Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels

Eddie: Oh, and if Tom or anyone else for that matter feels like givin' them a bit of a kickin', I'm sure it won't do any harm.
Soap: Yeah, little bit of pain never hurt anybody. If you know what I mean. Also, I think knives are a good idea. Big, fuck-off shiny ones. Ones that look like they could skin a crocodile. Knives are good, because they don't make any noise, and the less noise they make, the more likely we are to use them. Shit 'em right up. Makes it look like we're serious. Guns for show, knives for a pro.
Tom: Soap, is there something we should know about you?
Bacon: I'm not sure what's more worrying. The job or your past.

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Eddie: They're armed.
Soap: What was that? Armed? What do you mean armed? Armed with what?
Eddie: Err, bad breath, colorful language, feather duster... What do you think they're gonna be armed with? Guns, you tit!

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Soap: A minute ago this was the safest job in the world. Now it's turning into a bad day in Bosnia.

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Eddie: There's no more Harry. Which means there's no more debt. And if there's no more debt, there's no more problem. And there's no problem with the neighbors... Because they're all dead. And I think, if I get this right, we haven't done anything wrong... We're in the clear.

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Tom: Jesus, Ed, we've got a traffic warden!
Bacon: I think he's still alive - he's got claret coming out of him somewhere. What did they want with a traffic warden?
Eddie: I don't know, but I don't think we need him! Knock him out and dump him at the lights!
Bacon: Knock him out? What'd ya mean, knock him out? Knock him out with what?
Eddie: I don't know! Use your imagination!
[Bacon weakly punches the Traffic Warden, who moans.]
Tom: Don't touch him up! Knock him out!
Bacon: I'll knock you out in a minute! Look, you want to knock him out? *You* knock him out.
Eddie: I fucking hate traffic wardens.
[Tom and Eddie join Bacon in the back and they all start beating up the traffic warden].

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Rory Breaker: Is this some white cunts joke that black cunts don't get? 'Cause I'm not fucking laughing, Nicholarse.

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Soap: You're not funny, Tom. You're fat, and look as though you should be, but you're not.

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John: Jesus, Plank, couldn't you have got smokeless cartridges? I can't see a bloody thi - Ah! Shit! I've been shot!
Dog: I don't fucking believe this! Can everyone stop gettin' shot?

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Winston: Charles, get the rifle out. We're being fucked.

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Big Chris: It's been emotional.

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Rory Breaker: If the milk turns out to be sour, I ain't the kinda pussy to drink it.

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Student: We, er, shot one of them in the, em, throat.
Rory Breaker: What do you want? A medal? I'll shoot you in the fucking throat if I don't get my ganja back.

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