Daniel: It's a monumental farce, isn't it? You sitting there with your friendly name tag on your chest, Ann, opposite a sick man looking for nonexistent jobs, that I can't take anyway. Wasting my time, employers' time, your time. And all it does is humiliate me, grind me down. Or is that the point, to get my name off those computers? Well, I'm not doing it any more. I've had enough. I want my date for my appointment for my appeal for Employment and Support.
Katie: I can't cope, Dan. I feel like I'm going under.
Daniel: Look, you'll get through this, darling.
Job Centre Floor Manager: There's a special number if you've been diagnosed as dyslexic.
Daniel: Right, can you give us that 'coz with computers, I'm dyslexic.
Job Centre Floor Manager: You'll find it online sir.
Daniel: Was I a soldier? Oh, more dangerous than that. I was a carpenter.
China: Dan, they'll f@ck you around, I'm warning you. Make it as miserable as possible. No accident. That's the plan. I know dozens who have just given up.
Daniel: Well, they've picked the wrong one if they think I'm gonna give up. I'm like a dog with a bone, me, son.
Katie: I'm just really hungry.
