Chicken Run Quotes
When a bird "flies" into a chicken farm, the fellow chickens see him as an opportunity to escape their evil owners.
[last lines]
Nick: Here's a thought. Why don't we get an egg and start our own chicken farm? That way we'd have all the eggs we could eat.
Fetcher: Right. We'll need a chicken, then.
Nick: No... no, we'll need an egg. You have the egg first, that's where you get the chicken from.
Fetcher: No, that's cobblers. If you don't have a chicken, where are you going to get the egg?
Nick: From the chicken that comes from the egg.
Fetcher: Yeah, but you have to have an egg to have a chicken.
Nick: Yeah, but you've got to get the chicken first to get the egg, and then you get the egg... to get the chicken out of...
Fetcher: Hang on. Let's go over this again?
Nick: Here's a thought. Why don't we get an egg and start our own chicken farm? That way we'd have all the eggs we could eat.
Fetcher: Right. We'll need a chicken, then.
Nick: No... no, we'll need an egg. You have the egg first, that's where you get the chicken from.
Fetcher: No, that's cobblers. If you don't have a chicken, where are you going to get the egg?
Nick: From the chicken that comes from the egg.
Fetcher: Yeah, but you have to have an egg to have a chicken.
Nick: Yeah, but you've got to get the chicken first to get the egg, and then you get the egg... to get the chicken out of...
Fetcher: Hang on. Let's go over this again?
Mr. Tweedy: What is it?
Mrs. Tweedy: It's a pie machine, you idiot. Chickens go in, pies come out.
Mr. Tweedy: Ooh. What kind of pies?
Mrs. Tweedy: Apple.
Mr. Tweedy: My favourite!
Mrs. Tweedy: Chicken pies, you great lummox! Imagine. In less than a fortnight, every grocers' in the county will be stocked with box upon box of Mrs. Tweedy's Homemade Chicken Pies.
Mr. Tweedy: Just "Mrs."?
Mrs. Tweedy: Woman's touch. Makes the public feel more comfortable.
Mrs. Tweedy: It's a pie machine, you idiot. Chickens go in, pies come out.
Mr. Tweedy: Ooh. What kind of pies?
Mrs. Tweedy: Apple.
Mr. Tweedy: My favourite!
Mrs. Tweedy: Chicken pies, you great lummox! Imagine. In less than a fortnight, every grocers' in the county will be stocked with box upon box of Mrs. Tweedy's Homemade Chicken Pies.
Mr. Tweedy: Just "Mrs."?
Mrs. Tweedy: Woman's touch. Makes the public feel more comfortable.
Rocky: You see, over in America, we have this rule. If you want to motivate someone, don't - mention - death!
Ginger: Funny; the rule here is: always tell the truth.
Rocky: Boy, that's been working like a real charm, hasn't it? Let me give you some free advice: you want them to perform? Tell them what they wanna hear.
Ginger: You mean lie?
Ginger: Funny; the rule here is: always tell the truth.
Rocky: Boy, that's been working like a real charm, hasn't it? Let me give you some free advice: you want them to perform? Tell them what they wanna hear.
Ginger: You mean lie?
Rocky: Wait a minute. Let me get this straight. You wanna get every chicken in this place out of here *at the same time*?
Ginger: Of course.
Rocky: You're certifiable! You can't pull off a stunt like that; that's suicide.
Ginger: Where there's a will, there's a way.
Rocky: Couldn't agree more. And I *will* be leaving *that* way.
Ginger: Of course.
Rocky: You're certifiable! You can't pull off a stunt like that; that's suicide.
Ginger: Where there's a will, there's a way.
Rocky: Couldn't agree more. And I *will* be leaving *that* way.
[Fowler is hesitant about piloting the Crate]
Ginger: Fowler, you *have* to fly it. You're always talking about "back in your day"; well, *today* is your day.
[extends to Fowler his medal]
Bunty: You can do it, you old sausage.
Fowler: [stares at the medal for a moment, takes it, and salutes Ginger] Wing Commander T.I. Fowler, reporting for duty.
Ginger: Fowler, you *have* to fly it. You're always talking about "back in your day"; well, *today* is your day.
[extends to Fowler his medal]
Bunty: You can do it, you old sausage.
Fowler: [stares at the medal for a moment, takes it, and salutes Ginger] Wing Commander T.I. Fowler, reporting for duty.
Ginger: Um, I just wanted to say, I may have been a bit harsh at first. Well, what I really mean is: thank you, for saving my life. For saving *our* lives. You know, I come up here every night and look out to that hill, and imagine what it must be like on the other side. It's funny, I've - I've never actually felt grass beneath my feet. I'm sorry. Here I am rambling on about hills and grass, and you had something you wanted to say.
Rocky: Uh, y-yeah. Um, it's just that, you know... life, as I've experienced it - you know, out there lone free rangin' and stuff - it's, uh... it's full of dissapointment, and, uh...
Ginger: What, you mean grass isn't all it's cracked up to be?
Rocky: Grass! Exactly, grass. It's always greener on the other side. And then you get there, and it's brown and prickly. You see what I'm trying to say?
[Ginger starts nodding but then shakes her head]
Rocky: What I'm trying to say is... you're welcome.
Ginger: You know, that hill is looking closer tonight than it ever has before.
[Ginger accidentally touches Rocky's hand and they both pull away, embarrased]
Ginger: Well, good night... Rocky.
Rocky: Good night... Ginger.
Rocky: Uh, y-yeah. Um, it's just that, you know... life, as I've experienced it - you know, out there lone free rangin' and stuff - it's, uh... it's full of dissapointment, and, uh...
Ginger: What, you mean grass isn't all it's cracked up to be?
Rocky: Grass! Exactly, grass. It's always greener on the other side. And then you get there, and it's brown and prickly. You see what I'm trying to say?
[Ginger starts nodding but then shakes her head]
Rocky: What I'm trying to say is... you're welcome.
Ginger: You know, that hill is looking closer tonight than it ever has before.
[Ginger accidentally touches Rocky's hand and they both pull away, embarrased]
Ginger: Well, good night... Rocky.
Rocky: Good night... Ginger.
Ginger: [Overturns the trough] Something is wrong here; can't you see that? Strange boxes arrive during the night. Babs stops laying but they don't take her to the chop, and now they're giving us extra food. Don't you see what's happening? They're fattening us up. They're going to kill us all.
[Chickens, with mouths full, gulp aprehensively]
[Chickens, with mouths full, gulp aprehensively]
Rocky: What's happening? What's going on?
Babs: They took Ginger, Mr. Rhodes! They're taking her to the chop!
Fowler: Well, what are you waiting for, laddie? Fly over there. Save her!
Rocky: Of course - No, No! That's just what they'd expect. But I say, we give them the old element of surprise.
Fowler: [chuckling] And catch Jerry with his trousers down. I like the sound of that; what's the plan?
Rocky: The plan... um, the plan. The plan! Uh - Babs, give me that thing. Bunty, give me a boost.
Babs: They took Ginger, Mr. Rhodes! They're taking her to the chop!
Fowler: Well, what are you waiting for, laddie? Fly over there. Save her!
Rocky: Of course - No, No! That's just what they'd expect. But I say, we give them the old element of surprise.
Fowler: [chuckling] And catch Jerry with his trousers down. I like the sound of that; what's the plan?
Rocky: The plan... um, the plan. The plan! Uh - Babs, give me that thing. Bunty, give me a boost.
Mac: [very rapidly, with a thick Scottish accent] Thrust! I went over my calculations, hen, and I forgot the key element missing is thrust!
Rocky: [after a long pause] I didn't get a word of that.
Mac: Thrust. Other birds, like ducks and geese, when they take off, what do they have?
[shouts]
Mac: Thrust!
Rocky: I swear she ain't using real words.
Ginger: She said we need more thrust.
Rocky: Oh, thrust! Of course we need thrust. Why, thrust and flying are, well, like this.
[crosses fingers]
Rocky: See, that's flying and that's thrust.
Rocky: [after a long pause] I didn't get a word of that.
Mac: Thrust. Other birds, like ducks and geese, when they take off, what do they have?
[shouts]
Mac: Thrust!
Rocky: I swear she ain't using real words.
Ginger: She said we need more thrust.
Rocky: Oh, thrust! Of course we need thrust. Why, thrust and flying are, well, like this.
[crosses fingers]
Rocky: See, that's flying and that's thrust.
Rocky: You know what your problem is? You're... difficult.
Ginger: Why? Because I'm honest? I *care* about what happens to them! Something I wouldn't expect a Lone Free Ranger to know anything about!
Rocky: Hey, if that's the way you go about showing it, I hope you never care about me!
Ginger: I can assure you, I never will.
Rocky: Good!
Ginger: Fine!
Ginger: Why? Because I'm honest? I *care* about what happens to them! Something I wouldn't expect a Lone Free Ranger to know anything about!
Rocky: Hey, if that's the way you go about showing it, I hope you never care about me!
Ginger: I can assure you, I never will.
Rocky: Good!
Ginger: Fine!
Mac: Right, we tried going under the fence, and that didn't work. So the plan now is, we go over it.
[Unveils the model catapult]
Mac: [Holds up turnip chicken] This is us, right? We go in here, like this, wind her up, and let her go!
[Catapult sends turnip flying into wall; chickens cluck frantically]
[Unveils the model catapult]
Mac: [Holds up turnip chicken] This is us, right? We go in here, like this, wind her up, and let her go!
[Catapult sends turnip flying into wall; chickens cluck frantically]
[Fowler is forced to share his bunk with Rocky]
Fowler: Absolutely outrageous! Asking a senior officer to share his quarters. And with a noncommissioned Yank, no less. Why, back in my day, I'd never...
Rocky: Hey! You weren't exactly *my* first choice, either. And scoot over. Your wing's on my side of the bunk.
Fowler: *Your* side of the bunk? The *whole bunk* is my side of the bunk!
Rocky: [snapping back] Just... What's that smell? Is that your breath?
Fowler: It's absolutely outrageous.
Fowler: Absolutely outrageous! Asking a senior officer to share his quarters. And with a noncommissioned Yank, no less. Why, back in my day, I'd never...
Rocky: Hey! You weren't exactly *my* first choice, either. And scoot over. Your wing's on my side of the bunk.
Fowler: *Your* side of the bunk? The *whole bunk* is my side of the bunk!
Rocky: [snapping back] Just... What's that smell? Is that your breath?
Fowler: It's absolutely outrageous.
Ginger: I should turn you in right now.
Rocky: You wouldn't! Would you?
Ginger: Give me one reason why I shouldn't.
Rocky: Because I'm... cute?
[Ginger squawks to attract the farmer's attention]
Rocky: Hey, hey, hey, hey. Wwhat kind of crazy chick are you? Do you know what'll happen if he finds me?
Ginger: [quoting him] It's a cruel world.
Rocky: I just decided, I don't like you.
Ginger: I just decided, I don't care.
Rocky: You wouldn't! Would you?
Ginger: Give me one reason why I shouldn't.
Rocky: Because I'm... cute?
[Ginger squawks to attract the farmer's attention]
Rocky: Hey, hey, hey, hey. Wwhat kind of crazy chick are you? Do you know what'll happen if he finds me?
Ginger: [quoting him] It's a cruel world.
Rocky: I just decided, I don't like you.
Ginger: I just decided, I don't care.
Rocky: [Presenting himself] You see, I'm a traveller by nature. I did that whole barnyard thing for a while but I couldn't really get into it.
[to one of the chickens]
Rocky: Hi, how are you?
[she swoons and faints, Rocky continues]
Rocky: Nope! The open road, that's more my style. Yep, just give me a pack on my back and point me where the wind blows. In fact, you know what they call me back home? You're gonna love this: The Lone Free Ranger.
[to one of the chickens]
Rocky: Hi, how are you?
[she swoons and faints, Rocky continues]
Rocky: Nope! The open road, that's more my style. Yep, just give me a pack on my back and point me where the wind blows. In fact, you know what they call me back home? You're gonna love this: The Lone Free Ranger.
Ginger: But you're supposed to be up there - you're the pilot.
Fowler: Don't be ridiculous. I can't fly this contraption.
Ginger: Back in your day? The Royal Air Force?
Fowler: 644 Squadron, Poultry Division - we were the mascots.
Ginger: You mean you never actually *flew* the plane?
Fowler: Good heavens, no! I'm a chicken! The Royal Air Force doesn't let chickens behind the controls of a complex aircraft.
Fowler: Don't be ridiculous. I can't fly this contraption.
Ginger: Back in your day? The Royal Air Force?
Fowler: 644 Squadron, Poultry Division - we were the mascots.
Ginger: You mean you never actually *flew* the plane?
Fowler: Good heavens, no! I'm a chicken! The Royal Air Force doesn't let chickens behind the controls of a complex aircraft.
Rocky: [apparently training the chickens] And left, two, three, and right, two, three and... stop right there.
[chickens stop leaning to the side, confused]
Rocky: Oh, yeah. Down.
[chickens stoop]
Rocky: All right, now: make little circles.
[chickens start to spin]
Rocky: That's it, faster, faster... yeah, that hits the spot...
Ginger: [Ginger looks up only to see Rocky sighing in contentment getting massaged; she walks over and clears throat; other chickens wander away, embarrassed] I thought you were going to teach us how to fly.
Rocky: That's what I'm doing.
Ginger: Isn't there usually some flapping involved?
Rocky: Hey. Do I tell you how to lay eggs? Relax. We're making progress!
Ginger: Really? I can't help feeling we're going around in circles.
[motions to the spinning chickens behind her]
Rocky: What the - ? Hey! Cut it out! You're making *me* dizzy!
[chickens stop and start stumbling dizzily]
Rocky: I think they're ready to fly now.
Ginger: Good. Because they certainly can't *walk* anymore.
[chickens stop leaning to the side, confused]
Rocky: Oh, yeah. Down.
[chickens stoop]
Rocky: All right, now: make little circles.
[chickens start to spin]
Rocky: That's it, faster, faster... yeah, that hits the spot...
Ginger: [Ginger looks up only to see Rocky sighing in contentment getting massaged; she walks over and clears throat; other chickens wander away, embarrassed] I thought you were going to teach us how to fly.
Rocky: That's what I'm doing.
Ginger: Isn't there usually some flapping involved?
Rocky: Hey. Do I tell you how to lay eggs? Relax. We're making progress!
Ginger: Really? I can't help feeling we're going around in circles.
[motions to the spinning chickens behind her]
Rocky: What the - ? Hey! Cut it out! You're making *me* dizzy!
[chickens stop and start stumbling dizzily]
Rocky: I think they're ready to fly now.
Ginger: Good. Because they certainly can't *walk* anymore.
[after Rocky leaves]
Babs: Perhaps he just went on holiday.
Bunty: [grabbing Babs' knitting, throwing it on the ground, and stomping on it] Perhaps he just went to get away from your infernal knitting!
Mac: Well, you were the one that was always hitting him. Let's see how you like it.
[shoves Bunty]
Bunty: Don't push me, four-eyes.
[other chickens start fighting]
Babs: Perhaps he just went on holiday.
Bunty: [grabbing Babs' knitting, throwing it on the ground, and stomping on it] Perhaps he just went to get away from your infernal knitting!
Mac: Well, you were the one that was always hitting him. Let's see how you like it.
[shoves Bunty]
Bunty: Don't push me, four-eyes.
[other chickens start fighting]
Mr. Tweedy: What... what... what's all this, then?
Mrs. Tweedy: This is our future, Mr. Tweedy. No more wasting time with petty egg collecting and minuscule profits.
Mr. Tweedy: No more eggs? But we've always been egg farmers. Me father, and his father, and all their fathers, they was all...
Mrs. Tweedy: Poor. Worthless. Nothings. But all that is about to change. This will take Tweedy's farm out of the Dark Ages and into full-scale automated production. Melicia Tweedy will be poor no longer.
Mrs. Tweedy: This is our future, Mr. Tweedy. No more wasting time with petty egg collecting and minuscule profits.
Mr. Tweedy: No more eggs? But we've always been egg farmers. Me father, and his father, and all their fathers, they was all...
Mrs. Tweedy: Poor. Worthless. Nothings. But all that is about to change. This will take Tweedy's farm out of the Dark Ages and into full-scale automated production. Melicia Tweedy will be poor no longer.
Ginger: We need some more things.
Nick: Right you are, miss.
[opens suitcase and pulls out thimbles]
Nick: How about this quality, handcrafted tea set?
Ginger: No, thanks.
Fetcher: [holding a drain plug on a chain] Or this lovely necklace and pendant?
Ginger: It's love...
Nick: [holding a shuttlecock] Or this little number that's all the rage in the most fashionable coops in Paree? Simply pop it on like so...
[pops it on Ginger's head, feathers side up]
Nick: And as the French hens say, "Voilá!"
Fetcher: That is French.
Nick: It's two hats in one, miss. For parties...
[turns shuttlecock over]
Nick: For weddings. Oh, madame! This makes you look like a vision, like a dream.
Fetcher: Like a duck!
Nick: Right you are, miss.
[opens suitcase and pulls out thimbles]
Nick: How about this quality, handcrafted tea set?
Ginger: No, thanks.
Fetcher: [holding a drain plug on a chain] Or this lovely necklace and pendant?
Ginger: It's love...
Nick: [holding a shuttlecock] Or this little number that's all the rage in the most fashionable coops in Paree? Simply pop it on like so...
[pops it on Ginger's head, feathers side up]
Nick: And as the French hens say, "Voilá!"
Fetcher: That is French.
Nick: It's two hats in one, miss. For parties...
[turns shuttlecock over]
Nick: For weddings. Oh, madame! This makes you look like a vision, like a dream.
Fetcher: Like a duck!
Ginger: You know what the problem is? The fences aren't just round the farm. They're up here, in you heads. There's a better place out there, somewhere beyond that hill, and it has wide open places, and lots of trees... and grass. Can you imagine that? Cool, green grass.
Hen: Who feeds us?
Ginger: We feed ourselves.
Hen: Where's the farm?
Ginger: There is no farm.
Babs: Then, where does the farmer live?
Ginger: There is no farmer, Babs.
Babs: Is he on holiday?
Ginger: He isn't anywhere! Don't you get it? There's no morning head count, no farmers, no dogs and coops and keys, and no fences.
Bunty: In all my life I've never heard such a fantastic... load of tripe! Oh, face the facts, ducks: the chances of us getting out of here are a million to one.
Hen: Who feeds us?
Ginger: We feed ourselves.
Hen: Where's the farm?
Ginger: There is no farm.
Babs: Then, where does the farmer live?
Ginger: There is no farmer, Babs.
Babs: Is he on holiday?
Ginger: He isn't anywhere! Don't you get it? There's no morning head count, no farmers, no dogs and coops and keys, and no fences.
Bunty: In all my life I've never heard such a fantastic... load of tripe! Oh, face the facts, ducks: the chances of us getting out of here are a million to one.
