Utopia · Season 1
All I know is within the next few weeks, I was embroiled in a sex scandal. Professor Pervert, addicted to coke and prostitutes.
Did--did they just set you up?
Yeah! Well, no, I do like cocaine and prostitutes. But they didn't have to tell anyone.
Well this is nice. Better than drunk shagging and angry shagging.
Yeah. The shagging was nice.
Problem for you, though, is how are you going to get in my knickers without me being drunk or angry?
Well, I could try telling you that I like you. That I think a lot about your lips, your eyes, your smile. I could tell you that I know you're in the room even before I've seen you. And I could tell you that despite all this madness, murder, mayhem... there's a corner of my soul that feels like I'm coming alive because of you.
Yeah, well that might do it.
You lost the manuscript.
How do you know?
I'm a spy. It's sort of the point of what I do.
So she kissed you. On the mouth. Did you kiss her back?
She held a gun to my head.
Do you enjoy it? Well, I suppose she's attractive. In a skinny bitch evil murderess kind of way.
You know the person who had the greatest positive impact on the environment of this planet? Genghis Khan, because he massacred 40 million people. There was no one to farm the land, forests grew back, carbon was dragged out of the atmosphere. And had this monster not existed, there'd be another billion of us today, jostling for space on this dying planet.
It's not easy, is it? Growing up without a childhood. I was brought up in an institution. My room was a cell, really. There was an air vent there. I drew pictures around it, faces to keep the Devil out. I was told I'm like this 'cause of early trauma. I disconnected. A beneficial side effect, I suppose.
I know this place.
It was me. I killed Christos. I tied him to that tree. I broke arms and fingers, tore the skin from his body. And in the end, I opened his stomach, reached inside, and pulled out what was in my hand. I was 15 years old. But he didn't say one word. Didn't speak. Didn't say where you were. That's how much he loved you. I wanted you to know that you were loved, because I wasn't.
Where did he put them? I want those pages and I want...
I know! You want Mr. Rabbit. But going off and killing him isn't going to make your father any less of a cock than he was!
You psychoanalyzing me, Becky? We best pals now? You want to wear my lipstick?
Shit. You're wearing makeup.
We'll be outside. That's not to leave this room.
Could say please.
Please, Becky, don't take the manuscript out of this room or I will rip your fucking head off.
Then you make him disable all relays. Okay?
And then... what if he doesn't do what I say?
Hit him with the gun.
What, like, the fat end?
Yeah. The fat end.
Besides, there are three thousand five hundred species of mosquito. They've been around for a hundred million years. You think you can just yank them out of existence? I mean, you do realize half the birds in the Arctic tundra will starve to death. I mean, you have actually thought of that, or are you fucking idiots?
And how would you cure malaria?
Cure malaria? Why do you want to cure malaria? Malaria is doing a great job, leave malaria alone.
Young man, you are drunk.
Yes, I am. And in the morning we'll both still be cunts.
What's wrong with curing malaria? Well wouldn't you want to make the world a better place?
Let me explain something to you. The sun throws a certain amount of energy onto this planet. We turn it into food, clothing, shelter, etc. It supports an amount of us, and it took 30,000 years for that amount to become one billion. Then we found a way to use ancient sunlight, sunlight trapped in oil and coal. We started to live off that. What happened? In just 130 years, our population doubled. The next billion took thirty years. The fourth billion has taken just 14. So here's the question. What do you think is going to happen when that oil and coal runs out in, say, a hundred years? When there's ten billion living on a planet that can support only one?
I think we're going to tear each other apart.
At last, someone with an ounce of fucking brain. Malaria? The only disease that needs curing is us.
There are certain genetic traits that are undeniably advantageous. Now I believe I've isolated a group of people who are genetically stronger...
A group? Do you mean a race?
"Race" is not a term that scientists recognize, but yes, if you must, then race.
That's the Third fucking Reich.
It's the opposite of that. I'm not talking about murder, I'm talking about allowing some to continue. A world without race. It's a race without racial fucking genocide!
Torture is communication. So what I will do is I will inflict torture upon your person. Then I'll go inflict the same torture on Jessica. It will be exactly the same. Not diminished. What you feel, she will feel. Exactly. You will imagine her screams, her tears, her begging. I will go back and forth this way for a period of several hours, and... if that doesn't work, then we'll start all over again. With you in front of her. Now, propriety requires me to ask you if you would simply like to give us Janus now?
Always with my first torture I like to start with something brutal and traditional. I'm simply going to pull out the fingernails on your right hand.
Do you think it's actually possible to die of boredom? Because I was just going to staple my own tongue. That's how bored I am. I was going to staple my own fucking tongue in the hope that pain would give me some reprieve from the tedium of IT.
Do you want to talk about it, buddy?
No. No.
Because self-harm is a key indicator...
It's not self-harm, okay, Joe? Doing this job is self-harm.
These quotes come from Wikiquote's Utopia pages and are available under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike License.
