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: How do you spell "holiday"? John
: I don't think that Johnny likes me. Sid
: He doesn't like anybody. He's a fool. Nancy
: You like me, don't you?
: If I asked you to kill me, would you? Sid
: I don't know. How would I do it? I couldn't live without ya.
[getting off the phone with her parents
: I fucking hate them! I fucking hate them! Ass! Ow! Fucking motherfuckers! They wouldn't send us any money! They said we'd spend it on DRUGS! Sid
: We would!
: I hate my fuckin' life. Sid
: This is just a rough patch. Things'll be much better when we get to America, I promise. Nancy
: We're in America. We've been here a week. New York is in America, you fuck.
: You know, I was so bored once that I fucked a dog.
: If it weren't for me mum's kindness, we'd be on the fucking streets! Nancy
: Yeah? And if it weren't for your own stupidity, we'd be living in our own apartment in Paris, France!
: We don't fucking care.
: [playing on his bass
] And we don't fucking care! John
: No, there's no "fucking". It's just "we don't care"
: 'Ere, speakin of cunts who can't play. Hello girls, where'd you get your perms?
: [playing darts in the pub
] Get the darts Paul. Paul
: [checks their hands
] Let me see your hands, keep 'em where I can see 'em. I'm watching you, you bastards.
[goes to the dart board
: Hey, Paul.
[Sid, John and Steve start throwing darts at him
: Fuck off. Fuck off! Duke Bowman
: Steady on boys. Paul
: Bastards! It's not funny! You could stick me in the eye; put it in my brains, I couldn't play the drums then. Steve
: You can't play the fuckin drums anyway. John
: You can't play the fuckin drums anyway.
: [Sid has been arrested
] Why so tense kid? Look, we just wanna know who the girl was. Where did you meet her? Son?
[hands him a cigarette
: Son. Sid
: [Takes a drag and sniffles
] I met her at Linda's. Detective
: Linda? Who's Linda?
: Fucking cabbies, that's what we should be. Make two hundred quid a night being a cabbie. Sid
: Why don't you fuck off and be one then? Paul
: Cos it takes eighteen months to learn. Sid
: You need a driving license too. Paul
: And a set of golf clubs.
: Why don't you shut up and fucking sing you twat. Paul
: You're well out of time, Sid. Sid
: Bollocks, you wanker. Steve
: Play the fucking song, will ya. John
: Ever get the feeling you've been cheated?
: [in a taxi on the way to the airport
] I wish we wasn't breaking up. Phoebe
: Well it's a bit late for that isn't it? Paul and Steve are flying to Rio, Malcom's in London, John's in New York. Sid
: Yeah, great. What am I gonna do? Phoebe
: Anything you like; you're a free agent now. Sid
: I'll go home; see Nancy. Phoebe
: Yeah, well do that. Sid
: Master Kung Fu. Phoebe
: Look try and get off the heroin OK? Come on promise. Sid
: Ok. Phoebe
: And cut back on the drinking all right? Sid
: Yeah all right, all right I promise! Cross me heart and hope to die
: Where's the bloody soap? Nancy
: Up your ass!