Don: You're on two per cent, two and a half, maybe even three. Depends on the usual bumflufferies. It's not about the money with you and me is it, Gal? It's the charge, it's the bolt, it's the buzz, it's the sheer fuck off-ness of it all. Am I right?
Aitch: He 'ain't gonna get fuck all with that blunderbluss! He'd be better off with a spear.
Gal: Shut-up Aitch.
Teddy Bass: If I cared, Gal, if I fucking cared. If I gave one solitary fuck about Don... get out of the fucking car.
Don: Talk to me, Gal. I'm here for you. I'm a good listener.
Gal: What can I say, Don? I've said it all. I'm retired.
Don: Shut up.
Gal: I love you like a rose loves rainwater, like a leopard loves its partner in the jungle, like... I don't know what like.
Gal: People say, "Don't you miss it, Gal?" I say, "What, England? Nah. Fucking place. It's a dump. Don't make me laugh. Grey, grimy, sooty. What a shit hole. What a toilet. Every cunt with a long face shuffling about, moaning, all worried. No thanks, not for me." They say, "What's it like, then, Spain?" And I'll say, "It's hot. Hot. Oh, it's fucking hot. Too hot? Not for me, I love it."
Gal: This is madness, I've had enough of this "Crime and Punishment" bollocks. I'm happy here.
Don: I won't let you be happy, why should I?