Tamara Drewe: So, who are your influences?

Ben Sergeant: Everyone asks that. I mean, what do you want me to say? Phil Collins? Animal from The Muppets?

Glen McCreavy: Why does the asshole always get the girl?

Tess: Is that Tamara Drewe who writes the column in one of the Sundays?

Beth Hardiment: Used to. Writes for the Independent now. She spent weeks going on about her nose job. Smart way to pay for it I suppose.

Tess: Was her old one an awful conk?

Nicholas Hardiment: Yes.

Tamara Drewe: [Getting out of her car in Ewedown] What a dump.

Andy Cobb: Marriage. Remind me never to try it.

Zoe: Andy, you're just a sex object. No-one'd have you.

Glen McCreavy: Oh Jesus. He's been translated into Icelandic and Swahili. What an output.

Glen McCreavy: I don't like cows. They exude bovine malice.

Glen McCreavy: Wow, this is a great old house.

Tamara Drewe: Thanks. Do you want to buy it?

Glen McCreavy: I'm not the property owning type. No, I prefer my life to fit in hand luggage.

Andy Cobb: That why you're home, to flog it?

Tamara Drewe: Yep.

Andy Cobb: Make a nice second home for some banker wankers.

Tamara Drewe: Look Andy, if you want it, why don't you just make me an offer?

Andy Cobb: Because, sadly, I'm still prey to the economic forces that threw the peasant classes off the land.

Tamara Drewe: Unlucky.

Andy Cobb: Tam. What the fuck have you done to your nose?

Tamara Drewe: Oh, come on, Andy. Aliens came and took it.

Tamara Drewe: You know, before I had the nose job I had no problem being taken seriously. Maybe, when they removed that bit of cartilage they pulled out my brain by mistake.

Glen McCreavy: Andy, you know, the trouble with you is that you think like a loser. I know this because I'm the loser that all other losers come to for tips. I'm a loser's loser.

Andy Cobb: I'm a pedigree loser.

Andy Cobb: So what do you have to do to get a cup of tea around here?

Tamara Drewe: Make it. Tea, sugar, fridge.

Zoe: How come *she* gets Ben? I've loved him since March.

Ben Sergeant: Everything you've heard about drummers is complete shit.

Tamara Drewe: You mean they don't spontaneously combust?

Nicholas Hardiment: [Watches the dog chasing the cows chasing their owner in a field] Fuck soup!

Ben Sergeant: What am I, arm candy?

Tamara Drewe: More like arm fungus with that face.

Tamara Drewe: We are getting married in the summer.

Nicholas Hardiment: So I hear. My heartiest... commiserations, Tamara.

Tamara Drewe: Merry Christmas... Nichol-arse.