jammed Quotes

Doug MacRay: You following us, Jem? Who were you tailing, me or her?
James Coughlin: I told you. I made the Avalanche.
Doug MacRay: You got nothing to worry about. It's all under control.
James Coughlin: So, you're trying to get us jammed up, that it?
Doug MacRay: Yeah, I'm trying to

get you jammed up.
James Coughlin: Tell me you got a move here, Dougie. Cause the only way I see it, is that you got sprung like a goddamn beer trap on some toonie pussy who happens to be the one goddamn person-*fuck*! the one person that can give us to the fucking feds.
Doug MacRay: Calm down. Don't you think we need to be smart right now?

James Coughlin: Smart? Let's start fucking all the witnesses. Oh yeah I'm blowing the Assistant manager, am I smart now? And no, I didn't tell the other guys because they'd flip the fuck out! And I want the ready for the next thing.
Doug MacRay: I told you, the next fucking thing ain't ready yet.
James Coughlin: Then fucking make it

ready!
Doug MacRay: I don't like the guards on the next thing, alright. One kid is like fucking G.I. Joe, He wears the vest on the outside and tucks his pants into his fucking combat boots.
James Coughlin: The truck's fucking waist high.
Doug MacRay: We'll find another truck with the driver who's a fucking fat kid with his

fucking shit on top who don't think he's special forces.
James Coughlin: Well I know your happy in fuck-city over there but I waited nine years in Walpole for you Motherfucker, just nine years that's all. I'm done waiting
Doug MacRay: This is the last one. We're hitting pause after this. We get pinched, remember whose idea this was, okay. Be ready on

Friday.

Atlanta ATC: SouthJet 227, Atlanta Centre. Descend and maintain flight level three-zero-zero.
Ken Evans: Descend and maintain flight level three-zero-zero, SouthJet 227.
Whip: Whoa, wha? What is that?
Ken Evans: The elevator feels really stiff, sir!
Whip: Alright, hold course. Margaret, get everybody

strapped in, get everybody strapped in tight!
Ken Evans: Full left hard sir!
Whip: Power back! Power back!
Margaret Thomason: Ladies and gentlemen, fasten your seatbelts now! Fasten your seatbelts securely now!
Ken Evans: I have no control on my side. No control at all sir.
Whip:

We've lost our hydraulics. Centre, this is SouthJet 227, we've lost our hydraulics and feels like our pitch control.
Atlanta ATC: Southjet 227, Atlanta Centre, understand you've lost hydraulics and pitch control?
Whip: That is affirm, we are in an uncontrolled descent.
Atlanta ATC: Southjet 227, Atlanta, say your intentions. Are you declaring an emergency?

Margaret Thomason: Everyone's belted in, are we going down?
Whip: We need everyone in brace positions. Yes, that is affirm, we are in a dive. We are in a dive. We have lost vertical control. We're gonna need drag, I want you to throw out everything you got, the speedbrakes, the gear, everything.
Ken Evans: Gear, speedbrakes.

Margaret Thomason: Brace positions, head down and forward, head down and forward!
Ken Evans: Uh, gear is down. I don't think hydraulics is the problem sir.
Whip: We need to dump the fuel, do it! Atlanta Centre, this is SouthJet 227, we are in an uncontrolled dive, descending out of 21,000 feet, we're declaring an emergency. We've

dumped our fuel. We've got a jammed stabilizer or something, we need a block of altitude to work the problem and a heading to the nearest airport.
Atlanta ATC: SouthJet 227, Hartsfield-Jackson Airport is twelve o clock at two-zero miles from your present position. Turn left, heading three-one-five.
Whip: Dump the flaps.
Ken Evans: We're still

fast.
Whip: Just do it. Do it, 30 degrees. Three-one-five, we'll try our best. Alright, that bought us a little time. That bought us a little time. Now we've got to revert to manual control, your side first.
Ken Evans: OK, I got it. Nothing, no control. Oh no, we're diving again!
Whip: Alright, Okay, okay. I can't let go of my

side, see if you can reach my side.

Gary King: [opening monologue] Ever have one of those nights that starts out like any other but ends up being the best night of your life? It was June the 22nd, 1990. Our final day of school. There was Oliver Chamberlin, Peter Page, Steven Prince, Andy Knightley, and me. They called me "The King". Because that's my name - Gary King. Ollie fancied himself as a bit of a player but

really he was all mouth. We called him "O Man" because he had a birth mark on his face that was shaped like a six. He loved it. Pete was the baby of the group. He wasn't the kind of kid we would usually hang out with, but he was good for a laugh. And he was absolutely minted. Steve was a pretty cool guy, we jammed together. Chased the girls. I think he saw us as rivals. Sweet really. And Andy.

Andy was my wingman. The one guy I could rely on to back me up. He loved me, and I'm not being funny, but I loved him too. There was nothing we were going to miss about school. Maybe Mr. Shepherd, he was one of the good guys. He used to ask me what I wanted to do with my life. I told him I just wanted to have a good time. He thought that was funny. It wasn't meant to be, not that night. Newton

Haven was our home town, our playground. Our universe. And that night was the site of a heroic quest. Our aim? To conquer the Golden Mile - 12 pubs along the legendary path of alcoholic indulgence. There was the First Post, the Old Familiar, the Famous Cock, the Cross Hands, the Good Companions, the Trusty Servant, the Two Headed Dog, the Mermaid, the Beehive, the King's Head, the Hole In The

Wall, all before reaching our destiny - The World's End. We took my car into town that night. We called her "The Beast" because she was pretty hairy. And so our journey into manhood began. We were off. We didn't waste any time, we hit pub one and we hit it hard. There was drinking, there was laughs, there was controversy, there were ladies, there were shots, there was drama, and of course there

was drinking. By pub 5 we were feeling invincible, and decide to purchase some herbal refreshment from a man we called "The Reverend Green". Pint 6 put O Man out of commission, so we carried on without him. Good thing, I bumped into his sister at the next pub and we went into the disableds, and then I bumped into her again. Sam tagged along for a while, but then I had to let her go, I had another

date that night. And her name was Amber. Nine pints in and it was us against the world. Things got mental in the Beehive so we tailed it to the Bowls Club, or as we called it "The Smoke House", which is where it all went fuck up. Everyone got paranoid and Pete chucked so we had to bench him. In the end we blew off the last three pubs and headed for the hills. As I sat up there, blood on my

knuckles, beer down my shirt, sick on my shoes, knowing in my heart life would never feel this good again.
[shows Gary in a group therapy setting]
Gary King: And you know what? It never did.
Group Leader: Interesting, Gary. Does anyone have any insight? Or maybe they want to challenge Gary?
Pale Young Man: Were you

disappointed?
Gary King: About what?
Pale Young Man: You didn't make it to the World's End?
[shows Gary with a smug grin on his face]

Francis: I only remember certain details, but from what I've been able to reconstruct, it was raining, I was going about 50 miles an hour as I went into a corner, did some wrong steering, wheels went out from me, and suddenly, "Whoo", skidded off the road, slammed into a ditch and got catapulted 50 feet through the air. Little particles of glass and debris were stinging my face as

I flew. And for a second, there was just total silence. Just... Then BAM! The bike crashed to the ground, exploded and caught on fire, and then I smashed into the side of a hill with my face. I was driving home. I live alone right now. Anyway, two joggers ran up and started digging out all the dirt that was jammed inside my mouth and my nose and my ears. My brain had stopped, and my heart had

stopped, so technically I was dead at this point. They did all the procedures exactly right, as a result of which I'm still alive.
Jack: Boy.
Peter: Wow.
Francis: The first thing I thought of when I woke up was, I wish Peter and Jack were here.

[Stitch and Jumba are tossing a jammed up gun back and forth]
Stitch: Merry Christmas.
Jumba: It's not Christmas.
Stitch: Happy Channukah!
Jumba: It's not Channukah!
[Pleakley scoops up Lilo and carries her away from the house]
Lilo: We're leaving Stitch?

Pleakley: Trust me, this is not gonna end well!
Jumba: One potato!
Stitch: Two potato!
Jumba: Three potato!
Stitch: Four!
Jumba: Five potato!
Stitch: Six potato!
Jumba: Seven potato more!

Stitch: My...
Jumba: mother...
Stitch: told...
Jumba: me...
Stitch: you...
Jumba: are...
Stitch: ...it.
Jumba: Ha! I win!
[gun explodes in his hands]

James Brennan: Hey, I heard you jammed with Lou Reed.
Mike Connell: Don't believe everything you hear.
James Brennan: Okay.
Mike Connell: I'll tell you about it sometime.
James Brennan: So, where does your band play?
Mike Connell: Usual shitholes around town. I

need better musicians. I'm starting a new band out in L.A.
James Brennan: Los Angeles?
Mike Connell: Yeah, it's going to be cool. Going this winter.
James Brennan: [kid pukes near James] Jesus! Nasty.
Mike Connell: You'll get better at avoiding that.