Withnail and I

Withnail: Right, you fucker, I'm going to do the washing up!
Marwood: No, no, you can't. It's impossible, I swear it. I've looked into it. Listen to me, listen to me! There are things in there, there's a tea-bag growing! You haven't slept in sixty hours, you're in no state to tackle it. Wait till the morning, we'll go in together.
Withnail: This IS the morning. Stand aside!

Withnail: I've some extremely distressing news.
Marwood: I don't want to hear it. I don't want to hear anything! Oh God, it's a nightmare, I tell you, it's a nightmare.
Withnail: We just ran out of wine. What are we gonna do about it?
Marwood: I don't know, I don't know. Oh God, I don't feel good. Look, my thumbs have gone weird! I'm in the middle of a bloody overdose. Oh God. My heart's beating like a fucked clock! I feel dreadful, I feel really dreadful!
Withnail: So do I, so does everybody. Look at my tongue; it's wearing a yellow sock. Sit down for Christ's sake, what's the matter with you? Eat some sugar.

Danny: I don't advise a haircut, man. All hairdressers are in the employment of the government. Hairs are your aerials. They pick up signals from the cosmos, and transmit them directly into the brain. This is the reason bald-headed men are uptight.

Withnail: We've gone on holiday by mistak

Withnail: Don't threaten me with a dead fish.

Withnail: We want the finest wines available to humanity. And we want them here, and we want them now!

Marwood: There's a man over there who doesn't like the perfume. The big one. Don't look, don't look! We're in danger, we've got to get out.
Withnail: What are you talking about?
Marwood: I've been called a ponce.
Withnail: What FUCKER said that?
Irishman: I called him a ponce. And now I'm calling you one, PONCE!
Withnail: Would you like a drink?
Irishman: What's your name, MacFuck?
Withnail: ...I have a heart condition. I have a heart condition, if you hit me it's murder.
Irishman: I'll murder the pair of yous!

Withnail: [Close to tears] My wife is having a baby! Listen, I don't know what my f... acquaintance did to upset you but it's nothing to do with me. I suggest you both go outside and discuss it sensibly, in the street.

Monty: Flowers are essentially tarts; prostitutes for the bees.

Withnail: [sees a sign warning about accidents] These aren't accidents! They're THROWING themselves into the road gladly! THROWING themselves into the road to escape all this hideousness! Throw yourself into the road, darling! You haven't got a chance!

Marwood: A coward you are, Withnail. An expert on bulls you are not.

Withnail: Monty used to act.
Monty: I'd hardly say that. It's true I crept the boards in my youth, but I never had it in my blood, and that's what so essential isn't it? The theatrical zeal in the veins. Alas, I have little more that vintage wine and memories.

Marwood: Right, now we're going to have to approach this scientifically. First thing we've got to do is get this fire alight, then we split into two fact finding groups. I'll deal with the water and the plumbings, you check the fuel and wood situation.
[Later, Withnail re-enters the cottage holding a short stick]
Marwood: What's that?
Withnail: The fuel and wood situation. There's nothing out there except a hurricane.

[the pair are regarding a live chicken on the table]
Withnail: What are we supposed to do with that?
Marwood: Eat it.
Withnail: Eat it? Fucker's alive.

Marwood: I think you should strangle it quickly before it starts trying to make friends with us.

Withnail: [having just drunk a bottle of lighter fluid] Got any more?
Marwood: No. I have nothing.
Withnail: Liar. What's in your toolbox.
Marwood: Nothing.
Withnail: Liar. You've got antifreeze.
Marwood: You bloody fool. You should never mix your drinks.

Uncle Monty: There is, you'll agree, a certain 'je ne sais quoi' oh so very special about a firm, young carrot.

Marwood: Wake up, bastard, or I burn this bastard-bed down!
Withnail: [Not moving at all] I deny all accusations.