"Doctor Peter Venkman," he introduced himself in turn. "Call me Venkman."
Venkman wasn't especially good at pinpointing non-American dialects, but the lady was clearly British. Of course she didn't know what a goomba was. "What would you guys call it?" he asked, searching his memory. "A geezer? A bloke? Anyway, a macho Italian guy. My god, the hair gel. It was everywhere. Oh, the humanity!" he cried casually, flicking a couple of switches on a device on the floor. "So I'm going out there to nuke the little flying rugrat so nobody has to see two goombas making out again. What are you following it for?"