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: So laying eggs all your life and then getting plucked, stuffed, and roasted is good enough for you, is it? Babs
: It's a livin'.
[after fainting from a near-death experience
: All me life flashed before me eyes.
: It was really borin'.
: Morning, Ginger. Back from holiday? Ginger
: I wasn't on holiday, Babs. I was in solitary confinement. Babs
: Oh. It's nice to get a bit of time to yourself, isn't it?
: Listen. We'll either die free chickens or we die trying. Babs
: Are those the only choices?
: I don't want to be a pie! I don't like gravy.
[watching the chickens trying to fly
: What's this caper, love? Babs
: We're flying! Nick
] Obviously... Flamin' 'ell! Hey, look at this, Fetch. Fetcher
: They're gonna kill themselves... wanna watch? Nick
: ...Yeah, all right.
: Think, everyone, think. What *haven't* we tried yet? Bunty
: We haven't tried *not* trying to escape. Babs
: Hmm. *That* might work.
: Increase velocity! Babs
: What does that mean? Bunty
: It means pedal your flippin' giblets out!
[after Rocky leaves
: 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.
: Don't push me, four-eyes.
[other chickens start fighting
: Listen. Shh. You hear that?
: That's the open road calling my name, and I was born to answer that call. Bye.
: He must have very good hearing.
[on finding out Rocky can't fly. Inside joke, see Trivia
: I knew he was fake all along. In fact, I'm not even certain he was American.
: Chicken feed. My favourite!
: 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.
: What's happening? What's going on? Babs
: They took Ginger, Mr. Rhodes! They're taking her to the chop! Fowler
: Well, what are you waiting for, laddie? Fly over there. Save her! Rocky
: Of course - No, No! That's just what they'd expect. But I say, we give them the old element of surprise. Fowler
] And catch Jerry with his trousers down. I like the sound of that; what's the plan? Rocky
: The plan... um, the plan. The plan! Uh - Babs, give me that thing. Bunty, give me a boost.