Frasier: I am so sorry, Daphne. Now all I have to do is make this relatively simple shot, unless of course you'd like to concede defeat.
Daphne: Oh, that's typical American arrogance. We Brits don't know the meaning of the word "defeat".
Frasier: Oh, really, then I suppose you're not acquainted with a little spat we refer to as the Revolutionary War. Out of my way.
Daphne: Oh, just like a Yank. Insulting us Brits to cover up your inferiority complex.
Frasier: What exactly should we feel inferior about, your pioneering work in the field of soccer hooliganism? [laughs]
Daphne: Oh, say your worst .We both know there isn't as much dignity in this entire country as our Queen's got in her littlefinger.
Frasier: Oh, yes, you've really bested me there. What could be more dignified than a dowdy old sandbag who wears a flowerpot on her head. I win. The bar is mine. [Frasier turns around to see the British clientele stood menacingly behind him] Oh, lose the long faces, lads, I'm staying. Oh, good Lord, I hope you didn't take those little barbs about the motherland seriously.
Terrence: Perhaps you'd better leave now.
Frasier: Oh, Daphne'll tell you there's no greater Anglophile than I. I have all my suits made at Savile Row. You know, I spell "colour" with a "u!"