A Hard Day's Night

John:
We know how to behave, we've had lessons.

John:
[In a female voice] I now declare this bridge open!

John:
He's sex obsessed! The older generation's leading our nation in a state of galloping ruin!

John:
[Wearing a beard, looking into a mirror] My name's Betty.

John:
Control yourself, you'll spurt.

Paul:
Mister, can we have our ball back?

Paul:
I like to keep Britain tidy.

Paul:
"Oh, that this too too solid flesh would melt..." [Quickly turns to the camera] ZAP!

George:
Sorry we hurt your field, mister!

George:
[Regarding Ringo] He's very fussy about his drums, you know. They loom large in his legend.

George:
Hey, you won't interfere with the basic rugged concept of me personality, will you madam?

George:
I don't think it's very likely we'll get on. The law of averages is against it.

Ringo:
I'm going out parading before it's too late!

Ringo:
There you go, hiding behind a smokescreen of bourgeois clichés!

Norm:
Shake, that that wig off, it suits you!

Shake:
[Trying to follow the Beatles into a casino, past a security guard] I'm with them. I'm...Ringo's sister.

TV Director:
Get me a bottle of milk and some tranquilizers. I see it all now, it's a plot... a plot...

John:
Hey, pardon me for asking, but who's the little old man?

Paul:
Uh, what little old man?

John:
That little old man.

Paul:
Oh, he's my grandfather.

George:
Your grandfather?

Paul:
Yes.

George:
That's not your grandfather.

Paul:
It is, you know.

George:
But I've seen your grandfather. He lives in your house.

Paul:
Oh, that's my other grandfather, but he's my grandfather as well.

John:
How do you reckon that one out?

Paul:
Well, everyone's entitled to two, aren't they, and he's my other one.

John:
We know that. But what's he doing here?

Paul:
Well, my mother thought the trip would do him good.

Ringo:
How's that?

Paul:
He's nursing a broken heart.

John:
[cheerfully] Hello, grandfather!

Paul's Grandfather:
Hello.

John:
He can talk, then, can he?

Paul:
Of course, he can talk. He's a human being, isn't he?

Ringo:
Well if he's your grandfather, who knows? [chuckles]

John:
And we're looking after him, are we?

Paul's Grandfather:
I'll look after meself!

Paul:
Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of.

John:
He's got you worried, then?

Paul:
Him? He's a villian. A real mixer. And he'll cost you a fortune in Breach of Promise cases.

John:
Gerron!

Paul:
No, straight up!

George:
What's the matter with you, then?

Ringo:
It's his grandfather. I can tell he doesn't like me. It's cause I'm little.

George:
Ah, you've got an inferiority complex, you have.

Ringo:
Yeah, I know, that's why I play the drums - it's me active compensatory factor.

Man:
Don't take that tone with me, young man. I fought the war for your sort.

Ringo:
I bet you're sorry you won.

Man:
I'll call the guard!

Paul:
Ah, but what? They don't take kindly to insults you know. Ah, come on, you lot. Let's get a cup of coffee and leave the kennel to Lassie.

Ringo:
I don't snore!

George:
You do, repeatedly!

Ringo:
Do I snore, John?

John:
Yeah, you're a window rattler, son.

Ringo:
That's just your opinion. Do I snore, Paul?

Paul:
With a trombone hooter like yours, it would be unnatural if you didn't.

Grandfather:
Now, Paulie... don't mock the afflicted.

Paul:
Ah, come off it, it's only a joke!

Grandfather:
Aye, it may be a joke to you, but it's his nose. He can't help having a hideous great hooter! And his poor little head, trembling under the weight of it!

Ringo:
Hey, any of you put a man in the cupboard?

John:
Nah.

George:
Don't be soft!

Ringo:
Well, somebody did.

George:
He's right, you know.

John:
There ya go.

Reporter:
How did you find America?

John:
Turned left at Greenland.

Reporter:
Do you often see your father?

Paul:
No, actually, we're just good friends.

Reporter:
Are you a mod or a rocker?

Ringo:
Um, no. I'm a mocker.

T.V. Director:
[Approaches the Beatles] Now, look. If you think I'm unsuitable, let's have it out in the open. I can't stand these backstage politics.

John:
Aren't you tending to black-and-white the situation somewhat?

T.V. Director:
Well, quite honestly, I wasn't expecting a musical arranger to question my ability, picture-wise.

John:
I could listen to him for hours.

Norm:
This is a battle of nerves between John and me.

Shake:
John hasn't got any.

Norm:
Any what?

Shake:
Nerves.

Norm:
That's just the trouble. I've toyed with the idea of a ball-and-chain, but he'd probably just rattle them at me, and in public too. Sometimes, I think he enjoys seeing me suffer.

[John walks towards some stairs, a woman, Millie, notices him]

Millie:
Hello!

John:
Hello.

Millie:
Oh, no, wait! You are-

John:
I'm not.

Millie:
Yes, you are, I know you are!

John:
I'm not, no.

Millie:
Well, you look just like him.

John:
Do I? You're the first one that's said that, ever.

Millie:
Yes, you do, look! [Shines an overhead light to a mirror on the wall for John to look at]

John:
[After looking in the mirror] Nah, my eyes are lighter. See, me nose...

Millie:
Yes, you're nose is very...

John:
Is it?

Millie:
I would say so.

John:
I know him better, you know.

Millie:
I do not. He's only a casual aquaintance.

John:
That's what you say.

Millie:
What have you heard.

John:
[Whispers in her ear] It's all over the place.

Millie:
Is it? Is it really?

John:
Mmmhmm. I would have none of it, though. I stood up for you.

Millie:
I knew I could rely on you.

John:
Thanks.

Millie:
[Looks at John with her glasses, then nods] You don't look like him at all.

[John shyly nods, puts his hat on and walks up the stairs, briefly looking back]

John:
She looks more like him than I do.

Man:
I suppose you realize this is private property!

George:
Sorry we hurt your field, Mister!

Simon Marshall:
We'd like you to give us your opinion on some clothes for teenagers.

George:
Oh, by all means. I'd be quite prepared for that eventuality.

Simon Marshall:
Well, not your real opinion, naturally. It'll be written out for you, and you'll learn it. Can you read?

George:
'Course I can.

Simon Marshall:
I mean lines, ducky, can you handle lines?

George:
Well, I'll have a bash.

Simon Marshall:
Good. Get him whatever it is they drink, uh, coke-a-rama?

George:
Ta.

Simon Marshall:
Well, at least he'd polite. Show him the shirts, Adrian. [Adrian, Simon's assistant, hands George some shirts] Now, you'll like these. You'll really "dig" them. They're "fab," and all the other pimply hyperboles.

George:
[Gives the shirts to Dolly, the secretary, unimpressed] I wouldn't be seen dead in them. They're dead grotty.

Simon Marshall:
"Grotty"?

George:
Yeah. Grotesque.

Simon Marshall:
[To Dolly] Make a note of that word and give it to Susan. It's quite touching, really. Here's this kid, giving me his utterly valueless opinion, when I know for a fact that within a month he'll be suffering from a violent inferiority complex and loss of status because he isn't wearing one of these nasty things! Of course they're grotty, you wretched nit, that's why they were designed! But that's what you'll want.

George:
No, I won't.

Simon Marshall:
You can be replaced, chickie baby.

George:
I don't care.

Norm:
Leave him alone, John. Or I'll tell them all the truth about you.

John:
You wouldn't.

Norm:
Oh, I would, though.

Paul:
Let's split up and find him!

John:
Right.

John:
We've become a limited company!

JOHN:
I now declare this bridge open!