Dee: They're all arseholes.
Erin: What the hell is that supposed to mean?
Harry: You tried to swap us!
Dee: Because all protestants are the same? Aren't they, girls?
Michelle: Yes.
Erin: No!
Jon: And this guy's really creepy and a bit sort of sexist. And she carries a knife and makes people bury their own excrement.
Boy: [o.s.] Fucking Catholics.
Michelle: Who said that? Who?
[As a fight breaks out, Sister Michael and Miss Taylor sip their drinks]
Janet Taylor: Should we break it up?
Father Peter: Don't touch the hair! Don't touch the hair!
Sister Michael: Let's leave it a minute. [eats a biscuit]

James: I just did it for a laugh. The trousers. I'd do anything for a laugh, me. I'm mad like that.
Jon: Right.

Jenny: I must admit, I had a bit of an advantage when it came to the whole present buying thing, because...
Michelle: You're loaded.
Jenny: Because I know what they like. I happen to be very good friends with a half-Protestant.
Michelle: What? They don't come in halves, Jenny.
Jenny: They do, actually. I met her at ballet class, her name's Zara. And she has horse.

Clare: Listen, Philip, about the whole "which ear" thing...
Philip: It's fine. I'll be your partner.
Clare: Great! And, just to be clear, are you a fully blown Protestant?
Philip: Of course.

Father Peter: OK, thank you. Let me just rephrase slightly. Can you think of anything... that unites every single person in this room? Is there anything that we all want?
Sister Michael: For this to be over.
Father Peter: And we'll wrap it up there.

Father Peter: OK, so I see a few familiar faces out there. As some of you may know, I took a bit of a sabbatical last year.
Michelle: Do you mean when you shacked up with a slutty hairdresser, but then she dumped you?
Sister Michael: Miss Mallon, please! Raise your hand if you want to ask a question. [Michelle raises her hand]
Father Peter: OK, I think we should just move on.
Sister Michael: The hairdresser certainly did.
Father Peter: OK, so this is just a little exercise I like to kick off with.
Sister Michael: Ugh, give me strength.

Michelle: Oh, and my mammy said to tell you...
Mary: Her big bowl. I know, I know, I keep forgetting, I'll drop it round today.
Michelle: No, she says you're to hang on to it.
Mary: What? She doesn't want her big bowl back? But why? There's nothing wrong with that bowl.
Sarah: Sure, I was admiring that bowl only yesterday.
Joe: It's a grand bowl.
Michelle: I'm just the messenger, folks.
Mary: Right.

James: Fancy another beer, mate? Christ but I just love beer. Don't you just love beer?
Jon: Yeah, beer is nice.
James: I love beer and football and poker and, you know, tits.
Jon: Tits?
James: Can't get enough of them. Then again I am a lad.

Sister Michael: Honestly, girls, I need my eight hours, but I've had Mary Quinn on the phone frying my head and now this.
Erin: What? My Mother rang? Why? Is everything OK?
Sister Michael: Ah, she was quite distressed. She wanted me to pass on a message.
Erin: And... are you going to?
Sister Michael: Oh, fine. [clears throat] "Uh, Erin, I need some information. Can you find out in a subtle way... if Michelle's mother was given the big bowl by someone she has since fallen out with and if she can no longer bring herself to look at the big bowl because it's just too painful. All the best, your mother Mary."
Erin: Well?
Michelle: No.

Clare: I'm sorry, but is he OK?
Harry: Philip's actually deaf.
Clare: Oh.
Harry: In one ear.
Clare: He's deaf in one ear.
Harry: That's right.
Clare: Which ear?
Philip: That's actually a very inappropriate question.
Clare: Is it?
Harry: It is, yeah.