TV show quotes
You're not special!
Get here, you fսcking cսոt!
[To bartender] There's gonna be a riot! Come on!
Oh, look, the northern oafs are snogging. I didn't know Barnsley was this brutal.
To be honest with you, son, it's like this most Saturday nights.
It's Wednesday.
[Walking through remodeled Sex the Shop with contractor] The ceiling. We're going for a bombed-out look.
Yeah, just smash some holes into it.
It's full of asbestos. If you unsettle it, it'll kill you. I can't ask my lads to touch it.
[Sending contractors out] Okay, thank you very much for coming out! [To himself] Victory! [Grabs broom and stands on stool punching holes in ceiling]
[Van pulls into gas station] You fool! I'm starving. It's obscene.
Well, I've only been provided with money for petrol and accommodation.
We can't work if we're starving.
...
[John reaches for his shoplifted candy bar stash that the band is digging into] Hey! No, no, no! You're the star. You stay in the front. Yeah, go on! [John displays a vulgar gesture]
[Band has arrived at an upscale hotel] What's Malcolm playing at, sending us on this tour of England's biggest twat-holes?
Isn't exactly our target audience, is it?
We're on.
What? Look at the legs on that one.
Yeah, I've seen 'em.
In the middle.
Yeah, I know.
...
[Steve belches] Disgusting!
[Band has taken places at stage] Hello, Whitby or Shitby or wherever we are. Do you want to hear something real?
...
Could you turn it down a bit, please? The sound. Turn it down! The sound! We've got Bingo on in the Lesser Ballroom. They can't hear the numbers.
Bingo?
Bingo, yeah. Next door. [Bernadette runs to the washroom to glam herself up and rejoins the performance with her boyfriend in kissing embrace on deserted audience floor]
Hey, it's Bernadette. It's Bingo!
Turn it up!
This one goes out to Bingo and her boyfriends!
[Looking around perplexed] Oi... oi! What's that noise?
The sea. That's the sea.
Get out! You never once got taken to the seaside?!
My childhood wasn't quite the lap of luxury yours was, Glen.
Even us impoverished Irish immigrants had the occasional seaside holiday. Poor, underprivileged Jonesy.
Fսck off!
The main thing to remember is that Malcolm is a dishonest bastard.
To be fair, he did put me in the band.
To be fair, I got you in the band by playing Malcolm at his own devious game. And now we must ally against him, lest we get shafted like Glen, may he rest in peace.
Look, I hold it up, it just flops down. He offered to give me lessons.
Who?
Glen, R.I.P. I told him to fuck off. [Laughs]
You do realise you will need to learn to play.
Not really. How come yours sticks up like that?
What do you mean, "Not really"? Use lacquer.
No one cares what you sound like, it's what you look like that matters. Is it effective, then, lacquer?
Course it's effective! Remember my mum's beehive? It was like St. Paul's Cathedral. She kept actual bees in it. You can't be a Sex Pistol if you can't play. You can't sing.
Why should I play? Can I have some of your mum's lacquer, then, please? I can sing! Somewhat. And I don't use lacquer. It's too sticky.
Can we stop talking about your hair and talk about Malcolm?! He wants to change the title of my song "No Future" to "God Save The Queen".
If it's not lacquer, what is it?
Can you stop talking about your hair?
Can you stop talking about Malcolm and song names and the bass guitar? You're making me nervous.
What are you nervous about?
I'm supposed to be a Sex Pistol, but I can't play anything. And now my fucking hair won't even stand up.
[Voicing over a montage of archival footage of traditional England scenes] The fucking view is fucking vile. For fucking miles and fucking miles. The fucking babies fucking cry. The fucking flowers fucking die. The fucking food is fucking muck. The fucking drains are fucking fucked. The colour scheme is fucking brown. Everywhere in chicken town. The fucking pies are fucking old. The fucking chips are fucking cold. The fucking beer is fucking flat. The fucking flats have fucking rats. The fucking clocks are fucking wrong. The fucking days are fucking long. It fucking gets you fucking down. Evidently chicken town.
This is the most famous photograph of the Queen.
It's on the stamps!
That's right, darling. [Chuckles] You put a safety pin in her nose.
Is it for a new stamp?
No, stupid. We're taking the piss.
Oh...
Oh, pet.
It's brilliant.
Happy Jubilee, Your Madge!
[Repeatedly] Pling...
Like that? Something reminds me of being ill.
Concentrate on the lesson, Jonesy.
Yes, Jonesy. Concentrate.
Vicks VapoRub. You're wearing Vicks VapoRub. You put it on your chest if you've got a cold.
Want some?
I haven't got a cold.
I haven't got it on my chest. I've got it in my hair. It's just sticky enough to make it stand up. It's his beauty secret.
Not a secret anymore.
You should try it, Jonesy. Your hair's shit.
Oh, joy!
Now that Glen's R.I.P., Steve can be butt of the hair jokes.
Fuck off! [Sid and John laughs]
Pay attention!
I paid attention. It goes; [Repeatedly] plinky... like that.
No! It's [Repeatedly] plinky...!
No! It's... Look, there's no [Repeatedly] "plinky...". It's [Repeatedly punching fist in hand in synchrony] bam...! Don't tickle it, punch it! [Sid punches Steve in the face] Oi, shit! [Sid is trying to attack Steve with the guitar] What the fuck?! That's my guitar! [Steve pushes off Sid who falls to floor] It's your skull you should be worried about, not your banjo! [Steve jumps on top of Sid punching him in the gut]
Ladies, please!
That was great!
What is wrong with you?!
I like it when people fight back instead of ignoring you.
Ugh!
[Sid picks at guitar strings] Is that right?
Not really. But it might actually be better. [Hands him a guitar pick] Do it again. Give us 'A'. Keep playing.
We've made a terrible mistake!
What?! No, look, they love him!
This isn't love! This is appetite! They'll eat him!
Our wonderful manager wanted us to write a song about bondage and discipline to publicise his funny little shop. So, we wrote a song about submission. A sub-marine mission. He didn't get the joke.
I did get the joke.
[Nancy enters] Sorry, this is the boys' toilets.
[Chuckles and holds out a handshake] Nancy. It's really good to meet you. Um, could you guys maybe give me a ride?
...
[Riding in in van] So, Richard and I... Richard Hell I mean, of The Voidoids, previously of The Heartbreakers. Do you know The Heartbreakers, like, with Johnny Thunders? Used to be in The New York Dolls. Yeah. Anyway, he decided The Heartbreakers sucked, so hence therefore The Voidoids. He practically invented punk rock as you know, especially the whole spiky hair thing.
Oh, please!
Anyway, the main point being, Richard and I are very close, very, very close.
Now, Boogie, we're going to Denmark Street.
We're going here. You can go to Denmark Street.
But I haven't finished telling the guys about Richard.
You can tell me later.
Driver, could you just wait?
No! Boogie's got to boogie. Don't you, Boogie?
Yeah.
Yeah? I've got to boogie.
Okay! You don't need to shout at me.
[Chuckles] Sid... Have you ever done this before?
Done what before? We haven't done anything yet.
Oh, my God! You are a virgin. This is kind of exciting for me.
And for me.
[Chuckles] Hey, do you want to, um... like, shoot up before we... [Both chuckles]
I have done that before.
Really?
Yeah.
I thought London was all, like, blow and speed.
No, my Mum gave me a hit for my 14th birthday.
Are you OK?
Mm, whoa.
The Jubilee celebrates 25 years of good old Queen Elizabeth looking down on us.
If we take the piss out of the Jubilee, we become the story instead of her. And after the Jubilee, the song's forgotten.
No, our "God Save The Queen" will be a national anthem for a brand new country, a country founded on fury.
Speaking as an American, I find the whole royalty thing very, very enchanting.
Shut up!
I was just saying.
This is a band meeting. If you are not in the band, you are banned. Understand?
You have a wonderful way with words. Has anyone ever told you that?
I will now leave. The song is called "No Future". [Opens delivery box of records and examines record cover] Fuck! Lying fuck! He's only gone and called it; "God Save The Fucking Queen".
My Nancy's a fucking queen.
"God Save The Queen" will get us noticed.
Cheap publicity!
No one will buy the record if they don't know about it.
I don't care.
I do. I agree with Jonesy for once. We gotta be notorious.
But the song's not about the Queen. It's about how our generation has no future.
We made this. We made it. Look at it. It's fucking beautiful.
To be fair, Glen R.I.P. made it. But I look loads better playing.
No one can argue with that, Sid. [To John] Before I was in this band, I never listened to the words of songs. You made me listen. John. I really... hate to say this, but, uh... you are a fucking genius.
Would you like to meet my mum?
...
Do you have a cold, John? You smell of Vicks.
Oh, it's... it's his hair.
Everyone just shush! Please! [Plays "God Save The Queen]
[Laughs] You're gonna be strung up for treason.
Oh, so, it's not that "God Save The Queen". It's your own version.
I wanted to call it "No Future".
No, "God Save The Queen". It's more... noticeable. Well, I'll put the kettle on.
[Points] Hmm? Hmm? Look, it's got my name on it.
...
[Band is walking outside flat estate car park]
[To Sid] Your mum and dad are nice.
Let's go round yours.
Nah.
Are you ashamed of us?
No, they won't be home.
Then we'll just leave 'em a record. I wanna go to the Jonesy gaff.
[In sing-song] Let's all go to Jonesy's! Da-da... [Gets in car]
Look, it's just a quick in and out. Leave it for 'em. It's no big deal.
Are we going or what?
Yeah, fuck it!
Fucking hurry up!
[Calling out from door of adoptive parents flat] Hello? I'll leave it...
[Bursts in] Might as well look around.
Hold on!
Let's have a butcher's. ['Opens door of Steve's bedroom] What's in here?
That's my bedroom.
Is this your bedroom? [Referring to double wardrobes] Narnia... Double Narnia! Blimey! You kept this quiet, Jonesy! Look at all this treasure. Your mum and dad must've really liked you.
Nah, he nicked it all.
Our very own Artful Dodger!
We gotta go.
Let me have some of this, Jonesy. No, no, we're just getting started. Steve, take something.
I'll nick it back from you.
What's going on?
Mr. Jones, I presume? We brought you a present. [Hands him a vinyl copy of "God Save The Queen"]
Who do you think you are?
We brought you a present.
What's this, then? Christmas Number One? Well, shut the door on your way out. [Sids walks past him patting his shoulders] Where... Where'd you think you're going? [Sid walks to balcony swatting hanging laundry and John opens a can of biscuits] Oi! What are you doing? What do you think you're doing in my house?
In answer to your question, we are... taking the biscuit. [Sid laughs and takes one with Paul taking one, then John pours out crumbs on couch] Hmm! Oh, crumbs! Well, thank you for your hospitality. We hope you enjoy our musical offering. [Sid jumps on couch] Whoo! Cheerio! [Steve stares at father with passive contempt then leaves with band]
[Walking outside] I hope your dear old dad didn't find us too obnoxious.
He's not my fucking dad! [Kicks over a child's rocking horse]
That's the spirit! Who needs a dad when you're a Sex Pistol?
[At a nightclub] Dom Perignon! We need Dom Perignon over here!
Chrissie, have you ever had an orgasm?
Uh... yes, I have. Thanks for asking, Sid.
No, I mean, like, a real, like... Like a gushing volcano type thing.
Again, yes. I think so.
To be honest, if you had, you'd remember.
Everything cool?
Well, anyway, Chrissie, if you want one of those things, I can sort that out for you.
[Walking into club with Bob] Nancy says she's happy to lend me out.
Ah! Hi, Nick.
Bob, hi.
Great show last night.
Um, is that...
I'm here with the Sex Pistols. Single's doing very well. Working on an article about the whole punk/new wave scene.
Ah! Very good. Good luck with that.
Uh... Bob Harris, the most influential music presenter...
Yeah, I know who you are. It's whispering Bob. The Old Grey Sniffle Test.
If you'll excuse me...
No, hang on. Why won't you have us on, Bob? Not good enough for the BBC, are we?
Excuse me.
Don't ignore me.
It's merely a difference of taste.
"Taste"?! Taste this, you cunt! [Lunges at Bob with drinking glass and accidentally smashed it into Reginald's neck setting off a bar fight]
[Pulls aside Sid] Sidney! [A man punches Sid in the chest]
[Pulls aside Sid] Sidney! [Repeatedly] Sid!
[Pulls aside Sid] Si! Sidney, listen to me!
[Hiding under table with Chrissie] You all right?
Yeah. It was Sid.
Surprise, surprise. Welcome to the Sex Pistols.
[Punches Steve in chest] You selfish piece of shit!
All right, stop! Stop, stop!
I wasn't even an option to you. It's not like I want to be part of the Sex Pistols, but you knew how bad I wanted to be in a band, and it didn't even cross your mind!
What? Of course it didn't - you're too good for the Pistols.
Oh, fuck off!
Our singer is half-insane, our manager is fully insane - he's trying to bring down the government - our bass player can't play, starts fights for laughs, and as you've rightly pointed out, I'm just an illiterate thief who can barely fucking play. You're better than that! You're so much better than that.
[In alleyway] Sidney! You are marvellous!
I feel great!
Come on, then.
Where are you going? Sidney! You started this!
I'm taking Nancy to my mum's.
Do you think I'm stupid? I know what you're doing. That shit'll kill you.
We all went to your mum's, why can't I go to mine?
These quotes come from Wikiquote's Pistol pages and are available under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike License.
