Your Favourite Movie Quotes (1 Viewer)
- Thread starter Menace
- Start date
TonyMontana said:
Yea Movie quotes
I offer 200 vcash for anyone who can name all the quotes i will present.
I only have 200 so the first 4 people to get all the answers right will split the money. If only one person gets it right he will have it all. If no one gets all the answers right the one with most correct answers takes it all.
Deadline- Untill kick off of the Siena match.
Ok here we go
1. -We would have to be talking bout one charming motherfvcking pig, ten times more charming then that Arnold on green acres.
2. - Get busy living or get busy dying.
3. - Stay gold, Ponyboy. Stay gold.
4. - Im gonna cut your heart out with a spoon!
5. - Concider that a divorce.
6. - What do you mean, im funny?
7. - Oh Louis, Louis. Still whining Louis. Have you heard enough? I've had to listen to that for centuries.
8. - You wanna go to jail or you wanna go home?.
9. - Orale Bonafide!, thats a fvcking fine comb you got there, you should give it to one of my bitches.
10. - You did two things wrong, one you asked a question and two you asked another question.
11.- The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he doesnt exist.
12.- You know what happens to nosey people? they lose their noses.
13.- Wazup Caine, loacsta, niggha, wazup, where the bud at fool?
14.- When in doubt, fvck!
15.- My God. I haven't been fucked like that since grade school.
16.- One down Shakes, one down.
17.- You dont gamble, you grind it out.
18.- Forget about it.
19.- Youre a John G, you could be my John G.
20.- I just wanna be pure, I just wanna be pure.
The quotes i wrote arent all exact quotes and therefore it will be harder to google them but those of you who have seen the movies should know what im talking about.
I doubt anyone can get them all, 15 out of 20 should be enough to take it down.
Just Pm me the answers, good luck
I offer 200 vcash for anyone who can name all the quotes i will present.
I only have 200 so the first 4 people to get all the answers right will split the money. If only one person gets it right he will have it all. If no one gets all the answers right the one with most correct answers takes it all.
Deadline- Untill kick off of the Siena match.
Ok here we go
1. -We would have to be talking bout one charming motherfvcking pig, ten times more charming then that Arnold on green acres.
2. - Get busy living or get busy dying.
3. - Stay gold, Ponyboy. Stay gold.
4. - Im gonna cut your heart out with a spoon!
5. - Concider that a divorce.
6. - What do you mean, im funny?
7. - Oh Louis, Louis. Still whining Louis. Have you heard enough? I've had to listen to that for centuries.
8. - You wanna go to jail or you wanna go home?.
9. - Orale Bonafide!, thats a fvcking fine comb you got there, you should give it to one of my bitches.
10. - You did two things wrong, one you asked a question and two you asked another question.
11.- The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he doesnt exist.
12.- You know what happens to nosey people? they lose their noses.
13.- Wazup Caine, loacsta, niggha, wazup, where the bud at fool?
14.- When in doubt, fvck!
15.- My God. I haven't been fucked like that since grade school.
16.- One down Shakes, one down.
17.- You dont gamble, you grind it out.
18.- Forget about it.
19.- Youre a John G, you could be my John G.
20.- I just wanna be pure, I just wanna be pure.
The quotes i wrote arent all exact quotes and therefore it will be harder to google them but those of you who have seen the movies should know what im talking about.
I doubt anyone can get them all, 15 out of 20 should be enough to take it down.
Just Pm me the answers, good luck
that`s was hard, tony, :faq2:
more clue ??!
I just watched 25th hour and I loved this one:
Monty: Yeah, fuck you, too.
Monty's Reflection: Fuck me? Fuck you! Fuck you and this whole city and everyone in it.
Fuck the panhandlers, grubbing for money, and smiling at me behind my back.
Fuck squeegee men dirtying up the clean windshield of my car. Get a fucking job!
Fuck the Sikhs and the Pakistanis bombing down the avenues in decrepit cabs, curry steaming out their pores and stinking up my day. Terrorists in fucking training. Slow the fuck down!
Fuck the Chelsea boys with their waxed chests and pumped up biceps. Going down on each other in my parks and on my piers, jingling their dicks on my Channel 35.
Fuck the Korean grocers with their pyramids of overpriced fruit and their tulips and roses wrapped in plastic. Ten years in the country, still no speaky English?
Fuck the Russians in Brighton Beach. Mobster thugs sitting in cafés, sipping tea in little glasses, sugar cubes between their teeth. Wheelin' and dealin' and schemin'. Go back where you fucking came from!
Fuck the black-hatted Chassidim, strolling up and down 47th street in their dirty gabardine with their dandruff. Selling South African apartheid diamonds!
Fuck the Wall Street brokers. Self-styled masters of the universe. Michael Douglas, Gordon Gecko wannabe mother fuckers, figuring out new ways to rob hard working people blind. Send those Enron assholes to jail for fucking life! You think Bush and Cheney didn't know about that shit? Give me a fucking break! Tyco! Imclone! Adelphia! Worldcom!
Fuck the Puerto Ricans. 20 to a car, swelling up the welfare rolls, worst fuckin' parade in the city. And don't even get me started on the Dom-in-i-cans, because they make the Puerto Ricans look good.
Fuck the Bensonhurst Italians with their pomaded hair, their nylon warm-up suits, and their St. Anthony medallions. Swinging their, Jason Giambi, Louisville slugger, baseball bats, trying to audition for the Sopranos.
Fuck the Upper East Side wives with their Hermés scarves and their fifty-dollar Balducci artichokes. Overfed faces getting pulled and lifted and stretched, all taut and shiny. You're not fooling anybody, sweetheart!
Fuck the uptown brothers. They never pass the ball, they don't want to play defense, they take fives steps on every lay-up to the hoop. And then they want to turn around and blame everything on the white man. Slavery ended one hundred and thirty seven years ago. Move the fuck on!
Fuck the corrupt cops with their anus violating plungers and their 41 shots, standing behind a blue wall of silence. You betray our trust!
Fuck the priests who put their hands down some innocent child's pants. Fuck the church that protects them, delivering us into evil. And while you're at it, fuck JC! He got off easy! A day on the cross, a weekend in hell, and all the hallelujahs of the legioned angels for eternity! Try seven years in fuckin Otisville, Jay!
Fuck Osama Bin Laden, Alqueda, and backward-ass, cave-dwelling, fundamentalist assholes everywhere. On the names of innocent thousands murdered, I pray you spend the rest of eternity with your seventy-two whores roasting in a jet-fueled fire in hell. You towel headed camel jockeys can kiss my royal, Irish ass!
Fuck Jacob Elinski, whining malcontent.
Fuck Francis Xavier Slaughtery, my best friend, judging me while he stares at my girlfriend's ass.
Fuck Naturel Rivera. I gave her my trust and she stabbed me in the back. Sold me up the river. Fucking bitch.
Fuck my father with his endless grief, standing behind that bar. Sipping on club soda, selling whiskey to firemen and cheering the Bronx Bombers.
Fuck this whole city and everyone in it. From the row houses of Astoria to the penthouses on Park Avenue. From the projects in the Bronx to the lofts in Soho. From the tenements in Alphabet City to the brownstones in Park slope to the split levels in Staten Island. Let an earthquake crumble it. Let the fires rage. Let it burn to fuckin ash then let the waters rise and submerge this whole, rat-infested place.
Monty: No. No, fuck you, Montgomery Brogan. You had it all and then you threw it away, you dumb fuck!
Monty: Yeah, fuck you, too.
Monty's Reflection: Fuck me? Fuck you! Fuck you and this whole city and everyone in it.
Fuck the panhandlers, grubbing for money, and smiling at me behind my back.
Fuck squeegee men dirtying up the clean windshield of my car. Get a fucking job!
Fuck the Sikhs and the Pakistanis bombing down the avenues in decrepit cabs, curry steaming out their pores and stinking up my day. Terrorists in fucking training. Slow the fuck down!
Fuck the Chelsea boys with their waxed chests and pumped up biceps. Going down on each other in my parks and on my piers, jingling their dicks on my Channel 35.
Fuck the Korean grocers with their pyramids of overpriced fruit and their tulips and roses wrapped in plastic. Ten years in the country, still no speaky English?
Fuck the Russians in Brighton Beach. Mobster thugs sitting in cafés, sipping tea in little glasses, sugar cubes between their teeth. Wheelin' and dealin' and schemin'. Go back where you fucking came from!
Fuck the black-hatted Chassidim, strolling up and down 47th street in their dirty gabardine with their dandruff. Selling South African apartheid diamonds!
Fuck the Wall Street brokers. Self-styled masters of the universe. Michael Douglas, Gordon Gecko wannabe mother fuckers, figuring out new ways to rob hard working people blind. Send those Enron assholes to jail for fucking life! You think Bush and Cheney didn't know about that shit? Give me a fucking break! Tyco! Imclone! Adelphia! Worldcom!
Fuck the Puerto Ricans. 20 to a car, swelling up the welfare rolls, worst fuckin' parade in the city. And don't even get me started on the Dom-in-i-cans, because they make the Puerto Ricans look good.
Fuck the Bensonhurst Italians with their pomaded hair, their nylon warm-up suits, and their St. Anthony medallions. Swinging their, Jason Giambi, Louisville slugger, baseball bats, trying to audition for the Sopranos.
Fuck the Upper East Side wives with their Hermés scarves and their fifty-dollar Balducci artichokes. Overfed faces getting pulled and lifted and stretched, all taut and shiny. You're not fooling anybody, sweetheart!
Fuck the uptown brothers. They never pass the ball, they don't want to play defense, they take fives steps on every lay-up to the hoop. And then they want to turn around and blame everything on the white man. Slavery ended one hundred and thirty seven years ago. Move the fuck on!
Fuck the corrupt cops with their anus violating plungers and their 41 shots, standing behind a blue wall of silence. You betray our trust!
Fuck the priests who put their hands down some innocent child's pants. Fuck the church that protects them, delivering us into evil. And while you're at it, fuck JC! He got off easy! A day on the cross, a weekend in hell, and all the hallelujahs of the legioned angels for eternity! Try seven years in fuckin Otisville, Jay!
Fuck Osama Bin Laden, Alqueda, and backward-ass, cave-dwelling, fundamentalist assholes everywhere. On the names of innocent thousands murdered, I pray you spend the rest of eternity with your seventy-two whores roasting in a jet-fueled fire in hell. You towel headed camel jockeys can kiss my royal, Irish ass!
Fuck Jacob Elinski, whining malcontent.
Fuck Francis Xavier Slaughtery, my best friend, judging me while he stares at my girlfriend's ass.
Fuck Naturel Rivera. I gave her my trust and she stabbed me in the back. Sold me up the river. Fucking bitch.
Fuck my father with his endless grief, standing behind that bar. Sipping on club soda, selling whiskey to firemen and cheering the Bronx Bombers.
Fuck this whole city and everyone in it. From the row houses of Astoria to the penthouses on Park Avenue. From the projects in the Bronx to the lofts in Soho. From the tenements in Alphabet City to the brownstones in Park slope to the split levels in Staten Island. Let an earthquake crumble it. Let the fires rage. Let it burn to fuckin ash then let the waters rise and submerge this whole, rat-infested place.
Monty: No. No, fuck you, Montgomery Brogan. You had it all and then you threw it away, you dumb fuck!
My favs....Lock stock & 2 smoking barrels
Nick the Greek: Dunno. Seems expensive.
Tom: Seems? Well, this seems to be a complete waste of my time. That, my friend, is 900 nicker in any store you're lucky enough to find one in. And you're haggling over 200 pound? What school of finance did you come from Nick? "It's a deal, it's a steal, it's the Sale of the fvckng Century!" In fact, f*** it Nick, I think I'll keep it!
Nick the Greek: Alright alright, keep your Alans on!
[Peels off notes from his wad]
Nick the Greek: Here's a ton.
Tom, Eddie: Jesus Christ!
Eddie: You could choke a dozen donkeys on that! And you're haggling over one hundred pound? What're you doing when you're not buying stereos Nick? Finance revolutions?
Nick the Greek: 100 pound is still 100 pound.
Tom: Not when the price is 200 pound it ain't! And certainly not when you've got Liberia's deficit in your skyrocket. Tighter than a duck's *** you are. Now, lemme feel the fibre of your fabric.
Rory Breaker: What did you shoot him with, an air rifle?
Winston: Look, we grow weed. We're not mercenaries.
Rory Breaker: You don't say.
Bacon: What's that?
Samoan Joe's Barman: It's a cocktail. You asked for a cocktail.
Bacon: No. I asked for a refreshing drink! I didn't expect a fvcking rainforest? I could fall in love with an orangutan in that! Bring me a pint.
Samoan Joe's Barman: You want a pint, you go to the pub.
Bacon: This is a pub!
Samoan Joes Barman: It's a Samoan pub.
My favs from Snatch...
Customs official: Do you have anything to declare, sir?
Avi: Yeah. Don't go to England.
Turkish: F*** me, hold tight. What's that?
Tommy: It's me belt, Turkish.
Turkish: No, Tommy. There's a gun in your trousers. What's a gun doing in your trousers?
Tommy: It's for protection.
Turkish: Protection from what? "Zee Germans"?
Avi: Eighty-six carats.
Rosebud: Where?
Avi: London.
Rosebud: London?
Avi: London.
Gemologist: London?
Avi: Yes, London. You know: fish, chips, cup 'o tea, bad food, worse weather, Mary fvcking Poppins... LONDON.
Vinny: Why are we stopped here? What's wrong with that spot?
Tyrone: It's too tight.
Vinny: Too tight? You could land a jumbo fvcking jet in that.
Turkish: What's happening with them sausages, Charlie?
Sausage Charlie: Five minutes, Turkish.
Turkish: It was two minutes five minutes ago.
Brick Top: Gimme that fvcking shooter.
Pikey: I'll give you that fvcking shooter you cunt hair.
Bullet Tooth Tony: A bookie's got blagged last night.
Avi: Blagged? Do me a favor, Tony, speak English. I thought this country spawned the fvcking language, and so far nobody seems to speak it.
Nick the Greek: Dunno. Seems expensive.
Tom: Seems? Well, this seems to be a complete waste of my time. That, my friend, is 900 nicker in any store you're lucky enough to find one in. And you're haggling over 200 pound? What school of finance did you come from Nick? "It's a deal, it's a steal, it's the Sale of the fvckng Century!" In fact, f*** it Nick, I think I'll keep it!
Nick the Greek: Alright alright, keep your Alans on!
[Peels off notes from his wad]
Nick the Greek: Here's a ton.
Tom, Eddie: Jesus Christ!
Eddie: You could choke a dozen donkeys on that! And you're haggling over one hundred pound? What're you doing when you're not buying stereos Nick? Finance revolutions?
Nick the Greek: 100 pound is still 100 pound.
Tom: Not when the price is 200 pound it ain't! And certainly not when you've got Liberia's deficit in your skyrocket. Tighter than a duck's *** you are. Now, lemme feel the fibre of your fabric.
Rory Breaker: What did you shoot him with, an air rifle?
Winston: Look, we grow weed. We're not mercenaries.
Rory Breaker: You don't say.
Bacon: What's that?
Samoan Joe's Barman: It's a cocktail. You asked for a cocktail.
Bacon: No. I asked for a refreshing drink! I didn't expect a fvcking rainforest? I could fall in love with an orangutan in that! Bring me a pint.
Samoan Joe's Barman: You want a pint, you go to the pub.
Bacon: This is a pub!
Samoan Joes Barman: It's a Samoan pub.
My favs from Snatch...
Customs official: Do you have anything to declare, sir?
Avi: Yeah. Don't go to England.
Turkish: F*** me, hold tight. What's that?
Tommy: It's me belt, Turkish.
Turkish: No, Tommy. There's a gun in your trousers. What's a gun doing in your trousers?
Tommy: It's for protection.
Turkish: Protection from what? "Zee Germans"?
Avi: Eighty-six carats.
Rosebud: Where?
Avi: London.
Rosebud: London?
Avi: London.
Gemologist: London?
Avi: Yes, London. You know: fish, chips, cup 'o tea, bad food, worse weather, Mary fvcking Poppins... LONDON.
Vinny: Why are we stopped here? What's wrong with that spot?
Tyrone: It's too tight.
Vinny: Too tight? You could land a jumbo fvcking jet in that.
Turkish: What's happening with them sausages, Charlie?
Sausage Charlie: Five minutes, Turkish.
Turkish: It was two minutes five minutes ago.
Brick Top: Gimme that fvcking shooter.
Pikey: I'll give you that fvcking shooter you cunt hair.
Bullet Tooth Tony: A bookie's got blagged last night.
Avi: Blagged? Do me a favor, Tony, speak English. I thought this country spawned the fvcking language, and so far nobody seems to speak it.
Choose life. (trainspotting)
Choose good health, low cholesterol and dental insurance. Choose fixed-interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends.
Choose leisure wear and matching luggage. Choose a three piece suite on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing sprit-crushing ga me shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing you last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked-up brats you have spawned to replace yourself. Choose your future. Choose life.
But who would I want to do a thing like that?
I chose not to choose life: I chose something else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who need reasons when you've got heroin?
People think it's all about misery and desperation and death and all that shite, which is not to be ignored, but what they forget – is the pleasure of it. Otherwise we wouldn't do it. After all, we're not fucking stupid. At least, we're not that fucking stupid. Take the best orgasm you ever had, multiply it by a thousand and you're still nowhere near it. When you're on jun k you have only one worry: scoring. When you're off it you are suddenly obliged to worry about all sorts of other shite. Got no money: can't get pished. Got money: drinking too much. Can't get a bird: no chance of a ride. Got a bird: too much hassle. You have to worry about bills, about food, about some football team that never fucking winds, about human relationships and all the things that really don't matter when you've got a sincere and truthful junk habit.
Choose good health, low cholesterol and dental insurance. Choose fixed-interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends.
Choose leisure wear and matching luggage. Choose a three piece suite on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing sprit-crushing ga me shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing you last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked-up brats you have spawned to replace yourself. Choose your future. Choose life.
But who would I want to do a thing like that?
I chose not to choose life: I chose something else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who need reasons when you've got heroin?
People think it's all about misery and desperation and death and all that shite, which is not to be ignored, but what they forget – is the pleasure of it. Otherwise we wouldn't do it. After all, we're not fucking stupid. At least, we're not that fucking stupid. Take the best orgasm you ever had, multiply it by a thousand and you're still nowhere near it. When you're on jun k you have only one worry: scoring. When you're off it you are suddenly obliged to worry about all sorts of other shite. Got no money: can't get pished. Got money: drinking too much. Can't get a bird: no chance of a ride. Got a bird: too much hassle. You have to worry about bills, about food, about some football team that never fucking winds, about human relationships and all the things that really don't matter when you've got a sincere and truthful junk habit.
hambon said:
My favs....Lock stock & 2 smoking barrels
Nick the Greek: Dunno. Seems expensive.
Tom: Seems? Well, this seems to be a complete waste of my time. That, my friend, is 900 nicker in any store you're lucky enough to find one in. And you're haggling over 200 pound? What school of finance did you come from Nick? "It's a deal, it's a steal, it's the Sale of the fvckng Century!" In fact, f*** it Nick, I think I'll keep it!
Nick the Greek: Alright alright, keep your Alans on!
[Peels off notes from his wad]
Nick the Greek: Here's a ton.
Tom, Eddie: Jesus Christ!
Eddie: You could choke a dozen donkeys on that! And you're haggling over one hundred pound? What're you doing when you're not buying stereos Nick? Finance revolutions?
Nick the Greek: 100 pound is still 100 pound.
Tom: Not when the price is 200 pound it ain't! And certainly not when you've got Liberia's deficit in your skyrocket. Tighter than a duck's *** you are. Now, lemme feel the fibre of your fabric.
Rory Breaker: What did you shoot him with, an air rifle?
Winston: Look, we grow weed. We're not mercenaries.
Rory Breaker: You don't say.
Bacon: What's that?
Samoan Joe's Barman: It's a cocktail. You asked for a cocktail.
Bacon: No. I asked for a refreshing drink! I didn't expect a fvcking rainforest? I could fall in love with an orangutan in that! Bring me a pint.
Samoan Joe's Barman: You want a pint, you go to the pub.
Bacon: This is a pub!
Samoan Joes Barman: It's a Samoan pub.
My favs from Snatch...
Customs official: Do you have anything to declare, sir?
Avi: Yeah. Don't go to England.
Turkish: F*** me, hold tight. What's that?
Tommy: It's me belt, Turkish.
Turkish: No, Tommy. There's a gun in your trousers. What's a gun doing in your trousers?
Tommy: It's for protection.
Turkish: Protection from what? "Zee Germans"?
Avi: Eighty-six carats.
Rosebud: Where?
Avi: London.
Rosebud: London?
Avi: London.
Gemologist: London?
Avi: Yes, London. You know: fish, chips, cup 'o tea, bad food, worse weather, Mary fvcking Poppins... LONDON.
Vinny: Why are we stopped here? What's wrong with that spot?
Tyrone: It's too tight.
Vinny: Too tight? You could land a jumbo fvcking jet in that.
Turkish: What's happening with them sausages, Charlie?
Sausage Charlie: Five minutes, Turkish.
Turkish: It was two minutes five minutes ago.
Brick Top: Gimme that fvcking shooter.
Pikey: I'll give you that fvcking shooter you cunt hair.
Bullet Tooth Tony: A bookie's got blagged last night.
Avi: Blagged? Do me a favor, Tony, speak English. I thought this country spawned the fvcking language, and so far nobody seems to speak it.
Nick the Greek: Dunno. Seems expensive.
Tom: Seems? Well, this seems to be a complete waste of my time. That, my friend, is 900 nicker in any store you're lucky enough to find one in. And you're haggling over 200 pound? What school of finance did you come from Nick? "It's a deal, it's a steal, it's the Sale of the fvckng Century!" In fact, f*** it Nick, I think I'll keep it!
Nick the Greek: Alright alright, keep your Alans on!
[Peels off notes from his wad]
Nick the Greek: Here's a ton.
Tom, Eddie: Jesus Christ!
Eddie: You could choke a dozen donkeys on that! And you're haggling over one hundred pound? What're you doing when you're not buying stereos Nick? Finance revolutions?
Nick the Greek: 100 pound is still 100 pound.
Tom: Not when the price is 200 pound it ain't! And certainly not when you've got Liberia's deficit in your skyrocket. Tighter than a duck's *** you are. Now, lemme feel the fibre of your fabric.
Rory Breaker: What did you shoot him with, an air rifle?
Winston: Look, we grow weed. We're not mercenaries.
Rory Breaker: You don't say.
Bacon: What's that?
Samoan Joe's Barman: It's a cocktail. You asked for a cocktail.
Bacon: No. I asked for a refreshing drink! I didn't expect a fvcking rainforest? I could fall in love with an orangutan in that! Bring me a pint.
Samoan Joe's Barman: You want a pint, you go to the pub.
Bacon: This is a pub!
Samoan Joes Barman: It's a Samoan pub.
My favs from Snatch...
Customs official: Do you have anything to declare, sir?
Avi: Yeah. Don't go to England.
Turkish: F*** me, hold tight. What's that?
Tommy: It's me belt, Turkish.
Turkish: No, Tommy. There's a gun in your trousers. What's a gun doing in your trousers?
Tommy: It's for protection.
Turkish: Protection from what? "Zee Germans"?
Avi: Eighty-six carats.
Rosebud: Where?
Avi: London.
Rosebud: London?
Avi: London.
Gemologist: London?
Avi: Yes, London. You know: fish, chips, cup 'o tea, bad food, worse weather, Mary fvcking Poppins... LONDON.
Vinny: Why are we stopped here? What's wrong with that spot?
Tyrone: It's too tight.
Vinny: Too tight? You could land a jumbo fvcking jet in that.
Turkish: What's happening with them sausages, Charlie?
Sausage Charlie: Five minutes, Turkish.
Turkish: It was two minutes five minutes ago.
Brick Top: Gimme that fvcking shooter.
Pikey: I'll give you that fvcking shooter you cunt hair.
Bullet Tooth Tony: A bookie's got blagged last night.
Avi: Blagged? Do me a favor, Tony, speak English. I thought this country spawned the fvcking language, and so far nobody seems to speak it.
I love both of those movies.