Milo Tindle: Andrew... remember... be sure and tell them... it was only a bloody game.
Andrew Wyke: It's sex! Sex is the game! Marriage is the penalty. Round and round we jog towards each futile anniversary. Pass "Go". Collect 200 rows, 200 silences, 200 scars in the deep places.
Andrew Wyke: There are certain skills best acquired in public bars, I suppose.
Andrew Wyke: For Christ sake Milo, they couldn't have made more noise on D-Day.
Milo Tindle: The bloody glass came out, my bloody boot got stuck and I fell down the bloody ladder.
Andrew Wyke: Well the bloody police must have heard it all the way to bloody Salisbury.
Milo Tindle: I'm sorry.
Milo Tindle: Alright, I'll do it. Where do you want me to break in?
Andrew Wyke: Not so fast. You've got to get disguised first.
Milo Tindle: What for?
Andrew Wyke: Suppose somebody saw you coming.
Milo Tindle: Here? In the middle of nowhere? I could hardly find this place with a bloody map!
Andrew Wyke: You never know. A dallying couple, a passing sheep-rapist.
Andrew Wyke: Whether I love her or not, I found her. I've kept her. She represents me. Once, she was in love with me.
Milo Tindle: And now she's in love with me. And you can't forgive that.
Andrew Wyke: There's nothing like a little bit of mayhem to cheer one up.
Milo Tindle: We are from different worlds, you and me, Andrew. In mine, there was no time for bright fancies and happy inventions, no stopping for tea. The only game we played was to survive, or go to the wall. If you didn't win, you just didn't finish. Loser, lose all. You probably don't understand that.
Andrew Wyke: Wit in the face of adversity! Good! You've learned something from the English.
Inspector Doppler: Over the years my eyes have been adequately trained to see things for themselves, sir.
Andrew Wyke: [picking out a possible disguise for the phony robbery] One black facemask, one black flat cap, a striped jersey and a bag marked "Swag".
Milo Tindle: Why not a neon sign with "Burglar" on it?
Andrew Wyke: You're a jumped up pantry boy who doesn't know his place!
Andrew Wyke: It's a good thing, I am pretty much of an Olympic sexual athlete.
Milo Tindle: Yes, I suppose these days you are concentrating more on the sprints than on the long distance stuff.
Andrew Wyke: Not so dear boy! I am in the peak of condition. I could copulate for England at any distance.
Milo Tindle: Well, as they say in the Olympics, it's not the winning, it's the taking part that counts.
Andrew Wyke: You're not giving me any kind of a chance, you sadistic bloody Wop!
Milo Tindle: I hope I didn't hear that correctly...
Andrew Wyke: You said everything was in plain view!
Milo Tindle: Well aren't I the shifty old sly boots, then.
Milo Tindle: Why don't you ask yourself how your man Merridick would go about the search?
Andrew Wyke: Merridew! St. John Lord Merridew!
Milo Tindle: It looks like you've had it. They're coming up the drive.
Andrew Wyke: Keep them out!
Milo Tindle: Keep the police out? It's just not done, old boy. But still, I'll try.
Andrew Wyke: Finally, at your moment of dying, you are yourself - a sniveling, dago clown. Farewell, Punchinello!
Milo Tindle: Please!
Andrew Wyke: [fires the gun]
Andrew Wyke: Milo, baby, lemme handle this one, eh? Crime's my baaag. I got this caper worked out ta the last detail!
Milo Tindle: There it is! The original blunt instrument; the poker. Right!
Andrew Wyke: Now steady...
Milo Tindle: Where do you want it?
Andrew Wyke: Don't get carried away. It's not a murder weapon you're talking about you know!
Milo Tindle: No?
Andrew Wyke: No. We're discussing an object from which I receive in the classic formula a glancing blow which will raise a lump without actually cracking the cranium.
Milo Tindle: Why don't I just keep tapping you lightly on the head with the poker until a lump comes up?
Andrew Wyke: On the morning of his execution, King Charles the First put on two shirts. 'If I tremble with the cold,' he said, 'my enemies will say it was from fear. I will not expose myself to such reproaches.' We must also attempt this dignity as you mount the scaffold.
Inspector Doppler: Not to appear facetious, sir, but you had better tell that to a judge.
Inspector Doppler: [after tasting] Caviar, eh? Can't say I like it. Tastes of fish eggs.
Andrew Wyke: [sarcastically] Fancy.
Andrew Wyke: Put that back, please! It's an old Egyptian blocking game. It's taken me rather a long time to get it there.
Andrew Wyke: The shortest way to a man's heart is through humiliation.
Andrew Wyke: I have nothing against lapsed Catholics. In fact, some of my best friends are lapsed Catholics.