"The feeling of rust against my salad fingers is orgasmic..."
It's like, how could you NOT like it?
"Hubert Cumberdale, you taste like soot and poo."
"It seems nettles have made the milk come out of my teat."
"I say, Milford Cubicle, would you like a warm glass of milk?"
Salad Fingers would pwn every bit of competition if entered in the Cannes film festival, I'll place money on it.
He talks to a broken telephone.
He is often reduced to being utterly terrified by a few choice words. ("I think he likes spoons too.")
Do you not like my mouth words?