- Graeme Garden: [Graeme's voice-over on the advert for their new business] This is Goodie Hols calling! Are you bored with traditional holidays? Wouldn't you rather go big game hunting, or shark fishing? Or perhaps you'd fancy a week's brain surgery? Well, anything is possible if you book for a new-style Goodies Adventure Holiday - holidays for the specialist, arranged by people who KNOW!
- Graeme Garden: [after the boys have convinced the Detective's Club the train is real, Graeme and Tim convene in the livestock car] Now the problem is, we need a crime. A crime for them to solve.
- Bill Oddie: [Comes in, inexplicably wet] That's easy - I'm gonna kill you!
- Graeme Garden: [Pinches his nose to block a bad smell] Whoo! Dear...
- Bill Oddie: What? It's not me! It's not me! It must be the goat! You naughty goat, what have you done? You...
- Tim Brooke-Taylor: [pinches his own nose when Bill comes close] Bill, eeew...
- Bill Oddie: Oh, shut up! Come on, please! Honestly! It was snowing, wasn't it? It was snowing! So I have to shelter somewhere, don't I? So what do I do? I climb under the train, don't I? And while I'm there under the train, all of a sudden, SWOOSH! I get a ruddy great load of...!
- Graeme Garden: Shhh, shhh, shhh...!
- [the train engine starts chugging]
- Bill Oddie: Don't shush me, mate! I've had enough, I tell you! And you can have your train record back!
- [Hands it to him]
- Bill Oddie: No more "Woo-Woo!" No more running up and down in trees! I'm fed up!
- Graeme Garden: Bill, this is my train record!
- Bill Oddie: Yes it is! And no more humping cows up and down, or I shall kill you! I...
- Graeme Garden: Bill, my train record is in here, and yet I can still hear the sound, as of a moving train!
- Bill Oddie: Listen, I don't care about that, mate! As far as I am concerned, the "Orient Express" stops RIGHT HERE!
- [Goes to step outside and as the train is indeed moving is thrown out onto the side of the tracks]
- Tim Brooke-Taylor: [Two groups of detectives have been killed and he's scared] Who's gonna be the next to go?
- Hercule Poirots: [all four speaking at once] Who can tell? The assassin, whoever he or she may be, could strike at... how you say...?
- [They all fall dead of cyanide poisoning from the wine they were drinking]
- Graeme Garden: [Sniffs a bottle marked "arsenic"] The characteristic smell of bitter almonds!
- Bill Oddie: Isn't that cyanide?
- Graeme Garden: Precisely! This arsenic has been poisoned!