Monday, January 17, 2005


British Television Quotes (Because I'm classy)

Quotes from Coupling:

Jill: [about the film "Lesbian Spank Inferno"] How could you possibly enjoy a film like that? Steve: Oh, because it's got naked women in it! Look, I like naked women! I'm a bloke! I'm supposed to like them! We're born like that. We like naked women as soon as we're pulled out of one. Halfway down the birth canal we're already enjoying the view. Look, it's the four pillars of the male heterosexual psyche. We like: naked women, stockings, lesbians, and Sean Connery best as James Bond. Because that is what being a bloke is. And if you don't like it, darling, join a film collective. I want to spend the rest of my life with the woman at the end of the table here. But that does not stop me wanting to see several thousand more naked bottoms before I die. Because that's what being a bloke is. When Man invented fire, he didn't say "Hey, let's cook!" He said: "Great! Now we can see naked bottoms in the dark!" As soon as Caxton invented the printing press we were using it to make pictures of - hey! - naked bottoms. We've turned the Internet into an enormous international database of... naked bottoms. So, you see, the story of male achievement through the ages, feeble though it may have been, has been the story of our struggle to get a better look at your bottoms. Frankly, girls, I'm not so sure how insulted you really ought to be.

Steve: [about the Fertility Clinic's cubicle] It's this place. It's too wholesome. Look, it's wrong for masturbation. Masturbation is supposed to be a bad thing. It's a stealth activity. You do it on your own, in secret, and you lie about it afterwards. You feel guilt! It's one of the last forms of entirely safe guilt left available to a man. I mean, look at this place! Look what the mad fools have done: it's an office suite for masturbation. There's a *receptionist*. There are no receptionists in masturbation. Do you realize what I'm supposed to do here? Do you understand the insanity of it? I am being asked to masturbate in a *good* *cause*. No. Susan, I implore you. I implore all women everywhere on behalf of all men. Do not take the wrongness of masturbation from us.

Steve: We are men. Throughout history we have always needed, in times of difficulty, to retreat to our caves. It so happens in this modern age that our caves are fully plumbed. The toilet for us is the last bastian, the final refuge, the last few sqaure feet of man space left to us. Somewhere to sit, something to read, something to do, and who gives a damn about the smell. But that for us is happiness because we are men. We are different. We have only one word for soap. We don't own candles. We have never seen anything of any value in a craft shop. We do not own magazines for the photographs of celebrities with all their clothes on. When we have conversations we actually take it in turns to talk. We have not yet reached that level of earth shattering boredom and inhuman despair that we would have a haircut recreationally. We don't know how to get excited about really, really boring things like ornaments, bath oil, the countryside, vases, small churches. We do not even know what, what in the name of God's ass, is the purpose of potpouri. Looks like breakfast, smells like your auntie. Why do you need that? So please, in this strange and frightening world, allow us one last place to call our own. This toilet, this blessed pot, this fortress of solitude. You girls, you may go to the bathroom in groups of two or more. We do not pass comment. We do not make judgement. That is your choice. But we men will always walk the toilet mile alone.

Steve: What is this? Susan: It's a cushion. Steve: Right. Yes. Thank you for that. Very informative. [to Jeff] Steve: You got any of these? Jeff: No. Steve: Of course you haven't. [to shop assistant] Steve: You - are you married? Living with anyone? Junior Shop Assistant: No. Steve: Got any of these? Junior Shop Assistant: No. Steve: Of course not. Okay! [to the women] Steve: You bring these things into our homes. They sit on our chairs. They watch our televisions. Now, I just need to know, on behalf of all men everywhere, I just need to ask, please... What are they for? I mean, look at them! Look at the chubby little bastards! Just sitting around everywhere! What are they, pets for chairs? [to shop assistants] Steve: Come on, you sell them. What are they for? Junior Shop Assistant: Well... Senior Shop Assistant: You sit on them. Steve: Ah! Ha ha ha! You see, that's where you're wrong! Nobody sits on them. Okay, watch this. Here's the cushion. I'm putting it on the sofa. Now watch me. I'm stting down. And what do I do on my final approach? I - oh! - move the cushion! You see? It's not involved! It's not part of the whole sitting process. It just lies there. It's fat litter! It's a sofa parasite! Jane: It's, you know... padding. Steve: Oh, padding! Now, that's interesting, Jane. See, I like padding. If I was, say, an American Football player, and all those big bastards running at me, I would say "give me some of that padding and be quick about it." If my job involved bouncing down jagged rocks I would say "in view of those jagged rocks down there, I'll have some of that padding, thank you very much." But Susan, Sally, Jane, this is a sofa. It is designed by clever scientists in such a way as to shield the unprotected user from the risk of skin abrasions, serious head trauma, and, of course... [drops behind sofa, then sticks head out] Steve: Daleks. Trust me girls, trust me on this one: you do not need padding to tackle upholstery. So please - once and for all, tell me why on Earth you would want me to sit on one of these? Susan: Because, if you pressed it firmly against your bottom, it might stop you talking!

I don't know if any of these will seem half as funny out of the context of the show...but they sure make me laugh.

Comments: Post a Comment

<< Home

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?