS: ...by a simple majority in the case of purely internal affairs,...
KOSH: Be quiet!
DENNIS: ...but by a two-thirds majority in the case of more major--
KOSH: Be quiet! I order you to be quiet!
WOMAN: Order, eh? Who does he think he is? Heh.
KOSH: I am a Vorlon!
WOMAN: Well, I didn't vote for you.
KOSH: You don't vote for Vorlons.
WOMAN: Well, how did you become a Vorlon, then?
KOSH: Lorien,...
...his arm clad in the purest shimmering samite, held aloft Excalibur from the heart of the chasm signifying by Divine Providence that I, KOSH, was to carry Excalibur.
That is why I am a Vorlon!
DENNIS: Listen. Strange men lying in holes distributing swords is no basis for a system of government. Supreme executive power derives from a mandate from the masses, not from some farcical aquatic ceremony.
KOSH: Be quiet!
DENNIS: Well, but you can't expect to wield supreme executive power just 'cause some dark git threw a sword at you!
KOSH: Shut up!
DENNIS: I mean, if I went 'round saying I was an emperor just because some wizened alien had lobbed a scimitar at me, they'd put me away!
KOSH: Shut up, will you? Shut up!
DENNIS: Ah, now we see the violence inherent in the system.
KOSH: Shut up!
DENNIS: Oh! Come and see the violence inherent in the system! Help! Help! I'm being repressed!
KOSH: Bloody peasant!
DENNIS: Oh, what a give-away. Did you hear that? Did you hear that, eh? That's what I'm on about. Did you see him repressing me? You saw it, didn't you?
I have WAY too much time on my hands... /forums/images/graemlins/tongue.gif