Clare: We had plans tonight.
Michelle: We can turn our jeans into hot pants any day of the week. We're talking about a free house here, Clare, a free house. We're gonna be drinking, dancing and riding.
Erin: Quick question on the old riding front there.
Michelle: Go on?
Erin: Who exactly will we be doing that with?
Michelle: Young, hot farmers. Donegal is coming down with them. Big strapping lads ripped to fuck from all the turf collecting.
Clare: Oh, don't worry about me.
Michelle: There's actually quite a few lesbians as well, Clare.
Clare: Lesbian farmers? Really?
Michelle: Lesbian farming is actually huge in the Republic. We'll get you sorted, don't worry.

Michelle: Ugh. Where the hell are we?
James: I'll ask this woman. Excuse me? Sorry to bother you.
Sheila: A chairde. Cad e mar ata sibh?
James: Jesus, is she having a stroke?
Erin: She is an Irish speaker, James.
James: Oh, why can't everyone just speak English?
Michelle: Well, your crowd had a good stab at forcing the entire world to, but we didn't really enjoy it much, James. Imperialist prick!

Sister Michael: Listen. I'm not going to make excuses for these kids, but... life has dealt them a very cruel hand, and they're living with a very serious condition. Truth is, Declan, they're from Derry.
Declan: Oh, God.
Michelle: Aye.
Declan: Well, that's punishment enough, I suppose.
Sister Michael: Quite.

Mary: Bridget Gallagher was telling me she went to see this psychic.
Aunt Sarah: No! You know the problems I have with my aura.
Gerry: Your aura?
Aunt Sarah: The last time I went to see a psychic, sure I was tortured. The spirits were coming at me left, right and centre. This one lad, he was in the American Air Force. Well, would he give over about that plane going down? Jesus, he had me demented.

[Sister Michael stops her Delorean and opens the bat-wing door to talk to a man stood in front of a house]
Sister Michael: How are you, Jackie?
Jackie: [answers in Irish]
Sister Michael: Thank you. Though she's at peace now, at least.
Jackie: [responds in Irish]
Sister Michael: She was a bit of an arsehole all right, that's true enough. [Sheila walks out] Ah, it's herself. How are you keeping, Sheila?
Sheila: Chonaic me an diabhal amhain!
Sister Michael: Oh, for the love of God, Sheila. You did not see the devil that night. Well, you may have, but only because you were absolutely flying on the co-codamol. Never worry
Sheila: [responds in Irish]
Sister Michael: I'll see the both of you up at the wake for a jar or two so. Slan.

Jenny: ♫ Let me tell you about my man ♫ Let me put into words if I can ♫
Aisling: ♫ I think I can ♫
Jenny: ♫ He's the apple of my eye ♫
Jenny & Aisling: ♫ Without him I'd just die ♫ He's my guy ♫ Ooh, he's my guy ♫
Jenny: ♫And his name is God... ♫
Sister Michael: Merciful Jesus.
Jenny: ♫His name is God, God, God ♫ Oh, yes, it's God ♫
Michelle: The sly bitch.
Jenny: ♫ There's no one like Him ♫ He died for our sins ♫

Orla: We'd like to report a crime.
Sister Michael: Right.
Erin: Just now, Jenny Joyce's singing.
Sister Michael: Being really, really, really bad at something isn't actually a crime.
Erin: No, Sister. When we went on that retreat with Father Peter, he asked us to write something about faith.
Sister Michael: Oh, thank Christ I had pneumonia that weekend.
Clare: We wrote that song, Sister. Jenny stole it!

Sister Michael: [answers phone] You may speak. Oh, no. O-Of course. Leave it to me. [hangs up]
Clare: Is everything OK, Sister?
Sister Michael: My aunt just died.
Clare: Oh, no.
James: We're so sorry, Sister.
Sister Michael: Don't be, girls. She had been ill for a very long time, and also she was an absolute arsehole.
Erin: Well, if there's anything we can do.
Clare: Aye.
Sister Michael: The hospice want to release the body, but the house is a tip. The woman was a desperate hoarder. I doubt we'd fit the coffin in. Once you pass the border, it's pretty straightforward, but if you hit Gortahork, you've gone too far. I need it done by tomorrow.
Erin: Are you asking us to go to Donegal and clean your dead aunt's house?
Sister Michael: I'd do it myself, but... I don't want to.

James: How will we even get there?
Sister Michael: You can take the school van.
Clare: I'm not sure about this.
Michelle: I must say, Clare, I find your attitude shocking. Sister Michael has asked us to do something in her hour of need, and if that means that we must spend a night in Donegal, in a house, in an adult-free house, for the entire night, then that is a cross that we'll just have to bear.
Sister Michael: That's settled, then.

James: What about me? Could we pick me up a girl?
Michelle: Can we pick you up a girl?
Erin: Like she's a thing?
Orla: Yeah, that is so out of order, James.
James: I didn't mean... I-I just thought...
Michelle: Well, you thought wrong, James.
James: Sorry.
Michelle: Get in the van. Dirtbag.