Life on Mars

Detective Ray Carling:
He has marshmallow guns, knives and coffins in his bowl of Lucky Charms every morning. He's magically malicious.

Detective Ray Carling:
Checkers with Windy?

Detective Sam Tyler:
Yeah.

Detective Ray Carling:
What kind of name is Windy?

Detective Sam Tyler:
A five letter word for "bite me."

Detective Ray Carling:
[to an FBI agent searching Detective Sam Tyler's closet] Hey, Efrem Zimbalist Jr. Mint! How about we wrap it up, huh? Clearly the only crime is Tyler's taste in clothing.

Lieutenant Gene Hunt:
So, while you've been sleeping, Chris, Spiro Agnew turned out to be a great disappointment to us all. He was taking bribes. Can you imagine? The Vice President taking bribes. What's next? The President himself committing burglary?

Detective Sam Tyler:
David Bowie. Why does it always come back to David Bowie?

Lieutenant Gene Hunt:
Tyler, Come here. I need you.

[Having resolved to stay in 1973 with the people he has become so attached to, Sam walks up to Gene and gives him a big hug]

Lieutenant Gene Hunt:
[laughing] I know. I think I'm gonna miss you most of all, scarecrow.

[Sam is suddenly 'awoken', presumably never to see his 1973 friends again]

Lieutenant Gene Hunt:
Revenge is for the weak. The strong, they brush it off... and say, "Thanks for the gunshot, dinkweed, but I didn't even feel it."

Detective Sam Tyler:
You really been shot five times, Gene?

Lieutenant Gene Hunt:
Shot five times. Shot at 351 times.

Detective Sam Tyler:
You count?

Lieutenant Gene Hunt:
Two things you always count, Tyler, gunshots and blessings.

Detective Ray Carling:
It goes like this, Spaceman. We live on a rock, there ain't no rhyme, there ain't no reason. We live on a rock, just one of many. Hurling around in some big cosmic jumblelaya. Now you wanna get questiony, that's your prerogative. My ma took me to a loud church every Sunday. She squeezed her eyes shut, she pressed her rosary beads to her lips and she prayed for good things for those she loved. But, cancer took two of her sisters. Her husband couldn't make a move without a belly full of gin, her youngest son turned to a life of crime, and her oldest, me, is a nasty son of a b*tch who can't get out of third gear without a snarl. So, who was she talking to every Sunday and why wasn't he answering? I will tell you why, because we live on a rock, just one of many. There ain't no answers! There's just this! And all you can really hope to do is to find a couple of people who make the seventy or eighty odd years we get to live on this sweet swinging sphere remotely tolerable.

[beat]

Detective Ray Carling:
I gotta take a leak.

Detective Sam Tyler:
You see? Reeves' murder is looking more and more like a hate crime.

Lieutenant Gene Hunt:
What? As opposed to an 'I really, really like you' crime?

Detective Sam Tyler:
[the fire chief has handed Sam fragments of the alarm clock used to detonate the first bomb] This is old school. Even al-Qaeda uses electronic timers.

FDNY Chief:
Al who?

Pat Olsen:
I know you. Gene Hunt. 'Cause every autocracy needs a tyrant.

Lieutenant Gene Hunt:
I am not a tyrant. I am a dictator. Big difference.

Pat Olsen:
Does it really matter what I do or say? You'll beat a confession out of me if you have to, won't you?

Lieutenant Gene Hunt:
I will. It's what we call in this line of work "the perks."

Interrogator:
Lieutenant Hunt, you have some pretty unorthodox investigative methods.

Lieutenant Gene Hunt:
What can I say? I'm an artst.

Detective Sam Tyler:
Kim Trent, here is a D.A.T. You are free to go.

Kim Trent:
You gotta respect those who defend the Constitution. All hail the Nixon administration.

Detective Sam Tyler:
Don't get too attached.

Detective Sam Tyler:
That's an unusual ashtray.

Mrs. Salvaggio:
My granddaughter Sofia made it for me. She loves to come over and see all the butts in there. She says, "Nana uses it."

Detective Sam Tyler:
Beautiful story. Should write a letter to the Surgeon General.

Detective Ray Carling:
[referring to Lee and Sam] Like two peas in a pansy pod.

Lee Crocker:
Detective, if ignorance were a drug, you'd be high all the time.

Detective Sam Tyler:
Now that was an analogy.

Detective Ray Carling:
We got nothing. Nothing! Oh-except for the fact that we now have irrefutable proof that this guy is one Brady short of a bunch.

Lieutenant Gene Hunt:
Nobody hurts little girls in my kingdom, and it is my kingdom. Huntlandia, home of the blueberry crepe, where little kids are off limits.