Michelle: Christ, I feel a bit bokey. [Michelle opens the curtains]
Clare: Sweet sufferin' Jesus, it's the morning already! What are we going to do?
Michelle: Well, maybe we could start with calming the fuck down.
Clare: Calm down? We're still on William of Orange, Michelle! We haven't so much looked at the famine!
Michelle: We've got the gist. They ran out of spuds. Everyone was ragin'.
James: Well, I can't tell my rebellions from my risings.
Michelle: And whose fault's that? If your lot had stopped invading us for five fucking minutes there'd be a lot less to wade through, you English prick!
Clare: Seriously, folks, I'm not feeling entirely comfortable with this!
Father Peter: One... [Philip chuckles] two... [Clare screams] three.
Clare: [screams] Stop! Stop it! Get me out of here! He's trying to kill me! He wants to kill us all! All of the Catholics! Look at his eyes, he's a madman! A Fenian-hating madman. Don't let the Jaffa bastard hurt me! Please!
Erin: Jesus, Clare!
Michelle: Fuck-a-doodle do!
James: Why doesn't someone just call the police?
Erin: Cos that's not how things work around here, James.
James: Well, how do things work here? How do they work? Will one of you please explain it to me, because sometimes I feel like I've gone through the fucking looking glass!
Clare: Calm down, James.
Michelle: Aye, don't be such a dick, James.
Clare: Girls, I really don't feel great. I feel sort of shaky. I think my blood sugar is dangerously low.
Erin: Seriously, will you just have a Mars bar?
Clare: What about Kamal?
Michelle: Fuck Kamal.
Clare: Look, whatever happens in there, we have to stick together, OK? We have to back each other up.
Sister Michael: Ladies.
[inside Sister Michael's office:]
Clare: So it had nothing to do with me! Yes, OK, I was there, I admit that, but I didn't do anything. It was Michelle. It was all Michelle. I'm not going down for something I didn't do. If anyone deserves to get punished, it should be Michelle.
Sister Michael: Well, I think it's safe to say we all just lost a bit of respect for you there, Clare.
Joe: I won't miss my chance! Not again! You hear me, boy?
Gerry: What the hell is he planning to do?
Mary: When JFK came to Dublin, Uncle Colm met him, and Daddy didn't.
Joe: Things are gonna be different this time, I tell you.
Gerry: JFK spoke to Colm? Christ, that man didn't have much luck, did he?
Orla: Ooh! Protestants like to march and Catholics like to walk.
Father Peter: OK, can we just...? Jenny, could you just...? Oh, you've already written it down, have you? Great, thank you, Jenny. I want to just pause and think about what's in here. What about the fact that we all feel and love and hope and... Write this down. We all cry. [Aisling, in charge of the "Similarities" board, is unsure whether to write this down] We all laugh. We all dream. I just want to think along those lines, for a moment. OK?
Boy: Catholics watch RTE!
Girl: Protestants love cleaning!
Michelle: Protestants are taller!
Dee: Catholics have more freckles!
Orla: Protestants hate ABBA!
Gerry: Joe, it's all just a bit trickier today. There are so many roadblocks up, there are so many diversions, and, you know, I drive for a living.
Joe: He says this like it's something to be proud of.
Gerry: Look, we just need to get out of this place as quickly and as quietly as possible.
Joe: You know what age I am, boy? You know how many of these parades I've lived through? You think I don't realise how quickly a situation can turn? Do you think I would do anything to put my family at risk?
Gerry: No. Of course not. I'm sorry.
[cut to Joe's car stuck in the middle of the Orange Order parade:]
Joe: What are you looking at, you tangerine tool?!
Erin: How's it going? [Clare gives a "so-so" hand gesture] You're really not gonna talk for 24 hours?
Orla: Yeah, that's tough. You're better off not breathing.
Erin: Would she be, Orla? Or... would she be dead?
Orla: It's not doing me any harm.
Orla: I'm not breathing for Children in Need.
Erin: That's happening now, is it, you're currently not breathing?
Erin: We also gave you a name.
Chief Inspector Byers: Nobody in Londonderry is called Hans, girls.
Colm: Well, you say that, now, but there's a young lad up in Pennyburn called Diego.
Chief Inspector Byers: Is this relevant?
Colm: The mother, she's a Derry woman, but the father, he was Spanish. Though not on the scene, by all accounts.
Chief Inspector Byers: Thank you, if we could just... [knock on door] Alex, don't leave me.
Police Officer: It's every man for himself, sir.
Colm: According to the mother, he - Diego's father, this is - well, he came over with the Spanish Armada, then cleared off, leaving her to raise the wean on her own, but that story didn't totally add up, was the thing.
Chief Inspector Byers: I need you to stop talking now.
Colm: The problem being that the Spanish Armada landed here in 1588, and that the son, Diego, as she called him, well, he was born more than four centuries later.
Chief Inspector Byers: I will caution you.
Michelle: Ssh! You'll scare Clive!
James: Who's Clive?
Michelle: Clive. Clive is a wee Prod from East Belfast. Clive came back from Ibiza, got on the wrong bus at Aldergrove Airport, then fell asleep. Clive woke up in Derry, surrounded by Russians and Fenians. Clive is absolutely shitting himself.
Erin: So where's the real Artem?
Michelle: Giant's Causeway, probably. Foreigners fucking love the Giant's Causeway.
Clive: I just want to go home! But she won't let me leave! She won't let me leave.
Michelle: I also think Clive may have had too many disco biscuits on his holidays.
Clare: [enters] Here you are!
Clive: Thank God! [hugs Clare in her Union Jack top] Whatever you do, don't slag off the Pope. We're outnumbered.