Oliver Tate: Ask me how deep the ocean is.
Jordana Bevan: Shut up.
Oliver Tate: Come on, just ask me.
Jordana Bevan: Why?
Oliver Tate: 'Cause I know the answer.
Jordana Bevan: Oh! Do you?
Oliver Tate: Yes, I do.
Jordana Bevan: How deep is the ocean?
Oliver Tate: I'm not gonna say.
Jordana Bevan: I'm brokenhearted.
Oliver Tate: The ocean is six miles deep.
Jordana Bevan: Good.
Oliver Tate: Her new boyfriend has an incredibly long neck. Just thinking about giraffes makes me angry.
Oliver Tate: My Dear Americans, The film you are about to see is a biopic of my life. The events take place, not so long ago, in a proud land called Wales. Wales is next to England, a country you pretend to treat as an equal. My homeland has produced Catherine Zeta-Jones, Tom Jones and some other people. You have not yet invaded my country and for this I thank you. Submarine is an important film. Watch it with respect. Fond regards from your protagonist, Oliver Tate.
Oliver Tate: This is the moment where you leave him and come with me.
Jordana Bevan: Is it?
Oliver Tate: Yeah, are you coming?
Jordana Bevan: No.
Oliver Tate: Jordana hates any place that could be termed romantic. With this in mind, I took her to one of my favourite industrial estates, for some quality one-on-one time.
Oliver Tate: To us and a wonderful evening of love making.
Oliver Tate: My mother is worried I have mental problems. I found a book about teenage paranoid delusions during a routine search of my parents' bedroom.
Oliver Tate: Jordana and I enjoyed an atavistic, glorious fortnight of lovemakin'; humiliatin' teachers and bullying the weak. I have already turned these moments into the Super-8 footage of memory.
Oliver Tate: [voiceover] We sat down to have what might have been Jordana's mother's last Christmas dinner, which i hope it wasn't because the turkey was a bit dry and the sprouts were soggy and out of focus.
Oliver Tate: He wasn't even considered hard until the Watkin twins famously stabbed him in the back with compasses. He said nothing; showed no discomfort as his shirt blossomed with blood poppies. His stoicism reminded me of the brave men who died in the First World War.
Lloyd Tate: Listen, look, i know you think I'm very boring, you know... but once i ripped my vest off in front of a woman, and err... it was very effective actually. It produced a very atavistic response.
Jordana Bevan: [Upon seeing Oliver's boudoir arrangement] Fuckin' aye! You're a serial killer!
Oliver Tate: Well, you know, I thought it would be nice to get some mutual interests... now that we've had sex... other than spitting and setting things on fire.
Jill Tate: So. How are things with Jordana?
Oliver Tate: Fine.
Jill Tate: You ever going to let us meet her?
Oliver Tate: I don't think so. Maybe if you get a terminal illness.