Porridge

Mr Beal:
Long to do?

Fletcher:
Long enough.

Mr Beal:
What you in for?

Fletcher:
Got caught.

Bunny Warren:
What's the 'old up Fletch?

Fletcher:
It's the defrocked dentist havin' a go at the cuisine again.

Bunny Warren:
'Ere Fletch!

Fletcher:
I'm late.

Bunny Warren:
Look, I've got a letter from the wife, can you read it to me?

Fletcher:
Listen Bunn, if you can't read, how do you know it's from your wife?

Bunny Warren:
It's got Elaine's scent.

Fletcher:
Cor, where's Elaine work? A tarpaulin factory?

Mackay:
Fletcher!

Fletcher:
Sir.

Mackay:
If you want to sing, I suggest you form a Slade Prison Glee Club!

Fletcher:
Glee?

Fletcher:
You're lookin' a bit down in the mouth, Mr Barrowclough, anything the matter?

Mr Barrowclough:
Oh, nothing much. The usual. Domestic crisis.

Fletcher:
Oh dear. Mrs Barrowclough left you, has she?

Mr Barrowclough:
Unhappily... no Fletcher.

Fletcher:
Course, he sees 'imself as an authority on curry, he does, on account of where he was stationed in the army.

Rudge:
Where? India?

Fletcher:
No, Bradford.

Godber:
Hey, why don't we nick a chicken?

Fletcher:
Don't be silly, it's Wednesday afternoon. Where we going to get sage and onion stuffing, eh?

Fletcher:
I wouldn't leave that bike there if I was you.

Mr Beal:
When I want your opinion, I'll ask for it.

Fletcher:
Suit yourself. But there are one or two thieves in 'ere. Know what I mean?

Fletcher:
All right, I'll just you the 'ighlights, all right? 'Dearest Bunny, blah blah blah, blah blah blah, blah blah blah, blah blah blah, blah blah...

Fletcher:
blah.

Bunny Warren:
Blah blah blah what?

Fletcher:
It's trivia, Bunn, it's just trivia, it's the weather, her mother's catarrh, she's retiled the lav, the canary's got haemarroids, she's met a welder at the Fiesta Club and she's thinking of movin' in with him. All right? Must rush. Can't hang about.

Bunny Warren:
But...

Bunny Warren:
we 'aven't got a canary.

Mr Beal:
What you in for?

Rudge:
Two years.

Mr Beal:
I didn't mean time, I meant offence.

Oakes:
None taken.

Godber:
He's been sitting in his cell since chow, just staring at the wall.

Fletcher:
Ah well, he's just had his first experience of your cottage pie. Best not to move about too much after that.

Fletcher:
Success? Let me tell you about success. I had a pal, come to London 28 years ago without two ha'pennies to rub together. Now he managed to save up enough to buy a little hand cart and he went round collecting all old newspapers. Do you what he's worth today?

Mr Barrowclough:
No, what?

Fletcher:
Nothing. And he still owes for the hand cart.

Godber:
It lacks something, Lotterby. With this soup Elizabeth Davies recommends coriander, bay leaves and a dash of pepper.

Godber:
I said a dash, Lotterby.

Fletcher:
Hello, Len.

Godber:
All right, Fletch?

Fletcher:
Listen, it's the laddo's first day in 'ere. Do 'im a favour, will you? Give 'im a small portion.

Fletcher:
'Ere, you owe me some darning wool.

Godber:
I already gave you some.

Fletcher:
That was in exchange for the orange.

Godber:
Tangerine. Anyway, that was to pay me for the stamp.

Fletcher:
What stamp?

Godber:
For your pools.

Fletcher:
I paid you for the stamp with a squirt of me toothpaste.

Godber:
No, that was for the darning wool.

Fletcher:
You're not doing yourself any favours, are you Banyard? All you're doing is getting up other people's noses.

Banyard:
We have certain rights.

Fletcher:
No we don't, we're in the nick.

Ives:
I suppose you think you're entitled to something better just because you went to a public school, is that it?

Banyard:
On the contrary, Ives, I'm well used to this kind of food, I went to Harrow.

Fletcher:
Oh that's a good advert for the public school system, prepares you for the nick. Course it's harder in here for him than for most of us, 'cause he has had further to drop. Professional man, you see. Dentist. Tragic.

Ives:
What do you mean, Fletcher, 'tragic'? It's no laughing matter for that woman he had under the laughing gas.

Banyard:
There's no need for that, Ives. We don't have to keep unearthing each other's past, I'm paying for my peccadilloes.

Fletcher:
Oh that's good. If you're paying I'll have a large one.

Bunny Warren:
What's a peccadillo?

Ives:
It's a South African bird. Flies backwards to stop getting the sand in its eyes.

Bunny Warren:
No. No. I know what you mean though. It's an animal. Called the Armadildo.

Banyard:
The Armadildo.

Fletcher:
No, that was King Arthur's codpiece. I think that's what I'm eating an' all.

Fletcher:
Oh, morning Mr Barrowclough.

Mr Barrowclough:
Busy, Fletcher?

Fletcher:
Oh busier than ever, sir. Mind I never complain.

Mr Barrowclough:
I can't actually see what it is you're supposed to be doing.

Fletcher:
It's the pigs, sir. They won't eat without my reassuring presence. Very highly strung your average pig, you know.

Fletcher:
Who's he?

Mr Barrowclough:
Oh, Rudge. Newly assigned to the farm.

Fletcher:
How'd he work that then?

Mr Barrowclough:
Pardon?

Fletcher:
What? First day inside, the farm? What is he, the governor's nephew?

Godber:
...oh well, that's all I have time for. There's the ironing to be done before Starsky and Hutch. Needless to say, I love you and miss your loving... arms, I think it says.

Bunny Warren:
Yeah, would be arms yeah.

Godber:
Then it's lots of hugs and kisses. Nice letter.

Bunny Warren:
So there's nothing in here about a welder or a canary?

Godber:
No. I would have noticed.

Godber:
What is it?

Fletcher:
Cops.

Godber:
Copse? What, you mean like a wooded glade?

Fletcher:
Yeah. A wooded glade crawlin' with bleedin' cops.

Mackay:
Are you wearing make-up again, Whittaker?

Fletcher:
Watch out for 'im. 'Es the mad butcher of Slade prison.

Rudge:
What did he do?

Fletcher:
Fiddle the VAT on his sausages.

Fletcher:
'Ere Grouty, listen to this.

Harry Grout:
Listen to what?

Fletcher:
You know Robbie Patten who works in the laundry, well 'is wife wanted a divorce so she goes to the solicitor and 'e says "well, you've got to 'ave grounds". "What's grounds" she says. So 'e says "Firstly, there's insanity", well Robbie's a bit of a dipstick, like, but 'e's not certifiable. "Secondly there's desertion", well 'e's in 'ere, 'e can't go nowhere. "Third there's cruelty", well as you know 'e wouldn't hurt a fly "so that leaves adultery", "what's adultery" she says, so 'e tells 'er and she says "ah. I think we've got 'im there. 'E is not the father of my child!".

Mr Mackay:
Now I want a nice clean fight.

Urquart:
It's not a boxing match, Mr Mackay.

Mr Mackay:
That's what I'm anxious to avoid.

Godber:
This is just like the wooden horse.

Fletcher:
What wooden 'orse?

Godber:
The Greeks and the Trojans. That's how the Greeks got into Troy.

Fletcher:
Would you mind savin' the 'istory lesson til we get back into our flowery dell?

Fletcher:
A captain, Godber, has to possess certain attributes which set him apart from the rest of his team, that is why I've chosen Light Fingered Larry.

Godber:
Urquart? What attributes has he got?

Fletcher:
'Alf an ounce of snout which he's now given to me, all right?

Fletcher:
Cheer up, might never 'appen.

Rudge:
Already 'as, I'm 'ere ain't I?

Fletcher:
Now look. Whatever you're in 'ere for you did it didn't ya?

Rudge:
Banged to rights? Yeah!

Fletcher:
Yeah. Just like me. If we 'adn't have been caught we'd have been Jack the lad wouldn't we? But no. We was. We was collared, so don't bleat. If you can't do the time, don't do the crime.

Fletcher:
Show me a man who laughs at defeat and I will show you a black chiropodist with a sense of humour.

Fletcher:
Do you see yon screw with his looks so vain, with his brand new key on his brand new chain, with a face like a ferret and a pea for a brain, with his hand on his whistle in the morning.

Harry Grout:
Now we need someone reliable as trainer.

Fletcher:
Don't look at me. I've grown disenchanted with the game. Thirty years of supporting Orient does that for a man.

Fletcher:
Aw Oaksey, you're in here for armed robbery,why don't you try stealing the ball once in a while.