faggot Quotes

Bullet Tooth Tony: So, you are obviously the big dick. The men on the side of ya are your balls. Now there are two types of balls. There are big brave balls, and there are little mincey faggot balls.
Vinny: These are your last words, so make them a prayer.
Bullet Tooth Tony: Now, dicks have drive and clarity of vision, but they are

not clever. They smell pussy and they want a piece of the action. And you thought you smelled some good old pussy, and have brought your two little mincey faggot balls along for a good old time. But you've got your parties muddled up. There's no pussy here, just a dose that'll make you wish you were born a woman. Like a prick, you are having second thoughts. You are shrinking, and your two little

balls are shrinking with you. And the fact that you've got "Replica" written down the side of your guns...
[Zoom in on the side of Sol's gun, which indeed has "REPLICA" etched on the side; zoom out, as they sneak peeks at the sides of their guns]
Bullet Tooth Tony: And the fact that I've got "Desert Eagle point five O"...
[Withdraws his gun and puts it on the

table]
Bullet Tooth Tony: Written on the side of mine...
[They look, zoom in on the side of his gun, which indeed has "DESERT EAGLE .50" etched on the side]
Bullet Tooth Tony: Should precipitate your balls into shrinking, along with your presence. Now... Fuck off!

Tom: Listen to this one then; you open a company called the Arse Tickler's Faggot Fan Club. You take an advert in the back page of some gay mag, advertising the latest in arse-intruding dildos, sell it a bit with, er... I dunno, "does what no other dildo can do until now", latest and greatest in sexual technology. Guaranteed results or money back, all that bollocks. These dills

cost twenty-five each; a snip for all the pleasure they are going to give the recipients. They send a cheque to the company name, nothing offensive, er, Bobbie's Bits or something, for twenty-five. You put these in the bank for two weeks and let them clear. Now this is the clever bit. Then you send back the cheques for twenty-five pounds from the real company name, Arse Tickler's Faggot Fan Club,

saying sorry, we couldn't get the supply from America, they have sold out. Now you see how many of the people cash those cheques; not a single soul, because who wants his bank manager to know he tickles arses when he is not paying in cheques!
Bacon: So how long do you have to wait for a return?
Tom: Probably no more than four weeks.

Bacon: Well what good is that if we need it in six... no, five days?
Tom: Well it was still a good idea.

Jesse: Hey, Seth.
Seth: [scared and cautious] What?
Jesse: Did you hear I'm having a big grad party next Saturday?
Seth: [hesitantly] No.
Jesse: Yeah.
[Jesse spits on Seth's shirt]
Jesse: You're not invited. Tell your fucking faggot friend he can't come

either.
[motions towards Evan]
Seth: [Seth and Evan walk away together] So Jesse wanted me to tell you you're a fucking faggot and you're not invited to his grad party.
Evan: You know you really bitched out back there man.
Seth: I bitched out? You bitched out. Fucking Judas!
Evan: What'd you want

me to do? Dive in front of the spit...?

Patrick Bateman: Howard, it's Bateman, Patrick Bateman. You're my lawyer so I think you should know: I've killed a lot of people. Some girls in the apartment uptown uh, some homeless people maybe 5 or 10 um an NYU girl I met in Central Park. I left her in a parking lot behind some donut shop. I killed Bethany, my old girlfriend, with a nail gun, and some man uh some old faggot

with a dog last week. I killed another girl with a chainsaw, I had to, she almost got away and uh someone else there I can't remember maybe a model, but she's dead too. And Paul Allen. I killed Paul Allen with an axe in the face, his body is dissolving in a bathtub in Hell's Kitchen. I don't want to leave anything out here. I guess I've killed maybe 20 people, maybe 40. I have tapes of a lot of

it, uh some of the girls have seen the tapes. I even, um... I ate some of their brains, and I tried to cook a little. Tonight I, uh, I just had to kill a LOT of people. And I'm not sure I'm gonna get away with it this time. I guess I'll uh, I mean, ah, I guess I'm a pretty uh, I mean I guess I'm a pretty sick guy. So, if you get back tomorrow, I may show up at Harry's Bar, so you know, keep your

eyes open.

Timothy Bryce: [after snorting "cut" cocaine] It's a fucking milligram of sweetener. I want to get high off this, not sprinkle it on my fucking oatmeal.
Patrick Bateman: Definitely weak, but I have a feeling that if we do enough of it we'll be okay.
Club Patron: [leans over from another booth] Will you keep it down? I'm trying to do drugs!

Timothy Bryce: Fuck you! Calm down. Let's do it anyway. That is if the FAGGOT in the next stall thinks it's okay!
Club Patron: FUCK YOU!
Timothy Bryce: HEY FUCK YOU! Sorry, dude. Steroids. Okay, let's do it.

Dale Arbus: [walks into Julia's office, notices she is wearing nothing but heels, panties and her white jacket covering her breasts] Oh, shit!
Dr. Julia Harris, D.D.S.: [pushes a lock button on her desk to prevent Dale from leaving]
Dale Arbus: Uh, oh.
Dr. Julia Harris, D.D.S.: [motions to the chair] Will you

have a seat, Dale?
Dale Arbus: Do I have to?
Dr. Julia Harris, D.D.S.: Please.
Dale Arbus: Sure.
[slowly and awkwardly takes his seat]
Dale Arbus: This is a little ridiculous, but...
Dr. Julia Harris, D.D.S.: Look, Dale, you know... I know I like to fool around at work,

right? And I might even, you know, I might even cross the line a bit. But the last thing I wanna do is-is make you uncomfortable. I mean, it's just not professional, you know? And I pride myself on being a professional. So from now on, what I would like you to do is just tell me, you know... when and if, uh, I cross the line. Okay?
Dale Arbus: Okay. Now.
Dr.

Julia Harris, D.D.S.: What?
Dale Arbus: Well, now, you're kinda crossing a line... because you're naked.
Dr. Julia Harris, D.D.S.: Uh... I'm not naked, Dale. Can you *see* my pussy?
Dale Arbus: [nervously] Hmm... true. Um... but I think, uh, even really saying the word..."pussy", that's...
Dr. Julia

Harris, D.D.S.: That's crossing the line?
Dale Arbus: Little bit.
Dr. Julia Harris, D.D.S.: You're starting to sound like a little faggot there, Dale.
Dale Arbus: There we go! That one's another one. Probably illegal thing to say, too.

Eggsy: Now we've finished the debrief, Harry, here's a couple of welcome back gifts. First up, a brand new Kingsman watch. Advanced software, it can hack into anything with a microchip. It is the bollocks. And, Merlin.
Merlin: I made you these.
[Merlin hands Harry an eyeglass case. Harry opens it]
Harry Hart: A-ha.

[Harry removes his eyepatch and puts on the new glasses]
Harry Hart: Thank you, Merlin, Eggsy. How do I look?
Merlin: You look...
Very Drunk Redneck: Like some faggot lookin' for an eye fuckin'. Now, why don't you get out of our bar before I take out your other one?
Whiskey: Now, is that any way to

welcome a visitor from out of town, moonshine?
Very Drunk Redneck: Okay. Suck my southern dick, bitch.
Harry Hart: Oh, I don't think that'll be necessary.
[gets up]
Harry Hart: Good day, sir.
[Harry walks towards the exit]
Very Drunk Redneck: Well, what are you ladies waiting for?

Harry Hart: [locking the front door] Manners... maketh... man. Do you know what that means? Then let me teach you a lesson.
[Harry slings a beer mug with his umbrella towards the redneck, but misses and Whiskey catches it. He approaches the redneck and his gang, but butterfly hallucinations surround his vision]
Harry Hart: Are we going to stand

around here all day, or are we going to...
[another redneck punches him from the left. Harry struggles to fight with the gang until Whiskey lassos him out of the way]
Whiskey: Well, pick him up. Now that is not what I call a Kentucky welcome. Manners... maketh... man. Let me translate that for you.
[Whiskey begins to rough up the rednecks with his lasso]

Harry Hart: What's wrong with me, Merlin? I thought you fixed me.
Merlin: Well, we rebuilt your neural pathways, but it'll take time to get your coordination back.
[Whiskey attacks the rednecks with his bull whip]
Harry Hart: And the phantom butterflies?
Merlin: You will experience episodes, lapses

of clarity. You'll be back to normal soon.
[Whiskey throws the last redneck out the window]
Whiskey: Whoo. I feel like a tornado in a trailer park.

Verona: What's up, corpse?
Chev Chelios: Bonjour, douchebag. I thought you might be interested in a little deal.
Verona: Are you a dealer? Is that what you are now?
Chev Chelios: Don't worry about what I am. Listen, I want the antidote.
Verona: Oh... Oh, the antidote?

Chev Chelios: That's right, the antidote.
Verona: What are you prepared to give me, asshole?
Chev Chelios: How about the jewelry I got off that faggot brother of yours, you fucking cocksucker?
Verona: Hmm.
Chev Chelios: Don't pop a blood vessel, you little penis.

Verona: All right.
Chev Chelios: Oh, you like that deal don't you?
Verona: Yeah, whatever.
Chev Chelios: Well. I'll be at the downtown Lint in 20 minutes. You know the spot?
Verona: Yeah I know it.
Chev Chelios: Well don't be late or I'll trade this thing in to

some whore for a fuckin' hand-job.
Verona: Look, I said I'll fuckin' be...
[throwing punches everywhere and yelling]
Verona: I'll fuckin' be there!
Chev Chelios: See you later sunshine.

Clarence Boddicker: Hey, Emil! How's the Gray Bar Motel?
Emil: Not bad.
[shows his prison uniform]
Emil: They let me keep the shirt. Nobody popped my cherry!
Leon Nash: Emil, how ya doin', man? Good to see ya!
Joe Cox: [Joe pulls up in a stolen car] Hey, hey! First they let me

out of jail for free, then what do I find in the prison parking lot but a brand new 6000 SUX. Still got the factory sticker on it!
Leon Nash: Hey, Clarence! Joey's got a car just like yours, man!
Joe Cox: Yo, Clarence, what do you think, buddy?
Joe Cox: [seeing Clarence take out a Cobra Assault cannon] What do you got there,

Clarence, huh? Whoa! A new toy! Can I play?
Clarence Boddicker: Huh? Watch this...
[Clarence aims the assault cannon at Joe's 6000 SUX]
Joe Cox: Wait... wait a minute, Clarence! Clarence!
[BOOM, the car explodes into flames]
Joe Cox: Ah, shit! Fuck!
Clarence Boddicker: Nice car, Joe!

[Clarence makes a kissy kissy face]
Joe Cox: Fuck you, Clarence.
Emil: Lemme try that!
Clarence Boddicker: Cobra Assault Cannon - state of the art bang - bang!
[Emil takes the launcher from Clarence and blows up a store with it]
Emil: [shouts] I LIKE it!
Joe Cox:

[trying to take the launcher from Emil] Give it up, faggot little man!
Emil: No, butthole! Get your own!
Clarence Boddicker: Come on!
[Clarence allows Joe the cannon while Emil fetches another from the car, and both have fun blowing up random things]