Brant: A word of advice, girls. If you're picking the wrong fight... at least pick the right weapon.
[a gang of teenage lads try to mug Brant in the street at night. Brant produces a long J-shaped wooden stick and hits one of the lads with it - hard]
Brant: This, lads, is a hurley. Used in the Irish game of hurling - a cross between hockey and murder.
Weiss: I want a lawyer and a sandwich. Oh, and I want to update my Facebook status.
Brant: A double Irish.
Wellesley Barman: Only thing, buddy, we're closed.
Brant: [reaches over counter and grabs a glass] Listen up, I'm only gonna say this once. I ain't your buddy. When I ask for a drink, you say, "Ice with that, sir?" Now, let's begin again. A double Irish.
Wellesley Barman: You want ice with that, sir?
Brant: Don't be ridiculous. Who needs ice?
Wellesley Barman: [pours it] That'll be five quid.
Brant: [drinks it down] Like you said, you're closed.
Nash: I finally said fuck it, I'll take the law into my own hands, so I broke into the peado's house at four in the morning and I smashed his bollocks with a baseball bat until they fucking popped.
Nash: [sees Tom is asleep] Wanker.
Brant: Do I look like I carry a pencil?