Fred Allen Jack Benny Feud
Fred Allen: Jack, you couldn't ad lib a belch after a plate of Hungarian goulash.
Jack Benny: You wouldn't say that if my writers were here.
Fred Allen: Why you fugitive from a Ripley cartoon ... I'll knock you flatter than the first eight minutes of this program.
Jack Benny: You ought to do well in pictures, Mr. Allen, now that Boris Karloff is back in England.
Fred Allen: Why, if I was a horse, a pony even, and found out that any part of my tail was used in your violin bow, I'd hang my head in my oatbag from then on.
Fred Allen: Tomorrow night, in your ermine robe, you will be whisked by bicycle to Orange, New Jersey, where you will be the judge in a chicken-cleaning contest.
Jack Benny (rapturously): I'm KING for a Day!
[Allen proceeds to have Benny's clothes pressed:]
Fred Allen: Upon our stage we have a Hoffman pressing machine.
Jack Benny: Now wait a minute! Wait a minute!
Fred Allen: An expert, operating the Hoffman pressing machine, will press your trousers.
Jack Benny: NOW WAIT A MINUTE!!! (total audience hysteria laughter, as Benny's pants are literally removed).
Fred Allen: Quiet, king!
Jack Benny: Allen, this is a frame--- (starts laughing himself) Where are my pants?
Fred Allen: Keep your shirt on, king.
Jack Benny: You BET I'll keep my shirt on!
Fred Allen: We're a little late, folks! Tune in next week---
Jack Benny: Come on, Allen, where are my pants!
Fred Allen: Benny, for 15 years I've been waiting to see you here like this!
Jack Benny: Allen, you haven't seen the END of me!
Fred Allen: It won't be long NOW!
Jack Benny: I WANT MY PANTS!