Frank Gallagher: Now, nobody's sayin the Chatsworth Estate is the Garden of Eden, but it's been a good home to us, to me - Frank GALLAGHER - and me kids, who im proud of! 'Cause every single one of them reminds me a little... of me. They can all think for themselves! Which they've me to thank for. Fiona! Who's a massive help. Lip, who's a bit of a gobshite, which is why nobody calls him 'Philip' anymore. Ian - a lot like his mam which is handy for the others 'cause she's disappeared into thin air. And Carl! We daren't let him grow his hair for two reasons; 1, it stands on end and makes him look like Toya and 2, nits love him. Debbie! Sent by God, total angel. You've to check your change, but she'll go miles out of her way to do you a favour. Plus Liam! Gunna be a star! Once we've got the fits under control. Steve; Fiona's boyfriend. The truth is out there... NOT. Fantastic neighbours, Kev and Veronica! Lend you anythin' - well, not anythin'. But all of them to a man... who knows first and formost the most vital necessity is this life is they know how to throw a PARTY! Heh heh... Scatter!
Ian Gallagher: Sometimes we get so wrapped up in getting what we want, that we forget to ask ourselves why we wanted it in the first place.
Frank Gallagher: I had to wait 4 hours at A & E 'cause of someone queue hopping! Who cares if he was shot? He shot HIMSELF. Some people are so selfish.
Frank Gallagher: Human misery - you can't get enough of it! Willing a bloke to chuck himself to his death so that you can have a bit of fucking "entertainment"! Serves you right if he lands on your heads, you brainless cunts.
Frank Gallagher: Word from the wise: get your stuff out quick sharp, otherwise he'll have your stereo in his veins before you can say Dolby surround sound.
Veronica: [singing] Sunshine girl, I'm looking down your bra / I see two mountains, I wonder what they are / Won't you invite me to squeeze them tightly / Not bloody likely / You're such a girl.
Carol: [Debbie has accidentally burnt Carl's anus while they were lighting farts] You're lucky the house didn't go up, rubbish he eats.
Frank Gallagher: Tickets this way for the Chatsworth Express. Come and watch pikeys making a mess of the lives they were given by him up stairs, and kids they're convinced aren't actually theirs. What sounds on earth could ever replace kids needing money or wives in your face? Cause this, people reckon and me included is why pubs and drugs were kindly invented, to calm us all down, stop us going mental. These are Chatsworth Estates basic essentials. We are worth every penny for grinding your axes. You shit on our heads but you pay the taxes. Imagine a Britain without Chatsworth buccaneers who come on your face for the price of a beer. Make poverty history, cheaper drugs now! Make poverty history, cheaper drugs now! SCATTER!