Chopper tells the intense story of Mark "Chopper" Read, a legendary criminal who wrote his autobiography while serving a jail sentence in prison. His book, "From the Inside", upon which the film is based, was a best-seller.

Chopper: Jimmy, if you keep stabbing me, you're going to kill me.
Chopper: I'm just a bloody normal bloke. A normal bloke who likes a bit of torture.
Chopper: Why would I shoot a bloke BANG, then drive him to the bloody car and wizz him off to the hospital at a hundred miles an hour? It defeats the purpose of having shot him in the first place.
Keith Read: I just saw on the TV that a man was shot at Bojangles. I thought it was you.
Chopper: Well, it couldn't have been me, could it? Else I wouldn't be standing here.
Detective Downie: [about Neville] So you took him to the hospital?
Chopper: No, I didn't take him to the bloody hospital. Now tell me this, right? Why would I shoot a bloke - BANG - and then put him in the bloody car and whiz him off to the hospital at a hundred miles an hour? It defeats the purpose of having shot him in the first place. What's more, it's bloody insulting, it's bloody insulting. I mean, am I the only bloody standover man in the country who provides a medical plan for some of these characters?
Chopper: Look, all I can tell you is what I've already told Mister Beasley: none of us saw anything. It was just one of those things: Bluey Barnes was reading a magazine; Ambrose Hatcheson was taking a piss; Johnny Price was washing his hands; Jimmy Loughnan was watching a bullant crawl across the table, and I was watching Jimmy watching the bullant.
Neville Bartos: There's no cash here. Here there's no cash, alright? Cash *no*, Robbo?
Robbo: No cash.
Interviewer: You've written a best-seller...
Chopper: Yeah, I know - and I can't even bloody spell. What about those poor bloody academics, those college graduates, battling their guts out to write some airy-fairy piece of exaggerated artwork? And here's a bloke, sitting in a cell, who can't spell, and he's written a best-seller. It's sold two hundred and fifty thousand copies. And it's still selling. And he's writing another one. And I can't even spell. I'm semi-bloody-illiterate.
Chopper: Even Beethoven had his critics. See if you can name three of them.
Chopper: He couldn't knock the fluff off a cappuccino.
Chopper: Oh, Keithy. I always thought I was a good bloke.
Keithy George: Ha. What did you ever do that was good?
Chopper: Well, I bashed you. That was good, wasn't it? It was good for a bit of a giggle, anyway.
Chopper: You've probably read all the newspaper stories about me, and you've heard the word on the street about me, and you've probably got a picture in your head of what Chopper Read's like and we're sitting here at this bar all very nice and cosy and I'm a bit of a let down to you.
Chopper: No, I did not drive him to the hospital! Do I look like Mother Teresa to you?
Chopper: [Jimmy has stabbed Chopper seven times] It's all right, Jimmy. I don't hate you. You just broke my heart.
Jimmy Loughnan: [Chopper holds a gun to Jimmy's face] Mark, Mark, Mark, no! You're being fucking paranoid!
Chopper: Well, just because I'm being paranoid doesn't mean people aren't trying to kill me.
Mandy: Jimmy and the boys are bringing the car. You help set up the big fellow, it'll make you a star.
Sammy the Turk: They said they had it farmed out, they had it ghosted. But when I walked out the door, they just left me posted.
Jimmy Loughnan: The gun was for real, it was not a lark. But the twit took him out to the wrong car park.
Chopper: Silly boys, that's all that Chopper had to say, and poor little Sammy got blown away.
Detective Cooney: We know you didn't shoot the Turk.
Chopper: I just told you I shot the Turk.
Detective Downie: They've picked up the bloke that did it.
Chopper: What fucking bloke that did it? *I* did it.
Detective Downie: No, Homicide have picked up the guy, right? They've even got the murder weapon.
Chopper: What murder weapon?
Detective Cooney: .410 shotgun.
Chopper: [Pulls out his shotgun] Here. This bloody .410 shotgun.
Detective Downie: Put it away, Mark. Just put the bloody thing away. This thing's a .410. Fine, it's a .410. There's a fucking million .410s out there. That's not the .410 that did it.
Chopper: [incredulous] You don't want this? It's a fucking murder weapon!
Chopper: Aw, look. The bloke's been my best mate since 1975. We've had our fall-outs from time to time. It's no big deal. It's like... if your mum stabbed you.
Chopper: Look, you're not still angry at me about the leg, are you?
Neville Bartos: Nah, forget about it.
Chopper: Because I don't know if you remember, Neville, but I had that bloody shotgun pointed at your head. I reconsidered and dropped it down to your kneecap. Remember?
Neville Bartos: Forget about it. All right?
Chopper: I mean, what the bloody hell were you doing getting lippy at me with a bloody shotgun? I had a bloody loaded shotgun.
Neville Bartos: The leg is okay, all right?
Keith Read: [to Chopper, who's ears have been sliced] Cheers, big ears!
Chopper: [to Downie] I've never, I don't think I've ever been as bloody insulted as I am right now. I'm sittin' here confessing to a fucking murder, I've known you since I was a fucking pup, right? And you've got the fucking audacity to drag this cunt here...
Detective Cooney: [Chuckles] Sort out your boy, will you?
Chopper: ...And you look at me like I'm a fucking idiot!
Chopper: I used to be Chopper Read. Now I can't even get arrested in this bloody town.
Chopper: Beethoven had his critics too, Keithy, see if you can name three of them.
[Keithy continues walking back and forth, confused]
Chopper: That's right, you can't.
Chopper: Look. The bloke's been me best mate since 1975. We've had our fallouts from time to time, it's no big deal. Y'know, it's like... if ya mum stabs ya, whaddya do? Y-ya don't get upset. Ya don't get angry, ya go, "Shit, mum's stabbed me, I better get off to the hospital."
Chopper: [after viciously stabbing Keithy George multiple times in the face and neck] I think I put me shoulder out.
Chopper: You don't much like me, do you Keithy?

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