Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels quotes
69 total quotesMultiple Characters
Rory Breaker
Soap
Tom
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Don: I'll fold.
Phil: Fold? Is that the only word you learnt at school?
Don: No, I also learned the word ****!
Phil: Fold? Is that the only word you learnt at school?
Don: No, I also learned the word ****!
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Dog: [indicates massive gun] What the **** is that?
Mickey: It's me Bren gun.
Dog: Couldn't you have thought of something more practical?
Mickey: It's me Bren gun.
Dog: Couldn't you have thought of something more practical?
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Paul: Come take a look at this.
Traffic Warden: Take a look at what, exactly?
Paul: Well, the van's half-full. So all I have to do is fill it up, put you in it, [knocks him out] and I'm off.
Traffic Warden: Take a look at what, exactly?
Paul: Well, the van's half-full. So all I have to do is fill it up, put you in it, [knocks him out] and I'm off.
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Tom: [after having just robbed Dog and his crew] Jesus, that wasn't too bad, was it?
Soap: When the bottle in my arse has contracted, I'll let you know.
Eddie: Bacon, see what we've got.
Bacon: Let's have a butcher's, eh?
[He inspects the loot]
Bacon: We've hit the jackpot, lads! We've got God-knows-how-much of this stinking weed, a shitload of cash... and a traffic warden.
Tom: What?
[Bacon holds up an unconscious man]
Tom: Jesus, Ed, we've got a traffic warden!
Bacon: I think he's still alive -- he's got claret coming out of him somewhere. What did they want with a traffic warden?
Eddie: I don't know, but I don't think we need him! Knock him out and dump him at the lights!
Bacon: Knock him out? What'd ya mean, knock him out? Knock him out with what?
Eddie: I don't know! Use your imagination!
[Bacon punches the Traffic Warden, who moans in pain.]
Tom: Don't touch him up! Knock him out!
Bacon: I'll knock you out in a minute! Look, you want to knock him out? You knock him out.
Eddie: I ****ing hate traffic wardens.
[After a pause, Tom and Eddie jump into the back of the van with Bacon; all three proceed to batter the Traffic Warden senseless.]
Soap: When the bottle in my arse has contracted, I'll let you know.
Eddie: Bacon, see what we've got.
Bacon: Let's have a butcher's, eh?
[He inspects the loot]
Bacon: We've hit the jackpot, lads! We've got God-knows-how-much of this stinking weed, a shitload of cash... and a traffic warden.
Tom: What?
[Bacon holds up an unconscious man]
Tom: Jesus, Ed, we've got a traffic warden!
Bacon: I think he's still alive -- he's got claret coming out of him somewhere. What did they want with a traffic warden?
Eddie: I don't know, but I don't think we need him! Knock him out and dump him at the lights!
Bacon: Knock him out? What'd ya mean, knock him out? Knock him out with what?
Eddie: I don't know! Use your imagination!
[Bacon punches the Traffic Warden, who moans in pain.]
Tom: Don't touch him up! Knock him out!
Bacon: I'll knock you out in a minute! Look, you want to knock him out? You knock him out.
Eddie: I ****ing hate traffic wardens.
[After a pause, Tom and Eddie jump into the back of the van with Bacon; all three proceed to batter the Traffic Warden senseless.]
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Bacon: The odds are a hundred to one. All we need is five grand.
Soap: I'd rather put my money on a three-legged rocking horse. The odds are a hundred to one for a good reason, Bacon. It won't win!
Soap: I'd rather put my money on a three-legged rocking horse. The odds are a hundred to one for a good reason, Bacon. It won't win!
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Tom: Listen to this one: You open a company called the Arse Tickler's ****s Fan Club.
Soap: You what?
Tom: You take out an advert in the back page of some gay mag, advertising the latest in arse-intruding dildos, you sell it with, I dunno, "does what no other dildo can do until now", "the latest and greatest in sexual technology", "guaranteed results or your money back", all that bollocks. Now these dils cost twenty-five quid a pop - as a snip for the amount of pleasure they're gonna give the recipients. But they send their cheques to the other company name, nothing offensive, er, Bobbie's Bits or something, for twenty-five quid. You take that twenty-five quid, you stick it in the bank until it clears. Now this is the smart bit - you send back the cheque for twenty-five pound from the other company name, "Arse Tickler's ****s Fan Club", saying, "We're sorry, we couldn't get the supplies from America because they run out of stock". Now you see how many people cash that cheque - not a single soul, because who wants their bank manager to know they tickle arse when they're not paying cheques?
Bacon: So how long do you have to wait until you see a return?
Tom: Probably no more than four weeks.
Bacon: A month? So, what ****ing good is that if we need it in six - no, five days?
Tom: Well, it's still a good idea.
Soap: You what?
Tom: You take out an advert in the back page of some gay mag, advertising the latest in arse-intruding dildos, you sell it with, I dunno, "does what no other dildo can do until now", "the latest and greatest in sexual technology", "guaranteed results or your money back", all that bollocks. Now these dils cost twenty-five quid a pop - as a snip for the amount of pleasure they're gonna give the recipients. But they send their cheques to the other company name, nothing offensive, er, Bobbie's Bits or something, for twenty-five quid. You take that twenty-five quid, you stick it in the bank until it clears. Now this is the smart bit - you send back the cheque for twenty-five pound from the other company name, "Arse Tickler's ****s Fan Club", saying, "We're sorry, we couldn't get the supplies from America because they run out of stock". Now you see how many people cash that cheque - not a single soul, because who wants their bank manager to know they tickle arse when they're not paying cheques?
Bacon: So how long do you have to wait until you see a return?
Tom: Probably no more than four weeks.
Bacon: A month? So, what ****ing good is that if we need it in six - no, five days?
Tom: Well, it's still a good idea.
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Soap: Where'd you get these? A ****ing museum?
Tom: Nick the Greek.
Bacon: How much did you part with?
Tom: 700 for the pair.
Soap: Drachmas, I hope. I'd feel safer with a chicken drumstick. These are gonna do more harm than good.
Tom: Nick the Greek.
Bacon: How much did you part with?
Tom: 700 for the pair.
Soap: Drachmas, I hope. I'd feel safer with a chicken drumstick. These are gonna do more harm than good.