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!

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.

Gerry: Why have you got a surfboard, Joe?
Joe: Jim across the road gave me the lend.
Gerry: I'll start again. What are you planning to do with the surfboard, Joe?
Joe: Surf. Something I always fancied doing, ever since I saw that film, the one where the lads try to catch thon big fish.
Gerry: What film is that?
Joe: You know, the big fish, the musical fish.
Gerry: The musical fish?
Joe: He hums a tune before he attacks people. They try to catch him but their boat's too wee.
Gerry: Are you talking about Jaws?
Joe: That's the one.
Gerry: Jaws made you want to take up surfing?
Joe: Aye.
Gerry: Grand so.

Colm: So, I says to myself, says I, Colm, who'd be ringing you at this hour? And sure, if I hadn't been in the middle of a Maeve Binchy, I'd have probably slept through the thing altogether.
Chief Inspector Byers: What was it we asked him?
Police Officer: I can't remember, sir.
Chief Inspector Byers: Jesus.
Colm: ...I'm like a dead one.

James: Do you know the bit about how we don't have to say anything at this time, and anything we do say may be given in evidence? You know, our right to remain silent? You haven't told me about my right to remain silent! What about my right to remain silent?!
Michelle: Shut the fuck up, James!

Colm: There was a knock at the door. This must have been, ah, we're talking eight, half eight, for I was halfway through my dinner. And up I got to open it, and there they both were, large as life. And the taller fella, though, to be fair, there was no more than an inch in it...
Mary: Jesus wept.
Colm: The slightly taller fella, he says to me, says he, "Do you know who we are?"
Joe: How is a body supposed to enjoy his dinner?
Colm: And I says to him, says I, "Well, I can't be sure now. But maybe if you took off the balaclavas..." And then he says to me, the slightly taller fella does, he says, "Step aside, we are armed."
Orla: Class.
Colm: And that is when the smaller fella, although, as I say, we are talking an inch...
Erin: Mammy, make it stop.
Colm: ...an inch and a half at most.
Sarah: I need a drink.
Colm: He has the bright idea of tying me to the radiator, you see. And I remember saying to myself, says I, "Colm, it's a good job you have the Economy 7 on the aul timer, or you'd be roasted here."

Erin: That Eileen Rafferty story did not add up, girls.
Michelle: Do you think your ma's getting plumbed by the plumber?
Orla: Well, I never trusted her, not since the day I met her.
Erin: She's your auntie, Orla. The day you met her you were a new-born baby.
Orla: Exactly.

Colm: As far as sausage rolls go, well, I could take them or leave them, but that's not to say I don't appreciate the work that goes into them.
Maureen Malarkey: Look, Colm, no offence, but I listened to the prawn cocktail monologue. I'm not getting into sausage rolls.
Colm: For there was a fella that lived on my street, and, well, he was a pastry chef. He's dead now. This was when he was alive.
Maureen Malarkey: I only came over for a bloody napkin.
Gerry: I'm sorry, I can't actually believe that I'm about to say this, but can I speak to him on my own for a moment?
Maureen Malarkey: Thank you, son. Thank you.

Michelle: In fact, Cool Runnings is probably one of my favourite films.
Jenny: Right. I haven't seen that one.
Aisling: Me either.
Tomas: Nor me, I'm afraid.
James: We have to leave.
Michelle: Shh!
James: They haven't seen Cool Runnings, Michelle. I don't trust these people.

Colm: You can vote yes, or, you can vote no.
Gerry: Well, they are the only two options, Colm.
Colm: That's not strictly true, now, Gerry, for you can spoil your vote.
Gerry: Right.
Colm: I knew a fella once, Tommy Duddy, he spoiled his vote. Now this would have been back in, ach... we're talking '88, '89. Or was it '90?
Gerry: I don't care, Colm.
Colm: '90, at a push. Now, when I say he spoiled his vote, what he actually did was eat the ballot paper.
Gerry: What?
Colm: Swallowed the thing whole, so he did. People thought he was trying to make some sort of political statement, but that wasn't the case at all. Tommy was just an awful man for the paper. Couldn't get enough of the stuff. I'll tell you, if you didn't keep your eye on him, he'd have got the very Yellow Pages down him.
Joe: Tommy Duddy, is it?
Colm: Aye.
Joe: Took a bite out of my crossword once.