Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels
49 quotes
Biography
Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels is a 1998 crime comedy film written and directed by Guy Ritchie. It follows a heist involving a confident young card sharp who loses £500,000 to a powerful crime lord in a rigged game of three-card brag, prompting him to pay off his debts by enlisting his friends to help him rob a small-time gang operating out of the apartment next door.
"Anyway, fuck it. The battle is over and the war is won."
"No, fuck that. You can think about it. I am panicking and I'm off."
"[To Tom about the guns] So, the only thing connecting us to the case is in the back of your car, which is parked outside?"
"They're lacking in criminal credibility, ain't they? I might get laughed at."
"There's no money, there's no weed. It's all been replaced by a pile of corpses."
"Let me tell you about Hatchet Harry. Once there was this geezer called Smithy Robinson, who worked for Harry. It was rumoured that he was on the take. Harry's invited Smithy 'round for explanation. Smithy didn't do a very good job. Within a minute, Harry's lost his rag. Reached out for the nearest thing at hand, which happened to be a 15-inch black rubber cock. He's then proceeded to batter poor Smithy to death with it. Now, that was seen as a pleasant way to go. Hence, Hatchet Harry is the man you pay if you owe."
"[To Dog holding up a gun] Bend over the fucking desk!"
"Oi! Keep your fingers out of my soup!"
"You're not funny, Tom. You're fat, and look as though you should be, but you're not!"
"If the milk turns out to be sour, I ain't the kind of pussy to drink it."
"What do you want, a medal? I'll shoot you in the fucking throat if I don't get my ganja back!"
"Mr. Breaker. Today, my name is Mr. Breaker!"
"This white shite thinks he can steal my cannabis and sell it back to me? He's got less brains than you, Lenny! Get Nick, the greasy wop, shistos, pesevengi, gamouri Greek bastard, round here now, if he's still stupid enough to be on this planet!"
"We're gonna do a proper decoration job. I want the grey skies of London illuminated. I want that house painted red."
"If you hold back anything, I'll kill ya. If you bend the truth, or I think you're bending the truth, I'll kill ya. If you forget anything, I'll kill ya. In fact, you are going to have to work very hard to stay alive, Nick. Now do you understand everything I've said? [Nick nods head] Because if you don't, I'll kill ya. Now, Mr. Bubble and Squeak, you may enlighten me."
"No mortgages, no debts – lock, stock, the fucking lot."
"[Trying to stop his monitor switching off] Come on! Not now, please, not – [monitor goes off] oh, you fucking bastard."
"Hello boy, feeling a bit poorly? I know your friends are responsible for most of the cash, so I'm gonna give you one week to find it. Otherwise, I will take a finger of each of you and your friends' hands for every day that passes without payment. And then, when you run out of digits, your dad's bar, and who knows what then. All right, my son?"
"If you don't want to be counting the fingers you haven't got, I suggest you get those guns. Quick!"
"When you dance with the devil, you wait for the song to stop, know what i mean?"
"Barfly Jack: Rory? Yeah, I know Rory. He's not to be underestimated. He's a funny-looking fucker, I know, but you've got to look past the hair and the cute, cuddly thing – it's all a deceptive facade. A few nights ago Rory's Roger iron's rusted, so he's gone down the battlecruiser to watch the end of the football game. No one's watching the custard, so he switches the channel over. A fat geezer's north opens, and he wanders up and turns the Liza over. "Now fuck off and watch it somewhere else!" Rory knows claret is imminent, but he doesn't want to miss the end of the game. So, calm as a coma, he picks up a fire extinguisher, walks straight past the jam rolls who are ready for action, and plonks it outside the entrance. He then orders an Aristotle of the most ping-pong tiddly in the nuclear sub and switches back to his footer. "That's fucking it," says the geezer. "That's fucking what?" says Rory. And he gobs out a mouthful of booze covering fatty. He flicks a flaming match into his bird's nest and the geezer's lit up like a leaking gas pipe. Rory, unfazed, turns back to his game. His team's won, too: four–nil."
"Big Chris: It's been emotional."
"Big Chris: All right, son. Roll them guns up, count the money, and put your seat belt on!"
"Dog: Golf – the best way to spoil a good walk. Winston Churchill said that. I say it's a dog-eat-dog world. And I got bigger teeth than you two."
"Hatchet Harry: I don't want to know who you use, as long as they're not complete muppets."