A Hard Day's Night

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, that one, that'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] 'Ello, 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 awkwardly]

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!

Norm:
Are you listening to me, Lennon?

John:
[Playing around with a bottle of Coke] You're a swine. Ain't he George?

George:
Yeah, a swine.

Norm:
Thanks. [Sees Paul's grandfather] Hey...

Beatles:
WHO'S THAT LITTLE OLD MAN?

Norm:
Well, who is he?

Ringo:
He belongs to Paul.

Norm:
Oh, well.

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 shall 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 the poor little head, trembling under the weight of it!

Ringo:
Hey, any of you lot 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:
What do you call that hairstyle you´re wearing?

George:
Arthur.

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 turning 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:
[To the others] 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 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:
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:
No, I think your nose is very...

John:
Is it?

Millie:
Well, I would have said so.

John:
You know him better, though.

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. But I wouldn´t have it. I stuck 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, and you'll learn it. Can he 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. Give him whatever it is they drink, uh, Coke-a-rama?

George:
Ta.

Simon Marshall:
Well, at least he's 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 rather touching, really. Here's this kid, trying to give 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:
I won't.

Simon Marshall:
You can be replaced, chickie baby.

George:
I don't care.

Simon Marshall:
And that pose is out too, Sonny Jim. The new thing is to care passionately and be right-wing. Anyway, if you don't cooperate, you won't meet Susan.

George:
And who's this Susan when she's at home?

Simon Marshall:
Only Susan Canby, our resident teenager. You'll have to love her, she's your symbol.

George:
Oh, you mean that posh bird who gets everything wrong?

Simon Marshall:
I beg your pardon?

George:
Oh, yeah. The lads frequently sit 'round the television and watch her for a giggle. In fact, once, we all sat down and wrote these letters, saying how gear she was and all that rubbish.

Simon Marshall:
She's a trendsetter. It's her profession!

George:
She's a drag - a well-known drag. We turn the sound down on her and say rude things.

Simon Marshall:
[horrified] Get him out of here...

George:
Have I said something amiss?

Simon Marshall:
Get him out! He's knocking the program's image!

George:
Sorry about the shirts!

Simon Marshall:
Get him out!

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

John:
You wouldn't.

Norm:
Oh, I would, though.

Ringo:
I demand to see my soliciter!

Constable:
Oh, what's his name?

Ringo:
Well, if you want to be technical about it...

Paul:
Split up and look for him!

John:
Right.

John:
We've become a limited company!

Norm:
Now, listen, I've got one thing I'm gonna say to you, Lennon!

John:
What's that?

Norm:
[Adopts Liverpudlian accent] You're a swine.