Erin: Jenny Joyce's party... Well, this is quite the betrayal.
James: Why are you all covered in muck?
Erin: I climbed over a wall.
James: You know there's a gate?

Erin: How could you come here? How could you go along with it?
James: I didn't want to, but I'm in a bit of a difficult position, Erin. Well, I'm just glad Orla isn't here to witness this because it would completely break her heart.
Orla: [enters] All right, Erin?
Erin: Orla! You ditched your own party.
Orla: It was crap.
Erin: It was crap. Things have been pretty crap, generally. I can't believe this. All I did was... All I did was try and speak the truth, and... Sorry, who's this guy?
James: Oh, he's the caricature artist.
Erin: Right. Well, do you know what? I'm gonna go, and you can tell Michelle to enjoy the champagne, and the giftbags, and the little teeny-tiny bits of raw fish. I'm sure she's having a great, great time here.
James: I really don't think she is, Erin.

Orla: Can we take that wee tiny horse? No?

James: What's with all the tiny brides?

[Present Day, New York:]
Mailman: Morning, ma'am.
Chelsea Clinton: Morning.
Mailman: Sorry to disturb you, but we've discovered some old mail. It was intercepted en route to The White House back in the '90s, then somehow lost its way, but... This was addressed to you.
Chelsea Clinton: Thank you so much! [v.o.] "Dear Chelsea, our names are Erin, Orla, Clare, Michelle, and James, and we come from a place called Derry. We understand you will soon be travelling here with your ma and da, and if they're anything like our parents, well, you'll be bored out of your tree. We thought you might like to hang out with us. We were also thinking it must be pretty difficult for a girl like yourself to meet boys. Being the president's daughter would intimidate a lot of fellas, we imagine, so if you want to practice any moves on James, feel free. He's all yours. Anyway, let us know, and have a safe flight. Erin, Orla, Clare, Michelle and James. PS, we think your hair is absolutely cracker."