A Peek into a Mind

Sam Tyler: I think we need to explore whether this attempted murder was a hate crime.
Gene: What as opposed to one of those I-really-really-like-you sort of murders?

Life on Mars is a cool series (both seasons) and I just gathered a couple of quotes for my (and your) pleasure.

Gene: Trust the Gene Genie.

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Sam Tyler: [credits introduction] My name is Sam Tyler. I had an accident, and I woke up in 1973. Am I mad, in a coma, or back in time? Whatever’s happened, it’s like I’ve landed on a different planet. Now, maybe if I can work out the reason, I can get home.

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Gene: I’m Gene Hunt. Your DCI. And it’s 1973. Nearly dinner time. I’m ‘aving hoops.

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Chris Skelton: I wonder what killed him?
Gene: That would be the bloody enormous hole in his chest where the bullet went in!

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Annie Cartwright: Boss, there’s a viscous yellow liquid in his ear…
Gene: No, that’s the drip from my fried egg butty, love. Well done Miss Marple, that’s why we need women detectives…

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Gene: Blardy, blardy, history bloody blardy. It doesn’t take a degree in applied bollocks to know what’s going on!
Sam Tyler: Go on then, amaze me with your insubstantial GUESSWORK!

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Sam Tyler: Because I loved her!
Gene: You great… soft… sissy… girlie… nancy… French… bender… Man United supporting POOF!

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Sam Tyler: I think she’s telling the truth.
Gene: I think she’s as fake as a tranny’s fanny.

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Sam Tyler: I still think we need to entertain the possibility that this could be a racial killing…
Gene: Oh, well let’s entertain it, let’s take it out for a prawn cooktail, a steak and a bottle of Liebfraumilch, then let’s kick it into the gutter where it belongs!

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Gene: Drugs eh? What’s the point. They make you forget, make you talk funny, make you see things that aren’t there. My old grandma got all of that for free when she had a stroke.

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Sam Tyler: [Speaking to a White Supremacist after he claims himself superior]
Sam Tyler: Superior? You’re not superior to an amoeba with special needs…

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Layla: [Interviewing Layla at the station]
Layla: About 8:30, straight after I left Sam’s flat, he was still alive.
Gene: Straight after you left Sam’s flat?
Sam Tyler: She needed protection.
Gene: Well I hope you used some!

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Gene: He’s got fingers in more pies than a leper on a cookery course.

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Gene: She’s as nervous as a very small nun at a penguin shoot.

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Gene: Listen, you’re not the one who’s going to have to knit himself a new arse after 25 years of aggressive male affection in prison showers, I’m coming with you!.

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Sam Tyler: [Sam startles Gene by waking screaming from a nightmare]
Sam Tyler: I was just dreaming.
Gene: What I call a dream involves Diana Dors and a bottle of chip oil!

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Gene: Now. Yesterday’s shooting. The dealers are all so scared we’re more likely to get Helen Keller to talk. The Paki in a coma’s about as lively as Liberace’s dick when he’s looking at a naked woman, all in all this investigation’s going at the speed of a spastic in a magnet factory.
Sam Tyler: [Sam Tyler, aghast, drops the radio he is holding]
Gene: What?
Sam Tyler: Think you might have missed out the Jews
Gene: What?
Sam Tyler: I think we need to explore whether this attempted murder was a hate crime.
Gene: What as opposed to one of those I-really-really-like-you sort of murders?

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Gene: [Ordering the hunt for a murderer]
Gene: This is my city. And it will be a safe place for my wife and my mum to walk around in. Is that understood?
Detectives: Yes, guv.
Gene: [Sternly] Right. Find out who the dead woman was, find out who killed her. Do it now.
Gene: [He checks his watch]
Gene: Hold up, hold up. Do it tomorrow morning, first thing.
[Brightly]
Gene: Beer o’clock, gentlemen

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Chris Skelton: Woman in her twenties, dead.
Gene: Well I didn’t think she was sunbathing, did I?

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Gene: Don’t move, you are surrounded by armed bastards!

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Gene: [to Ray Carling whom he had demoted a few months ago]
Gene: Good work, Raymondo. I’m bumping you back up to DS… only this time make it stand for Detective Sergeant and not Dog Shit!

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Gene: I think you’ve forgotten who you’re talking to.
Sam Tyler: An overweight, over-the-hill, nicotine-stained, borderline-alcoholic homophobe with a superiority complex and an unhealthy obsession with male bonding?
Gene: You make that sound like a bad thing.

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[Gene and Sam need to get a pub landlord out of the way so that they can go undercover]
Gene: Ray! Go and arrest the landlord of the Trafford Arms
Ray Carling: What for?
Gene: Think of something on the way
[later]
Gene: In a bizarre twist of fate the landlord was arrested this afternoon… on suspicion of Cattle Rustling
Ray Carling: [Ray takes a bow and receives a round of applause]

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Ray Carling: I’m arresting you for the theft of a motor vehicle, resisting arrest… and driving like a div.

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Sam Tyler: If it was to do with football, he’d have serious injuries.
Gene: He’s dead. That’s quite serious.

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Gene: There will never be a woman prime minister as long as I have a hole in my arse.

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Gene: Oi! Referee! Has anyone ever told you you need glasses, you dozy git? Next time, I run you over!

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Gene: [bursting in on Stephen Warren, who is performing an act of oral sex on another man] I’m not a Catholic me’self Mr Warren, but isn’t there something in the Bible about “Thou shalt not suck off rent boys”?
Stephen Warren: How dare you come in here!
Gene: You could have said that to the boy.

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Gene: You think you know everything, don’t you?
Sam Tyler: I know the stench of rotten apples.
Gene: Yeah? And I know your slag is lying through her teeth and do you wanna know why?
Sam Tyler: Yeah, why?
Gene: Steven Warren is a bum bandit. Do you understand? A poof! A fairy! A queer! A queen! Fudge packer! Uphill Gardener! Fruit picking sodomite!
Sam Tyler: He’s gay?
Gene: As a bloody Christmas Tree! Mind you, he is a little touchy on the subject, being a twisted Catholic with an elderly mother and all, so I wouldn’t go mentioning it to him… You challenged his authority so he stitched you up like a kipper. Pretty girl appealed to your vanity as the only decent sheriff in Dodge City. Slipped you a Mickey, tied you up and bounced on your ding-a-ling.
Sam Tyler: Why?
Gene: I suspect the answer will lie in the post. Photos, you idiot.

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Sam Tyler: This place is like Guantanamo Bay.
Gene: Keep off, it’s nothing like Spain.

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Gene: [to a handful of kids, staring at his car] Anything happens to this motor, I’ll come ’round your houses and stamp on all your toys. Got it? Good kids.