Michelle: Why do we even have to talk to her?
Clare: Because she's new, Michelle!
Michelle: Urgh! I hate people I don't know.
Clare: And, in case you hadn't noticed, she also happens to be Chinese. I mean, how class would it be to have a Chinese friend?!
Orla: We could keep her in my toy box.
Michelle: No, we couldn't, Orla.
Orla: Oh, she'd definitely fit.
Erin: That is not the point.

Gerry: Sister! How are you?
Sister Michael: Well, I'm at a wake, Mr. Quinn, so I've had better evenings.
Gerry: Did you know Bridie, then?
Sister Michael: No. But I believe your wife put some sort of a curse on her.
Gerry: Well, no, not exactly.
Sister Michael: You're not a tongue person, are you?
Gerry: I'm sorry?
Sister Michael: I'm on communion duty. Christ, but I cannot stand the tongue people! I mean, what's all that about? You can't lift a wafer into your own mouth? You need me to do it for you?
Gerry: Right, yeah, that... that must be tough.
Sister Michael: Father Thomas usually deals with the wakes but he's very sick at the minute. Bedridden, in fact.
Gerry: God! What caused it?
Sister Michael: Jack Daniels... mostly.

Mary: Something troubling you, Bridie?
Aunt Bridie: Aye, you could say that. My Eammon has been waiting all night for this song.
Mary: For Rock The Boat? Really?
Aunt Bridie: But your girls pushed him out of the line, and now he has a bruise. Show them the bruise, Eammon.
Eammon: I bruise quite easily.
Aunt Bridie: That's not the point!
Mary: Right. I see. Well, I'm sorry about that, Eammon.
Aunt Bridie: Is that all you have to say?
Mary: I'm not sure what else there is to say, Bridie. Except, maybe, our girls are 16, and Eammon's a 50-year-old man.
Sarah: Look, it's a rough routine, Bridie. You know that going in. You sit down on that floor at your own risk.

Orla: Will we need our passports, Gerry?
Gerry: For Belfast? I don't think so, love.

Joe: God almighty, I don't know what the world's coming to. Bloody perverts.
Mary: You're overreacting, Da.
Joe: Overreacting? That lad's got no trousers on, for Christ sake.
Sarah: He has a great set of pins on him, doesn't he?
Mary: For God's sake will you close that window, we're foundered here.
Sarah: I need aired, Mary. I've five layers on me.
Mary: Five layers? What are you trying to do? Change race?
Sarah: Give us a going over with the hairdryer, will you?
Mary: Indeed I will not. I've enough to be at.
Joe: Why do they keep touching themselves?
Erin: Because they're artists, Granda.
Joe: Dirty English bastards is what they are. [to James] No offence son.

Joe: I'm leaning towards Pete Postlethwaite now.
Mary: It wasn't Pete Postlethwaite, Da. It's never Pete Postlethwaite. Look, this is driving me to distraction. We'll have to go back tonight.
Gerry: It's not in the listings any more.
Mary: What?
Gerry: The cinema's stopped showing it.
Joe: Oh, well done.
Gerry: It's not my fault.
Joe: Ah, sure, nothing ever is.
Mary: What are we meant to do?
Gerry: Wait for them to release it on video.
Mary: I can't, Gerry! I can't go on like this! I need to know!

Joe: I heard that k.d. lang on the radio yesterday. Christ, but she's some set of pipes on her. You're very talented people.
Clare: Thank you?

Sarah: Will any of your crowd be going, love?
Clare: My crowd?
Sarah: Or can you not get Protestant lesbians?
Clare: No, I think you can get them all right, it's just...

James: Can you blame her?
Michelle: Ignore him, Erin. These gays, they all stick together.
James: I'm not gay.
Michelle: What's wrong with being gay? He is such a fucking homophobe.

Erin: Let's just run through some of our favourite ideas. So, firstly, animals.
James: Animals. Can someone elaborate?
Erin: Yeah. So, this concept would focus on animals, alongside pictures of famous people who look a bit like animals.
Orla: Michelle Pfeiffer looks like a cat.
Erin: Exactly.
James: OK. Right. Animals. Er, what's the next one? Shoes of the...
Erin: Shoes of the world.