RocknRolla

"Right, let me tell you how this works. Youre going in the drink, and Im going to have a cup of tea. Beneath your feet is the famous river Thames. I just hope for your sakes you can hold your breath for as long as it takes my kettle to boil. After that, Im gonna ask you a question, just one question. Youre gonna give me a name. And if its the right name, Im gonna send you home warm and dry in a fresh set of clothes. If its the wrong name, youll be fed to the crayfish. Theyre American, these crayfish. Big, hungry bastards. And like most things American, theyve eaten the natives...but theyve still got room for more."

"Junkies, as any junkie will tell you, are not to be trusted. They take what doesn’t belong to them, not because they’re thinking, but because they’re junkies."

"Oh bollocks. There is no school like the old school, and Im the fucking headmaster!"

"Now, listen to me, boy. Listen. I never did like you, neither did your real dad. Youre a reject, a wrong and a fuckin fairy in the mirror that I inherited from your mom. But she aint with us no more, so now its just you and me. In one week youre going back to school. The most expensive fuckin school in the country, I might add. Then youll be gone for another term. In the meantime, show some gratitude and keep the fuckin music down!!"

"And I shed a tear. I shed a tear for all those bone-tops that read the papers and believe that shit. But did you see his body? Did you see him smacked-up and cracked-up with his tongue on his chin and his cock in his hand, swinging from the rafters like a real RocknRolla? No, you didnt, did you? And nobody else fucking did either, did they? Because he aint dead. Hes alive, alive-o somewhere selling cockles and mussels and a very important painting that doesnt belong to him."

"[to One Two] If I could be half the human that Bob is at the price of being a poof, Id think about it. Not for too long, but Ide have to pause. You know?"

"No need to worry just yet, fellas. Nothing’s gonna happen while were standing in the lift. Because then theyd have to carry the corpses to the cars, and that seems too much like hard work. In about two minutes from now, when we’re all walking along happily, Danny-boy over there is gonna turn, and pop me two in the head, then one in the throat, just to be sure. You shouldnt have brought me here, fellas. Youre just going to end up as witnesses. Once theyve "dealt" with us, they’re gonna put our corpses in the boot of a stolen car, then pour six gallons of petrol on top. I can let your imagination fill in the rest. But see now Danny-boy is rattled, because he knows that you know. And so, hes going to fire."

"All you need to know about life is retained in those four walls. You will notice that one of your personalities is seduced by the illusions of grandeur - the gold packet of king size with a regal insignia, an attractive implication towards grandeur and wealth, the subtle suggestion that cigarettes are indeed your royal and loyal friends, and that, Pete, is a lie. Your other personality is trying to draw your attention to the flip side of the discussion: written in boring bold black and white, its a statement that these neat little soldiers of death are in fact trying to kill you and that, Pete, is the truth. Oh, beauty is a beguiling call to death and Im addicted to the sweet pitch of its siren. That that starts sweet ends bitter, and that which starts bitter ends sweet. That is why you and I love the drugs, and that is also why I cannot give that painting back. Now please, pass me a lighter."

"People ask the question... whats a RocknRolla? And I tell em - its not about drums, drugs, and hospital drips, oh no. Theres more there than that, my friend. We all like a bit of the good life - some the money, some the drugs, other the sex game, the glamour, or the fame. But a RocknRolla, oh, hes different. Why? Because a real RocknRolla wants the fucking lot."

"Have you ever bought a ticket to the junkies boneyard, Roman? Its an unpleasant place, called curl up and die. Might sound like a hair salon, but it dont fuckin look like one, I can tell ya. Its a terrible sight...and a horrible sound, listening to a man [inhales] sucking his soul through the hole in the pipe. Even worse when he tries to tear it back. Ive been there, and Ive done that. [flashback: "He has been here, and he has done that."] And then I nailed that demon in a smoke-proof coffin, and I did it all with Johnny. I love that man; hes what you call class. And if you had any fucking brains, Roman, youd love him too. You know his music sales have gone up 1000% in three weeks? You see, Johnny, the crackhead, knows that a rocker is worth more dead than alive...funny world, innit? Mr. Quid does not get his gear from me. He has to travel, far and wide. But do leave me a number, and if the dead feels like calling...youll be the first to know. [winks]"