ShakespeaRe-Told

Titania:
What's your name?

Bottom:
Bottom. But you can call me Booty.

Oberon:
Is Puck short for Puck-up by any chance?

Bottom:
And what do they call you?

Titania:
Titania

Bottom:
[looking down at her breasts] I'm not surprised.

[advising Theo how to patch things up with his wife]

Oberon:
You just go in there and you say the three magic phrases that all women love to hear: "I'm sorry", "I love you" and "You were right".

[Theo tells Polly how much he loves her]

Theo:
I've loved you, Polly, for as long as I've known you. But somewhere, somewhere along the way I stopped telling you. And that is why I'm so glad that here today in front of our friends and our loved ones, I'm able to tell you exactly what is in my heart. And this'll surprise you because it certainly surprised me: I've written a poem.

Theo:
Yours is the voice I hope to hear / When my phone says "One missed call". / Yours are the hands I want holding my ladder / When I'm papering the stairs and the hall. // Yours is the face I long to see / When I'm delayed at Waterloo. / And yours is the duvet I long to share / When my Calor gas is through. // Yours is the sartorial eye that I crave / When I'm having last minute suit doubts. / And yours is the hand that I want to hold / During funerals and penalty shoot-outs. // Long before my mind was made up / My heart belonged to you. / And at last I'm listening to all that it says / And I hope that you are too.

[Malcolm unwittingly makes a faux pas by mentioning the name of TV chef Gordon Ramsay]

Joe Macbeth:
If I make a mistake, it hurts me. Do you understand that? I mean, actual physical pain.

Malcolm:
That's very 'Gordon Ramsay'.

[stunned silence]

Roddy Maloney:
We don't use that name in this kitchen. Didn't your father tell you?

Billy:
It's bad luck to say it out loud. Just call him 'The Scottish Chef'.

Joe Macbeth:
[hears a helicopter] Is that a helicopter? [laughs, a bit crazed] Is it landing on this building?

Joe Macbeth:
Pigs will fly...! Pigs will FLY! Pigs are landing on my head...!

Duncan:
In another life, I'd make a pass at you.

Ella Macbeth:
In another life, I'd let you.

Joe Macbeth:
Actually, do you know what I love about squid?

Billy:
What do you love about squid?

Joe Macbeth:
The name. Nobody knows where it came from. It just appeared one day in the 17th century. It's like... [pause] It's like God... parted the heavens, reached down to us and went: "There you are, people. Squid"

Beatrice:
You really do put the W into 'anchorman', don't you?

[last lines; Benedick and Beatrice are standing at the altar]

Benedick:
Remind me, what are we doing here?

Beatrice:
I have absolutely no idea.

Beatrice:
Don't you dare walk away when I'm shouting at you!

[Beatrice walks in on Hero who is standing in a wedding dress]

Beatrice:
You're not going like that, are you?

Hero:
You're being jealous, Claude.

Claude:
I'm the fianc?... I'm supposed to be jealous.

Hero:
Jealous; not insane.

Hero:
There's only one word for the weather this weekend and that word is... very changeable

Beatrice:
[to Benedick] Are you smoking crack?

Benedick:
I'm just making myself decent!

Beatrice:
Can I wait that long?

Beatrice:
[Coming Forward] What fire is in mine ears? Can this be true? Stand I condemn'd for pride and scorn so much? Contempt, farewell! an maiden pride, adieu! No glory lives behind the back of such. And, Benidick, love on; I will requite thee, Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand: If thou dost love, my kindness shall incite thee to bind our loves up in a holy band; For others say thou dost deserve, and I believe it better than reportingly.

Benedick:
[talking to himself] Love's just one of those things a man grows into, like jazz and olives. I'm not going to let a few sarcastic remarks change the way I feel. After all, the world must be peopled. When I said I'd die a bachelor I just didn't realize I'd live this long!

[at the hospital]

Benedick:
Here, I got you this.

Beatrice:
What is it?

Benedick:
Coffee... Maybe soup.

Beatrice:
Thanks but... I think I'll pass.

Benedick:
Bad hair day?

Beatrice:
Bad face day?

Beatrice:
*Don't* call me "Bea"!

Kate:
If I turned up pissed, let alone dressed like a monkey's arse, you would have seen the funny side, would you?

[Lying in bed with Kate, on the MORNING after the first night of their honeymoon]

Petruchio:
How brightly shines the moon!

[a cockerel sounds in the background]

Kate:
That's the sun, you pillock.

Petruchio:
Oh... is it? [blinks the sleep from his eyes] Well...

[pause]

Petruchio:
You shouldn't contradict me.

Kate:
You shouldn't talk bollocks.

[first lines]

Kate:
Fathead!

[she slaps him]

Tim Agnew:
You hit me!

Kate:
You gave me that information. You made me look like a political pygmy, on Newsnight. Your job, in case you weren't concentrating, is to make sure I know what I'm pigging well talking about!

Tim Agnew:
You're out of order, Katherine. I'm sorry, but good grief!

Kate:
And you're sacked! No wonder this party has been the opposition for the last ten million light years!

Tim Agnew:
You can't sack me, and, frankly, I'd appreciate an apology. Otherwise...

Kate:
Otherwise?

Tim Agnew:
If we're to mantain a mature, grown-up working relationship, then...

Kate:
Oh...

[she gives him an insulting gesture]

Kate:
Swivel!

Petruchio:
What's all this fuss about, just because I was fifteen minutes late?

Kate:
And dressed like a Christmas Tree!

Petruchio:
You do realise that I have all the documents for the car hire and the villa?

Kate:
Which I paid for. So I suggest you hand it over and disappear in a poof of smoke, up your own backside!

Vicar:
Will you love her, comfort her, honour her and protect her and forsaking all others be faithful to her as long as you both shall live?

Petruchio:
What? Yep.

Vicar:
No, it's "I will".

Petruchio:
[shouts] I will!

Petruchio:
Only, if I say that's the moon, it's the moon. Got it?

Kate:
How do you work that out then?

Petruchio:
Well, you're my wife. You agree with everything I say.

Kate:
Do I? What, even when you're wrong?

Petruchio:
Especially then. I never am wrong, so it's not really an issue.

Petruchio:
[looking at Tim] Tell me, sweet Kate, and tell me truly too, hast thou beheld a fresher gentlewoman?

Kate:
Oh, stop it.

Petruchio:
Such war of white and red within her cheeks! What stars do spangle heaven with such beauty, as those two eyes become that heavenly face? Young budding virgin...

Kate:
Yes, a fairer-looking chicken I never saw.

Tim Agnew:
I'm not gay!

Petruchio:
You keep telling yourself that, kid.

[Petruchio "finds" Kate's suitcase]

Kate:
He's gonna throw it all in the swimming pool, isn't he? He's going to taunt me with a week's worth of clean knickers and then toss it all into the pool.

Harry:
I would imagine that's... yeah.

Petruchio:
Now all you have to do, Kate, is be nice to me, unreservedly and without sarcasm, and you have less than ten seconds to do it.

[swinging the suitcase]

Petruchio:
Nine... eight... seven... six... five... four... three... two... one... and a half... one...

[He tosses the suitcase into the swimming pool. She goes over to him]

Kate:
I don't wear knickers anyway. Not when I'm on holiday.

[She kisses him, then turns and walks into the villa]

Mrs. Minola:
Katherine! Bianca's very keen for you to come to her party.

Kate:
Why?

Mrs. Minola:
She worries about you. So do I.

Kate:
And forcing me to live it up with a bunch of overpaid, coke-snorting anorexics is going to make me feel better, is it?

[last lines]

Kate:
Oh, yes, I forgot to mention: I'm pregnant.

Petruchio:
What? That's... that's amazing!

Kate:
However, you'll have to look after them.

Petruchio:
Yes, fine.

Kate:
Because I'm not giving up my career.

Petruchio:
No problem, I'll do it!

Kate:
I don't believe you. You'll feed them raw chicken, you'll throw them in the pond to see if they float, you'll leave them on a bus somewhere...

Petruchio:
Oh, God, I'm going to shag you right here, right now.

Kate:
Go on...

Petruchio:
..."Them"?

Kate:
There's triplets. [he laughs and kisses her]

Tim Agnew:
[to Kate] Paul Fox rang to say, yes, he is happy to be put forward for the tax law rewrite joint committee, but in future, could you not use the f-word on his answering machine at home, because he's got a very smart four-year-old? Keith Aspinall's office rang, to say that he's not a trumped-up, loudmouthed, illiterate Northern git, and if you call him that again, in private or otherwise, he'll sue you.

Tim Agnew:
And your mother's here. She's on her way up.

Kate:
My mother? Who the hell let her in?

Tim Agnew:
Security.

Kate:
On whose authority?

Tim Agnew:
Mine. She's your mother.

Kate:
You don't know what my mother looks like. She could be a f... terrorist for all you know.

Tim Agnew:
Can I go home?

Kate:
Yeah, get lost. Leave me on my own to get blown up.

Kate:
Oh, go to hell! All of you! And stay there!

Petruchio:
Kiss me, Kate!

Kate:
Up yours, weirdo.