Men Behaving Badly, Series 1

Gary:
Hey, I think a woman's gonna move in upstairs. I found a letter addressed to someone called Deborah.

Dermot:
Great. What's it say.

Gary:
How should I know? It's private. Actually, I did accidentally steam it open and read it. Her mother enjoyed her holiday in France but the weather was a bit disappointing.

Dermot:
France, eh? (Imitates French accent) Bonjour, Deborah. Je m'appelle Dermot. I am sensitive and artistic.

Gary:
Have you got the sharp knife in there?

Dermot:
Yeah, it's on the side. I'll bring it out in a minute. Yo! Get down, bitch.

Gary:
Dermot! Oh, I see. It's a duvet. Well, silly old me. I thought for a moment you'd spent all the money you owe me on a new suit, you piece of scum.

Dermot:
I'm looking after it for a friend.

Gary:
No, you're not.

Dermot:
All right. It's an investment.

Gary:
No, it isn't. It's a bloody new, bloody suit, you bastard.

Dermot:
It's not my fault. Whenever I see a cheque, I go out of control. I'm the same with tight black skirts, actually.

Gary:
This is my money we are talking about here. What would you say if I emptied your wallet and went out on a spending spree?

Dermot:
I'd say, "What can you buy these days for an old library ticket and a picture of Lisa bending down on Brighton Beach?"

Gary:
Shut up. Well, what else have you bought for yourself?

Dermot:
Nothing.

Gary:
Well, what's in that bag?

Dermot:
Oh, it's-- it's a cookery book.

Gary:
You expect me to believe that, do you?

Dermot:
You're always saying you're tired of me cooking the same thing all the time.

Gary:
(sighs) Yeah, all right.

Dermot:
Not that there's anything wrong with fish fingers Sur La Toast.

Gary:
Take those stupid sunglasses off.