Chopper

Chopper:
Why would I shoot a bloke BANG, then drive him to the bloody car and wizz him off to the hospital at a hundred miles an hour? It defeats the purpose of having shot him in the first place.

Chopper:
I'm just a bloody normal bloke. A normal bloke who likes a bit of torture.

Chopper:
Oh, Keithy. I always thought I was a good bloke.

Keithy George:
Ha. What did you ever do that was good?

Chopper:
Well, I bashed you. That was good, wasn't it? It was good for a bit of a giggle, anyway.

Chopper:
Jimmy, if you keep stabbing me, you're going to kill me.

Chopper:
Look, all I can tell you is what I've already told Mister Beasley: none of us saw anything. It was just one of those things: Bluey Barnes was reading a magazine; Ambrose Hatcheson was taking a piss; Johnny Price was washing his hands; Jimmy Loughnan was watching a bullant crawl across the table, and I was watching Jimmy watching the bullant.

Chopper:
Aw, look. The bloke's been my best mate since 1975. We've had our fall-outs from time to time. It's no big deal. It's like... if your mum stabbed you.

Chopper:
Look, you're not still angry at me about the leg, are you?

Neville Bartos:
Nah, forget about it.

Chopper:
Because I don't know if you remember, Neville, but I had that bloody shotgun pointed at your head. I reconsidered and dropped it down to your kneecap. Remember?

Neville Bartos:
Forget about it. All right?

Chopper:
I mean, what the bloody hell were you doing getting lippy at me with a bloody shotgun? I had a bloody loaded shotgun.

Neville Bartos:
The leg is okay, all right?

Interviewer:
You've written a best-seller...

Chopper:
Yeah, I know - and I can't even bloody spell. What about those poor bloody academics, those college graduates, battling their guts out to write some airy-fairy piece of exaggerated artwork? And here's a bloke, sitting in a cell, who can't spell, and he's written a best-seller. It's sold two hundred and fifty thousand copies. And it's still selling. And he's writing another one. And I can't even spell. I'm semi-bloody-illiterate.

Chopper:
Even Beethoven had his critics. See if you can name three of them.

Chopper:
You don't much like me, do you Keithy?

Nevil Bartos I'm flying.. I'm f***ing flying

Have a f***ing look

have a f***ing geeze

of course I'm good

Tania look what you've done..

Have a look at what you've gone and done...

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