Soap: What was that? Armed? What do you mean armed? Armed with what?
Eddie: Err, bad breath, colorful language, feather duster... what do you think they're gonna be armed with? Guns, you tit!
Rory Breaker: If the milk turns out to be sour, I ain't the kinda pussy to drink it.
Nick the Greek: Just get me a sample.
Tom: No can do.
Nick the Greek: What's that? Some place near Katmandu? Meet me halfway, mate.
Tom: Look, it's all completely chicken soup.
Nick the Greek: It's what?
Tom: It's kosher. As Christmas.
Nick the Greek: The Jews don't celebrate Christmas, Tom.
Big Chris: It's been emotional.
Tom: There's no money, there's no weed. It's all been replaced by a pile of corpses.
Rory Breaker: If you hold back anything, I'll kill ya. If you bend the truth or I think you're bending the truth, I'll kill ya. If you forget anything, I'll kill ya. In fact, you're gonna have to work very hard to stay alive, Nick. Now, do you understand everything I've said? 'Cause if you don't, I'll kill ya.
"Hatchet" Harry: I don't want to know who you use, as long as they're not complete muppets.
Soap: A minute ago this was the safest job in the world. Now it's turning into a bad day in Bosnia.
Winston: Charles, get the rifle out. We're being fucked.
Soap: OY! Keep your fingers out of my soup!
Barry the Baptist: If you don't want to be counting the fingers you haven't got, I suggest you get those guns. Quick!
Gary: Shotguns? What, like guns that fire shot?
Barry the Baptist: Oh, you must be the brains of the operation. Yes, guns that fire shot.
Winston: We grow copious amounts of ganja here, and you're carrying a wasted girl and a bag of fertilizer. You don't look like your average horti-fucking-culturalist.
Winston: Charles, why have we got that cage?
Charles: Uh, security.
Winston: That's right, that's right, security. So what's the point in having it if we're not goin' fucking use it?
Charles: Well, I would've used it but this is Willie and Willie lives here.
Winston: Yes, but you didn't know it was Willie until you opened the door, did you?
Willie: Chill, Winston, it's me. Charlie knows it's me. What's the problem?
Winston: The problem, Willie, is that Charles and yourself are not the quickest of cats at the best of times. So just do as I say and keep *the fucking cage locked!* What is that?
Willie: That's Gloria.
Winston: Yes I know that's Gloria, what's that?
Willie: Fertilizer.
Winston: You went out six hours ago to buy a money counter and you come back with a semi-conscious Gloria and a bag of fertilizer. Alarm bells are ringing, Willie.
Willie: We need fertilizer Winston.
Winston: Mmmhmm. We also need a money counter. This money's got to be out by Thursday, I'm buggered if I'm gonna count it. Just make sure if you do need to buy sodding fertilizer you could be a bit more subtle.
Willie: What do you mean?
Winston: We grow copious amounts of ganja, yah? And you're carrying a wasted girl and a bag of fertilizer. You don't look like your average horti-fucking-culturalist! That's what I mean Willie.
Plank: Ah! They fucking shot me!
Dog: Well, fucking shoot 'em back!
John: Jesus, Plank, couldn't you have got smokeless cartridges? I can't see a bloody thi - Ah! Shit! I've been shot!
Dog: I don't fucking believe this! Can everyone stop gettin' shot?
Little Chris: Fuckin' hell John, do you always walk around with this in your pocket?
Big Chris: Hey! You use language like that again son, you'll wish you hadn't!
Big Chris: All right, son: roll them guns up, count the money, and put your seat belt on.
[Discussing their careers as marijuana growers]
J: I've a strong suspicion we should have been rocket scientists, or Nobel Peace Prize winners or something.
Charles: Peace Prize? Ooh. Be lucky to find your penis for a piss, the amount you keep smoking.
Tom: Well, he can afford to do the deal at the price we're selling. It's not worth him giving us any trouble cause he kows we'll be a pain in the arse.
Soap: I'd take a pain in the arse for half a million quid.
Tom: You'd take a pain in the arse for air miles.
Soap: Tom, the fatter you get, the sadder you get.
Eddie: Will you two stop flirting for a minute?
Soap: Where the fuck are they going?... Shift a piano? I thought this was meant to be a robbery.
Eddie: Where did they get those outfits?
Tom, Bacon: Not a bad idea, that.
Dean: He's got the guns. Go ahead. You get them.
Gary: Why me?
Dean: You're supposed to be the hard case.
Gary: [shrieks] You get the guns. I drive the car!
Soap: Rory Breaker? That psychotic black dwarf with an Afro?
Tom: That would be the same man, yes.
Soap: You're not funny, Tom. You're fat, and look as though you should be, but you're not.
[haggling with Tom]
Nick the Greek: What else does it come with?
Tom: It comes with a gold-plated Rolls Royce, as long as you pay for it.
Nick the Greek: Dunno. Seems expensive.
Tom: Seems? Well, this seems to be a complete waste of my time. That, my friend, is 900 nicker in any store you're lucky enough to find one in. And you're haggling over 200 pound? What school of finance did you come from Nick? "It's a deal, it's a steal, it's the Sale of the fucking Century!" In fact, fuck it Nick, I think I'll keep it!
Nick the Greek: All right all right, keep your Alans on!
[Peels off notes from his wad]
Nick the Greek: Here's a ton.
Tom, Eddie: Jesus Christ!
Eddie: You could choke a dozen donkeys on that! And you're haggling over one hundred pound? What're you doing when you're not buying stereos Nick? Finance revolutions?
Nick the Greek: 100 pound is still 100 pound.
Tom: Not when the price is 200 pound it ain't! And certainly not when you've got Liberia's deficit in your skyrocket. Tighter than a duck's butt you are. Now, lemme feel the fibre of your fabric.
Tom: It's a deal. It's a steal. It's sale of the fucking century! Actually, fuck it, Nick, I think I'll keep it.
[after shooting each other]
Gary: What the fuck are you doing here?
Barry: What the FUCK are YOU doing here?
Barry the Baptist: Lock, stock, the fuckin' lot.
[first lines]
Bacon: Right. Let's sort the buyers from the spyers, the needy from the greedy, and those who trust me from the ones who don't, because if you can't see value here today, you're not up here shopping. You're up here shoplifting. You see these goods? Never seen daylight, moonlight, Israelite. Fanny by the gaslight. Take a bag, c'mon take a bag. I took a bag home last night. Cost me a lot more than ten pound, I can tell you. Anyone like jewelry? Look at that one there. Handmade in Italy, hand-stolen in Stepney. It's as long as my arm. I wish it was as long as something else. Don't think because these boxes are sealed up, they're empty. The only man who sells empty boxes is the undertaker, and by the look of some of you lot today, I'd make more money with me measuring tape. Here, one price. Ten pound.
Eddie: Did you say ten pound?
Bacon: Are you deaf?
Eddie: That's a bargain. I'll take one.
Bacon: Squeeze in if you can. Left leg, right leg, your body will follow. They call it walking. You want one as well, darling? You do? That's it. They're waking up. Treat the wife. Treat somebody else's wife. It's a lot more fun if you don't get caught. Hold on. You want one as well? Okay, darling, show me a bit of life then. It's no good standing out there like one o'clock half-struck. Buy them, you better buy them. These are not stolen, they just haven't been paid for, and we can't get them again. They've changed the bloody locks. Here. One for you. It's no good coming back later when I've sold out. "Too late, too late" will be the cry when the man with the bargains has passed you by. If you got no money on you now, you'll be crying tears as big as October cabbages.
Eddie: Bacon, cozzers!
Bacon: Shit.
Eddie: Can we lock up and get drunk now?
Rory Breaker: What did you shoot him with, an air rifle?
Winston: Look, we grow weed. We're not mercenaries.
Rory Breaker: You don't say.
Eddie: Oh, and if Tom or anyone else for that matter feels like givin' them a bit of a kickin', I'm sure it won't do any harm.
Soap: Yeah, little bit of pain never hurt anybody. If you know what I mean. Also, I think knives are a good idea. Big, fuck-off shiny ones. Ones that look like they could skin a crocodile. Knives are good, because they don't make any noise, and the less noise they make, the more likely we are to use them. Shit 'em right up. Makes it look like we're serious. Guns for show, knives for a pro.
Tom: Soap, is there something we should know about you?
Bacon: I'm not sure what's more worrying. The job or your past.
Barry the Baptist: Fucking northern monkeys!
Lenny: I hate these fucking southern fairies!
"Hatchet" Harry: You must be Eddie, J.D.'s son.
Eddie: Yeah. You must be Harry. Sorry, didn't know your father.
"Hatchet" Harry: Never mind son, you just might meet him if you carry on like that.
Eddie: Soap, don't be such a mincer.
Rory Breaker: Is this some white cunts joke that black cunts don't get? 'Cause I'm not fucking laughing Nicholas.
Rory Breaker: Get Nick, that greasy wop, shistos, pesevengi, gamouri Greek bastard, if he's stupid enough to still be on this planet.
Bacon: Harry didn't think that he did a very good job, so he grabbed the nearest thing to hand, which just so happened to be a 15 inch black rubber cock, and proceeded to beat poor old Smithy to death with. And that was seen as a nice way to go. Now, that, is why you pay Hatchet Harry, when you owe.
Rory Breaker: Your stupidity may be your one saving grace.
Nick the Greek: Uuugh?
Rory Breaker: Don't "uuugh" me, Greek boy!
Soap: Can we lock up and get drunk now?
Barfly Jack: He then proceeds to order an Aristotle of the most ping-pong tiddly in the Nuclear sub.
Tom: Rory Breaker?
Barfly Jack: Rory? Yeah I know Rory. He's not to be underestimated, you've got to look past the hair and the cute, cuddly thing - it's all a deceptive facade. A few nights ago Rory's Roger iron's rusted, so he's gone to the local battle-cruiser to catch the end of his footer. Nobody is watching the custard so he turns the channel over. A fat man's north opens and he wanders over and turns the Liza over. 'Now fuck off and watch it somewhere else.' Rory knows claret is imminent, but he doesn't want to miss the end of the game; so, calm as a coma, he stands and picks up a fire extinguisher and he walks straight past the jam rolls who are ready for action, then he plonks it outside the entrance. He then orders an Aristotle of the most ping pong tiddly in the nuclear sub and switches back to his footer. 'That's fucking it,' says the guy. 'That's fucking what' says Rory. Rory gobs out a mouthful of booze covering fatty; he then flicks a flaming match into his bird's nest and the man's lit up like a leaky gas pipe. Rory, unfazed, turned back to his game. His team's won too. Four-nil.
Barry the Baptist: When you dance with the devil, you wait for the song to stop.
Eddie: The entire British empire was built on cups of tea, and if you think I'm going to war without one, mate, you're mistaken.
Gary: So who's the gov'? Who we doing this for?
Barry the Baptist: You're doing it for me, that's all you need to know. You know because you need to know.
Gary: I see. One of them "on a need to know basis" things is it. Like one of them James Bond films.
Barry the Baptist: Careful. Remember who's giving you this job.
Tom: Listen to this one then; you open a company called the Arse Tickler's Faggot Fan Club. You take an advert in the back page of some gay mag, advertising the latest in arse-intruding dildos, sell it a bit with, er... I dunno, "does what no other dildo can do until now", latest and greatest in sexual technology. Guaranteed results or money back, all that bollocks. These dills cost twenty-five each; a snip for all the pleasure they are going to give the recipients. They send a cheque to the company name, nothing offensive, er, Bobbie's Bits or something, for twenty-five. You put these in the bank for two weeks and let them clear. Now this is the clever bit. Then you send back the cheques for twenty-five pounds from the real company name, Arse Tickler's Faggot Fan Club, saying sorry, we couldn't get the supply from America, they have sold out. Now you see how many of the people cash those cheques; not a single soul, because who wants his bank manager to know he tickles arses when he is not paying in cheques!
Big Chris: I've got some bad news for you, John.
John: What the fuck?
[Chris closes tanning parlor on John]
Big Chris: Mind your language in front of the boy!
John: Jesus Christ!
[Chris does it again]
Big Chris: That includes blasphemy as well!
Soap: A little bit of pain never hurt anybody, if you know what I mean.
Don: I'll fold.
Phil: Fold? Is that the only word you learnt at school?
Don: No, I also learned the word cunt!
Bacon: What's that?
Samoan Joe's Barman: It's a cocktail. You asked for a cocktail.
Bacon: No. I asked you to give me a refreshing drink. I wasn't expecting a fucking rainforest! You could fall in love with an orangutan in that!
Samoan Joe's Barman: You want a pint, you go to the pub.
Bacon: I thought this was a pub!
Samoan Joes Barman: It's a Samoan pub.
Eddie: Twenty grand, open.
"Hatchet" Harry: Thirty thousand. Back to you, already-Eddie.
Eddie: Fifty grand.
"Hatchet" Harry: Eighty grand.
Eddie: One hundred grand.
Player: Whoa, whoa, whoa, look fellas, I know...
"Hatchet" Harry: I know you're not in. Which means, no-one cares what you know.
JD: I do know your reputation. So I choose my words very carefully. You tell Harry to go fuck himself.
Big Chris: Now... I'll put that on a shock. Only once.
Tom: They lack any kind of criminal credibility. I might get laughed at.
Dog: What the fuck is that?
Mickey: It's me bren gun.
Dog: Couldn't you have thought of something more practical?
Barry the Baptist: Hello son, would you like a lolly?
Little Chris: Piss off, you nonce!
Barry the Baptist: [Barry is trying to stop his computer switching off] Come on! Not now, please, not -
[computer goes off]
Barry the Baptist: Oh, you fucking bastard.
Paul: Come take a look at this.
Traffic Warden: Take a look at what, exactly?
Paul: Well, the van's half-full. So all I have to do is fill it up, put you in it,
[knocks him out]
Paul: and I'm off.
Tom: [after having just robbed Dog and his crew] Jesus, that wasn't too bad, was it?
Soap: When the bottle in my arse has contracted, I'll let you know.
Eddie: Bacon, see what we've got.
Bacon: Let's have a butcher's, eh?
[as he inspects their loot]
Bacon: We've hit the jackpot, lads! We've got God-knows-how-much of this stinking weed, a shitload of cash... and a traffic warden.
Tom: What?
[Bacon holds up an unconscious man]
Tom: Jesus, Ed, we've got a traffic warden!
Bacon: I think he's still alive - he's got claret coming out of him somewhere. What did they want with a traffic warden?
Eddie: I don't know, but I don't think we need him! Knock him out and dump him at the lights!
Bacon: Knock him out? What'd ya mean, knock him out? Knock him out with what?
Eddie: I don't know! Use your imagination!
[Bacon punches the Traffic Warden, who moans in pain]
Tom: Don't touch him up! Knock him out!
Bacon: I'll knock you out in a minute! Look, you want to knock him out? *You* knock him out.
Eddie: I fucking hate traffic wardens.
[after a pause, Tom and Eddie jump into the back of the van with Bacon; all three proceed to batter the Traffic Warden senseless]
Dog: I'll find you... I'll find you.
Bacon: 'Course you will sweetheart!
[Ties Dog's hands behind him]
Dog: I'll find you.
Bacon: What d'you think this is? Fucking hide and seek?
"Hatchet" Harry: It's about time you paid our young friends a visit, Chris. Today's the day and mum's the word, and I can't have that, can I?
Big Chris: No, 'Arry, you can't.
"Hatchet" Harry: I mean, it's a liberty. And I can't have liberties taken, can I, Barry?
Barry the Baptist: No, 'Arry, you can't.
"Hatchet" Harry: I mean, it's enough to give me the arsehole. And I can't have the arsehole, can I, boys?
Big Chris, Barry the Baptist: No, 'Arry, you can't.
Eddie: That's quite a raise. That's 150 on my 100.
"Hatchet" Harry: Yeah. And is there anything else you want to say?
"Hatchet" Harry: Don't go spending it all at once, boy.
"Hatchet" Harry: Back to you, already-Eddie.
Eddie: As you know this puts us in awkward position... I don't have enough to continue.
Big Chris: [Big Chris has just explained that Eddie is in debt with Hatchet Harry] I understand if this has come as a bit of a shock. But let me tell you
how this can be resolved by you, a good father.
JD: Go on.
Big Chris: He likes your bar.
JD: Yes?
Big Chris: He wants your bar.
JD: And?
Big Chris: Do you want me to draw you a picture?
Gary: I've just spent 120 quid on me hair. If you think I’m puttin a stockin over me head you're very much mistaken.
Dean: [after seeing Gary holding a candle under the house owner's feet] Whoa, whoa Kenny! What are you doin?
Gary: I am trying to find out where they keep their money!
Dean: You twat! Can't you see these people have got no money? They can't even afford new furniture! We've got the guns, whats the matter with you? Everytime we do a job, you have to go burning people's feet, whats wrong with you?
Barry the Baptist: [answering his phone] What?
Dean: I thought you said there'd be no staff Barry!
Barry the Baptist: Did you get those guns?
Dean: You wanna see what they did to poor Gary?
[calling out to a delirious Gary]
Dean: Gary? Gary?
Barry the Baptist: I said, did you get those guns?
Dean: YES, WE GOT THEM!
Barry the Baptist: Good, I'll speak to you later
[hangs up the phone]
Dean: Gary, if you can hear me, get back in the car now mate okay?
[turning his attention back to Barry]
Dean: Barry? Barry? Fucking sodding shandy-drinking bastard!
Rory Breaker: Your stupidity must be your one saving grace.
Nick the Greek: Uh?
Rory Breaker: Don't "uh" me Greek boy! How is it that your fucking stupid soon-to-be-dead friends thought they might be able to steal my cannabis and
then sell it back to me? Is this a declaration of war? Is this some white cunt's joke that black cunts don't get? 'Cause Im not fucking laughing Ni-ko-las!
Nick the Greek: [shrugs nervously]
Rory Breaker: I know you couldn't have known my position 'cause you're not that stupid that if you did, you wouldn't have turned up here scratching your arse with that "what's going on here?" look slapped all over your chevy chase! But what you do know is where these people live.
[rises from his chair and walks towards Nick]
Rory Breaker: If you hold back anything, I'll kill ya. If you bend the truth or I think you're bending the truth, I'll kill ya. If you forget anything, I'll kill ya. In fact, you're gonna have to work very hard to stay alive, Nick. Now, do you understand everything I've just said? 'Cause if you don't, I'll kill ya! Now, Mr Bubble and Squeak, you may enlighten me.
Nick the Greek: [nods nervously]
