"I hate hay."
"It's dried grass, Nicholas. You can't hate it."
"This is incredibly uncomfortable."
"Relax. Everyone enjoys this."
"I doubt that."
"Nope, this is how we do it. Here!"
"Stop that! Back off, Danny."
"It's hay, Nicholas, this is a hay stack. Yeah? So you get hay."
"Stop! Throwing it at me! Stop!"
"You need to turn off."
"Don't start, Danny. I'm here, in the hay, covered in hay, one straw away from a massive, fatal attack of hay fever…"
"I'm here. You asked me to get in the hay with you. Here. I. Am."
"Oh. Well, actually, Nicky, that was something else entirely…"