The Gentlemen Quotes

Ray: [Fletcher puts a cigar in his mouth] If you're thinking of smoking that in here... don't.
Fletcher: I find that confusing. Do you mean don't smoke or don't think?
[Clicks lighter and Ray jumps out of his seat]
Fletcher: Oh...
Fletcher: [Ray motions towards Fletcher] Oh, all right, all right, it's

going out!

Mickey Pearson: It's the new gold rush. This is the thin end of a very fat wedge, sir.
Matthew: If it's such a fat wedge, why don't you keep it?
Mickey Pearson: You see, I've developed a reputation as a man who came up the hard way. You could say that there's blood on these pretty white hands. But in the new business, once legal and

under the jurisdiction of the respectable umbrella of ministerial legitimacy, an enterprise like this will need a face with a clean past, which sadly I do not possess. Retirement doesn't sound so bad. Long walks in the countryside, pruning roses with my better half, raising some cubs. I've earned it.

Rosalind Pearson: Look, you'll have to do this elegantly, love. If word spreads that you're getting out, that could read as weakness. And if you smell smoke, it's because there's a fire, and that could get expensive. So you're going to have to stamp that out without any gentrification. But not you, love. Don't you do anything messy. That's why you've got people, remember?

[grabs Mickey's crotch gently]
Mickey Pearson: I fucking love you, babe.
Rosalind Pearson: Of course you do.
Mickey Pearson: Any chance?
Rosalind Pearson: No, you can wait. I've got a red-hot Russki with her finger on the trigger. I got to deal with it.

Mickey Pearson: Making a splash with the gentry.
Matthew: Oh, I like to make a splash whenever possible.
Mickey Pearson: Well, you also seem to understand the significance of a proper attire.
Matthew: Indeed I do. I believe a sense of ownership is vital in every aspect of life, perhaps never more so than when

it comes to wardrobe. For every look there is a season, and for every season a strategy.
Fletcher: [voice over] Now starts the alpha dance. They're not really talking about clothes, Raymond. Oh, f**king no. They're like a pair of old doggies sniffing round one another's intellectual a**holes. It's a good old-fashioned C**k-off, Raymond.

Fletcher: He explodes on the scene like a millennial fucking firecracker. Bang, bang, bang, bang!
Ray: I'm going to have to stop you right there, Fletcher. That doesn't sound like the Dry Eye I know.
Fletcher: Just making sure you're paying attention, Raymond. So let's cut instead to a somewhat anticlimactic, but suave and debonair

Dry Eye, like a Chinese James Bond.

Mickey Pearson: No sooner do I entertain Matthew's offer to buy me out, and reject Dry Eye's offer, does one of my farms get raided.
Rosalind Pearson: First time ever.
Mickey Pearson: Doesn't feel like a coincidence, does it?
Rosalind Pearson: It isn't. There's fuckery afoot.
Mickey

Pearson: How did they find it?
Ray: I don't know. I'm making inquiries.

Ernie: Did he just call me a black cunt?
Coach: Yes, he did.
Ernie: He can't do that. That's racist.
Coach: But you are black and you are a cunt, Ernie. Those are the facts. I don't think Primetime cares what race you run in.
Ernie: The fact that I'm black has nothing to do with the

fact I'm a cunt.
Coach: He didn't say black people were cunts, Ernie. He was being specific to you. One has nothing to do with the other. And I'd go a step further and say it was a term of affection.
Ernie: Primetime's a Gypsy. I wouldn't call him a pikey cunt.
Coach: Why not? He might be very understanding. Only if it comes

from a place of love, of course.