Brassed Off Quotes
The coal mine in a northern English village may be closing, which would also mean the end of the miners' brass band.
Phil: [as Mr. Chuckles] So God was creating man. And his little assistant came up to him and he said: "Hey, we've got all these bodies left, but we're right out of brains, we're right out of hearts and we're right out of vocal chords." And God said: "Fuck it! Sew 'em up anyway. Smack smiles on the faces and make them talk out of their arses." And lo, God created the Tory Party.
Danny: This band behind me'll tell you that that trophy means more to me than owt else in the whole world. But they'd be wrong! Truth is, I THOUGHT it mattered. I thought that MUSIC mattered. But does it bollocks? Not compared to how people matter. Us winning this trophy won't mean bugger-all to most people. But us refusing it - like what we're going to do now - well, then it becomes news, doesn't it?
[flurry of press camera shutters]
Danny: You see what I mean. That way, I'll not just be talking to myself, will I? Because over the last ten years, this bloody government has systematically destroyed an entire industry. OUR industry. And not just our industry - our communities, our homes, our lives. All in the name of "progress". And for a few lousy bob. I'll tell you something else you might not know, as well. A fortnight ago, this band's pit were closed - another thousand men lost their jobs. And that's not all they lost. Most of them lost the will to win a while ago. A few of them even lost the will to fight. But when it comes to losing the will to live, to breathe, the point is - if this lot were seals or whales, you'd all be up in bloody arms. But they're not, are they, no, no they're not. They're just ordinary common-or-garden honest, decent human beings. And not one of them with an ounce of bloody hope left. Oh aye, they can knock out a bloody good tune. But what the fuck does that matter?
[gasps emotionally, close to tears]
Danny: And now I'm going to take my boys out onto the town. Thank you.
[rapturous applause]
[flurry of press camera shutters]
Danny: You see what I mean. That way, I'll not just be talking to myself, will I? Because over the last ten years, this bloody government has systematically destroyed an entire industry. OUR industry. And not just our industry - our communities, our homes, our lives. All in the name of "progress". And for a few lousy bob. I'll tell you something else you might not know, as well. A fortnight ago, this band's pit were closed - another thousand men lost their jobs. And that's not all they lost. Most of them lost the will to win a while ago. A few of them even lost the will to fight. But when it comes to losing the will to live, to breathe, the point is - if this lot were seals or whales, you'd all be up in bloody arms. But they're not, are they, no, no they're not. They're just ordinary common-or-garden honest, decent human beings. And not one of them with an ounce of bloody hope left. Oh aye, they can knock out a bloody good tune. But what the fuck does that matter?
[gasps emotionally, close to tears]
Danny: And now I'm going to take my boys out onto the town. Thank you.
[rapturous applause]
[in the local shop]
Vera: Sorry, Sand, you're a bit short, love.
Sandra: How much?
Vera: One fifty? What's it to be?
[Sandra wonders what items to put back on the shelf]
Shane: What about them aeroplane things, mam?
Sandra: What?
[Shane points at Sandra's pack of sanitary towels]
Shane: Them things with wings on.
Vera: Sorry, Sand, you're a bit short, love.
Sandra: How much?
Vera: One fifty? What's it to be?
[Sandra wonders what items to put back on the shelf]
Shane: What about them aeroplane things, mam?
Sandra: What?
[Shane points at Sandra's pack of sanitary towels]
Shane: Them things with wings on.
Women on picket line: [chanting] The miners, united, will never be defeated.
Andy: Poor old biddies. Don't they know they're pissing in the wind, like the rest of us?
Ernie: Can they do that, women?
Andy: What?
Ernie: Piss in the wind.
Jim: No, Ernie. That's just the point.
Ernie: No, but on a nice day, you know, when there's no wind about. They can't - you know - get any direction on it.
Jim: All right, whatever it is that lasses do that's pointless.
Andy: Bloody hell. So much to choose from.
Phil: Fart in a force ten?
Jim: By god, Phil, you don't half know some funny women.
Harry: Steady lads. My missus does that.
All: [guffaw]
Harry: You daft bastards. Women Against Closure? That is when she's not farting in a force ten!
Andy: Poor old biddies. Don't they know they're pissing in the wind, like the rest of us?
Ernie: Can they do that, women?
Andy: What?
Ernie: Piss in the wind.
Jim: No, Ernie. That's just the point.
Ernie: No, but on a nice day, you know, when there's no wind about. They can't - you know - get any direction on it.
Jim: All right, whatever it is that lasses do that's pointless.
Andy: Bloody hell. So much to choose from.
Phil: Fart in a force ten?
Jim: By god, Phil, you don't half know some funny women.
Harry: Steady lads. My missus does that.
All: [guffaw]
Harry: You daft bastards. Women Against Closure? That is when she's not farting in a force ten!
