Admiral Brindsen: I suppose you're one of those fellows who does the Times crossword puzzle in ten minutes.
ffolkes: I have *never* taken ten minutes.
ffolkes: [to one of his frogmen] Do that again, Harris, and I'll have your balls for breakfast!
ffolkes: I didn't know they had women on these things.
Sarah: Yes, things are getting better in that way.
ffolkes: A gigantic step backwards!
ffolkes: I like cats, and I don't like people who don't.
Lou Kramer: I don't like you, Flag,
ffolkes: How fortunate.
Lou Kramer: My instinct tells me you're bad news. Did you search him, Webb?
Art Webb: I could tell you the size of his underwear.
Lou Kramer: You'd better take that pussycat grin off your face or this guy's liable to carve it off.
Lord Privy Seal Dennis Tipping: You really don't like women much, do you?
ffolkes: I do not. You see, I, together with my five elder sisters, was raised by a maiden aunt. Both my parents died tragically in childbirth. Until the age of ten, I was forced to wear my sister's hand-me-downs. Then when I married, I discovered to my horror that my wife also had five sisters, all unmarried, and all expecting my support. I find cats a far superior breed. Just on the off chance, I have made a will. I've left everything to my cats. I want it testified that I am sound of body and mind. Well go on!
ffolkes: Jennifer? ffolkes here. You can tell the Lord Privy Seal the operation had been completed. As planned, naturally.
ffolkes: There are over 600 people relying on us to save their lives...
[Turns and berates one of his men]
ffolkes: And you sir, you whacked that ladder as though it's a dinner gong! Do it again and I'll have your balls for breakfast!
ffolkes: Timing underwater. Speed Underwater. That is what half our assignments are about. Harris! Are you listening to me?
Harris: Yes sir.
ffolkes: Then bloody well well look at me! Yesterday, ONE man completed the exercise precisely on time. ME!
[Produces a hand grenade from his bag]
ffolkes: Today, you will ALL complete the exercise precisely on time...
Fletcher: Work out what can be done if one of them is hijacked.
ffolkes: Don't the armed forces have some ideas in that department?
Fletcher: Undoubtedly. But an oil production platform isn't a building or an aeroplane. It's miles out to sea and you can't approach it without being seen or heard unless you come from below.
ffolkes: Only a man of superior intellect is likely to think of a satisfactory way of hijacking a platform or a rig.
ffolkes: Therefore, I must put myself in his position and devide a means of doing so. And having done that, I simply work out how to overpower myself!
Harold Shulman: [Looking at the oil rig Jennifer] That's an incredible piece of work, Lou.
Lou Kramer: Well, she's the biggest ever built and the most expensive. Two hundred millions dollars, and six hundred and fifteen personnel, producing three hundred thousands barrels of oil a day. That's a lot of hair cream, isn't it Skipper?
Lou Kramer: I am the temporary captain of this tub and you're going to be taking your orders from me for the time being. And the quicker you get that straight, the shorter that time is gonna be, so let's just play patty-cake together and get this over with. Remember, luck favours the man with the most limpet mines and I've got a bundle of them. Two stuck to the underside of the drilling rig Ruth, and four planted right under your ass on Jennifer.
Captain Phillips: I was telling the Admiral your men are so well drilled they'll be able to find their way around Esther with their eyes shut.
ffolkes: If any one of my men moves round anything with his eyes shut I shall personally gouge them out! It's time for a drink.
Admiral Brindsen: Bit early isn't it?
ffolkes: It's four hours since breakfast. That's late!
ffolkes: We drink Scotch here the way it should be drunk - neat!
[Sanna just knocked out a bad guy who was going to shoot ffolkes]
ffolkes: Thanks, boy.
ffolkes: You look like a boy. You act like a boy.
Sanna: Okay! I'm a boy.
ffolkes: [ffolkes only has a ten pound to note to pay his cab fare] I'll toss you for it.
ffolkes: Heads or tails?
Cab Driver: [Wearily, expecting to be conned] Heads.
ffolkes: Heads it is. Must be your lucky day.
[Hands ten pounds to driver]
ffolkes: Where's Harris?
Team Member: Someone threw him over the side!
[ffolkes has been presented with a trio of white kittens]
British Prime Minister: Ruth, Esther and Jennifer, with the grateful thanks of the nation!
Harris: How are we doing, sir?
ffolkes: Like plowmen at a bloody knitting convention.
Harris: We're improving, then.
ffolkes: This is a copy of my Will, I need your signature to prove I'm of sound mind, I'm leaving everything to my cats. Well go on, sign it, man!