Withnail and I
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Withnail: "I have of late, but wherefore I know not, lost all my mirth. And indeed it goes so heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory. This most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why, it appeareth nothing to me but a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. What a piece of work is a man! How noble in reason! How infinite in faculties! How like an angel in apprehension. How like a god! The beauty of the world! The paragon of animals! And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me, no, nor women neither. Nor women neither."
Tea Shop Proprietor: "Miss Blennerhassett, telephone the police." Marwood: (with his mouth full) "All right, Miss Blennerhassett, I'm warning you, if you do, you're fired. We are multimillionaires. We shall buy this place and fire you immediately." Withnail: "Yes, we'll buy this place and we'll install a f*cking jukebox in here and liven all you stiffs up a bit!" Tea Shop Proprietor: "The police, Miss Blennerhassett. Just say there are a couple of drunks in the Penrith tearooms and we want them removed." Marwood: "We are not drunks, we are multimillionaires!" Tea Shop Proprietor: "Hurry up, Mabs. We'll keep them here til they arrive." Withnail: "You won't keep us anywhere. We'll buy this place and have it knocked down!" (Monty's Rolls-Royce pulls up) Marwood: " 'S alright, 's alright, s'alright... We're going, our car has arrived!" Withnail: (staggering out) "We'll be back. We're coming back in here."
(They drunkenly barge into some tearooms) Withnail: (pointing at a table) "All right here?" Waitress: "What do you want?" Withnail: "Cake. All right here?" Waitress: "No, we're closing in a minute." Withnail: "We're leaving in a minute. (he sits down) We want cake and tea." Tea Shop Proprietor: "Didn't you hear? She said she'd closed. What do you want in here?" Withnail: "Cake. What's it got to do with you?" Tea Shop Proprietor: "I happen to be the proprietor. Now, would you leave?" Withnail: "Ah! I'm glad you're the proprietor, I was gonna have to have a word with you anyway. We're working on a film up here. Locations, see. We might wanna do a film in here." Tea Shop Proprietor: "You're drunk." Marwood: "Just bring out the cakes." Withnail: "Cake and fine wine." Waitress: "If you don't leave, we'll call the police." Withnail: "BALLS! WE WANT THE FINEST WINES AVAILABLE TO HUMANITY, AND WE WANT THEM HERE, AND WE WANT THEM NOW!!"
Barman: "Time, gents, please." Withnail: "Alright, we're going to have to work quickly. A pair of quadruple whiskies and another pair of pints, please."
Withnail: "Vegetables again. I'll be sprouting bloody feelers soon. Must be 20,000 sheep up there on those volcanos, we've got a plate full of carrots." Marwood: "There's black puddings in it." Withnail: "Black puddings are no good to us. (he stands up) I WANT SOMETHING'S FLESH!"
Danny: "Don't get uptight with me, man. Cos if you do, I'll have to give you a dose of medicine. And if I spike you, you'll know you've been spoken to." Withnail: "You wouldn't spike me, you're too mean. Besides, there's nothing invented I couldn't take." Danny: "If I medicined you, you'd think a brain tumour was a birthday present." Withnail: "I could take double anything you could." Danny (removing his sunglasses): "Very, very foolish words, man."
Danny: "I don't advise a haircut, man. All hairdressers are in the employment of the government. Hairs are your aerials. They pick up signals from the cosmos, and transmit them directly into the brain. This is the reason bald-headed men are uptight."
Marwood (voiceover): "Even a stopped clock gives the right time twice a day. And for once I'm inclined to believe that Withnail is right. We are indeed drifting into the arena of the unwell. Making an enemy of our own future. What we need is harmony, fresh air, stuff like that."
Marwood (to Withnail, who picks up a bottle of lighter fluid): "I wouldn't drink that if I was you. Withnail: "Why not?" Marwood: "Because I don't advise it. Even the wankers on the site wouldn't drink that, that's worse than meths." Withnail: "Nonsense. This is a far superior drink to meths. The wankers don't drink it because they can't afford it. (He pours the lighter fluid down his throat. He gags and gasps) Have we got any more? (Marwood shakes his head) Liar. What's in your toolbox?" Marwood: "No, we have nothing. Sit down." Withnail: "Liar. You've got antifreeze." Marwood: "You bloody fool, you should never mix your drinks!" (Withnail laughs hysterically and falls to floor, and then vomits on Marwood's feet)
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