Matt Buckner
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Quotes for
Matt Buckner (Character)
from Green Street Hooligans (2005)

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Green Street Hooligans (2005)
Matt Buckner: Pete Dunham's life taught me there's a time to stand your ground, and his death taught me there's a time to walk away.

Matt Buckner: I've never lived closer to danger, but I've never felt safer. I've never felt more confident, and people could spot it from a mile away. And as for this, the violence? I gotta be honest - it grew on me. Once you've taken a few punches and realize you're not made of glass, you don't feel alive unless you're pushing yourself as far as you can go.

[last lines]
Matt Buckner: [singing] I'm forever blowing bubbles / Pretty bubbles in the air / They fly so high / They reach the sky / And like my dreams they fade and die / Fortune's always hiding, I've looked everywhere / I'm forever blowing bubbles, pretty bubbles in the air. / United! United!

Matt Buckner: Was that a terrorist attack? What happened here?
Shannon Dunham: Welcome to match-day madness. Tottenham was in town last night.

Pete Dunham: So, I'm guessing you're not much of a fighter.
Matt Buckner: Fighter? That's probably the first fight I ever had.
Pete Dunham: You call that a fight?

Matt Buckner: You know the best part? It isn't knowing that your friends have your back. It's knowing that you have your friends' back.

Matt Buckner: What are you talkin' about, baseball is a girl's game? The Red Sox has a guy that pitches the ball over 90 miles per hour!
Pete Dunham: Who cares? All that means is that he can have a wank faster than you.

Pete Dunham: [to Bovver] This is Matt, Shannon's brother.
Matt Buckner: [Holds his hand out to Bovver] Hey.
[Bovver turns his head and smokes his cigarette]
Swill: That's the painting on his face, he don't give a fuck, does he? He don't give a fuck.
Pete Dunham: Mate, he's practically family.
[Bovver shrugs]
Swill: [laughing] Oh mate, he's fucking painful!
Pete Dunham: Bov's a miserable cunt, but we love him dearly don't we boys?
Dave: Yeah, sometimes.
Swill: Like a fucking brother!

Matt Buckner: [Discussing the West Ham / Millwall Rivalry] It's like the Yankees and the Red Sox.
Pete Dunham: More like the Israelis and the Palestinians.

Pete Dunham: So what were you studyin' before this geezer stitched ya up?
Matt Buckner: [Hesitates] ... History
Pete Dunham: History? I teach history!
Matt Buckner: [surprised] You teach?
Pete Dunham: Yes... cheeky slag! History and P.E. What you think the GSE paid a bloody wage? Mate I'm smart as fuck!

Matt Buckner: You look nervous.
Pete Dunham: Nervous? Fuck off...
Matt Buckner: Well what's on your mind then?
Pete Dunham: Only two little words keep every Hammer in England up all night... "United away".

Pete Dunham: Fuck it, I will take you with me. You might learn something...
Matt Buckner: About soccer?
Pete Dunham: No mate. Not about soccer, AND FOR FUCK SAKE, STOP SAYING SOCCER!

Pete Dunham: Alright, look. We're sort of goin' into my place of business, right? Shut up until you're spoken to and you might have a better run at things. The only thing regarded worse than a Yank around here are coppers and journalists.
Matt Buckner: What d'you got against journalists?
Pete Dunham: How long have you got? They're lying fucking scum who'll write anything just to fill papers.

Dave: Now that we can stop kissing each other asses, I got to point out
[points at Matt]
Dave: ... you see the first punch he threw?
Pete Dunham: Yeah.
Dave: Little bit on the feminine side.
Matt Buckner: What?
Pete Dunham: A bit gay. A little bit gay.

Pete Dunham: [Matt and Pete are sitting at a food vendor stall, reading a newspaper the morning after the Birmingham game/fight] Fuckin' journos. Look at this.
[he slaps the paper]
Pete Dunham: West Ham wins 3-nil in a blindin' performance, and our little scrap makes the headline. Bloody muckrakers.
Matt Buckner: So, what is this?
Pete Dunham: Bollocks journo bullshit.
Matt Buckner: No, no, this, the GSE.
Pete Dunham: [whispering] Shhh! Lower it, son!
Matt Buckner: What are you guys, like, an organized political movement or something?
Pete Dunham: No, mate. We're a firm. You never heard of a firm in the States?
Matt Buckner: No.
Pete Dunham: All right. Every football team in Europe's got a firm. Some have two.
[Matt gives him a blank look]
Pete Dunham: Christ, I forgot how clueless you Yanks are. All you've seen of us is the stadium riots on TV, innit? Come on.
[they get up and walk away from the stall]
Pete Dunham: See, West Ham football is mediocre. But our firm is top-notch, and everyone knows it. The GSE: Green Street Elite. Arsenal... great football, shit firm... the Gooners. Tottenham... shit football, and a shit firm... the Yids, they're called. I actually put their main lad through a phone box window the other day.
Matt Buckner: [Matt looks down at the newspaper] What about Millwall?
Pete Dunham: Ah, Millwall. Where to even fucking begin with Millwall. Millwall and West Ham firms hate each other, more than any other firms by far.
Matt Buckner: Sorta like the Yankees and the Red Sox.
Pete Dunham: More like the Israelis and the Palestinians.
[Matt laughs]
Pete Dunham: We haven't played Millwall in ten years. Their top boy's this geezer named Tommy Hatcher. 'Orrible ol' cunt. Back in the Major's day, Tommy's son was killed in a scrap. After that, he went completely mental. Lost the plot.
Matt Buckner: Well, who's the Major?
Pete Dunham: Ah, the Major. Quite a legend 'round here. He ran the GSE in the Nineties, when I was comin' up. Hardest bastard you ever saw. They say we kinda lost our way when he left. But believe me, my boys are bringin' the ol' GSE reputation right back.

Matt Buckner: So basically, firms are gangs?
Pete Dunham: Kind of... but we're a far cry from all that Bloods and Crips bullshit. I mean shootin' a machine gun out of a movin' car at an 8 year old girl, that's just cowardly. See, we might be into fightin' an all that... but it's more about reputation. Humiliatin' another mob in a row, doin' somethin' the other firms get to hear and talk about - like a Yank in his first fight battering one of Birmingham's main lads.

Pete Dunham: Look mate, I'm not being funny, but the last thing I want to do is take you to the match with me. So here's how it works, you give me half the money, I'll go to football, and you can have a wonder 'round where Churchill took a tom, or whatever it is you Yanks do here in Jolly old.
Matt Buckner: Tom?
Pete Dunham: Tom. A tom tit. A shit. It's rhyming slang, like bees and honey for money. Or I could say to you, give me the fucking bees.
Matt Buckner: I made a promise to Steve.
Pete Dunham: Well Steve ain't here, is he mate. And to be honest, your pissing in the wind if you think I'm taking you with me.
Matt Buckner: Well, I'm not giving you the money.
Pete Dunham: You ain't really got a fucking choice mate. And your starting to ge ton my tits. Give me half the money.
Matt Buckner: [Matt points to something] Cops!
Pete Dunham: [Pete looks over to where Matt pointed, and Matt tries to kick Pete. Pete grabs Matts foot and turns to him] Well how fucking stupid do you feel now? Come on then, dance for me Yankee.
[Pete kicks Matt's other foot and Matt falls to the ground]
Pete Dunham: That's what you get for fighting like a bleeding tart. But try that again, and I will kick he shit out of you.
Matt Buckner: yeah, the tom out of me, i get it.
Pete Dunham: [laughing] Get up, come on.

Steve Dunham: I thought you were going to the match.
Pete Dunham: Well, technically, yes. But, what happened was me and the boys got in a bit of a drinking session last night. One thing lead to another...
Steve Dunham: Let me guess. You've lost your wallet.
Pete Dunham: And me keys.
[car horn beeps outside]
Pete Dunham: Ah. There's a taxi outside.
[Steve walks away to get his wallet]
Pete Dunham: Top bloke, my brother. So, how are we my colonial cousin?
Matt Buckner: Fine, thanks.
Pete Dunham: [mimicking Matt's accent] Fine, thanks.

Pete Dunham: [after Pete introduces Matt to his friends at the Abbey] Where's Bovver?
Swill: He's been in the toilet for about fifteen minutes, like dodgy Ruby or something down at Bengal last night.
Dave: [Dave points at Matt] Oh, look, look, he looks lost. No, "Ruby Murray" means curry. We call it Cockney rhyming slang...
Matt Buckner: Slang. Yeah, like, uh, "bees and honey" for money.
Dave: That's it, yeah.
Swill: Like "struggle and grunt" for cunt!
Dave: Oh, you went dark. Why'd you go...
Swill: I'm not a cunt.
Bovver: [Bovver walks up to the table] Like "septic tank" for Yank.
Pete Dunham: [the guys greet him; Pete hugs him and indicates Matt] This is Matt, Shannon's brother.
Matt Buckner: Hey.
[Matt extends his hand; Bovver ignores it and the guys all laugh]
Swill: That's the proper, right? He don't give a fuck, does he? He don't give a fuck.
Pete Dunham: Mate, he's practically family.
[Bovver shrugs and the guys laugh again]
Swill: Oh, mate, it's fucking painful!
Pete Dunham: Bov's a miserable cunt, but we love him dearly, don't we, boys?
Dave: Eh, sometimes.
[he smiles]
Swill: Like a fucking brother!

Bovver: [after Matt has been introduced to the guys and sent to buy a round] What's with all the fuckin' babysitting? You know we had a meet set up for today.
Pete Dunham: It's all right, Bov. He'll stay out the way. It's not like we didn't have it last night.
Bovver: What? That's not the bloody point, is it? We'll look like right mugs if we set something up and our fearless leader don't show 'cause he's playin' pin the tail on a fuckin' Yank.
Ned: No, he's right, man. He's got a point.
Pete Dunham: You let me worry 'bout that, all right, boys?
[Matt returns with the beers]
Pete Dunham: As for the Yank, he's too modest to tell you, but back in the States, he's an internationally-ranked double-black belt in karate.
Dave: Is he fuck? Look at the size of him.
Pete Dunham: No, no, no, no. Bloody "Karate Kid" film? Based on his exploits.
Dave: Really?
Pete Dunham: Yeah.
Dave: Really?
Matt Buckner: Yeah, it's true.
Pete Dunham: Fuckin' straight.
Swill: Bollocks.
[Matt looks at Swill nervously]
Swill: Bollocks.
Matt Buckner: Come on, why not?
Swill: You're lyin' already. You been here fuckin' five minutes and you're lyin'!
[everybody laughs]