Trending ‘Derry Girls’ Quotes
Michelle: Motherfuckers! "Motherfucker" is my new thing. Watched this film last night. My dad got it off Pyro Pauline, and it's about these two lads, and they wear these cracking suits and they rock about, just shooting people and eating cheeseburgers, and they're all, "Motherfucker this, motherfucker that." It's got your man in it. What do you call him? The disco dancer from Look Who's Talking.
Sarah: Tell me this, wains. How were the eyebrows?
Erin: What do you mean?
Sarah: The eyebrows. Were they looking well?
Erin: I didn't really notice her eyebrows.
Sarah: Cathy Maguire had the best eyebrows in Derry back in her day. She'd could have given Joan Crawford a run for her money. Isn't that right, Mary?
Mary: I've no time for Cathy Maguire. The woman abandoned her own wain, Sarah. She always was one cold, self-serving wee madam.
Sarah: I'm not talking about her. I'm talking about her eyebrows. Cathy and her eyebrows are two separate entities.
Mary: All right, don't be getting worked up.
Sarah: Well, I just think you should be able to compliment a woman's eyebrows without having her personality dragged into it.
Deidre: Listen, Mary, I hate to do this to you, but me and Martin are both working nights and I'm nervous about leaving these two on their own what with the day that's in it. Don't suppose there's any chance you could take them with you?
Mary: Ach, a week, Deirdre, it's just...
Deidre: The English thing? Listen, Mary, I understand. I mean, he's my nephew, and even I find it hard to get past. If I'm totally honest, there's times when I look at him and I feel... well, it's pure hatred. I'll not dress it up.
Mary: No, no, it's not the English thing.
Deidre: I hope to God it's not the gay thing you're offended by.
James: There is no gay thing.
Deidre: Because I'd be disappointed in you, Mary. I'll not lie.
Mary: Of course not. I mean, if anything, the gay thing sort of cancels out the English thing.
James: Again, no gay thing.
Michelle: You wouldn't move over there, James? I can't see past your massive closet.
Father Peter: But sometimes, we want to believe in something so much that we willingly deceive ourselves. I mean, I know I've been guilty of that in the past. I wanted a sign so badly that it drove me to distraction, because it is the question we all want the answer to, isn't it? I mean, does God exist? I mean, does he exist? Does he? Or is your whole world built on a lie, Peter?
Father Peter: Yeah. Directly before the weeping, can you remember what you were doing? What you were talking about?
Michelle: I remember that James was being a dick.
Sister Michael: Ms. Mallon.
Michelle: I don't like to use that word, Sister, but it's so hard to describe James any other way, cos he's just such a dick.
Father Peter: I don't think you're a dick, James.
Father Peter: Really. And you know who else doesn't think you're a dick? Our Lord.
Sister Michael: For feck's sake.
Orla: Aye, you shouldn't swear, Michelle, cos when you swear, Our Lady in heaven, she cries her tears, then make rain. Isn't that right, Sister Michael?
Sister Michael: What age are you now, Orla?
Sister Michael: Yeah. You might want to think about wising up.
Dennis: Ah! You touch them, you buy them. That's the law.
Erin: I don't think that is the law.
Dennis: If I say it's the law, it's the law, smart-o.
Erin: Right. It's just I can't afford them any more. Have to give all my money to Kamal.
Dennis: Who the fuck's Kamal?
Orla: He's a wee Ethiopian fella from Ballybofey, Dennis.
James: What's in the suitcase, Michelle?
Erin: You've brought an entire suitcase full of vodka?
Michelle: No. There's some mixers as well. I'm not a savage. You can mix vodka with cider, right?
Clare: We just wanted to introduce ourselves and...
Mae: OK, I think I see where this is going. I get this a lot. Dull white girls wanting me to join their gang because... well...
Erin: We're not dull.
James: And I'm actually a boy.
Mae: Whoa, she has a really fucked-up accent.
Michelle: We know.
Sarah: Ach, Fionnula, what about you? I thought I could smell vinegar. I am just on my way to meet our Colm here. I'm a nervous wreck. We are doing this interview, you see, for UTV. I'm going to be on UTV, Fionnula.
Mary: Save your breath, Sarah. There'll be no free chips. There will be no chips full stop.
Sarah: Excuse me?
Mary: What do you expect me to do on a Friday, Fionnula? Cook? You expect me to cook?
Fionnula: You could order a pizza.
Orla: Pizza's not as nice.
Mary: No, you are right, Orla. Pizza is not as nice. Maybe you should all have thought about that. Is there nothing we can do?
Clare: Where did you get all this?
Michelle: Fionnula's cupboard. I think she might have a bit of a problem.
Erin: You think Fionnula might have a bit of a problem? Put it away and get back downstairs now.
Michelle: Sit yourselves down and have a wee drink.
Clare: No, Michelle, it's wrong.
Michelle: So are those ski pants, Clare, but that didn't stop you pulling them over your hole this morning. Wait for it. [lights shots]
Michelle: Don't be such a shower of bore bags. Slainte, motherfuckers!
Erin: Are you throwing alcohol on it? Are you actually throwing alcohol on it? And what in utter God are you doing? Seasoning it?!
Mary: Shay said when you left Duggan's, you turned up Pump Street.
Sarah: Pump Street? Who do you know on Pump Street, Da?
Mary: What were you doing heading up Pump Street with a cream horn, Da?
Joe: I was visiting a friend of mine.
Mary: What friend?
Joe: A new friend.
Mary: A male friend, was it? [Joe is silent] Aye, I thought as much. Buying cream horns for his fancy woman, Sarah, what do you think of that?
Joe: We met at the Stations of the Cross.
Erin: Which station?
Joe: Jesus falls for the second time.
Sarah: I could do without the details, Da.
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!
Mary: But Colm's not here, is he, Da? Da?
Colm: [to the girl at the counter] ... And that's not to say, now, that in my younger years, I didn't enjoy a boiled sweet. But then I heard tell of a fella from Ballynahinch... What was it his name was, now? I had it there a minute ago. Ach, it'll come to me. Anyway, this Ballynahinch lad, and, as I say, his name escapes me, but he was mad keen on the boiled sweets. Sure, he couldn't get enough of them. But in the end, well, didn't he choke to death on one? A pear drop, I think it was. Or a clove rock, maybe. But either way, it's not how I'd want to go.
Mary: [to the girl] I know, love. I know.
Clare: God, this whole writing-from-the-soul carry-on is a nightmare.
James: I know.
Michelle: What rhymes with ride?
Michelle: Bide? What the fuck does bide mean? Bide. That's not a word.
Clare: It is a word, Michelle.
Michelle: Bide? You've pure made that up.