Bernadette: [to Felicia] That's just what this country needs: a cock in a frock on a rock.
Bernadette: [to Shirley] Now listen here, you mullet. Why don't you just light your tampon, and blow your box apart? Because it's the only bang you're ever gonna get, sweetheart!
Felicia: Oh, for goodness sakes, get down off that crucifix. Someone needs the wood.
Tick: [to Felicia] Is it true when you were born the doctor turned around and slapped your mother?
Felicia: Do you know why this microphone has such a long cord?
Man In Crowd: Why?
Felicia: So it's easily retrieved after I've shoved it up your ass.
Felicia: [to Tick, when the Spencer's see all three and then take off] Oh, for goodness sakes, look at yourself, Mitz. How many times do I have to tell you? Green is not your color!
Bernadette: Stop flexing your muscles, you big pile of budgie turd. I'm sure your mates will be much more impressed if you just go back to the pub and fuck a couple of pigs on the bar.
Bob: Bernadette, please.
Frank: *Bernadette?* Well I'll be darned. The whole circus is in town. Well I suppose you wanna fuck too do you? Come on Bernadette, come and fuck me. That's it. Come on. Come and fuck me. Come on. Fuck me.
[Bernadette knees Frank in the groin]
Bernadette: There, now you're fucked!
Benji: [about his Dad] Does he have a boyfriend at the moment?
Felicia: No, no he doesn't.
Benji: Neither does Mum. She used to have a girlfriend, but she got over her.
Benji: [Benji pauses, then turns and looks at Felicia] You want to come play in my room? I've got Lego.
Bernadette: No, I'll join this conversation on the proviso that we stop bitching about people, talking about wigs, dresses, bust sizes, penises, drugs, night clubs, and bloody Abba!
Tick: Doesn't give us much to talk about then, does it?
Felicia: [singing] A desert holiday, let's pack the drag away. You take the lunch and tea, I'll take the ecstasy. Fuck off you silly queer, I'm getting out of here. A desert holiday, hip hip hip hip hooray!
Bernadette: [to Felicia] I've said it before, and I'll say it again: "No more fucking ABBA!"
Mitzi: [to Felicia] You know, there are two things I don't like about you, Felicia... your face. So how 'bout shutting both of them?
Bernadette: [to Tick] Don't "Darling", me, Darling. Look at you. You've got a face like a cat's arse.
Tick: [Tick and Bernadette are discussing what it would be like to have children] What happens if they turn out like Adam?
Bernadette: You stuff 'em back in and ask for a refund.
Felicia: [in sweet voice] Mummy, maybe a trip to the outback will help me get over this little... phase I'm going through. And you never know, I might meet some lovely country girl.
[in tough voice]
Felicia: I hereby christen this budget Barbie camper... Priscilla. Queen of the Desert!
[smashes champagne bottle against bus]
Bernadette: That's gotta be the understatement of the century.
Bernadette: [to Felicia] It's funny. We all sit around mindlessly slagging off that vile stink-hole of a city. But in its own strange way, it takes care of us. I don't know if that ugly wall of suburbia's been put there to stop them getting in, or us getting out. Come on. Don't let it drag you down. Let it toughen you up. I can only fight because I've learnt to. Being a man one day and a woman the next isn't an easy thing to do.
Felicia: [to Tick] Do you think I'm going to let you walk away with all the attention? No chance, come on girls. Let's go shopping.
Cynthia: [to Bob] I no like you anyway. You got little ding-a-ling.
Bernadette: [to Bob] Believe me, Bob, these days gentlemen are an endangered species. Unlike bloody drag queens who just keep breeding like rabbits.
Bernadette: Oh. Uh, gather around girls, uh, let me show you a trick. You, um, drink the Gin...
[guzzles the entire contents]
Bernadette: Aaah! Uh, fill the bottle up with water and then put it back in the fridge.
Mitzi: Va-t'en vous. What about the scotch?
Bernadette: Aha! That's where the complimentary tea bags come in handy.
Bernadette: [after Felicia tells Bernadette about her ABBA story] What are you telling me? This is an ABBA turd?
Felicia: I mean who is the fish that runs this bloody hotel in the middle of nowhere, anyway? Your mother?
Tick: No, my wife.
Felicia: Ooh, don't tell me you've got an ex-boyfriend tucked away out here somewhere.
Tick: No, my wife! I'm married.
[the bus brakes screech and glass shatters]
Tick: Oh, fuck!
Bernadette: [to Tick about Felicia] One more push, I'm gonna to smack his face so hard he'll have to stick his toothbrush up his arse to clean his teeth!
Bernadette: We've only recently discovered that young Anthony here, bats for both teams.
Mitzi: I do not!
Felicia: Oh, so we're straight?
Felicia: Oh, we're not. So we're a donut puncher, after all?
Felicia: Then what the hell are we?
Mitzi: I don't fuckin' know.
Mitzi: [about Trumpet] , You know, I never heard him play.
Bernadette: Play? He didn't *play*, dear. Trumpet didn't have a single musical bone in his body. No, Trumpet had an unusually large foreskin. So large, in fact, that he could wrap the entire thing around a Monte Carlo biscuit.
Felicia: There goes the transsexual, last seen heading south. We called her Bernie, but her real name was...
Aboriginal Man: So... You actually make money by dressing up like a woman?
Tick: Oh, sure. You can make a fine living in a pair of heels.
Mitzi: [as Felicia starts painting over the graffiti on their bus, which is stranded in the middle of nowhere] Purple?
Felicia: It's not *purple*, it's *lavender*. Whaddaya think?
Mitzi: It's nice... in a hideous sort of a way.
Mitzi: [to Bernadette, who has started walking off] Where are *you* going?
Bernadette: If you think I'm going to sit around watching Picasso take on the public transit system, you've got another thing coming. I'll be back with the cavalry in a couple of hours.
[to Tick and Bernadette, as he is cooking sausages]
Felicia: How do you like your little boys, girls?
Felicia: [to Tick and Bernadette] So anyway, back to me.
Mitzi: Come on girls, off your snatches. Rehearsal time.
Mitzi: [to Felicia and Bernadette] Oh, get back in your kennels, both of you.
Felicia: [to Tick] Mowing those lawns must have been murder on your heels, though.
Mitzi: [to Felicia and Bernadette] What fun. Baby bottles of booze.
Felicia: [to Tick and Bernadette] The only life I saw for the last million miles were the hypnotized bunnies. Most of them are now wedged in the tires.
Felicia: [to the video shop worker] Umm... , do you have "The Texas Chainsaw Mascara"?
[after their bus breaks down in the middle of the outback]
Tick: What's happening?
Felicia: Um, I don't know.
Bernadette: Oh, my God! Oh, Felicia. Where the Fuckawei?
Tick: What do you assume I do? Lie?
Marion: Assumption, my dear Mitz, is the mother of all fuck-ups.
Felicia: [after showing him the bus he had bought for their trip] Ta-da! What do you think?
Tick: When do we have to return it to the school?
Doctor: Mr. Belrose?
Doctor: Congratulations. It's a boy.
Bernadette: Tony, Adam. This is Mr. and Mrs. Spencer.
[the car drives off leaving them stranded]
Felicia: No, wait. Stop! Shit!.
Cynthia: Refreshments! Lemonade here - I make!
Bob: That's very nice, darling. Please... go back inside.
Cynthia: Lemonade here - I make! Lemonade for guests.
Bob: No, darling, please.
Cynthia: [snarls viciously and curses in an Asian language] I make chockrit cracker!
Felicia: [to Bernadette] Come on, Bernice. It's so funny you'll laugh so hard your lashes will curl all by themselves.
Marion: [to Tick] Morals are a choice, and he'll decide his own when he's good and bloody well ready.
Felicia: [to Tick and Bernadette] I met these Swedish tourists called... Lars, Lars and Lars.
Tick: [to Bernadette] I've um... been asked to do a show out of town.
Bernadette: How long is the run?
Tick: Four weeks. Equity minimum, two shows a night, accommodation included.
Felicia: This old man he played two. He played knick-knack with my poo!
Felicia: [to Tick, about Bernadette] Hey, can you confirm a rumor for me? Is it true that her real name is Ralph?
Felicia: [to Tick] This is getting too weird. You, and a *woman*? What did she used do for kicks? Put a bucket on your head and swing off the handle?
Bernadette: [to Felicia] At least the bump on your head is bigger than your prick!
Uncle Barrie: [to young Adam] Uncle Barrie's penie-pie is caught in the drain. Get mummy! Get mummy!
Felicia: [to Tick] Congratulations, Missy, my darling, you did it. One lap of the Broken Hill main drag, in drag. That'll teach you to take on the Fairmont Boys School snap champion!
Tick: No that's enough. Oh, my tits are falling down.
Tick: Jesus! Thank you! Thank you, it's good to be home!
Tick: Well, listen to this one. After we did the ABBA show, Kevin had one of those liposuction penis enlargements.
Felicia: He didn't?
Tick: Yep. Do you know what they do? They siphon all the fat out of your love handles, and actually inject it into your wing-wang.
Felicia: Ugh! Yucky! I suppose it gives a whole new meaning to "cracking a fat", though, doesn't it?
Felicia: Well, girls, what can I say? Here's to a secret very well kept.
Bernadette: Shame it's not gonna stay that way, isn't it?
Bernadette: [to the Bartender] Hello. Could I please have a Stoli and tonic, a Bloody Mary and a lime daiquiri, please?
Shirley: Well! Look what the cat dragged in! What have we got here, eh? A couple of showgirls, have we? Where did you ladies come in from? Uranus?
Bernadette: [to the Bartender] Could I please have a Stoli...
Shirley: No! Ya can't have! Ya can't have nothing! We've got nothing here for people like you! Nothin'!
Bernadette: [to Tick] Oh, that's a novel idea. Let's stuff ourselves to death. Imagine the headlines: "Whales Beach Themselves In The Outback". "Mystery Bum Sticks Dead In Drag".
Bernadette: [to Tick] You got us into this, Anthony Belrose. And I suggest you start thinking about how to get us back, or I don't fancy your chances of ever trying being a husband again.
Bob: If you don't mind me asking, what kind of cabaret act do you do?
Felicia: We dress up in women's clothes and parade around mouthing the words to other people's songs.
Cynthia: Me perform for you. Me sing!
Bob: No, Cynthia, you no perform. They perform, not you.
[Cynthia shouts viciously in an Asian language]
Felicia: [to Frank and the boys] Who wants to see my map of Tasmania?
Felicia: [after Tick passes out] Come on, snap out of it. You'll be fine. Come on, love.
Tick: [coming to] Oh...
Bob: That's it, mate. You scared us all for a minute.
Felicia: Just had to have that extra bit of attention, didn't you? Nice one, lovey. Nice one.
[Tick is hit in back of head with beer can, falls]
Felicia: Are you Okay?...
[Felicia grabs mic]
Felicia: Oh that was fucking charming, you gutless pack of dickheads.
Bernadette: [dryly, eying the huge landscape murals in their hotel room] Subtle.
Mitzi: Oh, tack-a-rama! Who the hell does all the *painting* around here?
Bernadette: Someone with no arms or right foot, by the look of things.
Felicia: [to Tick] You haven't got any kids stashed away out there as well have you?
Felicia: [to Tick and Bernadette] So... All dolled up and nowhere to go.
Tick: [to Felicia] What sort of bent-childhood... did you have, Adam Whitely?
Felicia: [to Tick] Oh! Oh, Mitzi! It's gabardine! I haven't seen gabardine for years!
Felicia: [to Bernadette] You fucking idiot! Oh!
Felicia: Oh, fuck! Oh! Fuckin'... Oh! Fuck! Get off me, you fuckin'... Oh! Fuck!
Tick: [to Bernadette] Look, you're not helping, here. Just eat your hormones.
Tick: [to Felicia and Bernadette] I think we just crashed a party.
Cynthia: Me perform for you. Me dance too.
Bob: My wife used to be in the, uh... entertainment business.
Cynthia: Yeah. You perform here?
Bob: [to Tick, Bernadette, Felicia and Cynthia] Well! A real life "Les Girls" show. Right, this calls for a celebration.
Tick: [to Felicia] You stupid bloody idiot! Drugs, for Christ's sake! Well, three cheers for you! I hope you're bloody well happy now! You bloody fuck wit!
Bob: [to Bernadette] Well, I can't go back to Coober Pedy for a while. I'm not the most popular bloke in the world back there anymore.
Bob: [waking up from a drunken state of unconsciousness] Hello.
Bob: Who are you?
Cynthia: I your wife!
Bob: Guess I'll be going home then.
Cynthia: No! You no going! I coming to. I your wife! See?
[shows him a marriage certificate]
Cynthia: I your wife!
Man In Crowd: More! More!
Benji: We want more!
Marion: Yes, magnificent. Bravo!
Benji: More! We want more!