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Quotes for
Bunty (Character)
from Chicken Run (2000)

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Chicken Run (2000)
[the chickens are panicking]
Ginger: Ladies, please. Let's not lose our heads.
Bunty: Lose our heads? Aaaahh!

Bunty: In all my life, I've never heard such a fantastic... load of tripe. Oh, face the facts, ducks. The chances of us getting out of here are a million to one.
Ginger: Then there's still a chance.

Rocky: The name's Rocky. Rocky the Rhode Island Red. Rhodes for short.
Bunty: Rocky Rhodes?
Rocky: Catchy, ain't it?

Ginger: Think, everyone, think. What *haven't* we tried yet?
Bunty: We haven't tried *not* trying to escape.
Babs: Hmm. *That* might work.

[Fowler is hesitant about piloting the Crate]
Ginger: Fowler, you *have* to fly it. You're always talking about "back in your day"; well, *today* is your day.
[extends to Fowler his medal]
Bunty: You can do it, you old sausage.
Fowler: [stares at the medal for a moment, takes it, and salutes Ginger] Wing Commander T.I. Fowler, reporting for duty.

Fowler: Increase velocity!
Babs: What does that mean?
Bunty: It means pedal your flippin' giblets out!

[after Rocky leaves]
Babs: Perhaps he just went on holiday.
Bunty: [grabbing Babs' knitting, throwing it on the ground, and stomping on it] Perhaps he just went to get away from your infernal knitting!
Mac: Well, you were the one that was always hitting him. Let's see how you like it.
[shoves Bunty]
Bunty: Don't push me, four-eyes.
[other chickens start fighting]

[walking in on a jazz party]
Fowler: Now see here! I, I don't recall authorising a hop!
Bunty: Oh, shut up and dance!

Mr. Tweedy: Me tools! Why you thieving little buggers!
Mac: What's the plan?
[tackles a startled Mr. Tweedy]
Bunty: [following suit] Nice plan!

Ginger: You know what the problem is? The fences aren't just round the farm. They're up here, in you heads. There's a better place out there, somewhere beyond that hill, and it has wide open places, and lots of trees... and grass. Can you imagine that? Cool, green grass.
Hen: Who feeds us?
Ginger: We feed ourselves.
Hen: Where's the farm?
Ginger: There is no farm.
Babs: Then, where does the farmer live?
Ginger: There is no farmer, Babs.
Babs: Is he on holiday?
Ginger: He isn't anywhere! Don't you get it? There's no morning head count, no farmers, no dogs and coops and keys, and no fences.
Bunty: In all my life I've never heard such a fantastic... load of tripe! Oh, face the facts, ducks: the chances of us getting out of here are a million to one.

Bunty: We mustn't panic. We mustn't panic!
[after a second, she and the other chickens all scream]

[Edwina has been sent to the chop after she fails to produce any more eggs]
Ginger: Bunty, why didn't you give her some of yours?
Bunty: I would have. She didn't tell me. She didn't tell anyone.