Bad Taste (1987)
[after drop-kicking an alien's head out of a window]
Ozzy: The old magic is still there.
Alien Leader's Voice: I expect you're wondering what you're doing soaking in Reg's eleven secret herbs and spices. Tomorrow we're having *you* for lunch!
Barry: Why can't aliens be friendly?
Derek: There's no glowing fingers on these bastards, we've got a bunch of Extra-Terrestrial psychopaths on our hands, like a visit from a planet full of Charlie Mansons, they've started on something small, its my guess they'll go onto something bigger next time, Christchurch, Wellington...
Derek: Yeah, well, that wouldn't be so bad.
Frank: Well, I guess we'll have to issue a gun to Ozzy
Barry: Yeah, but don't forget about his personality disorder
Lord Crumb: [drinking bowl of alien vomit] Aren't I lucky, I got a chunky bit!
Frank: Just remember, we're only authorized to use violence when protecting the planet.
Barry: And the moon.
Frank: Yeah, and the moon.
Barry: I knew it was a mistake to issue weapons. We're a government department not a paramilitary unit!
Derek: Yeah, the Astro Investigation and Defence Service!
Ozzy: Wish we'd change that name!
Derek: Stick all the bits of brain in a plastic bag, Barry. We'll need them for analysis.
Barry: No bloody way mate. You can come down here and do that yourself!
Alien Leader's Voice: I'm sure you'll be pleased to be leaving this shitty planet!
Derek: Stay where you are then, and I'll give you an eye witness description of this, intergalactic wanker!
Derek: I'm coming to get you bastards.
[laughs in a mad way]
Derek: Well this sure has buggered your plans for conquering the world, eh? Hehe... my friend, the astro-bastard, time for talkies. By the time my colleagues get here I want to have you babbling in some extra-terrestrial language!
Frank: This isn't gonna be another false alarm like the Manor Street invasion over there, is it?
Derek: Well, how do you explain the disappearance of an entire township, Frank? Oh! The Kiwi Jonestown, of course, that's it! Drinking beer laced with cyanide from little polystyrene cups.
Lord Crumb: The sad news is that we will be heading for Nalic Nod with six of our co-workers in a state of permanent death. They died today, murdered by some real assholes.