Joe: I'll have a chicken fillet burger. No lettuce, no tomato, no cheese...
Gerry: I'll just write plain, will I?
Joe: No onions, no cucumber.
Gerry: One plain...
Joe: No relish, no pickles, no mayonnaise.
Gerry: No chicken.
Joe: What do you mean, no chicken?! [phone rings]
Mary: Get that!
Joe: It's a chicken burger! Of course I want chicken! What are you? A simpleton? "No chicken."

Joe: And what's that gotta do with Seamus?
Gerry: The fact that the corpses starting piling up within hours of you taking in a feral cat is no coincidence, Joe.
Joe: It wasn't Seamus! Seamus wouldn't hurt a fly.
Gerry: I've seen him eat flies.
Joe: Seamus didn't kill anything! There's a tabby, two streets away, has a vendetta against him. They had a falling out. I don't know the details.
Gerry: So, Seamus has been framed by another cat?!
Joe: Exactly!
Aunt Sarah: Jesus, that's desperate.

Joe: This is a good spot.
Gerry: Oh, is it now? Disposed of a body before, have you, Joe?
Joe: No. But I've often thought about how I might.

Aideen: Anyway, enough of my woes. We've not heard much out of you, Joe. How's life been treating you?
Joe: Ah, not great, I'm afraid. I caught dementia.
Aideen: Dementia?
Joe: Riddled with it, so I am.
Aideen: Ach, that's awful.
Joe: I can't remember a bloody thing.
Aideen: I am so sorry to hear that, Joe.
Joe: Thanks, love. [winks at Gerry]
Gerry: [quietly] Fair play, Joe.

Joe: I've got the tickets.
Sarah: We haven't decided what we want to see yet, Da!
Joe: Well, I liked the look of that one with all the lads in the line-up. It's got your man in it, the farmer from Glenroe.
Mary: What, Gabriel Byrne?
Ciaran: He's done a fair bit since Glenroe now.
Joe: Who are you? His agent?
Mary: Da, I don't understand this. You hate the cinema.
Joe: Oh, not since I discovered it's the only way I can spend time with our Colm. It's the one place the boring bastard doesn't talk.

Joe: Don't know a Jack McGinley, do you? Moved to Moscow, '88, '89, it would have been.
Erin: Seriously?
Katya: No.
Joe: Stocky fella.
Katya: No.
Joe: Curly hair, bit of a lisp.
Katya: I do not know this person.
Joe: Ah, maybe just as well, love. He's an awful prick.

Joe: What is your problem with the big clock?
Gerry: It wouldn't say I have a problem, as such. It's just much heavier and takes up a lot of room.
Joe: I'm telling you, Mary, that's how it starts. Now he's dictating what size of clock you can pack. Next he'll be telling you what to wear, what to say. Before you know it, you'll be faking your own death and assuming a new identity.
Mary: Erin, I told you not to let him watch that Sleeping With The Enemy.
Erin: Couldn't stop him, Mammy.
Joe: Great show.

Mary: [sees Colm talking to a man] Oh, God!
Gerry: What is it?
Mary: He's got someone. Should we save the poor fella?
Joe: No chance.
Sarah: Och, Daddy, he's only young.
Joe: I don't care! When it comes to our Colm, it's every man for himself.

Joe: Ah, it's true. Brigitte Gallagher, she's a lesbian.
Mary: Brigitte Gallagher, who works in the post office?
Joe: I believe so.
Sarah: Is she not a vegetarian, Da?
Joe: Sorry, you're right. Vegetarian, Brigitte is.
Ciaran: Well, it's an easy mistake to make, Joe. Can I call you Joe?
Joe: No.
Ciaran: Right.
Gerry: Welcome to the club, Ciaran.

Emmett: [opens car boot] Was there something else, or...?
Mary: Yes. Yes, there was something else, actually.
Emmett: Look, I'm sure you have questions. I just don't really want to get into it all.
Mary: Yeah, well, we didn't really want you to get into our boot, but...
Joe: Maybe just leave the fella be. Sure, what's the odds?
Gerry: And what if they pull us over at the checkpoint, Joe? What if the army asks to search the car?
Joe: The Brits are flat out with thon parade! They'll not bother with the likes of us.
Emmett: That's a good point.
Mary: Stay out of it, you!
Joe: Right, in you go, son. [closes boot]