Buried on Sunday

Nelson:
Oh yeah, Dexter. Do yourself a favour. The next time you have this overwhelming urge to ejaculate some professional jealousy you may have towards me why don't you do it in the privacy of your own bathroom instead of a goddamn public forum! Because if it happens again, Dexter, I will do my very best to make sure you wake up the next morning without a profession!

Paxton:
(referring to Knickel) Who is this bozo?

Augustus Knickel:
This bozo is Christ's representative on Earth, the Mayor of Town and the Acting Head of State of The Republic of Solomon Gundy, you little tit!

Nelson:
You're the mayor, right? August Nickle.

Augustus Knickel:
It's Augustus Knickel, actually. But you can call me Your Worship.

Mrs. Swinnimer:
We heard your message. Now I say we give Ottawa a message they'll listen to for once! You works for them, right?

Dexter Lexcannon:
The government is my client, yes.

Mrs. Swinnimer:
Your client. That's close enough, I figure. I say we hang him.

Singing Fisherman:
We'll haul away. We'll haul away together.

Singing Fisherman:
Well, Dexter came from Ottawa to stop us all from fishing...

Singing Fisherman:
But we'll go fishing anyway and we won't ask permission...

Noel:
I can't believe it. I'm inches away from a hydrogen bomb.

Augustus Knickel:
You flatter me!

The Prime Minister:
If that's the Premier of Nova Scotia again, tell him I'm taking a dump. A long and pleasant one.