Sid and Nancy Quotes. QuotesGram

[getting off the phone with her parents]
Nancy: I fucking hate them! I fucking hate them! Ass! Ow! Fucking motherfuckers! They wouldn't send us any money! They said we'd spend it on DRUGS!
Sid: We would!

Nancy: I'll never look like Barbie. Barbie doesn't have bruises.

Nancy: Never trust a junkie.

Sid: How do you spell "holiday"?
John: S-H-I-T.

[as Sid storms out]
Nancy: What about the farewell drugs?

[Nancy storms out of their flat in Sid's mother's clothes, then sees herself reflected in a window]
Nancy: AAGGHH! I look like fuckin' Stevie Nicks in hippie clothes!

Sid: [in a taxi on the way to the airport] I wish we wasn't breaking up.
Phoebe: Well it's a bit late for that isn't it? Paul and Steve are flying to Rio, Malcom's in London, John's in New York.
Sid: Yeah, great. What am I gonna do?
Phoebe: Anything you like; you're a free agent now.
Sid: I'll go home; see Nancy.
Phoebe: Yeah, well do that.
Sid: Master Kung Fu.
Phoebe: Look try and get off the heroin OK? Come on promise.
Sid: Ok.
Phoebe: And cut back on the drinking all right?
Sid: Yeah all right, all right I promise! Cross me heart and hope to die
[he smirks]

Nancy: What are ya doin here? You're in the studio, these places cost like fifty grand a minute. You could be really shining out! But what? You're just wonking off!
John: Wanking!
Nancy: What happened to you? Did you try and kiss your mother?
John: None of your business.
Brenda Winczor: John got beaten up by facists.

Nancy: Boring, Sidney, Boring!

Malcolm: Phoebe - how would you like to supervise our Sidney for a month or two?
Phoebe: No way.
Malcolm: Go on; you'd be a good influence on the boy. Why not?
Phoebe: Infectious hepatitis, loony girlfriend, drugs?
Malcolm: Boys will be boys.

Nancy: I hate my fuckin' life.
Sid: This is just a rough patch. Things'll be much better when we get to America, I promise.
Nancy: We're in America. We've been here a week. New York is in America, you fuck.

Nancy: [Pointing] No! Look, that's the Rollerama. Sid, I won a roller skating trophy there when I was six years old.
Granma: Nancy, don't fib.
Nancy: Fuck you, Grandma.

Rock Head: [on an exercise bike] So, it appears we are related.
John: [drinking from a bottle of vodka - he burps] Eh?
Rock Head: The press. They're callin' me the "Big Daddy of Punk"
[he looks at Sid and Nancy kissing and groping on the bed]
Rock Head: Lovely couple.
John: Fuck you, Rock Head. What the fuck are you doin' here anyway? I think I'm gonna fuckin' puke!
[burps again]

Nancy: I don't think that Johnny likes me.
Sid: He doesn't like anybody. He's a fool.
Nancy: You like me, don't you?

Nancy: It's a real waste to smoke that shit. Don't ya have any needles?

Bowery Snax, drug dealer: Sid, Nance, pull up your pants.

Clive: I'm gonna be a rude boy. Like my dad.

Detective: [Sid has been arrested] Why so tense kid? Look, we just wanna know who the girl was. Where did you meet her? Son?
[hands him a cigarette]
Detective: Son.
Sid: [Takes a drag and sniffles] I met her at Linda's.
Detective: Linda? Who's Linda?

Paul: Fucking cabbies, that's what we should be. Make two hundred quid a night being a cabbie.
Sid: Why don't you fuck off and be one then?
Paul: Cos it takes eighteen months to learn.
Sid: You need a driving license too.
Paul: And a set of golf clubs.

Sid: Why don't you shut up and fucking sing you twat.
Paul: You're well out of time, Sid.
Sid: Bollocks, you wanker.
Steve: Play the fucking song, will ya.
John: Ever get the feeling you've been cheated?

Sid: If it weren't for me mum's kindness, we'd be on the fucking streets!
Nancy: Yeah? And if it weren't for your own stupidity, we'd be living in our own apartment in Paris, France!

Sid: Where's the bloody soap?
Nancy: Up your ass!

Malcolm: But Sidney's more than a mere bass player. He's a fabulous disaster. He's a symbol, a metaphor, he embodies the dementia of a nihilistic generation. He's a fuckin' star.

Nancy: If I asked you to kill me, would you?
Sid: I don't know. How would I do it? I couldn't live without ya.

Sid: [playing on his bass] And we don't fucking care!
John: No, there's no "fucking". It's just "we don't care"

Steve: [playing darts in the pub] Get the darts Paul.
Paul: [checks their hands] Let me see your hands, keep 'em where I can see 'em. I'm watching you, you bastards.
[goes to the dart board]
Sid: Hey, Paul.
[Sid, John and Steve start throwing darts at him]
Paul: Fuck off. Fuck off!
Duke Bowman: Steady on boys.
Paul: Bastards! It's not funny! You could stick me in the eye; put it in my brains, I couldn't play the drums then.
Steve: You can't play the fuckin drums anyway.
John: You can't play the fuckin drums anyway.