Daisy Steiner: They say the family of the 21st Century is made up friends, not relatives... then again maybe that's just bollocks.
Daisy: Colin's gone.
Daisy: He went next door.
Tim: Oh, Daisy. I'm sorry. How did that happen?
Daisy: He walked.
Tim: Right, right. Sorry. My mum used to use "going next door" as a euphemism for being dead.
Mike: Whoa. Does that mean my rabbit's dead?
Tim: It's been 18 years Mike, where did you think he was?
Mike: [sobbing] Next door!
Daisy: [from the alternative ending] We live in a fantasy world, Tim. We've just constructed this fake utopia where y'know we never get old and never have to face the responsibilities of adulthood. We're just stretching our childhoods out as far as they can go.
Tim: Yeah, I know. We're lucky aren't we?
Daisy: I mean, I'm not going to be wearing plastic jewlery when I'm 40. Am I?
Tim: I hope so.
Daisy: They were younger than us.
Daisy: That couple. They were younger than us.
Tim: Yeah, but only physically.
Tim: We've got to find her and we've got to say, "Marsha, we're sorry. I know we've done bad, I know we've hurt you, but please, for the sake of us, for the sake of Brian, for the sake of y'know, everything. *Please*, just don't sell the house."
Daisy: Maybe not in such a whiny voice.
Tim: [whiny] Okay.
[Tim and Mike are trying to break into Marsha's room.]
Daisy: Look, I'm having no part in this.
Tim: Look, we have to find out where Amber lives.
Daisy: This is all wrong!
Mike: C'mon Daisy. It's the only way.
Daisy: Will you stop it!
Tim: Do you want to be homeless? Do you want to go out and buy "Loot" every morning? Do you want to see what Marsha's room looks like?
[Tim and Mike smile mischievously at Daisy; the scene cuts to her kicking in the door to the room]
Tim: Okay listen. When we get there let me do the talking. I *am* the only one here who's capable of serious communication, so - Sorry, sorry. That sounded bad. I didn't mean to suggest that you aren't good communicators. Alright, Mike?
Mike: [grunting] Yes.
Brian Topp: [Brian makes an unintelligible noise.]
Brian Topp: What are you going to say to her?
Tim: Well -
[dream sequence begins]
Tim: Marsha, they say that the family of the twenty-first century is made up of friends, and not relatives, and if that's true, then you're the best aunty I've ever had!
Marsha Klein: Aw.
[Marsha hugs him and gives him a quick peck; they pause, look at each other, and begin kissing deeply]
Brian Topp: Tim?
Tim: [returning from the daydream] Aaaaaaahhh!
Brian Topp: You alright?
Tim: Yeah, I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be fine? Light's green.
Tim: Marsha, we really really want you back. What can we do to make you understand that?
Marsha Klein: Something bloody spectacular.
Tim: I'm sorry, okay, but just understand - we only did it cos we love living there. Y'know? And you're a big part of that. Look, they say the family of the twenty-first century is made up of friends, and not relatives, and if that's true, then you're the best aunty I ever had.
Marsha Klein: [leaning in close to Tim, who braces himself for a kiss] Kiss. My. Ass.
Sophie: Well, this doesn't have to be the end. We can still have sex on the Internet.
Tim: That's what I was doing before. What time are you off tomorrow?
Sophie: Twelve. Will you come with me to the airport?
Tim: Yeah. Of course, course. Marvel, eh? That's really good.
Tim: So what are you planning on doing for the next thirteen hours?
[Sophie raises an eyebrow suggestively; Tim looks to camera]
Brian Topp: Can we go later?
Brian Topp: Frightened.
Mike: C'mon, Brian. You've gotta be strong. What are you, a man or a mouse?
Dexter: Is this all above board, Sergeant?
Mike: Are you questioning my orders, Dexter?
Dexter: No, Sergeant.
Mike: Do what I say and I'll make sure you're recommended for a promotion.
Dexter: I just don't see how this matter is a concern for the military.
Mike: Are we not soldiers, Dexter?
Dexter: Yes, Sergeant.
Mike: Do we not have a sacred duty to keep the peace?
Dexter: Yes, Sergeant.
Mike: Could you, in good conscience, neglect to intervene in a needless, solvable conflict?
Dexter: No, Sergeant.
Mike: Then go get your boombox, and let's rock.
Daisy: [heard in voiceover as Tim reads her letter] Dear Tim - Please forgive the letter; I'm feeling a bit confused. Everything seems to have changed recently. We all seem to be drifting apart like leaves from once-green oak -
Tim: Skip to the end.