The parking-ticket line — "because you've got fine written all over you" — is a classic with one job, and every variation here orbits that pun. It survives because "fine" does perfect double duty, and because the setup sounds like a complaint until the last second.
Delivery thrives on the fake-grievance angle: start mildly annoyed, end charmed. Anywhere near an actual parking meter, the prop work is free.
One pun, infinite mileage: the parking-ticket line endures because the misdirect is built in — grievance turning into compliment in a single word. Delivery is a small performance: pat pockets, look stern, issue the fine. Anywhere cars park, the prop department is already on site.
It suits people who enjoy a bit of theatre with their flirting and forgives total corniness because the corn is the point. The rest of the old guard is filed under classic lines, with the police collection covering the uniformed side of citations.