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Bret and Jemaine are Flight of the Conchords, a folk-rock band from New Zealand living in New York City in search of stardom.
Murray: Be careful with it. Don't stand next to any big magnets. Jemaine: Why would I stand next to a big magnet? Murray: I don't know what you do in your personal life.
Jemaine: It doesn't matter what country someone's from, or what they look like, or the colour of their skin. It doesn't matter what they smell like, or that they spell words slightly differently-some would say, more correctly. I'm a person. Bret's a person. You're a person. That person over there is a person. And each person deserves to be treated like a person.
New Zealand Prime Minister Brian: Bret, what can you bring? Bret: I can make half a dozen croutons. New Zealand Prime Minister Brian: Half a dozen? Do you think you could go higher than half a dozen? Bret: 900? Murray: They'd be very small. Almost like crumbs. New Zealand Prime Minister Brian: 900? No, I think that's too many. Try and split the difference. Try and come down from 900 but up from six or seven. Bret: I could probably make 15 croutons, if you like. New Zealand Prime Minister Brian: Excellent. Excellent idea. You're showing promise, young man.
Jemaine: You're so beautiful, like a tree or a high-class prostitute.
Murray: Stuff you, Jemaine! And stuff you, Brett! And stuff you again, Jemaine! Jemaine: Why do I get double-stuffed?
Bret: She's so hot, she's making me sexist - bitch.
Jemaine: I'm not cryin'. It's just been raining... on my face.
Dave: Hot bod. Gross face. I get it. Just hit that shit from behind.
Bret: Has your suit snugged up a bit? Jemaine: In certain areas, yes. In certain other areas, yes.
Jemaine: There is only one kind of dance: the Robot. Bret: And the Robo Boogie. Jemaine: Oh, yes. Two kinds of dances.
Dave: Women love that sensitive nautical shit. Bret: Really? Dave: Yeah. Haven't you ever seen Watership Down?