Peter Marwood:
My thumbs have gone weird.

Danny:
I don't advise a haircut, man. All hairdressers are in the employment of the government. Hairs are your aerials. They pick up signals from the cosmos, and transmit them directly into the brain. This is the reason bald-headed men are uptight.

Withnail:
How do we make it die?

Withnail:
Free to those that can afford it, very expensive to those that can't.

Withnail:
I feel like a pig shat in my head.

Uncle Monty:
Tell him if you must, I no longer care. I mean to have you even if it must be burglary.

Withnail:
Who says it's a Camberwell Carrot?

Danny:
I do. I invented it in Camberwell, and it looks like a carrot.

Withnail:
I want something's flesh.

Withnail:
Don't threaten me with a dead fish.

Jake:
Now look you - them pheasants are for his pot. These eels are for my pot. Now what makes you think I should give you something for your pot?

Withnail:
What pot?

Peter Marwood:
A cooking pot.

Withnail:
We want the finest wines available to humanity, we want them here, and we want them now.

Withnail:
I must have some booze. I demand to have some booze.

Monty:
As a youth I used to weep in butcher's shops.

Monty:
Come on lads, let's get home, the sky's beginning to bruise, night must fall and we shall be forced to camp.

Withnail:
I think a drink, don't you?

Peter Marwood:
What about the wellingtons?

Withnail:
Bollocks to the wellingtons. We'll tell him they had a farmers conference and had a run on them.

Withnail:
Right, here's the plan. First, we go in there and get wrecked, then we eat a pork pie, then we drop some Surmontil-50's each. That way we'll miss out on Monday and come up smiling Tuesday morning.

Withnail:
I'm going to pull your head off, because I don't like your head.

Peter Marwood:
Even a stopped clock tells the right time twice a day, and for once I'm inclined to believe Withnail is right. We are indeed drifting into the arena of the unwell.

Peter Marwood:
If my father was loaded I'd ask him for some money.

Withnail:
If your father was my father you wouldn't get it.

Withnail:
I have a heart condition. If you hit me, it's murder.

Monty:
Flowers are simply tarts; prostitutes for the bees.

Peter Marwood:
We're leaving in half an hour.

Withnail:
Half an hour? Don't be ridiculous. I need at least an hour for lunch.

Withnail:
This place has become impossible. Nothing to eat, freezing cold and now a madman on the prowl outside with eels.

Peter Marwood:
Alright, you've made your point. We pack up tomorrow and get out.

Withnail:
Where are you going?

Peter Marwood:
I'm going for a slash.

Withnail:
No you can't, I can't get my boots on when they're hot.

Peter Marwood:
That's alright, I'll go alone.

Withnail:
No you won't, you're not leaving me in here alone. Those are the kind of windows faces look in at.

Withnail:
If I ever see that silage-heap hanging about up here, I'll take the bastard axe to him. Bastards.

Withnail:
Look at that. Look at that. "Accident Blackspot"? These aren't accidents. They're throwing themselves into the road gladly. Throwing themselves into the road to escape all this hideousness.

Withnail:
Throw yourself into the road, darling - you haven't got a chance.

Peter Marwood:
A coward you are, Withnail. An expert on bulls you are not.

Withnail:
Monty used to act.

Monty:
I'd hardly say that. It's true I crept the boards in my youth, but I never had it in my blood, and that's what so essential isn't it? Theatrical zeal in the veins. Alas, I have little more that vintage wine and memories.

Peter Marwood:
Right, now we're going to have to approach this scientifically. First thing we've got to do is get this fire alight, then we split into two fact finding groups. I'll deal with the water and the plumbings, you check the fuel and wood situation.

Peter Marwood:
What's that?

Withnail:
The fuel and wood situation. There's nothing out there except a hurricane.

Withnail:
This place is uninhabitable.

Peter Marwood:
Give it a chance. It's got to warm up.

Withnail:
Warm up? We may as well sit round this cigarette. This is ridiculous. We'll be found dead in here next spring.

Withnail:
Jesus. You're covered in shit.

Peter Marwood:
You never discuss your family do you?

Withnail:
I fail to see my family's of any interest to you. I've absolutely no interest in yours. I dislike relatives in general and in particular mine.

Peter Marwood:
Why?

Withnail:
I've told you why. We're incompatible. They don't like me being on stage.

Peter Marwood:
Then they must be delighted with your career.

Withnail:
What are we supposed to do with that?

Peter Marwood:
Eat it.

Withnail:
Eat it? Fucker's alive.

Peter Marwood:
Yeah, you've got to kill it.

Withnail:
Me? I'm the firelighter and fuel collector.

Peter Marwood:
Yeah, I know, but I got the logs in. It takes away your appetite just looking at it.

Withnail:
No it doesn't. I'm starving.

Withnail:
I must say, that represents a level of hypocrisy in you that I'd previously suspected, but not noticed due to highly evasive skills.

First Policeman:
You're drunk.

Withnail:
I assure you I'm not officer. I've only had a few ales.

Withnail:
Why can't I have an audition? It's ridiculous. I've been to drama school. I'm good looking. I tell you, I've a fuck sight more talent that half the rubbish that gets on television. Why can't I get on television?

Peter Marwood:
Well, I don't know. It'll happen.

Withnail:
Will it? That's what you say. The only program I'm likely to get on is the fucking news.

Peter Marwood:
What happened to your cigar commercial?

Withnail:
That's what I want to know. What happened to my cigar commercial? What happened to my agent? Bastard must have died.

Peter Marwood:
Speed is like a dozen transatlantic flights without ever getting off the plane. Time change. You lose, you gain. Makes no difference so long as you keep taking the pills. But sooner or later you've got to get out because it's crashing, and then all at once the frozen hours melt out through the nervous system and seep out the pores.

Peter Marwood:
I have just narrowly avoided having a buggering, and have come in here with the express intention of wishing one upon you.

Peter Marwood:
If you think you're going to have a weekend's indulgence up here at his expense, which means him having a weekend's indulgence up here at MY expense, you got another thing coming.

Peter Marwood:
Not even the wankers on the site would drink that. That's worse than methys.

Withnail:
Nonsense. This is a far superior drink to methys. The wankers don't drink it because they can't afford it.

Peter Marwood:
I think you should strangle it quickly before it starts trying to make friends with us.

Withnail:
We'll have to work fast.

Withnail:
A pair of quadruple whiskies and another pair of pints...

Withnail:
Have you been at the controls?

Peter Marwood:
What are you talking about?

Withnail:
The thermostats. What have you done to them?

Peter Marwood:
I haven't touched them.

Withnail:
Then why has my head gone numb?

Withnail:
What happened to my cigar commercial? What happened to my AGENT? Bastard must've died.

Withnail:
Scrubbers.

Withnail:
Scrubbers. Scrubbers.

Peter Marwood:
Shut up.

Withnail:
Little tarts, they love it.

Peter Marwood:
What about whatshisname?

Withnail:
What about him?

Peter Marwood:
Why don't you give him a call?

Withnail:
What for?

Peter Marwood:
Ask him about his house.

Withnail:
You want me to call whatshisname and ask him about his house?

Peter Marwood:
Why not?

Withnail:
Alright. What's his number?

Peter Marwood:
I've no idea. I've never met him.

Withnail:
Well neither have I. What the fuck are you talking about?

Withnail:
We've gone on holiday by mistake.

Danny:
Why trust one drug and not the other? That's politics, isn't it?

Withnail:
What are you talking about Danny?

Danny:
Politics man. If you're hanging on to a rising balloon, you're presented with a difficult decision; let go before it's too late, or hold on and keep getting higher. Posing the question, how long can you keep a grip on the rope?

Danny:
Find your neutral space. You got a rush. It'll pass. Be seated.