Monty: There he is - yearning for his old life on the open wave, the salty breeze, the swell of water under his bow, the seagull chorus, the sharp mornings...
Rosie: Hang on a minute - when he lived on the open wave - where did he pee?
Monty: ...............
Rosie: Well - where did he pee?
Monty: Words fail me, Rosie. Where's the romance, where's the atmosphere in such a thought?
Rosie: Romance?
Monty: Yes - romance.
Rosie: ..............
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