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15-year-old Oliver Tate has two objectives: To lose his virginity before his next birthday, and to extinguish the flame between his mother and an ex-lover who has resurfaced in her life.
Oliver Tate: Her new boyfriend has an incredibly long neck. Just thinking about giraffes makes me angry.
Oliver Tate: Ask me how deep the ocean is. Jordana Bevan: Shut up. Oliver Tate: Come on, just ask me. Jordana Bevan: Why? Oliver Tate: 'Cause I know the answer. Jordana Bevan: Oh! Do you? Oliver Tate: Yes, I do. Jordana Bevan: How deep is the ocean? Oliver Tate: I'm not gonna say. Jordana Bevan: I'm brokenhearted. Oliver Tate: The ocean is six miles deep. Jordana Bevan: Good.
Oliver Tate: My Dear Americans, The film you are about to see is a biopic of my life. The events take place, not so long ago, in a proud land called Wales. Wales is next to England, a country you pretend to treat as an equal. My homeland has produced Catherine Zeta-Jones, Tom Jones and some other people. You have not yet invaded my country and for this I thank you. Submarine is an important film. Watch it with respect. Fond regards from your protagonist, Oliver Tate.
Oliver Tate: This is the moment where you leave him and come with me. Jordana Bevan: Is it? Oliver Tate: Yeah, are you coming? Jordana Bevan: No.
Oliver Tate: Jordana hates any place that could be termed romantic. With this in mind, I took her to one of my favourite industrial estates, for some quality one-on-one time.
Oliver Tate: My mother is worried I have mental problems. I found a book about teenage paranoid delusions during a routine search of my parents' bedroom.
Oliver Tate: I took a photo of us, mid-embrace. When I am old and alone I will remember that I once held something truly beautiful.
Oliver Tate: To us and a wonderful evening of love making.
Jill Tate: So. How are things with Jordana? Oliver Tate: Fine. Jill Tate: You ever going to let us meet her? Oliver Tate: I don't think so. Maybe if you get a terminal illness.
Oliver Tate: Jordana and I enjoyed an atavistic, glorious fortnight of lovemakin'; humiliatin' teachers and bullying the weak. I have already turned these moments into the Super-8 footage of memory.
Jordana Bevan: [Upon seeing Oliver's boudoir arrangement] Fuckin' aye! You're a serial killer!
Oliver Tate: Dear Jordana. Thank you for letting me explore your perfect body. I could drink your blood, you are the only person that I would allow to be shrunken down to a microscopic size and swim inside me in a tiny submersible machine. We have lost our virginity but it wasn't like losing anything. You are too good for me, you are too good for anyone. Sincerely, Oliver.
Oliver Tate: I suppose it won't matter when I'm 38, but I'm upset about it.
Oliver Tate: My mum gave a handjob to a mystic.
Oliver Tate: [voiceover] We sat down to have what might have been Jordana's mother's last Christmas dinner, which i hope it wasn't because the turkey was a bit dry and the sprouts were soggy and out of focus.
Oliver Tate: Well, you know, I thought it would be nice to get some mutual interests... now that we've had sex... other than spitting and setting things on fire.
Oliver Tate: He wasn't even considered hard until the Watkin twins famously stabbed him in the back with compasses. He said nothing; showed no discomfort as his shirt blossomed with blood poppies. His stoicism reminded me of the brave men who died in the First World War.
Lloyd Tate: Listen, look, i know you think I'm very boring, you know... but once i ripped my vest off in front of a woman, and err... it was very effective actually. It produced a very atavistic response.
Oliver Tate: It's rude to leave a film before it's finished. Jordana Bevan: Who to? Oliver Tate: To the filmmakers. Jordana Bevan: How do they know? Oliver Tate: They just do. Jordana Bevan: How? Oliver Tate: They do!
Oliver Tate: I knew then it was too late to save her. She'd gone gooey in the middle. From now on she'll buy little gifts for her favourite teachers and she'll admire the scenery and she'll buy soup for homeless people. And she'll never burn my leg here again.
Chips: No more yuletide logging for you, unlike me, who shall be rolling in it throughout the festive period.
Jordana Bevan: Why are you such a total dick?
Oliver Tate: I decided to soften the blow with some light arson.