Harry: I'm sorry for calling you an inanimate object. I was upset.
Yuri: Plenty of alcoves in Bruges.
Ray: (crying) I killed a little boy!
(Ken embraces Ray)
Ken: Then save the next little boy. Just go away somewhere, get out of this business, and try to do something good. You're not going to help anybody dead. You're not going to bring that boy back. But you might save the next one.
Ray: What am I going to be, a doctor? You need exams.
Ken: I'm sorry about the message last night. The man who left it is a bit of a... well, he's a bit of a...
Ken: Yes, a bit of a cock.
Ray: Do you think this is good?
Ken: Do I think what's good?
Ray: You know, going around in a boat, looking at stuff?
Ken: Yes, I do. It's called sight-seeing.
Ray: Bruges is a shithole.
Ken: Bruges *is* not a shithole.
Ray: Bruges *is* a shithole.
Ken: Ray, we only just got off the fucking train! Could we reserve judgement on Bruges until we've seen the fucking place?
Ken: You're a suicide case.
Ray: And you're trying to shoot me in the fucking head.
Ken: You're not getting that gun back.
Ray: A great day this has turned out to be. I'm suicidal, me mate tries to kill me, me gun gets nicked and we're still in fookin' Bruges!
Ray: (while brushing teeth) Altogether, I've had five pints of beer and six bottles... no... six pints of beer and seven bottles, and you know what? I'm not even pissed.
Priest: (after having been shot) The little boy...
Ray: Back off, shorty!
Jimmy: You don't know karate!
(Ray karate chops Jimmy's neck)
Ray: Hey-ho. Drowning your sorrows, huh?
Ken: What sorrows?
Ray: You know, being a sad, old, ugly little man.
Ray: (to the bartender) One gay beer please.
Ken: How'd your date go?
Ray: My date involved two instances of extreme violence, one instance of her hand on my cock and my finger up her thing, which lasted all to briefly.
Ray: Isn't that always the way? One instance of me stealing five grams of very-high-quality cocaine and one instance of me blinding a poofy little skinhead. So, all-in-all my evening pretty much balanced out fine.
Ken: You got five grams of coke?
Ray: I've got four grams on me and one gram in me which is why me heart is going like the clappers, as is I'm about to have a heart attack. So if I collapse any minute now please remember to tell the doctors that it might have something to do with the coke.
(all of the this is said in forty seconds)
Ken: We shall strike a balance between culture and fun.
Ray: Somehow I believe, Ken, that the balance shall tip in the favor of culture, like a big fat fucking retarded fucking black girl on a see-saw opposite... a dwarf.
Ken: You from the States?
Jimmy: Yeah. But don't hold it against me.
Ken: I'll try not to... Just try not to say anything too loud or crass.
Ray: (reading Harry's profanity-ridden message) Geez, he's swears a lot, doesn't he?
Harry: Not only have you refused to kill the boy, you even stopped the boy from killing himself, which would've solved my problem, which would've solved your problem, which sounds like it would've solved the boy's problem.
Ken: It wouldn't have solved his problem.
Harry: Ken, if I had killed a little kid, accidentally or otherwise, I wouldn't have thought twice. I'd killed myself on the fucking spot. On the fucking spot. I would've stuck the gun in me mouth. On the fucking spot!
Ticket Seller: The tower is closed this evening.
Ken: No way, it's supposed to be open until seven.
Ticket Seller: The tower is usually open until seven, yesterday an American had a heart attack at the tower, today the tower is closed.
Harry: (Harry hands ticket seller 100 Euros) Here cranky, here's a hundred for you. Were only gonna be twenty minutes.
Ticket Seller: (crumples the money and throws it at Harry's head)
(tapping on Harry's forehead)
Ticket Seller: The tower... is closed... this evening! Understand? English man!
(Ken walks up the tower while Harry proceeds to beat the ticket seller)
Ray: (finding Chloë's drug stash) Cha-ching!
Marie: Well, I'm not going anywhere. This is my hotel. So you can fuck off!
Ken: Coming up?
Ray: What's up there?
Ken: The view.
Ray: The view of what? The view of down here? I can see that down here.
Ken: Ray, you are about the worst tourist in the whole world.
Ray: Ken, I grew up in Dublin. I love Dublin. If I grew up on a farm, and was retarded, Bruges might impress me but I didn't, so it doesn't.
Ken: See Jimmy, my wife was black, and I loved her very much. And in 1976, she was murdered by a white man. So where am I supposed to stand in all this blood and carnage?
Jimmy: Did they get the guy that did it?
Ken: A friend of mine got him.
Ray: Harry Waters got him.
Ray: (after Jimmy doesn't wave back to Ray) Little fucking cunt.
Ken: What the fuck are you doing, Ray?
Ray: What the fuck are 'you' doing?
(Ken sticks pistol behind his back)
Ray: Oh, my God... you were gonna kill me.
Ken: No, I wa - You were gonna kill yourself!
Ray: Well... I'm allowed.
Ken: No, you're not!
Ray: What? I'm not allowed, and you are? How's that fair?
Marie: (to Ray and Harry) Why don't you both put your guns down, and go home?
Harry: Don't be stupid. This is the shootout.
Ray: I'm not being funny. We can't stay here.
Ken: We have to stay here until he rings.
Ray: Well what if he doesn't ring for two weeks?
Ken: Then we stay here for two weeks.
Ray: For two weeks? In fucking Bruges? In a room like this? With you? No way.
Ken: Up there, the top altar, is a vial brought back by a Flemish knight from the Crusades in the Holy Land. And that vial, do you know what it's said to contain?
Ray: No, what's it said to contain?
Ken: It's said to contain some drops of Jesus Christ's blood. Yeah, that's how this church got its name. Basilica of the Holy Blood.
Ray: Yeah. Yeah.
Ken: And this blood, right, though it's dried blood, at different times over many years, they say it turned back into liquid. Turned back into liquid from dried blood. At various times of great stress.
Ken: Yeah. So, yeah, I'm gonna go up in the queue and touch it, which is what you do.
Ken: Yeah. You coming?
Ray: Do I have to?
Ken: Do you have to? Of course you don't have to. It's Jesus' fucking blood, isn't it? Of course you don't fucking have to! Of *course* you don't fucking have to!
(Jimmy shows up wearing a ridiculous costume)
Jimmy: It's for the goddamn movie.
Harry: (to Ken) Did I ask you to be his psychiatrist? No. I asked you to fucking kill him.
Ken: (about Ray) Harry, he's definitely gone.
Harry: You realize there are no bowling alleys in Bruges.
Ken: I realize that, Harry. The boy wanted to have a look anyway.
Harry: What are they going to have? A medieval fucking bowling alley?
Canadian Guy: Fucking unbelievable.
Ray: What's fucking unbelievable?
Canadian Guy: Are you talking to me?
Ray: (to himself) He pauses, even though he should just hit the cunt, and he repeats
(to the Canadian)
Ray: Yes, I am talking to you. What's fucking unbelievable?
Canadian Guy: Well, I'll tell you what's fucking unbelievable, shall I? Blowing cigarette smoke straight into myself and my girlfriend's face. That's fucking unbelievable.
Ray: This is the smoking section.
Canadian Guy: I don't care if it's the smoking section!
Policeman: (to Ray, who is trying to escape from Bruges on the train) Are you Irish?
Policeman: What is your name?
Ray: Er-Derek Fer... ler.
Policeman: You eet the Canadian.
Policeman: You eet the Canadian.
Ray: I eat the Canadian? I don't know what you're talking about.
(the policeman motions down the compartment toward more policemen and the two Canadian tourists whom Ray beat up earlier)
Canadian Guy: That's the motherfucker!
Policeman: Come along. We are taking you back to Bruges.
Ray: After I killed him, I dropped the gun in the Thames, washed the residue off me hands in the bathroom of a Burger King, and walked home to await instructions. Shortly thereafter the instructions came through - "Get the fuck out of London, you dumb fucks. Get to Bruges." I didn't even know where Bruges fucking was.
Ray: It's in Belgium.
Ray: There's a Christmas tree somewhere in London with a bunch of presents underneath it that'll never be opened. And I thought, if I survive all of this, I'd go to that house, apologize to the mother there, and accept whatever punishment she chose for me. Prison... death... didn't matter. Because at least in prison and at least in death, you know, I wouldn't be in fuckin' Bruges. But then, like a flash, it came to me. And I realized, fuck man, maybe that's what hell is: the entire rest of eternity spent in fuckin' Bruges. And I really really hoped I wouldn't die. I really really hoped I wouldn't die.
Ray: Harry, I've got an idea.
Ray: My room faces out the canal, right? I'm going to go back to me room, jump into the canal, see if I can swim to the other side and escape.
Harry: All right.
Ray: If you go outside around the corner, you can shoot at me from there and try to get me. That way we'll leave this lady and her baby out of the whole entire thing.
Harry: You completely promise to jump into the canal? I don't want to run out there, come back in ten minutes, and find you fucking hiding in a cupboard.
Ray: I completely promise, Harry. I'm not going to risk having another little kid dying on me.
Harry: So, hang on - I go outside and I go which way? Right or left?
Ray: (upset) You go right, don't you? You can see it from the doorway! It's a big fucking canal!
Harry: All right. Jesus. I only just got here, haven't I? Okay, on the count of one, two, three, go. Okay?
Ray: What? Who says it?
Harry: Well you say it.
Marie: You people are crazy.
Canadian Guy: I don't care if this is the smoking section, she directed right into my face! I don't wanna die just because of your fucking arrogance!
Ray: (thinking the tourist is American) Uh huh, is that what the Vietnamese used to say?
Harry: I'm glad he likes it there. I'm glad we were able to give him something, something good and happy. Because he wasn't such a bad kid, was he?
Harry: He wasn't a bad kid, was he?
Ken: (standing up to leave and picking up his coat) Two manky hookers and a racist dwarf. I think I'm heading home.
Ray: I don't hit women. I'd never hit a woman, Chloë! I hit a woman who was trying to hit me with a bottle! That's different, that's self defence, isn't it? Or a woman who did karate. I'd never hit a woman generaly, Chloë. Don't think that. God, you're pretty.
Chloë: I have to make a call.
Ray: Oh no. You've gone off me, haven't you? Just cause I hit that fucking cow.
(she kisses him)
Ray: A bottle! Don't bother.
Ray: What am I gonna do, Ken? What am I gonna do?
Ken: Just keep movin'. Keep on movin'. Try not to think about it. Learn a new language, maybe?
Ray: Sure. I can hardly do English.
Ray: That's one thing I like about Europe, though. You don't have to learn any of their languages.
Harry: (about Ray) So he's having a really nice time?
Ken: Well, I'm having a really nice time. I'm not sure it's really his cup of tea.
Harry: (after a long pause) What?
Ken: You know, I'm not sure it's really his thing.
Harry: What do you mean it's not really his thing? What's that supposed to mean? It's not really his thing. What the fuck is that supposed to mean?
Ken: Nothing, Harry.
Harry: It's a fairytale town, isn't it? How's a fairytale town not somebody's fucking thing?
Ray: (upon being bailed out of jail by Chloë) I'll get all the money back to you as soon as I get through with me friend.
Chloë: It's not a problem, Raymond.
Ray: And I'll get you all your acid and ecstasy back to you, too.
Chloë: (nervously to nearby police officers) English humor.
Ray: What are they doing over there? They're filming something. They're filming midgets!
(Ray runs off and watches Jimmy being instructed by the director, who Jimmy flicks off as soon as he leaves)
Ken: Ray, come on. Let's go.
Ray: My arse let's go. They're filming midgets.
Harry: Number One, why aren't you in when I fucking told you to be in? Number Two, why doesn't this hotel have phones with fucking voicemail and not have to leave messages with the fucking receptionist? Number Three, you better fucking be in tomorrow night when I fucking call again or there'll be fucking hell to pay. I'm fucking telling you - Harry.
Ray: Where's my gun?
Ken: I'm gonna die now, I think.
Yuri: I also have some dim-dims. You use this word, dim-dims? The bullets that make the head explode?
Harry: Dum-dums. Yeah.
Yuri: Would you like some of these dim-dims?
Harry: I know I shouldn't... but I will.
(takes whole case of dum-dums)
Ray: (beating a tourist that he believes to be American) That's for John Lennon, you Yankee fuckin' cunt!
(upon reaching the top of the tower and overlooking the city)
Ken: (to himself) I like it here.
Eirik: (holding Ray at gunpoint, after catching him making out with Chloë) That's my girlfriend, you fucking asshole!
Chloë: Eirik, what are you doing?
Eirik: Where you from, fucker?
Ray: Ireland, originally.
Eirik: And you think it's okay to come over to Belgium and fuck another man's girl?
Ray: I didn't know she had a boyfriend, alright? And I haven't fucked her anyway! Ask her! I only put me hand on it!
Ken: (Ray walks into the bar high on cocaine) How'd your date go?
Ray: My date involved two instances of extreme violence, one instance of her hand on my cock and my finger up her thing which lasted all too briefly - and then I was away - , one instance of me stealing five grams of very high-quality cocaine and one instance of me blinding a poofy little skinhead: so all in all... my evening pretty much balanced out, fine.
Harry: You've got to stick to your principles.
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