Gaz: Told 'ya, robbing pipes, that's all.
Police officer: Gary, my friend, no bugger robs pipes in the buff.
Gaz: We do. Don't get your clothes dirty, do you?
Police officer: Oh well, don't fret, gents. There's a right good laundry in Wakefield Prison!
Dave: [discussing possible means of suicide] Drownin'. Now there's a way to go.
Lomper: I can't swim.
Gaz: Well you don't have to fucking swim, you divvy, that's the whole point. God, you're not very keen are you?
Dave: Anti-wrinkle cream there may be, but anti-fat-bastard cream there is not.
Dave: Well, I just pray they're a bit more understanding about us, that's all.
Horse: You what?
Dave: Well, they're going to be looking at us like that, aren't they, Eh? I mean, what if next Friday 400 women turn 'round and say "He's too fat, he's too old and he's a pigeon-chested little tosser."? What happens then, eh?
Horse: They wouldn't say that, would they?
Dave: Why not? He's just said her tits are too big.
Lomper: That's different. We're... blokes.
Dave: Yeah, and?
Gerald: I think she's got nice tits, actually.
Lomper: I never said owt about her personality, like. I mean, she's probably quite nice if you get to know her.
Dave: No. And they won't say nowt about your personality neither. Which is good 'cause you're basically a bastard. Bollocks to your personality - this is what they're looking at, right? And I'll tell you summat, mate. Anti-wrinkle cream there may be, but anti-fat-bastard cream there is none.
Gerald: He's fat, you're thin, and you're both fucking ugly.
Horse: No-one said anything to me about the full monty!
Gary 'Gaz' Schofield: Folks don't laugh so loud when you've a grand in your back pocket.
Gaz: Y' know Dave, it's a thought...
Gerald: Ha! I could just see Little and Large prancing around Sheffield with their widges hanging out. Now that *would* be worth 10 quid...
Gaz: Don't be so bloody daft. We were just saying...
Gerald: Widges on parade! Bring your own microscope!
Gerald Arthur Cooper: Fat, David, is a feminist issue.
Dave: Well, what's that supposed to mean, when it's at home?
Gerald Arthur Cooper: I don't bloody know, do I? But it is.
Gaz: Gentlemen, the lunchbox has landed!
Gaz: I've got a degree in ass wiggling, mate.
Gaz: So, uh, Horse... What can you do?
Horse: I dunno, really... Let's see, there's the, uh... The bump, the stomp, the bus stop... Me breakdancing days are probably over, but there's always the funky chicken.
Dave: [discussing possible means of suicide] I know. You could stand in middle of road and have a mate run smack into you right fast.
Lomper: Haven't got any mates...
Gary 'Gaz' Schofield: Listen to you, we just saved your fucking life so don't tell us we're not your mates, all right?
Gary 'Gaz' Schofield: Yeah.
Lomper: Thanks. Thanks a lot.
Dave: Yeah, me and all, I'd run ya down as soon as look at ya.
Lomper: Oh aye? Cheers.
Dave: We want to know about dancing that's all.
Gerald Arthur Cooper: Dancers have coordination, skill, timing, fitness, and grace. Take a long, hard look in the mirror.
Gaz: Fookin' hell!
Gaz: I don't suppose you could lend us a jacket...
Dave: Oh, Gaz...
Gaz: Oh, come on, Dave, it's not for me, it's a funeral.
Dave: [pause] What color?
Gaz: [pause] Orange.
Gaz: *Black* for fuck's sake!
Dave: Okay, go on, I'll meet you back doors.
[Gaz and Dave are waiting in Gerald's lawn for him to leave for work]
Dave: He's got gnomes.
Gaz: Aye, he bloody would have.
Lomper: [Lomper comes in to find his mum trying to get up the stairs by herself] What are you doin', mum?
Lomper's Mum: Where've you been?
Lomper's Mum: Drivin' where?
Lomper: Just drivin'!
Lomper's Mum: [pause] Thought you'd gone.
Gaz: On Sale for £4.99 and we're still a fuckin' fiver short!
[before the first rehearsal Gaz has hurtled off to find Dave, finding him working as a security guard in Asda]
Gaz: Dave! What are you doing?
Dave: What's it look like?
Gaz: We're on in two days time, where the fuck are you?
Dave: I'm here, working, earning, that's where. Not pissing about! End of chat!
Gaz: Off to Job Club then?
Gerald: As a matter of fact, yes I bloody well am!
[he turns to Dave, who is still holding one of his garden gnomes]
Gerald: Put that back! *PUT* it back!
Gaz: Oh, fucking hell, Nath! They're 20 quid each them!
Gaz: [stuck with Dave on top of a car in the middle of a canal] Ey up, someone's coming.
Passer-By: All right?
Gaz: Aye, not so bad.
Dave: [after the Passer-by leaves] Not so bad? Not so bad? That's not much of a chuffing SOS is it?
Gerald: [Gerald is seated at a computer at Job Club accessing data while Gaz and the others are talking and playing cards and not filling out requested forms] Button it, you lot. Some of us are trying to get a job. Ey! And it says "No Smoking" in here!
Gary 'Gaz' Schofield: Aye, and it says "Job Club" up there. When was the last time you saw one of them fuckin' walk in? You forget, Gerald, you're not our foreman anymore. You're just like the rest of us: scrap.
Gerald: Shut it! Right?
Dave: [to Gaz] Don't you EVER call me a fat bastard again!
Dave: [after learning that two of their friends are gay] Ah, well, there's nowt as queer as folk...
Dave: [When presented with the first images of "Flashdance"] Hey, what's this? I didn't go on the nick in Asda for some chuffin' women's DYI video!
Gaz: It's "Flashdance", Dave. She's a welder, isn't she!
Dave: A welder? Well, I hope she dances better than she welds! I mean, look at that - her mix is all to cock!
Dave: Shut up, Dave. What the fuck do you know about welding, anyway?
Dave: More than some chuffin' woman! Arh, it's like Bonfire Night! That's too much acetylene, is that! Them joints will hold fuck all!
Gerald: Arh, for Christ's sake, Dave. We're looking for dancing, aren't we!
Gaz: He's got the hump about Asda!