Brassed Off

Shane:
How the hell do you die happy?

Nurse:
Is this man bothering you?

Phil:
'Course he is. He's me dad.

Phil:
I love the band - we all do - but there's other things in life, you know, that's more important.

Danny:
Not in mine there isn't.

Gloria:
Do you want to come up for a coffee?

Andy:
I don't drink coffee.

Gloria:
I haven't got any.

Shane:
I don't like seein' Dad sad, Mam, but I'd sooner see him sad than not see him at all.

Danny:
The truth is, I thought it mattered - I thought that music mattered. But does it? Bollocks! Not compared to how people matter.

Danny:
This band behind me'll tell you that that trophy means more to me than owt else in the whole world. But they'd be wrong! Truth is, I THOUGHT it mattered. I thought that MUSIC mattered. But does it bollocks? Not compared to how people matter. Us winning this trophy won't mean bugger-all to most people. But us refusing it - like what we're going to do now - well, then it becomes news, doesn't it?

Danny:
You see what I mean. That way, I'll not just be talking to myself, will I? Because over the last ten years, this bloody government has systematically destroyed an entire industry. OUR industry. And not just our industry - our communities, our homes, our lives. All in the name of "progress". And for a few lousy bob. I'll tell you something else you might not know, as well. A fortnight ago, this band's pit were closed - another thousand men lost their jobs. And that's not all they lost. Most of them lost the will to win a while ago. A few of them even lost the will to fight. But when it comes to losing the will to live, to breathe, the point is - if this lot were seals or whales, you'd all be up in bloody arms. But their not, are they, no, no they're not. They're just ordinary common-or-garden honest, decent human beings. And not one of them with an ounce of bloody hope left. Oh aye, they can knock out a bloody good tune. But what the f*** does that matter?

Danny:
And now I'm going to take my boys out onto the town. Thank you.

Andy:
Sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll, hey ladies?

Vera:
Aye, but we can do without the drugs and rock 'n' roll!

Andy:
The only reason I get up in the morning is to see if my luck's changed. And it never bloody has.

Danny:
All right then, lads and lasses.

Danny:
Land of Hope and bloody Glory, eh?

Gloria:
Moving words...

Andy:
Huh?

Gloria:
In there, Danny...

Andy:
Ah, awright, daft old codger, if it weren't for the band ah reckon he'd pop his clogs. Say, you'd fancy some grub? We can go posh if ya want...

Andy:
Poor old biddies. Don't they know they're pissing in the wind, like the rest of us?

Ernie:
Can they do that, women?

Andy:
What?

Ernie:
Piss in the wind.

Jim:
No, Ernie. That's just the point.

Ernie:
No, but on a nice day, you know, when there's no wind about. They can't - you know - get any direction on it.

Jim:
All right, whatever it is that lasses do that's pointless.

Andy:
Bloody hell. So much to choose from.

Phil:
Fart in a force ten?

Jim:
By god, Phil, you don't half know some funny women.

Harry:
Steady lads. My missus does that.

Harry:
You daft bastards. Women Against Closure? That is when she's not farting in a force ten!

Ward Sister:
Message from Mr Ormanrod!

Phil:
He's awake?

Ward Sister:
Yes. He says your Tenor Horn is too soft!

Danny:
She's a bit careless with the crockery, your Sandra!

Simmo:
[about Gloria] You had her. Behind the bus station.

Andy:
No, I didn't.

Simmo:
You told us you did.

Andy:
No, it were top half only.

Andy:
I'm not a kid any more, Jim, right?

Jim:
Oh, aye. Old enough to be a scab then?

Ernie:
It's all right, Andy. He doesn't mean it.

Andy:
You don't mess around with words like that.

Jim:
Aye, I'm sorry, Andy. I take it back. You're just a stupid f***er.

Andy:
That's more like it.

Phil:
[as Mr. Chuckles] So God was creating man. And his little assistant came up to him and he said: "Hey, we've got all these bodies left, but we're right out of brains, we're right out of hearts and we're right out of vocal chords." And God said: "F*** it! Sew 'em up anyway. Smack smiles on the faces and make them talk out of their arses." And lo, God created the Tory Party.

Phil:
[as Mr. Chuckles, about God] What's He doing? He can take John Lennon. He can take those three young lads down at Ainsley Pit. He's even thinking of taking my old man. And Margaret bloody Thatcher lives! What's He sodding playing at, eh?