Layer Cake

2004

XXXX: Always remember that one day all this drug monkey business will be legal. They won't leave it to people like me... not when they finally figure out how much money is to be made - not millions, fucking billions. Recreational drugs PLC - giving the people what they want... Good times today, Stupor tomorrow. But this is now, so until prohibition ends make hay whilst the sun shines.

XXXX: (over the phone) Dragan? Dragan: Yes. XXXX: I've got an idea... Why don't you come 'round for breakfast? I'll squeeze some orange juice and grind some coffee and we can talk about this like adults. How's that sound? Dragan: Sounds very hospitable. XXXX: Do you know where I live? Dragan: No. XXXX: Well, fuck off then. (hangs up)

XXXX: That's a very expansive question. Jimmy Price: Expansive? (laughs) Jimmy Price: Tell me son, are you a homosexual? The day was when only homosexual's used words like "expansive".

Duke: Oh, you give a fuckin' asprin a headache, pal!

Crazy Larry: Fucking females is for poofs.

XXXX: My name? If you knew that, you'd be as clever as me.

Eddie Temple: You're born, you take shit. You get out in the world, you take more shit. You climb a little higher, you take less shit. Till one day you're up in the rarefied atmosphere and you've forgotten what shit even looks like. Welcome to the layer cake son.

XXXX: Life is so fucking good I can taste it in my spit.

Eddie Temple: England. Typical. Even drug dealers don't work weekends.

Morty: Why did you keep the gun? Gene: I know it sounds silly now, but it was my favorite. Morty: You better not let the other guns know you have a favorite.

Eddie Temple: What the fuck is this? A vicar's tea party?

Gene: In those days, being black was worse than being Irish.

Dragan: Don't piss in my pocket and tell me it's raining.

Clarkie: Where are we going, Morty? Morty: Back to that boatyard. Somebody's about to get a fucking slap. Terry: (pats Morty on the shoulder) Yes, Morty. About fucking time.

Tammy: (on phone) I was just rubbing the phone against my fanny. My, oh, my, it's fresh this morning. And look at my nipples, standing up like little soldiers. What is a poor girl to do?

Gene: If you have to kill a person, never ever tell a living soul.

Gene: (to XXXX) This what being a gangster gets you. You're not in there 'cause I like you. Morty: I'm beginning to feel left out. Gene: Why? I seem to recall a friend of yours in intensive care after your little... reunion.

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