Bill: [trying to drink a can of beer] I can't find the hole. Harry: You could if it had hair 'round it. Harry: Fuckin' rain.
: What'd ya say, Harry? Harry: I said you can set your watch by this fuckin' rain! Bung: Ah, do I detect the unmistakable tang of ye olde Tiger? Harry: Bung, you could sniff out a can of beer from half a mile away. Bung: Just one of my many talents. Harry: It's the shit-shoveller with the arse out of his trousers and two bob in his pocket that makes Australia. Every time there's a bit of trouble, there he is, standing like a bloody fool outside the recruiting office with his hand out for a rifle, while the rich boys are hanging back, or waiting for their father to get then a nice, safe job. And while you're stuck over here with a lot of poor bastards from the other side, who are just as scared as you, shooting at you, the rich kids are back home, having a bit of a slum or a chop at yer bird." Sergeant-Major: You lot think you're supermen. Tin heroes, more like. Harry: I said 'get fucked', you great beer-sodden bag of shit! Sergeant-Major: Right, you're all on a charge. Harry: Well, you'd better make it murder, because I'm gonna knock your block off. Rogers: "Welcome to Partol 2-2, specialists in arson, murder and drinking." [Bill has picked up a prostitute.] Prostitute: You like me? Bill: Yeah. Prostitute: You very big. Bill: I bet you say that to all the heroes. Prostitute: Come, we lie down. Bill: No, we stand. Prostitute: You crazy? Bill: Probably.