Marcus: Oh, don’t worry, I think your mum is keen on him.
Ali: [shouting] She’s not keen on him! She’s only keen on me!
Christine: You will end up childless and alone.
Will: Well, fingers crossed, yeah.
Will: I’d be the worst possible Godfather. I’d probably drop her on her head at her christening. I’d forget all her birthdays until she was 18. Then I’d take her out and get her drunk. And, let’s face it, quite possibly try and shag her.
[Regarding the first SPAT meeting]
Will: I’ll tell you one thing. Men are bastards. After about ten minutes I wanted to cut my *own* penis off with a kitchen knife.
[Fiona is crying]
Fiona: I mean, he’s a special – very, very special boy and he’s got a special soul, and I’ve wounded it.
Will: Oh, please, just shut up. You’re wounding my soul.
Fiona: He’s expressing himself!
Will: No, he’s not! He’s expressing YOU!
Will: It was terrible! Terrible! But driving really fast behind the ambulance was fantastic!
Will: [Will is in the supermarket. His father's song "Santa's Super Sleigh" begins to play over the speakers]
Will: Ah, shit! It can’t be. November the sodding 19th… Six weeks before Christmas and already they were playing the bloody thing.
Will: My life is made up of units of time. Buying CDs – two units. Eating lunch – three units. Exercising – two units. All in all, I had a very full life. It’s just that it didn’t mean anything.
Will: It’s a CD, Marcus, by Mystikal. They’re cool. You’ll like them
Fiona: What kind of music is Mystikal?
Will: It’s sort of, um, world music…
Marcus: [reads a song title] “Shake Ya Ass.”
Will: …Slash rap-type thing.
Ellie: You like rap?
Marcus: A little. It’s by black people mostly. And they’re pretty angry most of the time. But sometimes they just want to have sex.
Marcus: I wanna be with her more, I wanna be with her all the time, and I wanna tell her things I don’t even tell you or mum. And I don’t want her to have another boyfriend. I suppose if I could have all those things, I wouldn’t really mind if I touched her or not.
Will: [voiceover] Having been Will the Good Guy, I didn’t relish going back to my usual role of Will the Unreliable, Emotionally Stunted Asshole.
Marcus: I got the letter. Thanks.
Fiona: Oh my God. I’d forgotten.
Marcus: You forgot? You forgot a suicide letter?
Fiona: Well I didn’t think I’d have to remember it, did I? Did you read the part where I said I’d always love you?
Marcus: It’s a bit hard for you to love me when you’re dead, isn’t it?
Marcus: I’ll come if you take my mom, too. She hasn’t got any money, so either we’ll have to go somewhere cheap, or you’ll have to treat us.
Will: Well, listen, don’t beat about the bush, Marcus.
Marcus: Why should I? We’re poor, you’re rich, you pay. You can bring your little boy if you like. I don’t mind.
Will: That’s really big of you.
Marcus: I used to want Will to marry my mom.
Ali: You serious?
Marcus: Yeah, but that was when she was depressed and I was desperate.
Will: Thanks, mate.
Marcus: [Out to lunch with Will & his mum] I made her put on that nice jumper.
Will: As for his mum, she appeared to be clinically insane, and wearing some kind of yeti costume!
Will: Hang on, come back.
Marcus: He’s off his head!
Will: He’s not.
Marcus: He said he’d cut me up into little pieces and hide me under the floorboards.
Will: He did?
Marcus: No, but I’m sure he’s capable of it.