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精彩对白：
- "Hatchet" Harry: I don't want to know who you use, as long as they're not complete muppets.
- Bacon: Are you deaf?
- Bacon: Buy 'em, you'd better bloody buy 'em. These are not stolen, they just haven't been paid for. And you can't get them again - they've changed the bloody locks.
- Bacon: Come on, take a bag. I took a bag home last night, and it cost me a lot more than ten quid. Look at that chain there. Hand made in Italy, hand stolen in Stepney, it's as long as my arm, I wish it was as long as something else.
- Bacon: Do you want to do it?
- Bacon: Harry didn't think that he did a very good job, so he grabbed the nearest thing to hand, which just so happened to be a 15 inch black rubber cock, and proceeded to beat poor old Smithy to death with. And that was seen as a nice way to go. Now, that, is why you pay Hatchet Harry, when you owe.
- Bacon: No. I asked for a refreshing drink! I didn't expect a fucking rainforest? I could fall in love with an orangutan in that! Bring me a pint.
- Bacon: Right. Let's sort the buyers from the spyers, the needy from the greedy, and those who trust me from the ones who don't, because if you can't see value here today, you're not up here shopping. You're up here shoplifting. You see these goods? Never seen daylight, moonlight, Israelite. Fanny by the gaslight. Take a bag, c'mon take a bag. I took a bag home last night. Cost me a lot more than ten pound, I can tell you. Anyone like jewelry? Look at that one there. Handmade in Italy, hand-stolen in Stepney. It's as long as my arm. I wish it was as long as something else. Don't think because these boxes are sealed up, they're empty. The only man who sells empty boxes is the undertaker, and by the look of some of you lot today, I'd make more money with me measuring tape. Here, one price. Ten pound.
- Bacon: Shit.
- Bacon: Squeeze in if you can. Left leg, right leg, your body will follow. They call it walking. You want one as well, darling? You do? That's it. They're waking up. Treat the wife. Treat your friend's wife. It's a lot more fun if you don't get caught. Hold on. You want one as well? Okay, darling, show me a bit of life then. It's no good standing out there like one o'clock half-struck. Buy them, you better buy them. These are not stolen, they just haven't been paid for, and we can't get them again. They've changed the bloody locks. Here. One for you. It's no good coming back later when I've sold out. "Too late, too late" will be the cry when the man with the bargains has passed you by. If you got no money on you now, you'll be crying tears as big as October cabbages.
- Bacon: This is a pub!
- Bacon: What's that?
- Bacon:... and a traffic warden., Soap: Have we got a traffic warden? Well how in the hell did he get in here?
- Barfly Jack: Rory? Yeah I know Rory. He's not to be underestimated, you've got to look past the distinct facade. A few nights ago Rory's Roger iron rusted, so he has gone to the battle-cruiser to watch the end of a football game. Nobody is watching the custard so he has turned the channel over. A fat man's north opens and he wanders up and turns the Liza over. 'Now fuck off and watch it somewhere else.' Rory knows claret is imminent, but he doesn't want to miss the end of the game; so, calm as a coma, he stands and picks up a fire extinguisher and he walks straight past the jam rolls who are ready for action, then he plonks it outside the entrance. He then orders an Aristotle of the most ping pong tiddly in the nuclear sub and switches back to his footer. 'That's fucking it,' says the guy. 'That's fucking what' says Rory. Rory gobs out a mouthful of booze covering fatty; he flicks a flaming match into his bird's nest and the man lit up like a leaking gas pipe. Rory, unfazed, turned back to watch his game. His team won too. Four-nil.
- Barry the Baptist: Careful. Remember who's giving you this job.
- Barry the Baptist: Fucking northern monkeys!
- Barry the Baptist: If you don't want to be counting the fingers you haven't got, I suggest you get those guns. Quick!
- Barry the Baptist: Lock, stock, the fuckin' lot.
- Barry the Baptist: Oh, you must be the brains of the operation. Yes, guns that fire shot.
- Barry the Baptist: When you dance with the devil, you wait for the song to stop.
- Barry the Baptist: You're doing it for me, that's all you need to know. You know because you need to know.
- Barry: What the FUCK are YOU doing here?
- Big Chris: All right, son: roll them guns up, count the money, and put your seat belt on.
- Big Chris: Hey! You use language like that again son, you'll wish you hadn't!
- Big Chris: I've got some bad news for you, John.
- Big Chris: It's been emotional.
- Big Chris: Mind your language in front of the boy!
- Big Chris: That includes blasphemy as well!
- Charles: Peace Prize? Ooh. Be lucky to find your penis for a piss, the amount you keep smoking.
- Dog: Couldn't you have thought of something more practical?
- Dog: Look, will everyone stop gettin' shot?
- Dog: Well, shoot em back!
- Dog: What the fuck is that?
- Don: I'll fold.
- Don: No, I also learned the word cunt!
- Eddie: Bacon, cozzers!
- Eddie: Did you say ten pound?
- Eddie: Err, bad breath, colorful language, feather duster... what do you think they're gonna be armed with? Guns, you tit!
- Eddie: I don't know? I suggest we get rid of him!
- Eddie: I fucking hate traffic wardens!
- Eddie: I said "knock 'im out" don't touch him up!
- Eddie: Look, knock him out, and dump him at the lights.
- Eddie: Soap, don't be such a mincer.
- Eddie: That's a bargain. I'll take one.
- Eddie: The entire British empire was built on cups of tea, and if you think I'm going to war without one, mate, you're mistaken.
- Eddie: They're armed.
- Eddie: Yeah. You must be Harry. Sorry, didn't know your father.
- Eddie: You could choke a dozen donkeys on that! And you're haggling over one hundred pound? What're you doing when you're not buying stereos Nick? Finance revolutions?
- Gary: I see. One of them "on a need to know basis" things is it. Like one of them James Bond films.
- Gary: Shotguns? What, like guns that fire shot?
- Gary: So who's the gov'? Who we doing this for?
- Gary: What the fuck are you doing here?
- J: I've a strong suspicion we should have been rocket scientists, or Nobel Peace Prize winners or something.
- John: Jesus Christ!
- John: Jesus, Plank, couldn't you have got smokeless cartridges? I can't see a bloody thi - Ah! I've been shot!
- John: What the fuck?
- Lenny: I hate these fucking southern fairies!
- Little Chris: Fuckin' hell John, do you always walk around with this in your pocket?
- Nick the Greek: 100 pound is still 100 pound.
- Nick the Greek: Alright alright, keep your Alans on!
- Nick the Greek: Dunno. Seems expensive.
- Nick the Greek: Here's a ton.
- Nick the Greek: I'll need a sample.
- Nick the Greek: It's what?
- Nick the Greek: The Jews don't celebrate Christmas, Tom.
- Nick the Greek: Uuugh?
- Nick the Greek: What else does it come with?
- Nick the Greek: What's that? Some place near Katmandu? Meet me halfway, mate.
- Paul: It's my bren gun.
- Phil: Fold? Is that the only word you learnt at school?
- Plank: Ah! They shot me!
- Rory Breaker: Don't "uuugh" me greek boy!
- Rory Breaker: Get Nick, that greasy wop, shistos, pesevengi, gamouri Greek bastard, if he's stupid enough to still be on this planet.
- Rory Breaker: If the milk turns out to be sour, I ain't the kinda pussy to drink it.
- Rory Breaker: If you hold back anything, I'll kill ya. If you bend the truth or I think your bending the truth, I'll kill ya. If you forget anything I'll kill ya. In fact, you're gonna have to work very hard to stay alive, Nick. Now do you understand everything I've said? Because if you don't, I'll kill ya.
- Rory Breaker: Is that so, mister botanical?
- Rory Breaker: Is this some white cunts joke that black cunts don't get? 'Cause I'm not fucking laughing Nicholas.
- Rory Breaker: What did you shoot him with, an air rifle?
- Rory Breaker: You don't say.
- Rory Breaker: Your stupidity may be your one saving grace.
- Samoan Joe's Barman: It's a cocktail. You asked for a cocktail.
- Samoan Joe's Barman: You want a pint, you go to the pub.
- Samoan Joe: He then proceeds to order an Aristotle of the most ping-pong tiddly in the Nuclear sub.
- Samoan Joes Barman: It's a Samoan pub.
- Soap: A little bit of pain never hurt anybody, if you know what I mean.
- Soap: A minute ago this was the safest job in the world. Now it's turning into a bad day in Bosnia.
- Soap: Also, I think knives are a good idea. Big, fuck-off shiny ones. Ones that look like they could skin a crocodile. Knives are good, because they don't make any noise, and the less noise they make, the more likely we are to use them. Shit 'em right up. Makes it look like we're serious. Guns for show, knives for a pro.
- Soap: Armed, armed with what?
- Soap: Can we lock up and get drunk now?
- Soap: How?
- Soap: I'd take a pain in the arse for half a million quid.
- Soap: OY! Keep your fingers out of my soup!
- Soap: Rory Breaker? That psychotic black dwarf with an Afro?
- Soap: You're not funny, Tom. You're fat, and look as though you should be, but you're not.
- Tom, Eddie: Jesus Christ!
- Tom: Ahh, no can do I'm afraid.
- Tom: It comes with a gold-plated Rolls Royce, as long as you pay for it.
- Tom: It's kosher. As Christmas.
- Tom: It's not worth him giving us any trouble, 'cause he knows we'll be a pain in the arse, and who needs a pain in the arse?
- Tom: Listen to this one then; you open a company called the Arse Tickler's Faggot Fan Club. You take an advert in the back page of some gay mag, advertising the latest in arse-intruding dildos, sell it a bit with, er... I dunno, "does what no other dildo can do until now", latest and greatest in sexual technology. Guaranteed results or money back, all that bollocks. These dills cost twenty-five each; a snip for all the pleasure they are going to give the recipients. They send a cheque to the company name, nothing offensive, er, Bobbie's Bits or something, for twenty-five. You put these in the bank for two weeks and let them clear. Now this is the clever bit. Then you send back the cheques for twenty-five pounds from the real company name, Arse Tickler's Faggot Fan Club, saying sorry, we couldn't get the supply from America, they have sold out. Now you see how many of the people cash those cheques; not a single soul, because who wants his bank manager to know he tickles arses when he is not paying in cheques!
- Tom: Look, it's all completely chicken soup.
- Tom: Not when the price is 200 pound it ain't! And certainly not when you've got Liberia's deficit in your skyrocket. Tighter than a duck's butt you are. Now, lemme feel the fibre of your fabric.
- Tom: Rory Breaker?
- Tom: Seems? Well, this seems to be a complete waste of my time. That, my friend, is 900 nicker in any store you're lucky enough to find one in. And you're haggling over 200 pound? What school of finance did you come from Nick? "It's a deal, it's a steal, it's the Sale of the fucking Century!" In fact, fuck it Nick, I think I'll keep it!
- Tom: That would be the same man, yes.
- Tom: There's no money, there's no weed. It's all been replaced by a pile of corpses.
- Tom: They lack any kind of criminal credibility. I might get laughed at.
- Tom: You'd take a pain in the arse for air miles.
- Winston: Charles, get the rifle out. We're being fucked.
- Winston: Look, we grow weed. We're not mercenaries.
- Winston: We grow copious amounts of ganja here, and you're carrying a wasted girl and a bag of fertilizer. You don't look like your average horti-fucking-culturalist.
- [After shooting each other]
- [Chris closes tanning parlor on John]
- [Chris does it again]
- [Discussing their careers as marijuana growers]
- [haggling with Tom]
- [Peels off notes from his wad]
- [Tom hits him and the traffic warden moans]