Dog Soldiers (2002)
Sergeant Harry Wells: We are now up against live, hostile targets. So, if Little Red Riding Hood should show up with a bazooka and a bad attitude, I expect you to chin the bitch.
Cooper: [quote is a reference to The Matrix] Where's Spoon?
Sergeant Harry Wells: There is no Spoon.
Cooper: Werewolves spend most of their time in human form, right? And the only people for miles around live right here.
Spoon: So these things aren't about to give up the fight and go home...
Cooper: They ARE home.
Sgt. Harry Wells: Yeah, that makes perfect sense. I mean, think about it. We bust into their house, we eat all their porridge, we sleep in their fucking beds. No wonder they're pissed.
[Seeing his own intestines hanging out]
Sergeant Harry Wells: Sausages.
[a la Aliens]
Cooper: Remember - short, controlled bursts.
[to attacking werewolf]
Spoon: I hope I give you the shits, you fucking wimp.
Spoon: All right, you bastards...
Spoon: Come and have a go, if you think you're hard enough!
Spoon: [pause] Well, come on, you beauties!
[Cooper tries to push Wells' intestines back into his stomach]
Sergeant Harry Wells: My guts are out Coop!
Cooper: We'll just put 'em back in then!
Sergeant Harry Wells: They're not gonna fucking fit!
Cooper: Of course they'll fit, man!
Cooper: Go on then Bruce, what scares you?
Bruce: The self-destructive nature of the human condition.
Spoon: You're just taking the piss now.
Cooper: What about you, Spoon?
Cooper: There's no argument there. Joe?
Joe: Only one thing guaranteed to put the shits up me: a penalty shoot-out.
Cooper: Figures. Terry?
Terry: Watching a penalty shoot-out... with Joe.
Bruce: What about you, Coop?
Cooper: Spiders. And women. And... spider-women.
Spoon: Know what this reminds me of? Rourke's Drift. 100 men of Harlech, making a desperate stand against 10,000 Zulu warriors. Outnumbered, surrounded, staring death in the face and not flinching for a moment. Balls of British steel.
Joe: You're bloody loving this, aren't you?
Cooper: I'm still not convinced these things didn't just escape from the local nut-house and forget to shave or trim their nails.
[Sam the dog barks and everyone jumps to their feet]
Joe: Brilliant... we either stay and snuff it, or we all go... and snuff it.
Ryan: Decisions. Decisions.
Joe: Laugh? I nearly died.
Ryan: Who's stopping you?
Cooper: We need a decoy. Something fast and loud.
[all turn to Spoon, who wasn't listening]
Spoon: What? You what?
Ryan: They won't die.
Wells: Yeah, well,
Wells: , this gives me better peace of mind, sir.
Ryan: You want piece of mind? Run before they tear your legs from under you.
Wells: Now you just shut up like a good gentleman, you are scaring my lads.
[Homage to 3 Little pigs & The Shining]
Spoon: Little pigs, little pigs, we've come to nick ya video.
Spoon: [walking upstairs upon first entering the house] Little pigs, Little pigs, we've come to nick your video.
Joe: This is bone. This is so fucking bone.
Cooper: Anything else?
Megan: Yeah. What does 'bone' mean?
Spoon: Bone; Bollocks, naff.
Joe: Not. Very. Good.
Megan: Right. Anything else I should know?
Cooper: Call signs. You need to be specific. Upstairs you've got Sergeant Wells who you seem to know inside and out by now. Over there you've got Spoon, the vomiting cavalier is Terry, and the big guy with the axe is Joe.
Terry: Planning on scoring, Sarge?
Spoon: Yea, well mind you don't foul her in the penalty box.
Wells: Alright, button it, Private Parts.
Megan: Every month, when the moon is full, they hunt as a team. Dedicated to the kill. During that time, at least fifteen people have vanished. Hikers mostly. In small groups or alone. They're caught out in the open, hunted down, torn apart and devoured. I've never witness the actual slaughter, but the next day, no bodies, no werewolves, just blood.
Sergeant Wells: You know the little things that make your skin crawl, and the hair stand up on the back of your neck?
Joe: You mean like Spoon?
Sergeant Harry Wells: [referring to the possibility that he is now a werewolf] With Ryan it onlt took a couple of hours mate. It's a full moon. I don't know, maybe it's like when you need to take a piss or something, I don't know. When you gotta go, you gotta fucking go.
Cooper: Yea, well maybe it's more like needing a shite. Just cos you need one doesn't mean you drop your kegs and pinch one off. Anyway, fuck Ryan. Shifty bastard could've been one of those things from the start.
[Wells trapped in the toilet by attacking werewolves]
Cooper: Sarge. Sarge?
Sergeant Harry Wells: I'M IN THE KHAZI.
[indicating his rapidly healed stomach wound]
Sergeant Harry Wells: You cannot tell me that is fucking normal.
Wells: All right, then, time sync. I got zero-seven-thirty coming up in three... two... one... check.
Spoon: Oh, bollocks, I don't believe this.
Wells: What is it now, Witherspoon?
Spoon: Left me watch at the barracks, Sarge.
Wells: Take a breather every once in a while, son, you'll live longer.
Terry: Nice work, Spoon, you tosser.
Joe: Took the words right out of my mouth.
Spoon: And you'll be taking my boot out your mouth in a minute, Joe, you baldy twat.
Sergeant Harry Wells: Now listen up, I wanna make this quick, and to the point, 'cos just like you all I want to do is get home, jump into a warm bed with a nice hot woman and watch the footy.
Wells: If we do happen to make contact, I expect nothing less than gratuitous violence from the lot of ya. Because we're firing blanks doesn't mean we have to be thinking nice thoughts. So you remember, you keep the fire down, right, you get stuck in and you kick their fucking teeth out, or I guarantee you, Joe, they will be eating your bollocks for breakfast, sunshine.
Terry: Hard-boiled or fried, Sarge?
Cooper: Sweeping patrols between each of these bunkers - they'll have the whole sector wrapped tighter than an Eskimo's nad-sac.
Sergeant Harry Wells: Probably some joker who didn't want Joe to hear the footy results.
Joe: Laugh? I nearly shat.
[faced by a werewolf]
Cooper: Don't... stare... back.
Spoon: I can't... help... it.
[Cooper is grinning and face-to-face with werewolf Ryan]
Cooper: Ryan. Have ya tried lickin' ya own balls yet?
[Ryan pulls Cooper up to him]
Cooper: I forgot. You don't fuckin' have any.
[Cooper has just stabbed Ryan with the PURE silver dagger and is pointing his HP Browning at Ryan's forehead]
Cooper: Do you think it's all over? It is now.
Cooper: Well, Ryan, you heard the score. Maybe one or two of us'll make it through this, but I don't care much for our chances. D'you like football?
Ryan: What? "They think it's all over", and all that crap? No I don't.
Cooper: Yeah, well Joe, you remember Joe? He liked football. He fuckin' lived for it.
Ryan: Is this relevant?
Cooper: He missed the most important match of his life for this bullshit exercise, and now he's dead along with two other mates I'd have rightfully given my right arm for. Too fuckin' right it's relevant.
Sergeant Harry Wells: I just didn't make it ou this time, that's all. When I signed my life away on that dotted line, I fucking meant it. I am a *professional soldier*.
[about the werewolves]
Megan: They were always here. I just unlocked the door.
Sergeant Harry Wells: Open your mouth, watch your ears, mind your toes!
[to Ryan who has just unveiled that he had used Wells' unit as bait to capture a werewolf]
Sergeant Harry Wells: [Hits him] They were MY men!
Cooper: Get up you shit. You know what we can do. Give us a fightin' chance!
[to Ryan who has just unvailed that he had used Wells' unit as bait to capture a werewolf]
Sergeant Harry Wells: [Hits him] They were MY men!
Cooper: Get up you shit. You know what we can do. Give us a fightin' chance!
[after discussing how low they are on ammo]
Megan: Tell me. Honestly, what are our chances?
Cooper: Morale seems good, considering. But that will only last as long as the ammunition holds out. Although high spirits are just no substitute for eight hundred rounds a minute, but I don't think that's what you wanted to hear.
[Cooper is trying to stitch up Wells's wounds]
Sergeant Harry Wells: Cooper, knock me out. HIT ME.
[Cooper hits him]
Sergeant Harry Wells: I said knock me out, you fuckin' pussy.
[Megan is turning into a werewolf due to the full moon]
Megan: It's that time of month.
Sergeant Harry Wells: I am not breaking radio silence just cos' you lot got spooked by a dead flying fucking cow.
[Megan is turning into a werewolf]
Megan: [to Cooper] You may think all women are bitches... but I'm the real thing.
Wells: [Wells is drunk while Megan and Cooper proceed to care for his wound]
Wells: I tell you what, I love him. I love you! Like the mate that I... that I love.
Megan: Would you like to be alone?
Joe: Over here Cooper. On me head.
[Cooper kicks Joe's helmet to him and whacks his head]
Joe: Ya twater. Can't believe I'm missin' the footy for this... party.
Wells: Joe, if you don't shut up I swear to God I'm gonna fuckin' slot you myself, now move.
Joe: Didn't say a word, Sarge.
Spoon: So this bloke walks into a pub right, with a little dog under his arm. Puts it down on the bar, goes and sits down. The bar-tender's lookin' at him thinking "what the fuckin' hell's goin' on here?". Then he looks back at the dog, and to his surprise the dog turns around and...
[Dead cow drops into camp]
Cooper: Fuckin' cow.
Spoon: Fuckin' hell.
[Terry fires at it]
Wells: Cease fire, Terry. Cease fire.
Joe: Terry, what the hell are you doin'? You're firing blanks man.
Wells: Is everyone all right? Is everyone OK?
Spoon: Nah, man, I think I've shit meself.
Joe: You're serious about this werewolf thing aren't ya?
Megan: I'm afraid so.
Joe: Shit. Don't suppose you know who won the match?
Megan: I didn't know there was a game on.
Joe: [Sternly] It's not a game.
Megan: What happened?
Spoon: What happened? We were attacked by huge fuckin' howlin' things, that's what.
Camper: You were right. This is definitely better than being at work. One thing you didn't warn us about though - bloody midges.
Camper: You big girl's blouse. Anyway, now that you've mentioned work, seeing as I've bullied you to come all the way out here to celebrate the fact... here. Congratulations. No knight should be without his sword.
Camper: [Camper receives Excalibur]
Camper: I don't know what to say.
Camper: What? My writer lost for words?
Camper: It's perfect.
Camper: Yeah, and it's also solid silver, so don't lose it.
Terry: Why would they put a bug in our radio?
Spoon: It's the Kobayashi Maru test. They fixed it so we can't fuckin' win.
[Wells cocks his gun]
Wells: Yeah, well, this gives me better piece of mind, sir.
Ryan: You want piece of mind? Run for your lives before they tear your legs from under you.
Wells: Now you just shut up like a good gentleman. You are scaring my lads.
[after throwing Cooper to the ground]
Ryan: RTU this pathetic piece of shit. Send him back to his squad.
[Upon landing in the chopper]
Wells: I want a good, clean dispersal. I want a secure landing-zone. Go go go go go. Joe, get outta the pissin' chopper.
Joe: I'm not missing the footy for this. It's totally bone. I'm not goin', Sarge. I'm not goin'.
Bruce: Look, I'll tell you what. Get on the radio, bring the Special Forces guys down on our heads, and after they've finished kicking you about, you can ask them what the score was.
Joe: What are ya trying to do? Mildly concern me?
Bruce: It's reality that bites mate, not the creatures from your head.
[Joe's complaining about the quality of the food]
Joe: I'm sick of this pre-packed dog shite.
Bruce: If it's not one thing, it's another, eh Joe?
Spoon: I know, you're like a bear with a sore head.
Terry: Thanks to Cooper's fancy footwork.
Cooper: Yeah, sorry about that Joe. How's your head doing?
Joe: Still in one piece. Knock on wood.
Joe: Come on then Bruce, man. Lets hear the result on the radio.
Bruce: Why do you keep torturing yourself?
Joe: We might've slaughtered them.
Bruce: Yeah, then again, you might not.
Terry: We all wanna know the results Joe. We just enjoy watching you suffer.
Joe: Laugh. I nearly split my sides.
Spoon: Yeah, well there's no point tearing your hair out about it Joe... oops, sorry mate, too late.
[Joe watching the cow roasting on the fire]
Joe: Is anyone else thinking what I'm thinking?
Bruce: You are joking aren't you?
Spoon: You fuckin' animal.
Joe: Yea, you're all thinking the same thing aren't you?
Joe: Right lads, how do ya like your steak done?
Wells: You bunch of dirty bloody savages. You lot make me sick. God.
[Referring to Megan]
Spoon: What do ya think of her then?
Terry: Not my type.
Spoon: She's the only type, mate.
Joe: Why have the runt of the litter when ya can have the cream of the crop?
Spoon: [Imitating a wanking gesture] No soggy dreams mate.
Cooper: Any questions?
Joe: Just the one, Coop. Exactly what is it we're fighting against?
Cooper: Megan, do you wanna run it past the boys?
Joe: You what?
Cooper: That's werewolves to you and me.
Joe: You're taking the piss.
Spoon: What? It makes perfect sense to me.
Megan: I came here to be at one with nature, well I got what I wanted. Now I have to live with it.
[Throwing various kitchen utensils at attacking werewolf]
Spoon: Yea? Yea? You want some? Here we go. Yea? See if you're fuckin' hard. If you're so fuckin' hard... you throw a punch like a wimp. Fucking bastard. C'mon. C'mon. Bring it on. All right you...
[Using a lighter and deodorant bottle as a flame-thrower]
Wells: Yea, get out of it you bastard. How'd you like them tomatoes, you fuckin' bastard?
Megan: Up until today you believed there was a line between myth and reality. Maybe a very fine line sometimes but at least there was a line. Those things out there are REAL. If they're real, what else is real? You know what lives in the shadows now. You may never get another night's sleep as long as you live.
Megan: What's the glue for?
Cooper: Ever wondered why the best thing that superglue sticks together is your fingers? Forget your grandma's china cups - this stuff was developed for the Vietnam war to patch up broken soldiers.
Megan: But they're good people, they're kind people.
Cooper: More's the pity.
Cooper: Cause we're gonna have to kill them all.
Cooper: So either we all make a break for it and fight our way clear, or the rest of us keep them occupied while one of us goes for help.
Joe: And by the time the cavalry get here, they'll have to pick what's left of us from between their teeth.
Ryan: Have you ever heard of Special Weapons Division? They're the ones in white coats that train dolphins to stick mines on submarines, and cute furry animals to tear your head off at the neck.
Spoon: [upon arriving at the house] Where the hell are we now?
Joe: Home Sweet Home.
Ryan: Of course, the real trick to survival lies not in running and hiding, but in removing your enemy's capacity to hunt you down.
Wells: [to Cooper upon failing Special Ops] Listen, the only people who go looking for trouble are Kamikazes, glory boys and full-on fucking fuckwits.
Ryan: We're on a different level here, Cooper. For that, I need men of action, not deeds.
Cooper: We are gonna make it through this. You know why? I don't scare that easy.
Cooper: [Upon learning about the werewolves] I may be nuts but Im no fruitcake.
Megan: Fine. Stay here and... drink tea!
Cooper: [after Wells has had his intestines exposed] How are you feeling?
Wells: A touch of gas. And the fact that various body parts are trying to vacate the premises, fucking awful.
Wells: [Cooper is aiding the wounded Wells upstairs to 'patch up' his wound] C'mon, Coop, up the wooden hill.
Spoon: They shut down the generator!
Terry: Why would they do that?
Megan: Because they can see in the dark.
Ryan: And you're afraid of it.
Joe: [as the soldiers prepare for the werewolf attack] This is a pile of rancid shit!
Megan: [to Cooper] Now what do you believe?
Cooper: I'm beginning to believe you, but I think Joe might have worded it better.
Megan: Are you sure he should be chasing painkillers with whisky?
Cooper: Yeah, well, he's earned it.
Sergeant Harry Wells: [drunk] Is it your birthday, Coop?
Cooper: No, mate.
Sergeant Harry Wells: Is it my birthday? Hey, hey!
Spoon: You're gonna have to move like shit off a shovel on this one, mate.
Cooper: You worry about your own shit, all right?
Cooper: When we blow that fuse that place is gonna go up like Zabriskie Point.
Wells: [Ryan has just turned into a werewolf and Wells grabs a stick and throws it] Fetch!
Spoon: [about the plan to blow up the shed] Yeah its easy-peasy.
Cooper: Yeah, lemon-squeezy.
Wells: What if shes wrong? What if they're not all in there?
Cooper: Then we get some of them. Its a shit load better than none of them and a marked improvement on all of us.
Wells: You know, Coop, there's one more thing you gotta learn about command, mate. Sometimes the people that you kill, are your own men.
Cooper: I'm not about to second guess these things. They're the enemy, simple as that.
Megan: This is no ordinary enemy.
Cooper: [to Ryan] Yeah, I failed, and I'm bloody glad of it. Because given the choice of taking orders from a toffee-nosed twat like you and sluggin' it out with these guys, I'll take the underdogs any time.
Wells: [to Cooper] Listen to me, you have got to make it out alive. It happened. Prove it happened!
[Wells gives Spoon his watch]
Sergeant Wells: Just cause its nice and new and shiny doesn't mean its worth shit. Now remember I want that back.
Spoon: What about you Sarge?
Sergeant Wells: Well I'll count, wont I?
Sergeant Wells: Natural causes, my arse.
[Using the flash of a camera to hold back attacking werewolf]
Cooper: Cheese, ya fucker!
Sergeant Harry Wells: [finishing the 'Eddie Oswald' story] So you could say that Eddie was right, Satan did indeed save his skin, just not all of it. Or you could say that Eddie was just unlucky. Either way, it taught me to keep a very open mind. Boom. Boom.
Megan: There's only one house within 50 miles of here, and it's mine. And I'm not there!
[after throwing up and being asked if he is all right]
Terry: I've got a real craving for a kebab.
[Drunk, having been given whiskey as a pain killer]
Sergeant Harry Wells: Absolutely fucking top fucking bollocks!