Dignam: This is unbelievable. Who put the fuckin’ cameras in this place?
Police Camera Tech: Who the fuck are you?
Dignam: I’m the guy who does his job. You must be the other guy.

Billy Costigan: Frank, how many of these guys have been with you long enough to be disgruntled, huh? Think about it. You don’t pay much, you know. It’s almost a fuckin’ feudal enterprise. The question is, and this is the only question, who thinks that they can do what you do better than you?
Frank Costello: The only one that can do what I do is me. Lot of people had to die for me to be me. You wanna be me?
Billy Costigan: I probably could be you, yeah. Yeah, I know that much. But I don’t wanna be you, Frank. I don’t wanna be you
Frank Costello: Heavy lies the crown… sort of thing.


.
Oliver Queenan: Congratulations on passing the detectives’ exam, and welcome to the Special Investigation Unit.
Dignam: Whoop-de-fuckin’-do.

.
Billy Costigan: Hey, you fellas come from Providence?
Providence Gangster #2: Isn’t any of your business where we come from, is it, now?
Billy Costigan: Fuckin’ delivering cannolis or something?

.
Frank Costello: You do well in school?
Young Colin: Yeah
Frank Costello: Good. So did I. They call that a paradox.

.
Uncle Ed: What’s this I hear from Stephanie about you becoming a policeman?
Billy Costigan: You mean Stephanie, who was the only one who came to my father’s funeral? That Stephanie?
Uncle Ed: Yeah, *that* Stepanie.
Billy Costigan: Nothing much to it, Uncle Edward.
Uncle Ed: Are you trying to prove something to the family?
Billy Costigan: When you say “the family,” who do mean exactly? You?
Uncle Ed: You always have to question everything, don’t you?
Billy Costigan: Maybe it would have done you some good to have some *questions* from time to time, you know? “Am I an asshole? Are my kids a mess? Is my wife a money-grubbing whore?” I mean, those are questions, right? “Have I ever been good to my dying sister or am I just now pretending to be?”
Uncle Ed: Do you need some money for the funeral?
Billy Costigan: When my mother dies, we don’t have any more connection.
[Billy walks away]

.
Colin Sullivan: I can’t wait to see you explain this one to a fucking Suffolk County jury you fucking cocksucker. This is gonna be fucking fun!

.
Frank Costello: Who let this IRA motherfucker in my bar?
[the man looks startled]
Frank Costello: [laughs] Only kidding. How’s your mother?
Man in Costello’s Bar: Oh… I’m afraid she’s on her way out.
Frank Costello: [walks away] We all are. Act accordingly.
[smiles and his straightens tie]

.
Frank Costello: [slams a fly on the table] You know what I like about restaurants?
Billy Costigan: The fucking food. I don’t know, what?
Frank Costello: You can learn a lot, watching things eat.
[licks fly off palm]

.
Mr. French: In the future, I tell ya to do a thing, you fucking do it, you got that?
Billy Costigan: I got it, okay?
Frank Costello: [sneaks up behind Costigan, snifffing] Excuse me, uh, French, I forgot my…
Mr. French: Okay, Francis.
Frank Costello: …cigarette.
[puffs, slaps Costigan’s shoulder]
Frank Costello: Eat something.

.
[Sullivan tries to enter Queenan’s office, but Dignam blocks his way]
Colin Sullivan: Problem?
Dignam: Yeah, I got a problem. I run rat fucks like you, okay? I don’t like ‘em.
Colin Sullivan: The day you wouldn’t take a promotion, let me know. And if you’d taken care of this, I wouldn’t even be here.
Dignam: Fuck yourself, you piece of shit.
Colin Sullivan: And I’m gonna need the identity of your undercovers.
Dignam: Blow me, all right? But not literally, though. Unfortunately, there’s no promotion involved for you.
[Dignam leaves]
Colin Sullivan: Fucking prick.

.
Colin Sullivan: Just fucking kill me. Just fucking kill me.
Billy Costigan: I am killing you.

.
Frank Costello: When you decide to be something, you can be it. That’s what they don’t tell you in the church. When I was your age they would say we can become cops, or criminals. Today, what I’m saying to you is this: when you’re facing a loaded gun, what’s the difference?

.
[first lines]
Frank Costello: I don’t want to be a product of my environment. I want my environment to be a product of me. Years ago we had the church. That was only a way of saying - we had each other. The Knights of Columbus were real head-breakers; true guineas. They took over their piece of the city. Twenty years after an Irishman couldn’t get a fucking job, we had the presidency. May he rest in peace. That’s what the niggers don’t realize. If I got one thing against the black chappies, it’s this - no one gives it to you. You have to take it.

.
Billy Costigan: You don’t have any cats.
Madolyn: No.
Billy Costigan: I like that.

.
Dignam: Your fuckin’ family’s dug into the Southie projects like ticks. Three-decker men at best. You, however, grew up on the North Shore, huh? Well, la-di-fuckin’-da. You were kind of a double kid, I bet, right? Huh? One kid with your old man, one kid with your mother. You’re upper-middle class during the weeks, then you’re droppin’ your “R”s and you’re hangin’ in the big, bad Southie projects with your daddy, the fuckin’ donkey on the weekends. I got that right?
Dignam: [Billy does not answer] Yup. You have different accents? You did, didn’t you? You little fuckin’ snake. You were like different people.
Billy Costigan: You a psychiatrist?
Dignam: Well, if I was I’d ask you why you’re a Statie making 30 grand a year. And I think if I was Sigmund fuckin’ Freud I wouldn’t get an answer. So tell me, what’s a lace-curtain motherfucker like you doing in the Staties?
Billy Costigan: Families are always rising or falling in America, am I right?
Oliver Queenan: Who said that?
Billy Costigan: Hawthorne.
Dignam: [Dignam makes a farting sound] What’s the matter, smartass, you don’t know any fuckin’ Shakespeare?

.
Frank Costello: [after talking to Madolyn on the phone] Was that that shrink cunt that answered the phone?
Colin Sullivan: Remember I told you that we were gonna… she was gonna move in?
Frank Costello: Yeah.
Colin Sullivan: She moved in.
Frank Costello: You better get organized, quick.
Colin Sullivan: Hey, last time I checked, I tipped you off and you’re not in jail.
Frank Costello: Are you listening to me?
Colin Sullivan: Yeah.
Frank Costello: Do you like Little Miss Thing suckin’ on your cock?
Colin Sullivan: [looks at Madolyn] Yes. Yes, I do.
Frank Costello: So earn it. I’m getting the feeling we got a cop in my crew.
Colin Sullivan: Yeah, I know. I’m kinda getting that feeling too.
Frank Costello: He’s one of yours. Inside. Have you seen anything?
Colin Sullivan: Frank, I got no access to Queenan’s undercover files. He and Dignam run the snitches. I’m doing my best…
Frank Costello: Your best? What do you think we’re in, the fuckin’ haberdashery business?
Colin Sullivan: Look, Frank, if you don’t relax, if you don’t relax, I can’t relax. All right? Now what I need you to do is you get me information on the people who were with you last night. Your crew. Get me Social Security numbers, get me…

.
Frank Costello: Get you? Give you? Who the fuck do you work for? What?
Colin Sullivan: All right, all right. Frank, Frank, Frank, I’m sorry, Frank. If you could, please. What I need are SS numbers, DOBs, just all the pedigree information so I can run it on my end and we can ID the prick. If you can just get me that information, what I can do is I can just - I - I - we’re gonna handle it. I - I - I can handle it.
Frank Costello: Colin, calm down, or you’ll shoot in your pants.
Frank Costello: I’ll get you the records and what not. But listen to me, son. Don’t disappoint me on this or some other guy will be putting their fat cock up little Miss Freud’s ass.
Frank Costello: [hangs up]

.
Ellerby: So do you know why Queenan went into that building?
Colin Sullivan: No.
Dignam: Well, a better question is why the fuck were your guys following him?
Colin Sullivan: I told Internal Investigations to follow Captain Queenan.
Dignam: Why?
Colin Sullivan: That’s Internal Investigations’ business.
[Dignam hits Colin, starting a fight causing the other officers to intervene]
Dignam: Fucking piece of shit!
Colin Sullivan: Cocksucker! I don’t have to fucking explain anything to anybody! I can fucking investigate anybody I fucking want to!
Dignam: [being held back] Let him go, come on.
Colin Sullivan: I don’t give a fuck what you think! Captain, I’ve got reason to believe that Queenan got killed by his own fucking undercover.
Dignam: That’s a fucking lie.
Colin Sullivan: [pointing to Dignam] He has fucking information in a locked file, as did Captain Queenan. I need access to those files.
Dignam: Hey, I forgot the password, but if you’d like to come down to the garage with me, I’d be happy to give it to you.
Colin Sullivan: [pushing towards Dignam] That’s a fucking lie.
Dignam: [pushing towards Colin] Nobody calls me a liar!

.
Frank Costello: Church wants you on your place. Kneel, stand, kneel, stand. If you go for that sort of thing, I don’t know what to do for you. A man makes his own way. No one gives it to you. You have to take it. “Non serviam.”
Young Colin: James Joyce.
Frank Costello: Smart, Colin. Guineas from the north and down Providence try to tell me what to do. And, uh, something maybe happen to them. Maybe, uh, like that.
[cuts to Costello executing two people on beach]

.
Madolyn: Why is the last patient of the day always the hardest?
Billy Costigan: Because you’re tired and you don’t give a shit. It’s not super-natural.

.
Oliver Queenan: Okay, kid. Let’s do this. Come on, spread ‘em.
[Queenan begins searching Costigan]
Dignam: Hey, what do you think you can pop somebody and there’s a special card to play? That guy, Jimmy Bags whose jaw you broke happens to work undercover for the Boston Police Department.
Billy Costigan: I’m going fucking nuts, man. I can’t be someone else every fuckin’ day. It’s been a year of this. I’ve had enough of this shit!
Dignam: Calm down, alright? Most people in the world do it every day. What’s the big deal?
Billy Costigan: Well, I’m not them, alright? I’m not fucking them, okay?
Dignam: Exactly. You’re nobody. You signed the papers, remember? Now we’re the only two people on the face of this earth that even know you’re a cop. How about we just erase your file, huh? How ’bout that? How about we erase your file and then bang, you’re just another soldier for Costello open to arrest for I don’t know how many felonies. Huh? What do you say we do that, Captain?
Billy Costigan: How about I fucking kill you, huh? How about I fucking kill you!
Oliver Queenan: That was a joke. Come on!
Dignam: That wasn’t a joke. Just because you play a tough guy, doesn’t mean you are one you lace-curtain, Irish fucking pussy!
[Costigan punches Dignam]
Oliver Queenan: Hey, hey! Stop it! Break it up! Stop it!
Billy Costigan: [to Dignam] Fuck you, motherfucker!
Oliver Queenan: Goddamn it, stop it! That’s an order!
[fighting stops]
Oliver Queenan: For chrissake, be smart. If anybody’s watching us now, how are we not supposed to arrest you? Come on, get in the car. Both of you, get in the car!

.
Billy Costigan: I mean the guy murdered somebody right? The guy fuckin’ murdered somebody and you don’t fuckin’ take him!

.
Frank Costello: I got this rat, this gnawing, cheese eating fuckin’ rat and it brings up questions… You know, see, Bill, like you’re the new guy. Girlfriend… Why don’t you stay in the bar that night I got your numbers. Social Security numbers. Everybody’s fuckin’ numbers.
Billy Costigan: Is there something that you just wanna go ahead and ask me? ‘Cause I’ll give you the fuckin’ answer, all right? Frank, look at me. Look at me. I’m not the fuckin’ rat. Okay? I’m not the fuckin’ rat.

.
Colin Sullivan: What Freud said about the Irish is: We’re the only people who are impervious to psychoanalysis.

.
Barrigan: [after they lose the rugby match to the firemen and Sullivan stares longingly at the statehouse] What? Look, forget about it. Your old man was a janitor and his son’s only a cop.
Colin Sullivan: Fucking firefighters are bunch of homos.
[they both laugh]
Colin Sullivan: They are!

.
Oliver Queenan: [as Billy runs away, and protects him from Costello’s goons] One of you mugs got a light.
Fitzy: Where’s your boy?
Oliver Queenan: He’s studying law at Notre Dame.
Fitzy: Where’s your fucking boy?
Fitzy: [grabs Queenan] Goddamn motherfucker! Now where’s your fucking boy?

.
[detailing the undercover operation to nail Costello]
Ellerby: Our target: microprocessors. Yes, those. I don’t know what they are, you don’t know what they are, who gives a fuck?

.
Dignam: My theory on Feds is that they’re like mushrooms, feed ‘em shit and keep ‘em in the dark

.
Oliver Queenan: Do you know what we do here? My section?
Billy Costigan: Sir, yes, sir. I have an idea…
Dignam: [interrupting] Whoa, whoa, whoa. Let’s say you have no idea and leave it at that, okay? No idea. Zip. None. If you had an idea of what we do, we would not be good at what we do, now would we? We would be cunts. Are you calling us cunts?
Oliver Queenan: Staff Sergeant Dignam has a style of his own. I’m afraid we all have to get used to it.

.
Oliver Queenan: We have a question: Do you want to be a cop, or do you want to appear to be a cop? It’s an honest question. A lot of guys just want to appear to be cops. Gun, badge, pretend they’re on TV.
Dignam: Yeah, a lot of people just wanna slam a nigger’s head through a plate-glass window.
Billy Costigan: I’m all set without your own personal job application. Alright, Sergeant?
Dignam: What the fuck did you say to me, trainee?
Billy Costigan: [to Queenan] With all due respect, sir, what do you want from me?
Dignam: Hey asshole, he can’t help you! I know what you are, okay? I know what you are and I know what you are not. I’m the best friend you have on the face of this earth, and I’m gonna help you understand something, you punk. You’re no fuckin’ cop!

.
Ellerby: How is your wedding coming along?
Colin Sullivan: Great, great; she’s a doctor.
Ellerby: That’s outstanding.
Colin Sullivan: Yeah.
Ellerby: Marriage is an important part of getting ahead: lets people know you’re not a homo; married guy seems more stable; people see the ring, they think at least somebody can stand the son of a bitch; ladies see the ring, they know immediately you must have some cash or your cock must work.
[laughs]
Colin Sullivan: [laughing] Yeah, it’s working… Overtime!
Ellerby: I’m glad to hear that.
Colin Sullivan: Yeah… Thank you.

.
Ellerby: Qui Bono, who benefits?
Colin Sullivan: Qui gives a shit. It’s got a freakin’ bow on it.

Betty: But Gord, I don’t care about jewels, I just want to suck your cock.
Gord Brody: [playing the sausage organ] Daddy, would you like some sausage? Daddy, would you like some sausage?
Gord Brody: Hi. How are you?
Betty: I’d be a lot better if you’d smack my legs with this bamboo.
Gord Brody: I wanna eat chicken burgers.
Gord Brody: I’m gunna make you proud, Dad…
[starts driving away but brakes and honks as a senior citizen is about to cross]
Gord Brody: GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE WAY.
[continues driving]
Jim: Get out of the toilet!


Jim: Ohhhhh, look honey, our boy’s a genius! He’s rigged a pulley system so he can eat sausage and work on his stupid drawings.
Julie Brody: Gordie, sit down. We’re having roast beef.
Gord Brody: Why do you guys always have roast beef?
Jim: Boo-hoo. Little Lord Fauntleroy’s tummy hurts because there’s too much roast beef in it.
Gord Brody: It’s just boring.
[Opens bag, pulls out a chicken sandwich]
Gord Brody: I’m eating a chicken sandwich.
Jim: No, you’re not!
Gord Brody: This is crazy. I’m a 28-year-old man, I should be able to eat a chicken sandwich if I want.
Jim: He’s 28 years old and he can eat a chicken sandwich. Very Impressive. Mike Fitzgibbon’s son is a nuclear physicist, and my son can eat a chicken!
[Grabs chicken sandwich, throws it to the dogs]
Julie Brody: Jim, no!
Jim: You can either eat that goddamn roast beef, or you can go to bed.
[Gord leaves the room]
Gord Brody: You can’t hurt me, not with my cheese helmet!
Gord Brody: [Dressed in his father’s suit, back to front] I’m the backwards man, the backwards man, I can run back as fast as you can.
Gord Brody: There’s my La Baron. Where’s your La Baron?

Jesse: Who’s Johnny Potsmoker?
Chester: Oh ,that’s my alter ego.
Jesse: Wait, I thought Johnny Potsmoker was MY alter ego.
Chester: No. Yours is Smokey McPot.
Jesse: Oh yeah.
Chinese Foooood Lady: And then?
Jesse: No “and then”!
Chinese Foooood Lady: And then!
Jesse: Wait a second. I just got a really bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.
Chester: Maybe you should go sit on the toilet?
Jesse: No. No. You know what the feeling is? It’s love!
Chester: Is that what that is?


Jesse: Yeah, I’m in love with Wanda and you’re in love with Wilma.
Chester: Yeah!
Jesse: You see. Now that we know that we’ve been sucky boyfriends… we can change.
Chester: We can?
Jesse: Yeah! And you know what else? I’ll bet you that we did buy them super cool anniversary gifts. You know why? Coz we love them.
Chester: And we wrapped them really cool wrapping paper?
Jesse: Yeah. I’ll tell you what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna go down the impound lot and get the car…
Chester: …which has the gifts in it…
Jesse: …and then we’re gonna go over to the twins house and beg for them to take us back!
Chester: Yeah! Let’s do it!
Jesse: Oh, no, hold on. I gotta take a crap.
Chester: Told you.
Jesse: I know.
Chester: I know your body.
[Pierre has a deep French ascent]
Pierre: But luckily for you, I am an honorable man.
Mark: Excuse me, what was that?
Pierre: Honorable!
Mark: What?… Onergable?
[Pierre and Mark continue alternating, saying “Honorable” and “Onergable”]
Mark: I think you’re trying to say “honorable”!
Pierre: What do I have to do to shut you up? Do I have to hose you down again?
Mark: No, not the hose!
[pause]
Mark: Maybe later.
[Jeese and Chester come across an ostrich]
Jesse: Dude, it’s a llama!
[Chester refuses to leave a strip club]
Jesse: Dude, this is an *emergency*!
Chester: So is this. It’s a break-dancing stripper emergency!
Jesse: I refuse to play your Chinese food mind games!
Jesse: Dude, where’s my car?
Chester: Where’s your car dude?
Jesse: DUDE, where’s my car?
Chester: Where’s your car dude?
Jesse: Have you seen my car?
Christie Boner: Yeah.
Jesse: You have?

Shooter McGavin: Damn you people. Go back to your shanties.
Virginia: What’s this I hear about you breaking a rake and throwing it in the woods?
Happy Gilmore: What? I didn’t *break* it, I was just testing its durability, and then I *placed* it in the woods because it’s made of wood and I just thought he should be with his family.
Nursing Home Orderly: Good news, everybody, we’re extending arts and crafts time by four hours today.
Elderly Woman: My fingers hurt.
Nursing Home Orderly: What’s that?
Elderly Woman: My fingers hurt.


Nursing Home Orderly: Oh, well, now your back’s gonna hurt, ’cause you just pulled landscaping duty. Anybody else’s fingers hurt?… I didn’t think so.
Happy Gilmore: [voice over narration] During high school, I played junior hockey and still hold two league records: most time spent in the penalty box; and I was the only guy to ever take off his skate and try to stab somebody.
Happy Gilmore: Looks like a slight hill. Whaddya think?
Otto: And a slant to the left.
Happy Gilmore: Nah, it looks that way cause you’ve only got one shoe on.
Grandma: How’s that nice girlfriend of yours?
Happy Gilmore: Oh, she got hit by a car. She’s dead.
Happy Gilmore: [to Virginia] Hey, my girlfriend is dead, you know. She fell off a cliff and died on impact.
Happy Gilmore: [to Bob Barker] The price is wrong, bitch.
Happy Gilmore: I’ll make you a bet.
Virginia: Do you always carry a puck with you?
Happy Gilmore: Yeah. Alright, now, if you get that puck in that net over there, I’ll never bother you again. But if you miss, you got to give me a big fat kiss. And you have to pretend you like it too.
Virginia: Really?
Happy Gilmore: Good luck.
[Virginia shoots puck and scores]
Happy Gilmore: Holy shit. Talk about your all time backfires.
Shooter McGavin: Just stay out of my way… or you’ll pay! LISTEN to what I say!
Happy Gilmore: Hey, why don’t I just go eat some hay, make things out of clay, lay by the bay? I just may! What’d ya say?
Chubbs: Back in 1965, Sports Illustrated said I was going to be the next Arnold Palmer.
Happy Gilmore: Yeah? What happened?
Chubbs: They wouldn’t let me play on the Pro Tour anymore.
Happy Gilmore: Ah, I’m sorry. Because you’re black?
Chubbs: Hell no! Damned alligator BIT my hand off!
[Shows Happy his wooden hand]
Happy Gilmore: OH MY GOD!
Chubbs: Yeah. tournament down in Florida. I hooked my ball in the rough down by the lake. Damned alligator just POPPED up, cut me down on my prime. He got me, but I tore one of that bastard’s eyes out though. Look at that.
[Shows Happy a small glass jar with an eyeball in it]
Happy Gilmore: You’re pretty sick, Chubbs.
Happy Gilmore: [a limo passes by] Whoa, must be Burt Reynolds or somethin’.
[in slow motion, Happy hits a ball a great distance. Soon after, the ball bounces on a green and rolls into a hole. The crowd goes wild]
Happy Gilmore: [shouts] He shoots, he scores!
[Happy turns to Chubbs]
Happy Gilmore: Oh, man. That was so much easier than putting. I should just try to get the ball in one shot every time.
Chubbs: Good plan.
[Chubbs chuckles as he pats Happy with his wooden hand. The two of them walk away]
Virginia: [to Shooter] Did you see that?
Shooter McGavin: Yes. Nice shot.
Virginia: He just got a Hole-in-One on a *par four*!
Shooter McGavin: I know. I just said I saw it.
Virginia: [laughs] Oh, I hope he *wins*. He’s a publicist’s *dream*. I mean, a guy who could drive the ball *that* far - oh, he could *really* draw a crowd.
[Virginia walks away smiling]
Shooter McGavin: [under his breath] You know what *else* could draw a crowd? A golfer with an arm growing out of his ass.
[Shooter follows Virginia scowling]
Grandma: Sir, can I trouble you for a glass of warm milk? It helps me go to sleep.
Nursing Home Orderly: You can trouble me for a warm glass of shut-the-hell-up! Now, you will go to sleep! Or I will PUT you to sleep. Check out the name tag. You’re in MY world now, grandma!
Announcer: Quite a large and economically diverse crowd here at the Michelob Invitational. I guess it’s the new tour sensation Happy Gilmore who’s attracting all sorts of people to this beautiful course.
Happy Gilmore: [to Chubbs about Shooter] Hey, if I saw myself in clothes like that, I’d have to kick my own ass.
Happy Gilmore: I got into this tournament for one reason: money. And now I have a new reason: kicking your ass!
Shooter McGavin: Well, I’d like to see you try.
Happy Gilmore: [Picks up beer bottle and smashes it in half] Let’s do it, then!
Shooter McGavin: I meant on a golf course!
Virginia: Hey! What’s going on here, huh?
Happy Gilmore: Oh, uh, I was just looking for the other half of this bottle and there’s some of it and there’s some of it right there, too.
Virginia: Why don’t you just put it down?
Happy Gilmore: Yeah, I know.
Shooter McGavin: You’re in big trouble though, pal. I eat pieces of shit like you for breakfast!
Happy Gilmore: [laughing] You eat pieces of shit for breakfast?
Shooter McGavin: [long pause] No!
Chubbs: It’s all in the hips. It’s all in the hips. It’s all in the hips. It’s all in the hips.
Happy Gilmore: Get off of me!
Chubbs: Just easin’ the tension, baby. Just easin’ the tension!
Happy Gilmore: Yeah, well ease it on someone else.
Terry: All you ever talk about is becoming a pro hockey player, but there’s a problem: you’re not any good.
Happy Gilmore: I am good. You know what, you’re a lousy kindergarten teacher. I’ve seen those finger-paintings you bring home and they SUCK.
Happy Gilmore: [to his golf ball] You little son of a bitch ball! Why you don’t you just go HOME? That’s your HOME! Are you too good for your HOME? ANSWER ME! SUCK MY WHITE ASS, BALL!
Crazy Old Lady: Mister! Mister! Get me outta here!
Happy Gilmore: Here, eat that and leave us alone!
Happy Gilmore: [to Shooter] Happy learned how to putt! Uh-oh!
Happy Gilmore: Where are you going with those clubs, punk?
[pushes young caddy to the ground]
Happy’s Waterbury Caddy: Mr. Gilmore, I’m your caddy!
Happy Gilmore: Oh, I’m sorry about that. Let me carry these, alright, they were my grandfather’s, they’re pretty old.
Happy’s Waterbury Caddy: Well, what should I do then?
Happy Gilmore: I don’t know. Why don’t you just watch me, and make sure I don’t do anything stupid. Okay?
Starter #1: Mr. Gilmore, Mr. Lafferty will be teeing off now.
Happy Gilmore: Alright, good luck, buddy.
Happy’s Waterbury Caddy: Get out the way.
[crowd laughs]
Happy Gilmore: [to caddy] Where were you on that one, dipshit?
Shooter McGavin: [to the spectators] Damn you people. This is golf. Not a rock concert.
Chubbs: Golf’s no different from Hockey. It requires talent and self discipline.
Happy Gilmore: Golf requires goofy pants and a fat ass. You should talk to my neighbor, the accountant. Probably a great golfer… huge ass.
Chubbs: Hey, I’ll bet your neighbor the accountant can’t drive the ball four hundred yards. I’ll bet your neighbor the accountant doesn’t have a shot to get on the Pro Tour!
Happy Gilmore: And how would I do that?
Chubbs: You win the Open tomorrow, and you’re automatically on the Pro Tour. Then who knows? Maybe you’ll win the Tour Championship one day. Get that gold jacket that I never got.
Happy Gilmore: Gold jacket, green jacket, who gives a shit?
[Shooter McGavin has just hit the ball on Mr. Larson’s foot]
Mr. Larson: That’s two thus far, Shooter.
Shooter McGavin: Oh, you can count. Good for you.
Mr. Larson: And *you* can count, on *me*, waiting for *you* in the parking lot.
Happy Gilmore: That’s my puck, baby, don’t you ever touch my puck.
Shooter McGavin: [to Happy] Stop fraternizing with the help Gilmore. Just hit your ball… if you can find it.
[Shooter has just purchased Happy’s Grandmothers house]
Happy Gilmore: What the hell is the matter with you?
Shooter McGavin: Well, Real Estate is a hobby of mine…
[Happy goes to hit McGavin]
Shooter McGavin: Ah ah. You lay another finger on me, I burn the house down and piss on the ashes.
Virginia: What the hell is going on here
Happy Gilmore: Erm… I was just looking for the other half of this bottle. Oh. There’s some… and some more.
[Happy Gilmore cheers and uses a golf club to do bull dance]
Gary Potter: [to his caddy] Doin’ the Bull Dance. Feelin’ the flow. Workin’ it. Workin’ it.
[the press is interviewing Shooter McGavin]
Shooter McGavin: I tell you, the real winner today is the city of Portland. Every time I come here it gets hard to leave. I bet you put something to the water.
[Shooter McGavin is holding a speech for other golf players]
Shooter McGavin: Thank you, Doug. You know, I saw Doug playing yesterday. And I’ve got to tell you, this guy spends more time in the sand than David Hasselhoff!
Happy Gilmore: [to the clown hole at the mini-golf course after it spits out his ball] You’re gonna die, clown!
[breaks its nose off with his golf club]
[an alligator eats Happy’s ball]
Happy Gilmore: That Son of a Bitch. Give me my ball, come on, pop it up, you dirty bastard. I swear I’m gonna… give the ball, alligator. Hey, you’ve got one eye, Chubbs. You took his hand.
Happy Gilmore: [to Chubbs] I’m stupid. You’re smart. I was wrong. You were right. You’re the best. I’m the worst. You’re very good-looking. I’m not attractive.
Donald: Hey Gilmore, you suck ya jackass.
Happy Gilmore: Why don’t you shut the hell up.
[during a fight with Bob Barker]
Happy Gilmore: Now you’re gonna get it Bobby.
Announcer: We haven’t seen Happy Gilmore play this badly since his first day on tour. He and Bob Barker are now dead last.
Bob Barker: I can’t believe you’re a professional golfer. I think you should be working at the snack bar.
Happy Gilmore: You better relax, Bob.
Bob Barker: There is no way that you could have been as bad at hockey as you are at golf.
Happy Gilmore: All right, let’s go.
[Happy punches Bob in the face. Bob grunts as he stumbles to the ground]
Happy Gilmore: [after punching Bob Barker to the ground] You like THAT old man? You want a piece of ME?
Bob Barker: [shakes his head as he get up from the ground] I don’t want a PIECE of you… I want the whole THING!
[Bob punches Happy in the stomach once then punches him in the face ten times. His tenth blow causes happy to fall into a small pond]
[Shooter has just stolen the jacket]
Mr. Larson: I believe that’s Mr. Gilmore’s.
Chubbs: Spoken like a true asshole.
Mover: I’ll tell you what, you hit a ball past my ball, and we’ll go straight back to work so you can watch your precious hockey game.
Happy Gilmore: Give me the stupid club.
[approaches the ball on the tee]
Happy Gilmore: [judging the club] Look at this stupid thing.
Mover: This is going to be hilarious. I mean, look how he’s standing.
Happy Gilmore: [sarcastically] Yeah you like that?
[Happy hits the ball, hits the window to the house at the end of the street]
Mover: Holy shit.
Happy Gilmore: Go back to work.
Mover: That house is like four hundred yards away.
Happy Gilmore: Is that good?
Mover: That’s unbelieveable.
Mover: Beginner’s luck. Twenty bucks says you can’t do it again.
Happy Gilmore: Bring it on.
[Happy hits the ball in the same direction]
Distant neighbor: You boys are going to pay for that. Ow.
Mover: You hit that guy.
Happy Gilmore: He shouldn’t have been standing there.
Mover: One more time, double or nothing.
Happy Gilmore: You better pay up.
[Happy hits the ball, ball hits a woman on the roof of the same house, falls off]
Happy Gilmore: Oops. All right, maybe we should get back inside.
[to Bob Barker after Donald insults Happy]
Happy Gilmore: I’d love to punch that guy in the face right now. But I can’t, you know, because I’d get in trouble. I bet you get a lot of that on “Let’s Make A Deal.”
Bob Barker: It’s “The Price Is Right,” Happy.
Happy Gilmore: [grimaces in embarrassment] Oh, yeah. Sorry.
Bob Barker: It happens. Let’s play some golf.
Happy Gilmore: Okay.
[Happy Gilmore appears at a court hearing after having fought with Bob Barker]
Shooter McGavin: Hey, Happy Gilmore! Come on down!
Virginia: [stopping Happy from fighting Shooter] Hey, Hey, Hey, Hey! You want to beat him? Beat him on the course.
Happy Gilmore: That’s right, I’m gonna beat your ass on the course!
Shooter McGavin: Yeah, right. And Grizzly Adams had a beard.
Lee Trevino: Grizzly Adams *did* have a beard.
Donald: [to Happy] You’re gonna need a blanket and suntan lotion, cause you’re never gonna get off that beach, just like the way you never got into the NHL… you jackass!
Donald: [to Happy] You will not make this putt… you jackass!
Happy Gilmore: [after missing a slap shot by far] Dammit! Is that goal regulation size or what? Sheesh!
Shooter McGavin: [after Happy putts for Waterbury victory, sort of disappointed] Oh, he’s gonna be on the tour that’s… that’s super.
[Happy does a funny victory “dance” with his caddy]
Shooter McGavin: That’s… that’s cute.
Donald: [to Shooter on the phone] Shooter! Great to hear from you! You wanna go to the Sizzler and get some grub?
Happy Gilmore: [to Shooter after hitting a longer drive] Somebody’s closer!
Virginia: [Happy has just been hit by a car] Happy! Happy are you okay?
Happy Gilmore: [groaning] Volkswagen!
Donald: [out of the window, driving the car] Jackass!
[after Happy finally sinks his putt after 7 tries]
Guy on Green: It’s about time!
Happy Gilmore: Yeah it is about time. I mean I just couldn’t get the ball in the hole. I *wanted* to but I just couldn’t do it.
[Happy rips off the guys shirt, and punches him in the stomach]
Happy Gilmore: That guy’s driving me crazy.
Bob Barker: You know what’s driving me crazy? You not getting the ball in the hole!
Happy Gilmore: Don’t push me, Bob. Now’s not the time!
Bob Barker: [to Happy after beating him up] Now, you’ve had enough… bitch.
Chinese Lady: [to Happy] Hey! You no want breakfast?
Virginia: I thought we were going to be just friends.
Happy Gilmore: What? Friends listen to “Endless Love” in the dark.
Chubbs: [Happy visits his happy place one last time, he sees Chubbs] Shut up, Happy. Don’t feel bad about me. I got my hand back, see?
[Chubbs plays and sings “We’ve Only Just Begun” on the piano]
Bob Barker: [about Happy] This guy sucks!
[Happy sinks an amazing putt]
Happy Gilmore: [to Shooter] Did that go in? I wasn’t watching, did it go in? I didn’t see it, could you tell me if it went in?
Happy Gilmore: You know that alligator that got your hand? Well I got his HEAD!
[first lines]
[opening narration voice over]
Happy Gilmore: My name is Happy Gilmore. Ever since I was old enough to skate, I loved hockey. I wasn’t really the greatest skater though. But that didn’t stop my dad from teaching me the secret of smacking his greatest slap shot.
[Young Happy, hits a hard plastic ball into his father’s forehead]
Mr. Larson: [after bending Shooter’s club and while he’s quickly walking away] Hey Shooter, haven’t you forgot your nine iron.
Donald: Good shooting soldier!
Doctor: Well, You’re a little banged up but no serious injury’s. Just keep off your feet for a few days.
Happy Gilmore: To Hell with that, I gotta finish up.
Doctor: Fine! Do whatever you like. What would I know, I’m just a Doctor.
Gary Potter: Harness in the good energy, block out the bad. Harness. Energy. Block. Bad. It’s like a carousel. You put the quarter in, you get on the horse, it goes up and down, and around. Circular, circle. Feel it. Go with the flow.
Happy Gilmore: Psycho.
Coach: Number 18, is that Gilmore again? How many times has this guy tried out, anyway?
Assistant Coach: At least ten times. Guy’s got alot of intensity.
Coach: Not a real strong skater, though.
Assistant Coach: Ain’t the best puck handler, either.
Coach: Yeah, but my god…
[Happy fires a shot, and it shatters the glass in front of the coaches]
Assistant Coach: What a shot.
Happy Gilmore: [to Shooter] It ain’t over, McGavin. The way I see it… we’ve only just begun.
Happy Gilmore: [speaking to shooter after making his first drive of the championship] Do you know what the pathetic thing is? You have been doing this your whole life.
[seeing Happy on TV]
Chubbs: What are you doing Happy? Riding a bull? You’re acting like a damn fool!
Nursing Home Orderly: I guess that alligator finally finished the job.
[a TV is broadcasting Happy’s tirade on the golf course]
Happy Gilmore: Piece of monkey shit!
Grandma: Who are you waving at, Happy?
Happy Gilmore: Nobody, Grandma. Let’s go home.
Announcer: Happy Gilmore is in big trouble, Jack. He’s lost the power to hit the long ball.
Bob Barker: How you doing, Happy? I’m Bob Barker.
Happy Gilmore: What an honor. How nice to meet you.
Bob Barker: Looks like you and I are going to be playing together today.
Happy Gilmore: [to Chubbs] A guy your size, why don’t you play a real sport, like football?
Chubbs: My Momma wouldn’t sign the permission slip. Said it might be a little too dangerous.
Happy Gilmore: Yeah, good call.
Happy Gilmore: [to himself] Oh, God, that hurt a little, but I’m alright.
Happy Gilmore: [to the golfers] Step right up, folks. See if you can out drive the amazing Golf Ball, uh, Whacker Guy!
Happy Gilmore: [to Grandma] I’m telling you this place is perfect, you’re gonna make friends in no time.

Irene P. Waters: Could we maybe get Charlie back out here for a huddle?
Hank Evans: Sure, and while I’m at it, why don’t you go climb that telephone pole and take a big steamy piss on the power lines! Look, I’m not here to twist your niblets. I’m here to save your life. But to do that, I’m going to need complete uninanonomonitity.
Charlie Baileygates: Now you know the house rules, no bitches after eleven.
Charlie Baileygates: Do you people take checks?
Limo Driver: Say that again. Do we people take checks? You mean a black man?
Charlie Baileygates: No, I mean your company.
Limo Driver: Don’t give me that backtracking bullshit, that was a racist slur!
Lieutenant Gerke: The guy’s nuttier than a squirrel turd!
Chris Rock: Toss my salad, fool what’s that? Well having your salad tossed means having your asshole eaten out with jelly or syrup. I prefer syrup.
Charlie Baileygates: He’s a funny motherfucker!
Jamaal: Our daddy may have advanced delusionary schizophrenia with involuntary narcissistic rage. But he is a very gentle person!
Hank Evans: [singing to The Dwarves’ MotherFucker] I’m a Motherfucker! I’m a Motherfucker! I’m a Mo-Mo-Mo-Mo-Mo-Mo-Mo-Mo-Mo…
[sees Irene with a lawn dart at the ready]
Hank Evans: Whoa, whoa, whoa,
[turns off radio]
Hank Evans: What’s the buzz? Tell me what’s happenin’.
Hank Evans: Vagiclean,” huh? What’s the matter, honey? Little extra cheese on the taco?
Mrs. Bittman: Excuse me?
Hank Evans: No, excuse me. There’s no tag on this.
[grabs microphone]
Hank Evans: Price check on Vagiclean, aisle five. I repeat: price check on Vagiclean, aisle five. That’s Vagiclean. We’ve got a customer down here with a full-on fallopian fungus. She’s baking a loaf of bread and I think it’s sourdough.
[When a guy throws a cigarette butt onto the ground]
Hank Evans: Well fuck my ozone.
Hank Evans: Hey ringworm…
[Softball Player looks around]
Hank Evans: Yeah I’m talking to you, you toxic waste of life. You gonna pick that butt up, or do I have to glue it to the end of my shoe and stick it in your big fat pimply a-hole?
Softball Player: Hey buddy, chill out. It’s just a cigarette.
Hank Evans: Oh yeah? Well this is just a fist. But when I start throwing it around I can leave one hell of a mess.
Lee Harvey: Hey, Jamaal, just cut my man some slack.
Jamaal: Look I’m just trying to help him save face, okay? If he keep asking questions like that, motherfuckers gonna think he stupid.
Shonte Jr.: I ain’t stupid.
Charlie Baileygates: Hey, morning boys. What’s all the commotion?
Jamaal: Oh you know, just school shit and shit.
Shonte Jr.: Okay so I add up the atomic masses of the proton and neutron, I see’s that, but what do I do with the goddam electron? Can I bring it over here?
Jamaal: Enrico Fermi would roll over in his motherfucking grave if he heard that stupid shit. I mean he would just turn over ass up in your face and wouldn’t give a fuck!
Shonte Jr.: Damn. I can’t figure out the atomic mass of this motherfuckin’ deutron!
Jamaal: Shit, that’s simple. Tell me this-what’s a deutron made of?
Shonte Jr.: A proton and a neutron.
Jamaal: Then what’s this motherfuckin’ electron doing over here?
Shonte Jr.: I don’t know.
Jamaal: Well get it outta there then!
Charlie Baileygates: I never said anything remotely racist!
Limo Driver: Oooh, so it’s the little people thing, than?
Charlie Baileygates: No!
Limo Driver: You think just coz I’m small you can just push me around? Well, come on my friend. Let’s boogie! I’m gonna give a little lesson in low center of gravity!
[Limo Driver chases Charlie]
Charlie Baileygates: Hey, cut it! Stop it now, Sir!
Limo Driver: Don’t patronize me with that ‘Sir’ crap!
Jamaal: Lee Harvey, what’s the diameter of a chicken egg?
Lee Harvey: 4.08 centimeters.
Jamaal: No what’s that in inches?
Lee Harvey: 1.61, what the fuck you gettin’ at?
Jamaal: I got ten bucks saying I can squeeze a chicken egg up his ass without it breaking.
Shonte Jr.: You can’t put no chicken egg up his ass, Man, look at him, he a tightass.