The Hard Word

Jane Moore:
Do you like robbing banks?

Shane Twentyman:
Off the record, I f***ing love it!

Mal Twentyman:
You smell better than Christmas dinner.

Frank Malone:
Where's the money?

Dale Twentyman:
Oooh, I stuck it up a cow's arse.

Frank Malone:
Well I hope you washed your hands after.

Shane Twentyman:
Dale is the smart one, Mal is the good one, and I'm the f*** up.

Carol Twentyman:
I thought you liked me being a tart.

Dale Twentyman:
I like you being my tart.

[while discussing about a prisoner's interest in a book called 'Portnoy's Complaint']

Dean:
What's he complaining about?

Dale Twentyman:
Oh, his mother, women, not enough sex. You know, the usual.

Dean:
Any good?

Dale Twentyman:
Well that would depend on whether you've spoofed all over the toothbrushes with your mother trying to bash down the bathroom door. 'Wanker's Bible', it's pretty funny.

Dean:
I'll have a go after Millenhall.

Dale Twentyman:
What's going on?

Shane Twentyman:
Tarzan's gone ape-sh*t!

Dale Twentyman:
We've got time for a swim after this.

Shane Twentyman:
We haven't got any trunks.

Dale Twentyman:
We'll go in our undies.

Shane Twentyman:
I'm not wearing any.

Dale Twentyman:
[Looks at Shane] I'll buy you some.

Shane Twentyman:
Undies?

Dale Twentyman:
Trunks.

Frank Malone:
We're going after the Melbourne Cup.

Mal Twentyman:
[confused] You serious?... Where will you sell it?

Frank Malone:
Not the cup, the money... the bookies mate, f***.

[the Twentyman's and Frank argue in the car, Tarzan stops it by firing his shotgun through the ceiling]

Tarzan:
Next one who says a bloody word, I'll blow his bloody brains out. Right.

Mal Twentyman:
[Deafened] What!

Shane Twentyman:
[about Pamela] You're gone on her, aren't you, mate?

Mal Twentyman:
Head over f***in' heels, mate. I'm feeling things I've only seen on tv.

Shane Twentyman:
Nice tits.

Mal Twentyman:
[dreamily] Yeah . . . what?

Frank Malone:
I still think you set me up.

Carol Twentyman:
Look, I know I'm a c*nt, I'm *not* a psychopath.

Carol Twentyman:
Listen to me, Dale. What are you doing? Will you just look at me, please?

Dale Twentyman:
It's too late, Carol. There's nothing left.

Carol Twentyman:
How can you say that? Dale, I love you. We fit together.

Dale Twentyman:
Right, well, I'll try to remember that when I'm thinking about your mouth wrapped around Frank's cock.

Mal Twentyman:
It really shits me, tracking us all the way out here just to rub it in our faces.

Shane Twentyman:
He is just being Frank. He can't help himself. He *has* to f*** you.

Mal Twentyman:
I'm sick of getting f***ed.

Shane Twentyman:
I'm never getting f***ed again.

Dale Twentyman:
We're getting f***ed right now.

Mal Twentyman:
F***!

Mal Twentyman:
I always said you were a sport. Didn't I always say that?

Carol Twentyman:
Yeah, you did. You always said that.

Shane Twentyman:
*I* always said you were a scheming b*tch.