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The Boat That Rocked
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Mark: So, how 'bout it then?

Minister Dormandy: [referring to Radio Rock] We have their testicles in our hands, Twatt, and it feels good.

Angus: She likes the bearded man...
Dave: With a tiny knob...

Angus: 'How about it?' How about this? Try and fuck your way out of this one Mark!

Simon: I believe the technical term is a *fuckload* of boats!

Harold: [the crew has decided to stay on the ship and keep broadcasting having nowhere else to go, Harold is the last one left] I *do* have somewhere else to go
[pause as crew looks at him. Quentin gives an "alright" shrug]
Harold: But it's Peckham so I'm staying
[all start backslapping and saluting]

Thick Kevin: I find alcohol rather sharpens my mind...

The Count: Arrhh, Jesus, I don't even like Simon! Fucking cry-baby!

[repeated line]
Minister Dormandy: Arse!

Quentin: So... expelled?
'Young' Carl: That's right.
Quentin: What for?
'Young' Carl: I suppose smoking was the clincher.
Quentin: Drugs or cigarettes?
'Young' Carl: Well, both.
Quentin: Well done! Proud of you. So your mum sent you here in the hope that a little bracing sea air would sort you out?
'Young' Carl: Something like that.
Quentin: Spectacular mistake.

Dave: Walk this way.
Simon: Don't walk that way!
'Young' Carl: I'm just gonna...
Simon: Walk woodpecker way.

Angus: And the bride is blushing now as the groom is gazing into her eyes. You can almost see Cupid fluttering his wings above their heads
[imitating wings flapping, then cawing]
Angus: No, that was a seagull.

Thick Kevin: It's type of bird, but it's wearing a hat. Not so much a hat. Something that's at the top of a coat and attached to the coat and covers the head, but is not a hat.
'Young' Carl: A hood?
Thick Kevin: Yes, and now the first name, type of bird. It's a something hood.
'Young' Carl: Robin Hood! Why didn't you just say he lived in Sherwood Forest and has a bow and an arrow?
Thick Kevin: Yeah? What? Who are you talking about?
'Young' Carl: Robin Hood.
Thick Kevin: I didn't know that.

Quentin: The day has come. Tonight pirate radio dies. From midnight, we are a ghost ship floating without hope on cold and dark waters. You have done almighty work here. Thank you. But your work is done.
The Count: Not mine, sir. I'm an American citizen and I don't give a hootenanny God damn about your nitpicking limey laws. I intend to broadcast from this ship 24 hours a day until the day I die. And then for a couple days after that.
Gavin Cavanagh: Not wanting to sound rude or anything, but don't you think that might be an ever so slightly monotonous experience for the listener? What do you say to 12 hours each, noble sir?

Angus: The way I look at it, the world couldn't survive without my comedy, and who's going to have the moral backbone to play the Seekers when the mood is right?
Dave: They've split up.
Angus: I intend to celebrate the back catalogue.
Dave: I intend to stop you doing so.
Mark: [silently stands up and lights a cigarette]
Simon: As some of you know, my wife left me after 17 hours of marriage, but I survived that because I live for music. And now, with nothing else to live for, I'm willing to die for it as well.
'On-The-Hour' John: I've always lived for news and weather. Happy to die for them, too. Especially the weather.
Bob Silver 'the Dawn Treader': I've got nowhere else to go.
Harold: I have somewhere else to go, but it's Peckham. So I think I'll stick around.
Felicity: Can't let everyone starve. And I'm slightly worried where my increasingly powerful sexuality will take me when I return to normal life.
Thick Kevin: I've got a very strong suspicion that Felicity fancies me. Not about to go anywhere, just when I'm in with a chance.
'Young' Carl: Obviously, I'm in. You're the only people in the world who like me.

Dave: Sure throwing him in is the best way to get him to learn how to swim?
The Count: Absolutely.
Dave: Ok.
The Count: On second thought, it might just be for kids.
Angus: I can't touch the bottom!
The Count: Yeah, that's right. Throw a baby in, it floats. Instinctively, naturally. It's a beautiful thing. I think if you throw in an adult, doesn't work that way.
Angus: Goodbye!

Quentin: Gentlemen, I have some good news and some bad news. Which would you prefer?
Thick Kevin: Good news.
Quentin: Okay. The good news is the engine has exploded and we're all going to die.
Dave: Hello, Dr Dave, Radio Rock. How is that good news?
Quentin: I haven't yet told you how we're going to die. That's the bad news.
Simon: How are we gonna die?
Quentin: We're going to drown in the freezing waters of the North Sea.
Felicity: Dearie me.
Quentin: There is a huge hole in the side of the boat and in an unfortunate development, it transpires that the lifeboats are useless.
Thick Kevin: [to Angus] Actually, that's quite good for you, isn't it? 'Cause you can't swim, so you'll die quicker.
Quentin: Sorry.

Simon: I think we're actually going to die.
Thick Kevin: Why?
Simon: I'll explain later.

Dave: So tell us Mark, now at the very end - what was your secret? How did you get all them girls?
Mark: Simple. Don't say anything at all.
'Young' Carl: Nothing?
Mark: Nothing. Then, when the tension becomes too much to bear, you finally, finally, you just say: "How about it, then?"

The Count: To all our listeners, this is what I have to say - God bless you all. And as for you bastards in charge, don't dream it's over. Years will come, years will go, and politicians will do fuck all to make the world a better place. But all over the world, young men and young women will always dream dreams and put those dreams into song. Nothing important dies tonight, just a few ugly guys on a crappy ship. The only sadness tonight is that, in future years, there'll be so many fantastic songs that it will not be our privilege to play. But, believe you me, they will still be written, they will still be sung and they will be the wonder of the world.
Gavin Cavanagh: Hit it!

Gavin Cavanagh: Here's a rather long record. I hope I'm here at the end of it.

Quentin: Your mother is dropping by to pay us a visit before Christmas.
'Young' Carl: You're kidding? When does she arrive?
Quentin: Tomorrow. She was always very impromptu. Anyway, I thought you might like to know, in case you want to brush your hair or hide the large stack of pornography you keep on that shelf.

Thick Kevin: My theory is that you're here because it's exactly the right time for a young man like you to get to know his dad.
'Young' Carl: And?
Thick Kevin: I therefore think that your dad is on this boat. And since he's definitely not me, I think he's probably Quentin.

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