Police Inspector:
So your daddy dances in front of you, does he?
Nathan:
Only when he's rehearsing.
Gaz:
Told 'ya, robbing pipes, that's all.
Police officer:
Gary, my friend, no bugger robs pipes in the buff.
Gaz:
We do. Don't get your clothes dirty, do you?
Police officer:
Oh well, don't fret, gents. There's a right good laundry in Wakefield Prison!
Dave:
[
discussing possible means of suicide] Drownin'. Now there's a way to go.
Lomper:
I can't swim.
Gaz:
Well you don't have to fucking swim, you divvy, that's the whole point. God, you're not very keen are you?
Lomper:
Sorry...
Dave:
Anti-wrinkle cream there may be, but anti-fat-bastard cream there is not.
Dave:
Well, I just pray they're a bit more understanding about us, that's all.
Horse:
You what?
Dave:
Well, they're going to be looking at us like that, aren't they, Eh? I mean, what if next Friday 400 women turn 'round and say "He's too fat, he's too old and he's a pigeon-chested little tosser."? What happens then, eh?
Horse:
They wouldn't say that, would they?
Dave:
Why not? He's just said her tits are too big.
Lomper:
That's different. We're... blokes.
Dave:
Yeah, and?
Gerald:
I think she's got nice tits, actually.
Lomper:
I never said owt about her personality, like. I mean, she's probably quite nice if you get to know her.
Dave:
No. And they won't say nowt about your personality neither. Which is good 'cause you're basically a bastard. Bollocks to your personality - this is what they're looking at, right? And I'll tell you summat, mate. Anti-wrinkle cream there may be, but anti-fat-bastard cream there is none.
Gerald:
He's fat, you're thin, and you're both fucking ugly.
Horse:
No-one said anything to me about the full monty!
Gary 'Gaz' Schofield:
Folks don't laugh so loud when you've a grand in your back pocket.
Gaz:
Y' know Dave, it's a thought...
Gerald:
Ha! I could just see Little and Large prancing around Sheffield with their widges hanging out. Now that *would* be worth 10 quid...
Gaz:
Don't be so bloody daft. We were just saying...
Gerald:
Widges on parade! Bring your own microscope!
Dave:
The less I eat, the fatter I get.
Lomper:
So stuff yourself and get thin!
Gerald Arthur Cooper:
Fat, David, is a feminist issue.
Dave:
Well, what's that supposed to mean, when it's at home?
Gerald Arthur Cooper:
I don't bloody know, do I? But it is.
Gaz:
Gentlemen, the lunchbox has landed!
Gaz:
I've got a degree in ass wiggling, mate.
Gaz:
So, uh, Horse... What can you do?
Horse:
I dunno, really... Let's see, there's the, uh... The bump, the stomp, the bus stop... Me breakdancing days are probably over, but there's always the funky chicken.
Dave:
[
discussing possible means of suicide] I know. You could stand in middle of road and have a mate run smack into you right fast.
Lomper:
Haven't got any mates...
Gary 'Gaz' Schofield:
Listen to you, we just saved your fucking life so don't tell us we're not your mates, all right?
Lomper:
Really?
Gary 'Gaz' Schofield:
Yeah.
Lomper:
Thanks. Thanks a lot.
Dave:
Yeah, me and all, I'd run ya down as soon as look at ya.
Lomper:
Oh aye? Cheers.
Dave:
We want to know about dancing that's all.
Gerald Arthur Cooper:
Dancers have coordination, skill, timing, fitness, and grace. Take a long, hard look in the mirror.
[
repeated line]
Gaz:
Fookin' hell!
Gaz:
I don't suppose you could lend us a jacket...
Dave:
Oh, Gaz...
Gaz:
Oh, come on, Dave, it's not for me, it's a funeral.
Dave:
[
pause] What color?
Gaz:
[
pause] Orange.
Dave:
Orange?
Gaz:
*Black* for fuck's sake!
Dave:
Okay, go on, I'll meet you back doors.
[
Gaz and Dave are waiting in Gerald's lawn for him to leave for work]
Dave:
He's got gnomes.
Gaz:
Aye, he bloody would have.
Lomper:
[
Lomper comes in to find his mum trying to get up the stairs by herself] What are you doin', mum?
Lomper's Mum:
Where've you been?
Lomper:
Drivin'.
Lomper's Mum:
Drivin' where?
Lomper:
Just drivin'!
Lomper's Mum:
[
pause] Thought you'd gone.
Horse:
No, but... what I mean to say is... my willy...
Lomper:
*Your* willy? *My* willy!
Gaz:
On Sale for £4.99 and we're still a fuckin' fiver short!
[
before the first rehearsal Gaz has hurtled off to find Dave, finding him working as a security guard in Asda]
Gaz:
Dave! What are you doing?
Dave:
What's it look like?
Gaz:
We're on in two days time, where the FOOK are you?
Dave:
I'm here! Workin'! Earnin'! That's where! Not pissin' abaht! End of chat
Gaz:
Off to Job Club then?
Gerald:
As a matter of fact, yes I bloody well am!
[
he turns to Dave, who is still holding one of his garden gnomes]
Gerald:
Put that back! *PUT* it back!
Gaz:
I need an audience
Dave:
You need a doctor!
Gaz:
Oh, fucking hell, Nath! They're 20 quid each them!
Gaz:
Gentlemen, the lunchbox has arrived.
Gaz:
[
stuck with Dave on top of a car in the middle of a canal] Ey up, someone's coming.
Passer-By:
All right?
Gaz:
Aye, not so bad.
Dave:
[
after the Passer-by leaves] Not so bad? Not so bad? That's not much of a chuffing SOS is it?!
Gerald:
[
Gerald is seated at a computer at Job Club accessing data while Gary and the others are talking and playing cards and not filling out requested forms] Button it, you lot! Some of us are trying to get a job here.
Gary 'Gaz' Schofield:
You're not our foreman anymore, Gerald. You're just like the rest of us... scrap.
Gerald:
Shut it! Right?
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