Photos
Quotes
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Bernadette : No, I'll join this conversation on the proviso that we stop bitching about people, talking about wigs, dresses, bust sizes, penises, drugs, night clubs, and bloody Abba!
Tick : Doesn't give us much to talk about then, does it?
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Tick : [to Felicia] Is it true when you were born the doctor turned around and slapped your mother?
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Tick : [Tick and Bernadette are discussing what it would be like to have children] What happens if they turn out like Adam?
Bernadette : You stuff 'em back in and ask for a refund.
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Mitzi : [to Felicia] You know, there are two things I don't like about you, Felicia... your face. So how 'bout shutting both of them?
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Bernadette : Oh. Uh, gather around girls, uh, let me show you a trick. You, um, drink the Gin...
[guzzles the entire contents]
Bernadette : Aaah! Uh, fill the bottle up with water and then put it back in the fridge.
Mitzi : Va-t'en vous. What about the scotch?
Bernadette : Aha! That's where the complimentary tea bags come in handy.
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Mitzi : [about Trumpet] , You know, I never heard him play.
Bernadette : Play? He didn't *play*, dear. Trumpet didn't have a single musical bone in his body. No, Trumpet had an unusually large foreskin. So large, in fact, that he could wrap the entire thing around a Monte Carlo biscuit.
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Felicia : I mean who is the fish that runs this bloody hotel in the middle of nowhere, anyway? Your mother?
Tick : No, my wife.
Felicia : Ooh, don't tell me you've got an ex-boyfriend tucked away out here somewhere.
Tick : No, my wife! I'm married.
[the bus brakes screech and glass shatters]
Tick : Oh, fuck!
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Mitzi : [to Felicia] Bernice has left her cake out in the rain!
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Bernadette : Tony, Adam. This is Mr. and Mrs. Spencer.
Tick : Hello.
Felicia : Hello.
[the car drives off leaving them stranded]
Felicia : No, wait. Stop! Shit!.
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Aboriginal Man : So... You actually make money by dressing up like a woman?
Tick : Oh, sure. You can make a fine living in a pair of heels.
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Tick : [to Felicia] Night, John Boy.
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Mitzi : [as Felicia starts painting over the graffiti on their bus, which is stranded in the middle of nowhere] Purple?
Felicia : It's not *purple*, it's *lavender*. Whaddaya think?
Mitzi : It's nice... in a hideous sort of a way.
Mitzi : [to Bernadette, who has started walking off] Where are *you* going?
Bernadette : If you think I'm going to sit around watching Picasso take on the public transit system, you've got another thing coming. I'll be back with the cavalry in a couple of hours.
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Mitzi : [to Felicia and Bernadette] Oh, get back in your kennels, both of you.
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Mitzi : [to Felicia and Bernadette] What fun. Baby bottles of booze.
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Mitzi : [to Felicia and Bernadette] Tack-a-rama!
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[after their bus breaks down in the middle of the outback]
Tick : What's happening?
Felicia : Um, I don't know.
Bernadette : Oh, my God! Oh, Felicia. Where the Fuckawei?
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Tick : Well, listen to this one. After we did the ABBA show, Kevin had one of those liposuction penis enlargements.
Felicia : He didn't?
Tick : Yep. Do you know what they do? They siphon all the fat out of your love handles, and actually inject it into your wing-wang.
Felicia : Ugh! Yucky! I suppose it gives a whole new meaning to "cracking a fat", though, doesn't it?
[laughs]
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Tick : [to Felicia and Bernadette] I think we just crashed a party.
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Tick : [to Felicia and Bernadette] Aren't we fabulous?
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Bernadette : [dryly, eying the huge landscape murals in their hotel room] Subtle.
Mitzi : Oh, tack-a-rama! Who the hell does all the *painting* around here?
Bernadette : Someone with no arms or right foot, by the look of things.
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Tick : [to Bernadette] I've um... been asked to do a show out of town.
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Bernadette : How long is the run?
Tick : Four weeks. Equity minimum, two shows a night, accommodation included.
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Tick : [to Bernadette] Look, you're not helping, here. Just eat your hormones.
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Tick : [to Felicia] You stupid bloody idiot! Drugs, for Christ's sake! Well, three cheers for you! I hope you're bloody well happy now! You bloody fuck wit!
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Mitzi : Come on girls, off your snatches. Rehearsal time.
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Tick : [to Felicia] What sort of bent-childhood... did you have, Adam Whitely?
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Tick : [to Bob] Well, are we bunny-hopping all the way to Alice?