Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares, Series Three

Gordon:
The prawns? The flavour of the prawns was extraordinary. Fresh, vibrant. Why would you want to fuck around and put chocolate sauce on there?

Laurence:
Because I don't want to be boring. I want to be exciting.

Gordon:
I thought it was fucking hideous. Didn't work. And then I came to this fucking schlong, that kebab. Have you ever sat at a table and watched six customers with this fucking donkey's dick swinging around in front of their faces? It's hilarious.

Laurence:
Well, that… that's it. It's a talking point. It's a wow factor.

Gordon:
That's a wow factor? The fillet steak, it was tough as old boots.

Laurence:
Are you sure?

Gordon:
Yeah. Before you start mouthing off, let me just show you. A cube that big, and [indicating a smaller cube] a cube that big, [indicating an even smaller cube] and a cube that big are not going to cook at the same time.

Norm:
That's my fault, then.

Gordon:
Oh, fuck me, here we go. Can I just finish my sentence first, Sinbad, and then you can fucking come back on me in a minute?

Gordon:
(voiceover) With customers worn out from waiting, meals being sent back, surely even Laurence can see that by sticking to his stupid menu, he's only got himself to blame. (To Laurence) I'm speechless. I don't know what to say. Let's get to the crux. Laurence?

Laurence:
I think Norm was put under far too much pressure tonight. Your menu made him plate up his own plates, and do the starters and the cold soups out there on the barbie, and he couldn't manage. It slowed him down too much.

Gordon:
You're telling me that my menu fucked him up on the grill?

Laurence:
He couldn't deal with it.

Gordon:
Couldn't deal with what?! Putting out a fucking bowl of soup that's already made for him?

Laurence:
Yeah, it was-

Gordon:
When are you guys going to stop fucking around with excuses?! When's one of you gonna step forward with a pair of bollocks and give me some fucking honesty?! Because I don't know where you were, cause that was fucking shocking! Let me tell you something. You made a fucking good decision. You pushed the button. Whether you like it or not, it was too fucking late. An hour-and-a-half late. So whose fucking fault is it now, chef? (Starts walking out) I'm fucking out of here. fuck yourself.

Gordon:
(voiceover) Junior sous-chef Emma is Phil's long-suffering sidekick. Her star turn is sticky toffee pudding, but Phil hates it.

Phil:
Babe, you know my feelings on this fucking...

Emma:
I know you don't like that part.

Phil:
Day one, I've always said it should not be on our menu.

Emma:
Trial and error.

Phil:
Phil said an hour ago, "What is that? What? Is? That?" And he was told, "It's the Morgan classic, sticky toffee pudding!" [Raises his arms ridiculously] Yay!

[Back in the dining room]

Gordon:
[samples Emma's pudding] Smells nice. It's the first time this evening I'm glad to be here. This is nice, light, not too sticky. The person who made that dish doesn't put fucking apricot and mashed potatoes together in vanilla whisky.

[Gordon visits the kitchen]

Sandy:
Hello, everyone. Here's Gordon, come to meet you.

Gordon:
Hello. (To Emma) Emma, how are you?

Emma:
Nice to meet you. I'm fine.

Gordon:
Good to see you. And you're the...

Emma:
Chef de partie, desserts, and sauces.

Gordon:
(to Phil) And this is?

Phil:
Phil. Head chef.

Gordon:
Phil, chef de cuisine.

Phil:
Yeah. Well - I beg to differ, but yeah, yeah yeah, oh, yeah.

Gordon:
Okay. Anyway, it started off good. I arrived, and I thought it was actually quite a stunning, intimate little place. Then the food arrived. [Phil tries not to laugh] Solid rock-hard prawns... you dig deep and you come across the mashed potatoes, got laced with fucking apricots, tomatoes, and a...redcurrant jus?

Phil:
No, it's a red wine syrup.

Laura:
Red wine syrup.

Gordon:
What the fuck were you thinking about putting apricots inside mashed potatoes?

Phil:
You know what? I actually took the recipe from the Good Food magazine.

Gordon:
The Good Food magazine? That's a bullshit answer! What were you thinking about, putting them together?

Phil:
Well, why not? It's different.

Gordon:
You've got every right to be slightly fucked off about it, because I would be if I cooked that shit. And here we are in our current situation, on our arse - and the chef over there wants to fucking laugh about it.

Phil:
What the fuck do you want me to do about it? You're standing there, fucking just mouthing me off? What do you mean?

Gordon:
Fuck that. You've just shown me over the last three minutes that your attitude stinks.

Phil:
It doesn't at all.

Gordon:
And you can't take criticism.

Phil:
I can take criticism! It - there's ways and means to go about and put criticism across. It's the way you speak! You speak arrogantly!

Gordon:
How would you like to be spoken to?

Phil:
Just like a normal person! Like anyone would speak to anyone!

Gordon:
Uh-huh. Now, let's go the other way, shall we? (To the Morgans, in a gentle manner) Please be so kind to remove the apricot from the mashed potato.

Phil:
See, now you're being a fucking sarcastic -

Gordon:
No, but, I don't know how - I mean... We've got a problem here, yeah? And there's a fucking issue with the food. Now, fucking Mr Chipmunk in the fucking corner's pissed off at the fact that I'm telling him something constructive.

Phil:
See? You're -

Gordon:
If I can't get over that hurdle, I may as well fuck off back on the train now.

Phil:
There's no need for personal fucking attacks!

Gordon:
(To Phil) Do you understand? (To the Morgans) Have a word with the chef, yes? And if he's going to fucking -

Phil:
Excuse me? I'm standing here, yeah? If you want to talk to me, talk to me!

Gordon:
(To the Morgans) I'm sorry. (To Phil) I'm talking to the owners.

Phil:
Don't start to talk to me like a fucking kid!

Gordon:
Fuck me!

Emma:
Did you like anything about the three courses?

Gordon:
There was one saving grace. Yeah, there was! The sticky toffee pudding was fucking delicious!

Emma:
No! (Laughs);;

Sandy:
Thank you, Gordon!

Gordon:
I'd wish it was my fucking starter!

Phil:
You fucking fat twat! Fuck's sake! [Walks to the bin and disposes of a leftover]

Sandy:
That's the nitty-gritty over with, anyway.

Phil:
[Blocks the camera with his hand] That's enough, cameraman. I'd rather the camera not be on me.

Gordon:
(Outside the restaurant) Shit dinner. Beautiful restaurant inside. Great potential. Then trying to fucking tell the chef some form of constructive criticism. He's got a problem - not just with his food, but with his fucking gob.