Long Good Friday

Harold:
I'll have his carcass dripping blood by midnight.

Harold:
The Mafia? I've sh*t 'em.

Harold:
We're looking for people who can contribute to what England has given the world: culture, genius, sophistication. Bit more than an 'ot dog, know what I mean?

Harold:
It's Good Friday. Have a Bloody Mary.

Harold:
You don't crucify people! Not on Good Friday!

Harold:
The Yanks love snobbery. They really feel they've arrived in England if the upper class treats 'em like sh*t.

Pool Attendant:
They kept it all incognito. They're gonna collect the body in an ice cream van.

Harold:
There's a lot of dignity in that, isn't there? Going out like a raspberry ripple.

Harold:
"Nothing unusual," he says! Eric's been blown to smithereens, Colin's been carved up, and I've got a bomb in me casino, and you say nothing unusual?

Erroll:
Well, he don't like Colin. I mean, queers get right up his hooter, you know?

Harold:
After what happened this morning, you'd have to find his hooter to get up it.

Erroll:
Is something up with him, then?

Harold:
Well, let's put it this way. Apart from his a**hole being about fifty yards away from his brains, and the choirboys playing "'unt the thimble" with the rest of him, he ain't too happy.

Harold:
What the hell was Colin doing with a Lime'ouse minicab driver in Belfast?

Jeff:
Colin can't drive.

Harold:
Oh, that makes sense. Second question: Belfast? What was he doing there? I know Colin fancies soldiers, but that's taking his buggery a bit far, isn't it?

Harold:
Alan found him dying. He'd been nailed to the floor.

Jeff:
When was this, then?

Harold:
Well, it must've been just after you saw him and just before Alan saw him. Otherwise, you'd have noticed, wouldn't you? I mean, a geezer nailed to the floor. A man of your education would definitely have spotted that, wouldn't he?

Harold:
I'm glad I found out in time just what a partnership with a pair of wankers like you would've been. A sleeping partner's one thing, but you're in a f***ing coma! No wonder you've got an energy crisis, you're so under the water!

Harold:
Who's having a go at me? Can you think of anyone who might have an old score to settle or something?

Razors:
Who's big enough to take you on?

Harold:
Well, there were a few.

Razors:
Like who?

Harold:
Yeah, they're all dead.

Harold:
No one's heard nothing? That just ain't natural. It's like one of them silent, deadly farts. No clue, and then pow, you go cross-eyed.

Harold:
Remember, scare the sh*t out of them, but don't damage them. I want 'em conscious and talkative. And lads, try and be discreet, eh?

Harold:
Move to the car, Billy, or I'll blow your spine off.

Billy:
That's not a shooter, is it, Harold?

Harold:
Oh don't be silly, Billy. Would I come hunting for you with me fingers?

Harold:
Don't you ever tell me what I can or can't do! Bent law can be tolerated for as long as they're lubricating, but you have become definitely parched. If I was you, I'd run for cover and close the hatch, 'cause you're gonna wind up on one of those meat hooks, my son.

Harold:
I'm setting up the biggest deal in Europe with the hardest organization since Hitler stuck as swastika on his jockstrap.

Harold:
It's my manor!

Parky:
Not anymore Harold, they're taking it away from you.

Harold:
Tell 'em what your name is.

Razors:
Razors

Harold:
Or as the youth of today call him, the human spirograph.

Harold:
I want the name of your top gras.

Parky:
He trusts me Harold, I've known him a long time.

Harold:
Then you should remember his name.

Charlie:
This is like a bad night in Vietnam.

Harold:
Don't you ever worry about your liver?

Jeff:
Nah, we're just good friends.

Jeff:
I wanna lick every inch of you...

Victoria:
Saved by the bell. Goodnight.

Harold:
For more than ten years there's been peace - everyone to his own patch. We've all had it sweet. I've done every single one of you favours in the past - I've put money in all your pockets. I've treated you well, even when you was out of order, right? Well now there's been an eruption. It's like f***in' Belfast on a bad night. One of my closest friends is lyin' out there in the freezer. And believe me, all of you, nobody goes home until I find out who done it, and why.

Colin:
Two large Bushmills, please, darlin'.

Harold:
'Ere, 'old up, where's Victoria?

Harold:

The only good grass is the grass that grasses to me.