Mark Darcy: Would you step outside please?
Daniel Cleaver: I'm afraid it's not possible.
Mark Darcy: Look are you gonna step outside or do I have to drag you?
Daniel Cleaver: I think you're gonna have to drag me.
Bridget Jones: You know, I never really understood why you wanted to date me. It seems so unlikely.
Daniel Cleaver: Come on, Jones, for God's sake. You're sexy. You make me laugh - at you of course, not with you. And you were, incidentally, the best shag I ever had.
Daniel Cleaver: Well, you know what a fan I am of any woman married to Mark Darcy.
Bridget: So what do you think of the situation in Chechnya?
Daniel Cleaver: I couldn't give a fuck, Jones.
Daniel Cleaver: Fuck me, I love Keats.
Bridget: Daniel, what you just did is actually illegal in several countries.
Daniel Cleaver: That is one of the reasons that I'm so thrilled to be living in Britain today.
Daniel Cleaver: First, have some more wine, and then tell me the story about practicing French kissing with the art girls at school, because it's a very good story.
Bridget: It wasn't French kissing.
Daniel Cleaver: Don't care, make it up. That's an order, Jones.
Meryl Morgan: Now that we're on the jet, can you tell us where we're going?
U.S. Marshal Henderson: Ray, Wyoming.
Paul Morgan: Is that anywhere near Phil, Wyoming?
Emma Wheeler: Here you go. Sunny-side eggs, sausage with bacon, home fries, homemade biscuits and country gravy. Can I get you anything else?
Paul Morgan: No, thanks. Just an angiogram.
Paul Morgan: Luckily I called ahead and got a table near the mayonnaise.
Earl Granger: You're not getting smart with me, are you, tea-drinker?
Paul Morgan: You know what I did to the last man who called me that? I stole his crumpet.
Meryl Morgan: Can you please stop being so agreeable, please?
Paul Morgan: Whatever you say.
Paul Morgan: I love you, Meryl. If you are in fact Meryl, I can't really see.
Meryl Morgan: You could've been killed.
Paul Morgan: I am just deeply touched that, that would have bothered you.
George Garrad: Can't be too careful in foreign climes.
Reginald Anson: It's only Wales.
George Garrad: It's still foreign.
Reginald Anson: Pleasant enough sort of place, isn't it?
George Garrad: I suppose so, considering it's Wales.
St Clair Bayfield: No mockers and no scoffers.
Natalie: Hello, David. I mean "sir." Shit, I can't believe I've just said that. Oh, and now I've gone and said "shit" - twice. I'm so sorry, sir.
Prime Minister: It's fine, it's fine. You could've said "fuck", and then we'd have been in real trouble.
Natalie: Thank you, sir. I did have an awful premonition that I was going to fuck up on the first day. Oh, piss it!
Natalie: He says no one's going to fancy a girl with thighs the size of big tree trunks. Not a nice guy, actually, in the end.
Prime Minister: Right. Goodness. Well, well. You know, being Prime Minister, I could just have him murdered.
Natalie: Thank you, sir. I'll think about it.
Prime Minister: Do. The SAS are absolutely charming. Ruthless trained killers are just a phone call away.
Michael Felgate: Well at least tell me what his restaurant is called, then I can sneak in, in a beard or something.
Gina Vitale: It's called The La Trattoria.
Michael Felgate: You mean La Trattoria.
Gina Vitale: No.
Michael Felgate: The La Trattoria means The The Trattoria.
Gina Vitale: I know.
Michael Felgate: Interesting. Look I have to go to the La Bathroom, and I'll be back in a sec.
