You Stop Me When Im Walking Again

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Snatch (2000)

Policeman: And then, what you doin here?

Turkish: I'g taking the dog for a walk. What'southward the trouble?

Policeman: What'south in the machine?

Turkish: Seats and a steering wheel.

Brick Top: Do you know what "nemesis" means? A righteous infliction of retribution manifested past an appropriate agent. Personified in this case by an 'orrible cunt... me.

Tyrone: I don't desire that dog dribbling on my seats.

Vinny: Your seats? Tyrone, this is a stolen car, mate.

Avi: Lxxx-half dozen carats.

Rosebud: Where?

Avi: London.

Rosebud: London?

Avi: London.

Avi's Colleague: London?

Avi: Yes, London. You know: fish, fries, cup 'o tea, bad nutrient, worse weather, Mary fucking Poppins... LONDON.

Vinny: I idea yous said he was a getaway driver. What the fuck can he become abroad from, eh?

Avi: Should I phone call you Bullet? Tooth?

Bullet Molar Tony: You can call me Susan if information technology makes y'all happy.

[Tyrone just backed into Franky Four Fingers' van]

Tyrone: I didn't see it in that location.

Vinny: It'southward a four ton truck, Tyrone. Its not as if it's a bundle of fucking peanuts, is it?

Tyrone: It was a funny angle.

[All 3 turn and look back at the truck]

Vinny: It'due south behind y'all Tyrone. Whenever you reverse, things come up from behind you.

Brick Acme: You're always gonna have issues lifting a body in one piece. Apparently the all-time thing to do is cut up a corpse into 6 pieces and pile it all together.

Sol: Would someone listen telling me, who are you?

Brick Peak: And when y'all got your 6 pieces, you gotta get rid of them, because it'southward no good leaving it in the deep freeze for your mum to discover, now is it? Then I hear the all-time thing to practice is feed them to pigs. You got to starve the pigs for a few days, then the sight of a chopped-up body will look like back-scratch to a pisshead. You gotta shave the heads of your victims, and pull the teeth out for the sake of the piggies' digestion. You could practise this after, of class, but yous don't want to go sievin' through hog shit, now do you? They will go through bone like butter. Yous demand at least sixteen pigs to cease the job in one sitting, so be wary of any man who keeps a pig subcontract. They volition become through a body that weighs 200 pounds in about eight minutes. That means that a single pig can consume 2 pounds of uncooked flesh every minute. Hence the expression, "equally greedy as a pig".

Vinny: Well, thank you for that. That'due south a cracking weight off me heed. At present, if you wouldn't mind telling me who the fuck you are, apart from someone who feeds people to pigs of course?

Bullet Molar Tony: So, you are apparently the big dick. The men on the side of ya are your balls. Now at that place are ii types of balls. There are big dauntless balls, and in that location are footling mincey faggot balls.

Vinny: These are your terminal words, and so make them a prayer.

Bullet Molar Tony: Now, dicks take drive and clarity of vision, but they are not clever. They scent pussy and they want a piece of the action. And you thought you smelled some good one-time pussy, and have brought your two little mincey faggot balls along for a good old time. But you've got your parties muddled up. There's no pussy here, just a dose that'll make yous wish you were born a adult female. Similar a prick, you are having second thoughts. You are shrinking, and your 2 piddling assurance are shrinking with you. And the fact that you lot've got "Replica" written down the side of your guns...

[Zoom in on the side of Sol's gun, which indeed has "REPLICA" etched on the side; zoom out, equally they sneak peeks at the sides of their guns]

Bullet Tooth Tony: And the fact that I've got "Desert Eagle point five O"...

[Withdraws his gun and puts it on the table]

Bullet Tooth Tony: Written on the side of mine...

[They look, zoom in on the side of his gun, which indeed has "DESERT EAGLE .50" etched on the side]

Bullet Tooth Tony: Should precipitate your assurance into shrinking, along with your presence. At present... Fuck off!

Turkish: Well the rabbit gets fucked.

Tommy: [pauses] Proper fucked?

Turkish: Yes, before "Zee Germans" go there.

Bullet Tooth Tony: A bookie's got blagged concluding night.

Avi: Blagged? Speak English language to me, Tony. I thought this country spawned the fucking language, and so far nobody seems to speak it.

Brick Top: In the quiet words of the Virgin Mary... come again?

Avi: You lot got a toothbrush? We're going to London. Do y'all hear that, Doug? I'one thousand coming to London.

[Avi arrives in London]

Doug the Head: Avi!

Avi: Close up and sit down down, you lot big, bald fuck. I don't like leaving my own country, Doug, and I specially don't like leaving information technology for anything less then warm sandy beaches, and cocktails with lilliputian straw hats.

Doug the Head: Nosotros've got sandy beaches...

Avi: Then? Who the fuck wants to see 'em? I hope you appreciate the concern I have for my friend Franky, Doug. I'm gonna detect him, and yous're gonna help me find him, and nosotros're gonna start at that fight.

Boris 'The Blade' Yurinov: [referring to Tommy'due south gun] Heavy is practiced, heavy is reliable. If it doesn't piece of work you can e'er hit them with information technology.

Brick Top: I don't intendance if he's Muhammad "I'g hard" Bruce Lee. Yous tin't alter fighters.

[first lines]

Turkish: [narrating] My proper name is Turkish. Funny proper noun for an Englishman, I know. My parents to be were on the same plane when information technology crashed. That's how they met. They named me later on the name of the plane. Not many people are named after a plane crash. That'south Tommy. He tells people he was named later on a gun, simply I know he was really named after a famous 19th century ballet dancer.

Turkish: [looks at the caravan] Look at information technology. How am I suppose to run this matter from that? We'll demand a proper office. I want a new 1, Tommy. Y'all're going to buy information technology for me.

Tommy: Why me?

Turkish: Well, you know well-nigh caravans.

Tommy: How's that?

Turkish: You spent a summer in ane, which means you know more than me. And I don't desire to have my pants pulled down over the cost.

Tommy: What'southward wrong with this one?

Turkish: [Pulls the caravan's door from its hinges] Oh, nothing, Tommy. It's tiptop. It'due south just I'm non sure about the colour.

Community official: Anything to declare?

Avi: Yep. Don't go to England.

Brick Top: Listen, you lot fucking fringe, if I throw a dog a bone, I don't want to know if information technology tastes adept or not. You stop me again whilst I'thousand walking, and I'll cut your fucking Jacobs off.

Gorgeous George: Get back down or you will not exist coming up adjacent time.

[watches as Mickey warms upwardly]

Gorgeous George: Oh, bollocks to yous. This is sick. I'1000 out of here.

Mickey: You're not going anywhere, you thick lump.

[Pulls off his shirt]

Mickey: You stay until the job'southward washed.

[kisses his adept luck charms and knocks Gorgeous out with a single punch]

Turkish: [narrating] It turned out that the sweet-talking, tattoo-sporting pikey was a gypsy bare-knuckle battle champion. Which makes him harder than a coffin nail. Right now, that'due south the final matter on Tommy'due south mind. If Gorgeous doesn't wake upward in the adjacent few minutes, Tommy knows he'll be buried with him. Why would the gypsies become through the problem of explaining why a homo died in their campsite when they tin can bury the pair of them and but move camp? It's not like they got social security numbers, is it? Tommy - the tit - is praying. And if he isn't, he fucking should be.

Franky Four Fingers: So the Biblical scholars mis-translated the Hebrew give-and-take for "young woman" into the Greek word for "virgin," which was a pretty easy error to make, since there is but a subtle difference in the spelling. But dorsum and so it was the "virgin" that caught people's attention. It'due south non every day a virgin conceives and bears a son. So you continue that for a couple of hundred years, and the next thing you know, you take the Holy Cosmic church.

Brick Top: Do yous know what nemesis means? A righteous infliction of retribution manifested by an advisable agent, personified in this case past a 'orrible cunt, me.

Vinny: Why are nosotros stopped here? What'southward incorrect with that spot?

Tyrone: It's too tight.

Vinny: Too tight? You could state a jumbo fucking jet in that.

[Doug sees 4 Jewish kids smoking]

Doug the Head: What are you doing?

Jewish Male child: [spits] It'southward a free country, ain't information technology?

Doug the Head: Well it ain't a free shop, is it? Then fuck off!

Sol: He's a natural, ain't you Tyrone?

Tyrone: 'course I am...

[reverses into parked van]

Vinny: A natural fucking idiot.

Brick Summit: What do you think, Errol?

Errol: I think we should drip-dry them, Guv'nor, while we have the risk.

Brick Top: Information technology was a rhetorical question, Errol. What accept I told you nigh thinking?

Sol: I'm not in here to make a fucking bet.

Female Bookie: 'Preciated, merely all... bets... are... off. If all bets are off, then there can't be whatever coin can't in that location?

Sol: I'k not fucking buying that.

Female Bookie: Well that'south handy, 'crusade I own't fucking selling it. It's a fact.

Mickey: I'll tell ya what. I'll do it for a caravan.

Turkish: For what?

Pikeys: For a caravan.

Tommy: It was the states who wanted a caravan.

[looking around]

Tommy: Anyway, what's wrong with this one?

Mickey: Information technology'due south not for me. Information technology'due south for me ma.

Turkish: Your what?

Pikeys: His ma.

Avi: I'k gettin' heartburn. Tony, exercise something terrible.

Turkish: Fuck me, agree tight. What's that?

Tommy: It's me belt, Turkish.

Turkish: No, Tommy. At that place's a gun in your trousers. What'southward a gun doing in your trousers?

Tommy: Information technology's for protection.

Turkish: Protection from what? "Zee Germans"?

Turkish: You testify me how to command a wild fucking gypsy and I'll prove you how to command an unhinged, sus scrofa-feeding gangster.

Vinny: What the fuck practice you mean, replicas?

Sol: They look the shit, don't they? And nobody is gonna fence. And I've got some extra loud blanks, just in case.

Vinny: In... Oh, in case we have to deafen them to decease?

Turkish: Well, do you want to do it?

Mickey: That depends.

Turkish: On what?

Mickey: On you lot ownership this caravan. Not the rouge one, the rose.

Turkish: It's not the same caravan.

Mickey: It's not the aforementioned fight.

Turkish: It's twice the fucking size of the terminal one.

Mickey: Turkish, the fight is twice the size. And me ma still needs a caravan. I similar to look after me ma. It's a fair bargain. Accept it.

Turkish: Mickey, you're lucky we aren't worm nutrient later on your terminal performance. Ownership a tart'south mobile palace is a little fucking rich.

[Realizes his fault]

Turkish: I wasn't calling your mum a tart. I but meant...

Mickey: Ah, save your breath for cooling your porridge. Now, expect...

Mickey: She wants the Hector-2 roof lights, uh... the stylish ash-framed furniture and the besprinkle cushions with the matching shag pile covering.

Mickey: Right. And she'southward terrible partial to the periwinkle blue, boys. Have I fabricated myself clear, boys?

Turkish: Yeah, that's perfectly clear, Mickey. Yes... just give me one minute to confer with my colleague.

[to Tommy]

Turkish: Did y'all sympathize a unmarried give-and-take of what he simply said?

Errol: Fuckface, who's speaking to you? He asked him, didn't he?

Turkish: Fuckface... I like that one Errol. I'll take to remember that 1 next time I'm climbing off yer mum.

Turkish: Have you ever crossed the road, and looked the wrong way? A car'due south nigh on you lot? Then what do you do? Something very silly. You freeze. Your life doesn't flash before yous, 'cause you're likewise fuckin' scared to call up - y'all just freeze and pull a stupid face. Merely the pikey didn't. Why? Because he had plans of running the car over.

Vinny: Did he have four fingers?

Sol: I'm deplorable, I couldn't get the bin-noc-u-lars out in fourth dimension.

Tommy: Who took the jam outta your doughnut?

Turkish: Yous took the fucking jam outta my doughnut, Tommy. You did.

Sol: You ain't from this planet are you, Vincent? Who is gonna mug two blackness fellas, property pistols, sabbatum in a motorcar that is worth less than your shirt?

[while robbing the bookies]

Sol: Are you all correct in that location Vincent?

Vinny: I would be if you stopped using my name.

Brick Top: You're on thin fucking water ice my pedigree chums, and I shall be under it when it breaks. Now, fuck off.

Turkish: I'g lamentable, Mickey.

Mickey: Did ya do it? And then why are ya sorry?

[looking at the video of Sol and Vinny, trapped in the anteroom of the bookie'southward by the security door]

Brick Top: Do you know these tits, Errol?

Errol: I know a lot of tits, Guv'nor. But I don't know any quite as fucking stupid equally these two.

Brick Tiptop: John?

John: I can't help, Guv.

[Tyrone pokes his head in the door]

Errol: Ah, Tyrone.

Errol,John: You lot lightheaded fat bastard.

Turkish: For ever action, in that location is a reaction. And a Pikey reaction... is quite a fucking thing.

Mickey: [roused from his drunken shock] I need to have a shite.

Mickey: The deal was y'all bought it like you saw it. Hey, look, I've helped you lot every bit much as I'm going to assist you. See that car? Just use it for you're not welcome anymore. You should fuck off now while you still got the legs to carry you.

Gorgeous George: Nobody...

Mickey: Nobody brings a fella the size of you unless they're trying to say something without talking, correct boy?

Tommy: Sorry, Mickey. Merely requite our money back and yous can keep the caravan.

Mickey: Why the fuck do I want a caravan that's got no fucking wheels?

[Gorgeous rushes Mickey]

Mickey: You want to settle this with a fight?

Mrs. O'Neil: Over my dead trunk! At present, go on! Go on! I'll not take you lot fighting! You lot know what happens when you fight.

Mickey: Get her to sit down. For fuck's sake! Desire the money? I own't fucked you. I'll fight y'all for it. You and me.

Sol: What the fuck is that?

Vinny: Heh heh. This is a shotgun, Sol.

Sol: It'southward a fucking anti-aircraft gun, Vincent.

Vinny: Well I wanna enhance some pulses, don't I?

Sol: You'll raise Hell. Never mind pulses.

Turkish: I fail to recognize the correlation betwixt losing x grand, hospitalizing Gorgeous, and a good deal.

Turkish: It's an unlicensed battle match. It's not a tickling competition. These lads are out to hurt each other.

[Gorgeous George has but been knocked out]

Turkish: We've lost Gorgeous George.

Brick Top: Shhh. Yous're going to accept to repeat that.

Turkish: Nosotros've lost Gorgeous George.

Brick Pinnacle: Well, where'd you lot lose him? He ain't a set up of fucking car keys, is he? And it ain't as if he's incon-fucking-spicuous now, is information technology?

[Avi, Tony, and Rosebud picket Boris on the video monitor]

Bullet Molar Tony: This guy's a handful.

Rosebud: I hate Russians. I'll take care of him.

Bullet Tooth Tony: He'south all yours, Rosebud me onetime son.

Rosebud: Non a problem.

[Cutting to a few minutes afterward, inside Tony's Jaguar. All three of them are bruised, encarmine, and shouting, just Rosebud is seriously hurt]

Rosebud: You gotta get me to a doctor! Shoot that fuck, then get me to a medico!

Avi: Yeah, aye, but offset the stone, Rosie. First the stone and then I'm gonna get you to a medico, and non but whatever md, boychik, I'1000 gonna find you a overnice Jewish physician.

[at Tony]

Avi: Observe my friend a nice Jewish doctor!

Turkish: You aren't exactly Mister Current Affairs are you, Tommy? "Mad Fist" went mad, and "The Gun," shot himself.

Tommy: The man trunk hasn't got used to dairy products yet.

Turkish: Well fuck me Tommy. What have you been reading?

Errol: Are you Turkish?

Turkish: Well I'thousand not fuckin' Greek now, am I?

Brick Top: Pull your tongue out of my arsehole, Gary. Dogs do that. You're non a domestic dog, are ya Gary?

Gary: No, no I'm non.

Brick Top: But y'all do have all the characteristics of a canis familiaris, Gary. All except loyalty.

[Errol zaps Gary]

Turkish: [Vocalisation over] It's rumored that Brick Pinnacle's favorite ways of dispatch involves a stun gun, a plastic bag, a coil of record, and a pack of hungry pigs.

Brick Meridian: [to Errol'southward companion] Yous're a ruthless petty cunt, Liam, I'll requite you that. Simply I've got no time for grassers.

[John throws a plastic handbag over Liam's head and suffocates him]

Brick Top: Feed 'em to the pigs, Errol.

[to the 2 boxers, who are now staring in horror]

Brick Tiptop: What the fuck are y'all two looking at?

[afterwards cleaning out Turkish's Condom]

Brick Acme: He'southward been a busy little bounder, that Turkish.

Errol: I call back you've let him get abroad with plenty already, Guv'nor.

Brick Top: It can get you in a lot of problem, thinking, Errol, I shouldn't do so much of it.

Turkish: Well, why didn't yous only

[American accent]

Turkish: "bust a cap in his donkey," Tommy?

Sol: You are a bad-male child yardie, and bad-boy yardies are supposed to know how to get rid of bodies.

Bad Male child Lincoln: I create the bodies. I don't erase the bodies.

Doug the Head: [examining Franky's diamonds] Ah, from Russia with dear, eh?

Franky Four Fingers: I have stones to sell, fat to chew, and many different men to see about many different dogs, and then if I am not rushing you lot...

Doug the Head: Slow down, Franky, my son. When in Rome.

Franky 4 Fingers: I am not in Rome, Doug. I am in a blitz. I got to brand the bookies.

Doug the Head: Bookies? What are you lot betting on?

Franky Four Fingers: Bomber Harris.

Doug the Caput: Ah. The unlicensed boxer, eh? Exercise you know something that I don't?

Franky 4 Fingers: Bubbe, I probably know a lot you don't.

Turkish: All he'due south gotta exercise is stay down.

[Mickey suddenly rises from the mat and knocks out Anderson with a single punch]

Turkish: *Now* nosotros are fucked.

Turkish: I can't make him fight, can I?

Brick Top: Y'all're not much skillful to me live, are you, Turkish?

[last lines]

Turkish: [narrating] Tommy persuaded me to keep the domestic dog. I somewhen agreed, as long as he took information technology to a vet. I couldn't stand that squeaking any more. The vet found half an undigested shoe, a squeaky toy, and an 84-carat diamond lodged in its stomach. It's quite amazing what tin happen in a calendar week. Still didn't shut it up though. Then what do y'all do? You lot go to run across the man that knows nearly these sort of things.

Turkish: Then what do you lot retrieve? Do yous know anyone who'd be interested?

Doug the Head: I might.

Turkish: Tommy, why is your pare leaking?

Tommy: I'm a little worried really, Turkish.

Turkish: Worried about what?

Tommy: What happens if the gypsy knocks the other human out? I hateful, he's done it earlier ain't he?

Turkish: We become murdered earlier we go out the edifice, and I imagine we get fed to the pigs.

Tommy: Well I'm glad to see you're climbing the walls in fucking anxiety. Pardon my pessimism, simply I don't exactly trust the pikey.

Turkish: Don't think I haven't thunk about that 1, Tommy. Information technology's his mum'south funeral tonight. God bless her. You know those gypsies like a potable at a wake. I'm non worried about whether Mickey knocks the other man out. I'chiliad worried about whether Mickey makes information technology to the fourth fucking round.

Tommy: What if he doesn't make it to the fourth circular?

Turkish: We become murdered earlier we get out the building, and I imagine we become fed to the pigs.

Doug the Caput: Avi, I'm not telepathic.

Cousin Avi: Well you're plenty fucking stupid, I'll give you that. Practice y'all know why they phone call him Franky "Four Fingers" Doug? Because he makes stupid bets with dangerous people, and when he doesn't pay upward, they give him the chop, Doug. And I'1000 non talking about his fucking fore-skin either.

Brick Superlative: [referring to Tommy] Turkish, put a lid on her.

Vinny: [Vinny brings a canis familiaris into the store while Sol is examining a diamond for Bad Bay Lincoln] Bad Boy. Sol.

Bad Male child Lincoln: Easy.

Sol: No, information technology's a moissanite.

Bad Male child Lincoln: A what-in-ite?

Sol: A moissanite is an artificial diamond, Lincoln. It's Mickey Mouse, mate. Spurious. Non genuine. And it's worth... fuck-all.

[he hands back the stone]

Vinny: Bad Boy, I keep tellin' ya, stick to being a gangster. Exit this game to me and Sol.

Bad Boy Lincoln: Laters.

[he walks out]

Sol: What is that, Vince?

Vinny: This is a dog, Sol.

Sol: You are NOT bringing that thing in here.

Vinny: What's your problem? It's simply a fucking dog.

Sol: Where did you get it?

Vinny: The gyppos. Here.

[he tosses Sol a purse]

Vinny: They threw it in with a load of moody gold. You know gyppos, Sol. They're always throwing dogs in with deals.

Sol: Well, it meliorate non exist dangerous.

[Vinny takes the dog off its leash]

Sol: What do you recollect you're doing at present?

Vinny: Well, I want him to go used to the store, don't I?

[Boris opens the door and walks in; the canis familiaris runs out and Vinny takes off after it]

Vinny: Oi! Oi, stop the dog! Come dorsum hither!

Sol: All correct, Boris? Don't worry almost the canis familiaris.

Boris 'The Bract' Yurinov: I'm not.

Sol: What can I practise for you, Boris?

Boris 'The Blade' Yurinov: I take a job for you.

Sol: I already have a task.

Boris 'The Blade' Yurinov: Fifty grand for half day's work.

Sol: Go on.

Boris 'The Bract' Yurinov: I want you to hold up a bookies.

Alex Denovitz: What about Tony?

[Cut back and forth between Doug's office and a younger Tony in Charlie's brothel]

Alex Denovitz: You know, Bullet Molar Tony.

Avi: Who'due south Bullet Tooth...?

Charlie: Tony!

Bullet Tooth Tony: Yous silly fuck.

Doug the Head: He'southward a liability.

Alex Denovitz: He'll find you Moses and the burning bush-league, if y'all pay him to.

Charlie: [draws a gun] You are gonna die, Tony!

Alex Denovitz: He got shot 6 times, had the bullets molded into gold.

[Charlie shoots Tony twice in the chest]

Charlie: I shoot you, you go down!

Susi Denovitz: He'south got two in his teeth that Dad did for him. So he loves Dad.

[Charlie shoots Tony three more times]

Charlie: Why don't you fucking die!

Susi Denovitz: He's the best chance you got of finding Franky.

Avi: 6 times?

[Charlie shoots Tony in the oral cavity]

Doug the Head: In 1 sitting.

[Tony, blood dripping from his mouth, draws a saber]

Bullet Molar Tony: You're in trouble now!

Turkish: Now, I know he looks similar a fat fucker... well, he is a fatty fucker...

Tommy: Are you sayin' I tin can't shoot?

Turkish: No Tommy, I'grand not saying y'all tin can't shoot. I know you tin't shoot. I'thousand saying that six-pound piece of shit stuck in your trousers would do more damage if you fed it to him.

[Brick-Superlative's men take Turkish pinned on the flooring. Errol raises a sword to strike, then Tommy appears with his dud pistol]

Tommy: Turkish, get your arse up. You lot? Follow me, and I'll fucking shoot you.

Errol: Calm down son, carry yourself.

Tommy: I've got the gun, son. I think it's you who should behave.

[Errol takes a step forrard. Tommy cocks the gun and sticks it right in his confront]

Tommy: What? Yous want to see if I've got the minerals?

[Brick-Acme'south men don't movement as Tommy backs out of the slot parlor, and then runs after Turkish]

Brick Acme: [Into cell phone] Pete, talk to me.

Darren: [Into cell phone] If ya want yer friend to hear ya, y'all'll have to talk a lot louder than that.

Cousin Avi: Is there gambling involved?

Doug the Head: It's a battle match, Avi, a boxing match.

Cousin Avi: Did he have a instance with him?

Doug the Head: Yes, he had a case.

Cousin Avi: And this schmuck is gambling? You're talking about Franky "I've got a problem with gambling" fucking 4 Fingers Doug.

Vinny: The dog. The canis familiaris must accept ate it.

[standing over Franky'due south body]

Bad Boy Lincoln: What has he got a tea cozy on his caput for?

Sol: [sarcastic] To keep his head warm.

Bad Male child Lincoln: Well, what'due south the affair with him?

Vinny: He's been shot in the face, Lincoln. I would've thought that was obvious.

[repeated line]

various characters: [regarding Boris The Blade] Sneaky fuckin' Russian.

Avi: [in Doug's function while trying to detect Boris] Russians.

[he chuckles]

Avi: Russians. I should've known. Anti-Semite, slippery Cossack sluts. What practice yous know nearly this goyim?

Bullet Molar Tony: Ex-KGB cancer. He was a highly trained hush-hush agent. He'll exist incommunicable to track down.

Doug the Head: [the phone rings and Doug picks it upward] Yep.

Susi Denovitz: Dad, there'due south a strange human being downward here who wants to sell us an 84-carat stone.

Doug the Head: Where does he come up from?

Susi Denovitz: I don't know, it's hard to tell. He'southward got a thick Russian accent.

[cutting to a Tv monitor as Boris stares suspiciously into the camera]

Bullet Molar Tony: I desire to know who blagged Brick-Peak's bookies.

Mullet: Do me a favor, Ton!

Bullet Tooth Tony: I will do you a favor, Mullet. I'll non get out of this car and bash the living fuck out of y'all in front of all your girlfriends.

[Mullet hunkers down to the car window]

Mullet: Got to make information technology worth my while, mate. Jesus, Tony, y'all know that...

[Tony seizes his tie and rolls upwards the window, wedging Mullet's caput in it]

Bullet Molar Tony: Comfortable, Mullet? It seems sadly ironic that it's that tie that'due south got you into this pickle. Now y'all just have all the fourth dimension yous desire.

[He starts the automobile forward]

Mullet: What the fuck are yous doing, Ton?

Bullet Tooth Tony: I'chiliad driving downward the street with your head stuck in my window. What do you lot recall I'm doing, y'all pen-ass?

Mullet: Tedious down, Ton.

Bullet Tooth Tony: [sniffs] You been using dogshit for toothpaste, Mullet?

Mullet: Tedious down, Ton! Tedious down, Tony!

Bullet Molar Tony: I don't think I'll slow down. I think I'll speed upwards. You can play some music if you lot like.

[He turns on the radio; Madonna's "Lucky Star" is playing]

Bullet Molar Tony: Oh, I love this runway.

Mullet: I think...

Bullet Tooth Tony: Yes, Mullet?

Mullet: I think it'southward two black guys, in a pawn shop on Smith street.

Bullet Tooth Tony: You better not be telling me porky pies.

Mullet: I'm fucking telling yous, information technology's ii black guys who work off a pawn shop in fucking Smith Street!

Avi: That'due south very effective, Tony. It'southward not also subtle, just effective.

[Tony accelerates and turns toward Smith Street]

Avi: Are we taking him with u.s.a.?

[Tony rolls down the window, releasing Mullet'southward head and dumping him on the roadside]

Turkish: [voice over] Boris the Blade, or Boris "the Bullet Dodger." As bent as the Soviet sickle, and as difficult equally the hammer that crosses it. Apparently, it'due south just impossible to kill the bastard.

Boris 'The Blade' Yurinov: You lot tin can continue the 10 grand, forth with the body. But if I see you again - YOU MOTHERFUCKERS! - Well, look at him.

Brick Superlative: Gimme that fucking shooter!

Pikey: I'll give you your shooter, ya cunt ya!

[Blam]

Mickey: I bet ya can box a little, can't ya sir? Yeah, you await like a boxer.

Mickey: I'll bet yous for information technology.

Tommy: You'll what?

Pikeys: HE'LL BET Y'all FOR IT!

Turkish: What, like Tommy did last time? Practise me a favour?

Mickey: I'll do y'all a favour. Yous have first bet. If I win, I get a caravan... and the boys get a pair of them shoes.

[the Pikeys laugh at Turkish and Tommy, who are wearing plastic numberless effectually their shoes]

Mickey: If I lose... Oh fuck information technology, I'll do the fight for complimentary.

Turkish: [narrating] Now the last affair I actually wanna do is bet a pikey.

Bullet Molar Tony: I'm driving down the road with your head stuck in my window. What does it look like I'yard doin'?

Turkish: [Tommy has a gun in his trousers] What's to terminate it blowing your bollocks off every time you sit down?

Bullet Molar Tony: All right, Mullet?

[Mullet freezes, then swallows and turns around]

Mullet: How you doin', Tony? You all correct, mate?

Bullet Tooth Tony: Ooh, dainty tie.

Mullet: I heard you weren't well-nigh much these days, Tony.

Bullet Molar Tony: What do you know? Even so warm, the blood that courses through my veins. Unlike yours, Mullet.

Vinny: Now I don't want to put a bullet in your face, simply if you don't give usa *exactly* what we want, in that location volition be fucking murder.

Bullet Tooth Tony: [to Tyrone] What's your name?

Sol: Shoot him.

Bullet Tooth Tony: Ooh.

Errol: Looks like we're in, guv'nor.

Brick Top: Goody gumdrops. Get us a cup of tea, would y'all, Errol?

[from a deleted scene]

Errol: You're a dead human, Tony! Yous hear me? A fucking dead human being!

Brick Tiptop: Oi! What's going on in there?

Errol: He'due south pissed in my fucking pocket!

Brick Tiptop: Oh, close upward, Errol. Get back in your fucking pram. Tony, ain't you firm-trained?

Turkish: I don't want to get in there. He'south a dangerous bastard. Taken besides many disco biscuits in the heat of Russian disputations. He'southward got every bit many of these nuts equally he has those nuts.

Tommy: I don't care if he'due south got fucking hazelnuts. I want a gun that works, and I'thou gonna tell him.

Turkish: My God, Tommy, you certainly got those minerals. Well, come up on, then before "zee" Germans get here.

Turkish: [to Brick Top] You've withal got your fight.

Brick Top: No, all bets are off at the bookies, you can't change fighters. So no, I don't accept my fight practice I? You lot fucking prat!

Brick Top: Of course, fucking of grade. I wasn't asking, I was telling.

Mickey: Deadly kick for a fat fucker, ya know that?

Gorgeous George: [throws Mickey into the contend] Derisive bastard!

Vinny: Wow! That's a keen load off me mind. Now, if you wouldn't mind telling me who the fuck yous are, apart from someone who feeds people to pigs of grade!

[Law are watching Tommy chase the dog]

Turkish: He loves that dog. E'er playing featherbrained games.

Vinny: Practise they fire?

Sol: Of course, they fire.

Vinny: Yeah, but, how d'you know? I mean, they're replicas. What practice y'all know almost replicas?

[Sol fires his replica pistol at the roof of the automobile, bravado out the car windows. Everyone screams]

Vinny: What the fuck are you doing, Solomon?

Sol: Well y'all wanted to know whether or not they worked!

Vinny: I didn't mean try information technology in the motorcar, Sol! You arsehole!

[Tyrone drives into Boris the Blade]

Turkish: Bollocks! I'thousand going for a walk.

Sol: Oh, is that him?

Vinny: I don't know, how many fingers did he accept?

Sol: I'm sorry I couldn't go the bin-noc-u-lars out in fourth dimension.

Vinny: Look, well let'southward not stand up in no ceremony mate, let's commencement the evidence.

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Source: https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0208092/quotes/qt0480544

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