"May 27. Commander Prothero toured the lab with a priest, Father Lilliman, who I was told is here to monitor for rules and rights violations. It made me nervous, but the commander assured me there wouldn't be a problem."

"May 23. My first batch of subjects arrived today, and I have to admit that I am very excited. This could be the dawn of a new age. Nuclear power is meaningless in a world where a virus can kill an entire population and leave its wealth intact..."

"I remember how the meaning of words began to change. How unfamiliar words like "collateral" and "rendition" became frightening, while things like Norsefire and the Articles of Allegiance became powerful. I remember how different became dangerous. I still don't understand it, why they hate us so much. They took Ruth while she was out buying food. I've never cried so hard in my life. It wasn't long till they came for me. It seems strange that my life should end in such a terrible place, but for three years, I had roses and apologised to no-one. I shall die here. Every inch of me will perish. Every inch but one. An inch … it is small, and it is fragile, but it is the only thing in the world worth having. We must never lose it or give it away. We must never let them take it from us. I hope that, whoever you are, you escape this place. I hope that the world turns and that things get better. But what I hope most of all is that you understand what I mean when I tell you that, even though I do not know you, and even though I may never meet you, laugh with you, cry with you, or kiss you, I love you. With all my heart, I love you. Valerie."

"I'd always known what I wanted to do with my life, and in 2015 I starred in my first film, The Salt Flats. It was the most important role in my life, not because of my career, but because that was how I met Ruth. The first time we kissed, I knew I never wanted to kiss any other lips but hers again. We moved to a small flat in London together. She grew scarlet carsons for me in our window box, and our place always smelled of roses. Those were the best years of my life. But America's war grew worse and worse … and eventually came to London. After that, there were no roses anymore. Not for anyone."

"I know there's no way I can convince you this is not one of their tricks, but I don't care; I am me. My name is Valerie. I don't think I'll live much longer, and I wanted to tell someone about my life. This is the only autobiography I'll ever write, and God - I'm writing it on toilet paper. I was born in Nottingham in 1985. I don't remember much of those early years, but I do remember the rain. My grandmother owned a farm in Tuttlebrook, and she used to tell me that God was in the rain. I passed my 11th lesson into girl's grammar. It was at school that I met my first girlfriend. Her name was Sara. It was her wrists. They were beautiful. I thought we would love each other forever. I remember our teacher telling us that it was an adolescent phase people outgrew. Sara did. I didn't. In 2002, I fell in love with a girl named Christina. That year I came out to my parents. I couldn't have done it without Chris holding my hand. My father wouldn't look at me; he told me to go and never come back. My mother said nothing. But I had only told them the truth. Was that so selfish? Our integrity sells for so little, but it is all we really have. It is the very last inch of us, but within that inch, we are free."

"I wish I believed that was possible. But every time I've seen this world change, it's always been for the worse."

"Artists use lies to tell the truth, while politicians use them to cover the truth up."

"I remember them arguing at night. Mum wanted to leave the country. Dad refused. He said if we ran away, they would win. Win, like it was a game."

"No-one will ever forget that night, and what it meant to this country. But I will never forget the man, and what he meant to me."

"I worried about myself for a while. But one day I was at a market and a friend, someone I'd worked with at the BTN, got in line behind me. I was so nervous that when the cashier asked me for my money I dropped it. My friend picked it up and handed it to me. She looked me right in the eye and didn't recognise me. I guess whatever you did to me worked better than I'd ever have imagined."

"A fake ID works a lot better than a Guy Fawkes mask."

"God is in the rain."

"Are you like a crazy person?"

""Remember, remember The fifth of November The gunpowder treason and plot. I know of no reason Why the gunpowder treason Should ever be forgot." But what of the man? I know his name was Guy Fawkes, and I know that, in 1605, he attempted to blow up the houses of Parliament. But who was he really? What was he like? We are told to remember the idea, not the man, because a man can fail. He can be caught. He can be killed and forgotten. But four hundred years later an idea can still change the world. I've witnessed first-hand the power of ideas. I've seen people kill in the name of them, and die defending them. But you cannot kiss an idea, cannot touch it, or hold it. Ideas do not bleed. They do not feel pain. They do not love. And it is not an idea that I miss, it is a man. A man that made me remember the fifth of November. A man that I will never forget."

"There is a face beneath this mask, but it's not me. I'm no more that face than I am the muscles beneath it, or the bones beneath them."

"Vi veri veniversum vivus vici"

"Our story begins, as these stories often do, with a young, up-and-coming politician. He's a deeply religious man and a member of the Conservative Party. He's completely single-minded and has no regard for the political process. The more power he attains, the more obvious his zealotry and the more aggressive his supporters become. Eventually, his party launches a special project in the name of "national security". At first, it's believed to be a search for biological weapons and is pursued without regard to its cost. However, the true goal of this project is power, complete and total hegemonic domination. The project, however, ends violently; but the efforts of those involved are not in vain, for a new ability to wage war is born from the blood of one of the victims. Imagine a virus, the most terrifying virus you can, and then imagine that you, and you alone, have the cure. But if your ultimate goal is power, how best to use such a weapon? It's at this point in our story that along comes a spider. He is a man seemingly without a conscience, for whom the ends always justify the means, and it is he who suggests that their target should not be an enemy of the country but rather the country itself. Three targets are chosen to maximise the effect of the attack: a school, a tube station, and a water treatment plant. Several hundred die within the first few weeks. Fueled by the media, fear and panic spread quickly, fracturing and dividing the country until, at last, the true goal comes into view. Before the St Mary's crisis, no-one would have predicted the results of the election that year. No-one. And then, not long after the election, lo and behold, a miracle. Some believe it was the work of God himself, but it was a pharmaceutical company controlled by certain party members that made them all obscenely rich. A year later, several extremists are tried, found guilty, and executed, while a memorial is built to canonise their victims. But the end result, the true genius of the plan, was the fear. Fear became the ultimate tool of this government, and through it, our politician was ultimately appointed to the newly-created position of high chancellor. The rest, as they say, is history."

"Good evening, London. Allow me first to apologize for this interruption. I do, like many of you, appreciate the comforts of everyday routine, the security of the familiar, the tranquillity of repetition. I enjoy them as much as any bloke. But in the spirit of commemoration, whereby those important events of the past, usually associated with someone's death or the end of some awful bloody struggle, are celebrated with a nice holiday, I thought we could mark this November the fifth, a day that is sadly no longer remembered, by taking some time out of our daily lives to sit down and have a little chat. There are, of course, those who do not want us to speak. I suspect even now, orders are being shouted into telephones, and men with guns will soon be on their way. Why? Because while the truncheon may be used in lieu of conversation, words will always retain their power. Words offer the means to meaning, and for those who will listen, the enunciation of truth. And the truth is, there is something terribly wrong with this country, isn't there? Cruelty and injustice, intolerance and oppression. And where once you had the freedom to object, to think and speak as you saw fit, you now have censors and systems of surveillance coercing your conformity and soliciting your submission. How did this happen? Who's to blame? Well, certainly, there are those who are more responsible than others, and they will be held accountable. But again, truth be told, if you're looking for the guilty, you need only look into a mirror. I know why you did it. I know you were afraid. Who wouldn't be? War, terror, disease. They were a myriad of problems which conspired to corrupt your reason and rob you of your common sense. Fear got the best of you, and in your panic, you turned to the now high chancellor, Adam Sutler. He promised you order, he promised you peace, and all he demanded in return was your silent, obedient consent. Last night, I sought to end that silence. Last night, I destroyed the Old Bailey to remind this country of what it has forgotten. More than four hundred years ago, a great citizen wished to embed the fifth of November forever in our memory. His hope was to remind the world that fairness, justice, and freedom are more than words; they are perspectives. So if you've seen nothing, if the crimes of this government remain unknown to you, then I would suggest that you allow the fifth of November to pass unmarked. But if you see what I see, if you feel as I feel, and if you would seek as I seek, then I ask you to stand beside me, one year from tonight, outside the gates of Parliament, and together we shall give them a fifth of November that shall never, ever be forgot!"

"Voilà! In view, a humble vaudevillian veteran, cast vicariously as both victim and villain by the vicissitudes of Fate. This visage, no mere veneer of vanity, is a vestige of the vox populi, now vacant, vanished. However, this valorous visitation of a bygone vexation stands vivified, and has vowed to vanquish these venal and virulent vermin vanguarding vice and vouchsafing the violently vicious and voracious violation of volition! (carves the letter V in sign with his knife) The only verdict is vengeance; a vendetta held as a votive, not in vain, for the value and veracity of such shall one day vindicate the vigilant and the virtuous. (laughs wheezily) Verily, this vichyssoise of verbiage veers most verbose, so let me simply add that it's my very good honour to meet you and you may call me V."

"Beneath this mask, there is more than flesh. Beneath this mask, there is an idea, Mr Creedy. And ideas are bulletproof!"

"I swallowed a bug."

"Noël Burton - the Clinko Learning instructor"

"Earl Paskto as the Bartender"

"Sylvain Landry as Sammy"

"Christian Tessier as Mickey"

"Michael Byrne - Parson staffer"

"Tim Post - the Assistant Planetship"

"Shaun Austin-Olsen - Planetship Numph"

"Michael MacRae - District Manager Zete"

"Kelly Preston - Chirk"

"Richard Tyson - Robert the Fox"

"Sabine Karesenti - Chrissy"

"Kim Coates - Carlo"

"Forest Whitaker as Ker"

"Barry Pepper - Jonnie Goodboy Tyler"

"John Travolta - Terl"

"On May 12, we fight back."

"Prepare to go Psychlo"

"Take back the planet"

"Prepare for battle"

"...even by Hollywood's titanic standards, Battlefield Earth stands out as an example of blind hubris and folly ... how could such a movie happen?"

"...the greatest White Zombie-GWAR music video ever ... If filmmaking has ever been less thrilling and more disengaging, I'd like to see it."

"...an authentic howler of the Big Dumb and Loud school..."

"...breathtakingly awful in concept and execution... trite, befogged and dorky... glowering, humorless, clumsily rendered."

"...like taking a bus trip with someone who has needed a bath for a long time... something historic, a film that for decades to come will be the punch line of jokes about bad movies."

"...a picture that will be hailed without controversy as the worst of its kind ever made."

"The plot depends on the most ludicrous decisions and senseless actions ever made by a thinking race."

"Battlefield Earth has the feel of a movie made by a precocious 8-year-old with access to too many leftover costumes from Clan of the Cave Bear and Star Trek: The Next Generation."

"Look at the bright side! You may not be wallowing in luxury on Psychlo, but at least you finally got your gold. [laughs]"

"I'm going to fire all my wives and buy new ones! Maybe pretty ones this time."