RocknRolla

"People ask the question... what's a RocknRolla? And I tell 'em - it's not about drums, drugs, and hospital drips, oh no. There's 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, he's different. Why? Because a real RocknRolla wants the fucking lot."

"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."

"No need to worry just yet, fellas. Nothing’s gonna happen while we're standing in the lift. Because then they'd 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 shouldn't have brought me here, fellas. You're just going to end up as witnesses. Once they've "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, he's 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, it's 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 I'm 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."

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

"Right, let me tell you how this works. You're going in the drink, and I'm 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, I'm gonna ask you a question, just one question. You're gonna give me a name. And if it's the right name, I'm gonna send you home warm and dry in a fresh set of clothes. If it's the wrong name, you'll be fed to the crayfish. They're American, these crayfish. Big, hungry bastards. And like most things American, they've eaten the natives...but they've still got room for more."

"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 didn't, did you? And nobody else fucking did either, did they? Because he ain't dead. He's alive, alive-o somewhere selling cockles and mussels and a very important painting that doesn't belong to him."

"Now, listen to me, boy. Listen. I never did like you, neither did your real dad. You're a reject, a wrong and a fuckin' fairy in the mirror that I inherited from your mom. But she ain't with us no more, so now it's just you and me. In one week you're going back to school. The most expensive fuckin' school in the country, I might add. Then you'll be gone for another term. In the meantime, show some gratitude and keep the fuckin' music down!!"

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

"Beauty is a cruel mistress."

"Have you ever bought a ticket to the junkie's boneyard, Roman? It's an unpleasant place, called 'curl up and die'. Might sound like a hair salon, but it don't fuckin' look like one, I can tell ya. It's 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. I've been there, and I've 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; he's what you call class. And if you had any fucking brains, Roman, you'd 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...you'll be the first to know. [winks]"

"Gerard Butler - One Two"

"Tom Wilkinson - Lenny Cole"

"Thandie Newton - Stella"

"Mark Strong - Archy"

"Idris Elba - Mumbles"

"Tom Hardy - Handsome Bob"

"Karel Roden - Uri Omovich"

"Toby Kebbell - Johnny Quid"

"Jeremy Piven - Roman"

"Ludacris - Mickey"

"Jimi Mistry - Councillor"

"Matt King - Cookie"