席德与南茜 (1986)

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  • Clive: I'm gonna be a rude boy. Like my dad. Nancy: Never trust a junkie. [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: How do you spell "holiday"? John: S-H-I-T. 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: 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. Nancy: I'll never look like Barbie. Barbie doesn't have bruises. [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: Boring, Sidney, Boring! John: Go on, Sidney. Spray the beast. 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. Sid: You know, I was so bored once that I fucked a dog. 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. 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? 复制 复制成功 复制失败,请手动复制
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  • : Boys will be boys. Sid: If it wasn't for my mum's kindness, we'd be out on the fucking streets! Nancy: And if it wasn't for your mom's stupidity, we'd have our own apartment in Paris! Sid: We don't fucking care. Sid: [playing on his bass] And we don't fucking care! John: No, there's no "fucking". It's just "we don't care" Sid: 'Ere, speakin of cunts who can't play. Hello girls, where'd you get your perms? 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. Detective: [Sid has been arrested] Why so tense kid? Look, we just wanna know who the girl was. Where id 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? Nancy: It's a real waste to smoke that shit. Don't ya have any needles? 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. 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. Bowery Snax, drug dealer: Sid, Nance, pull up your pants. Nancy: Who's Dick Dent? Brenda Winczor: He's just some wanky journalist who don't appreciate The Sex Pistols. 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? 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] 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 bac on the drinking all right? Sid: Yeah all right, all right I promise! Cross me heart and hope to die [he smirks] Nancy: [Pointing] No! Look, that's the roller ramma. Sid, I won a roller skating trophy there when I was six years old. Granma: Nancy, don't fib. Nancy: Fuck you, Grandma. 复制 复制成功 复制失败,请手动复制
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