Jerry: Oh, well, if it isn't Shaky the Mohel. Nice job on the circumcision, but it's not supposed to be a finger.
Mohel: The circumcision was perfect. That was your fault. You flinched!
Jerry: Oh, who made you a mohel? You get your degree from a matchbook?
Mohel: You see? He flinched again.
Jerry: Nice job, Elaine. You picked a hell of a mohel!
Mohel: One more peep, and I'll slice you like a smoked sturgeon.
Jerry: Oh, don't threaten me, butcher boy.
Mohel: Butcher boy?