Burke and Hare

& Hangman: And on the other side of the city... you’ve got Scotland’s Royal College of Surgeons. And that’s run by Professor Alexander Monro. He’s... how do you put it? Old-school.
    Professor Monro: ....... And that would be an artery.


& Patterson: Where’s the body, Angus? ... But we had an arrangement.
    Hangman: Professor Monro at the Royal College gets all the bodies now. ... Now when the demand for a certain commodity exceeds supply, it creates a business opportunity just waiting for the right kind of clever entrepreneurs to step in.


& — Watch your language, you fuckin’ son-of-a-bitch bastard!


& Burke: What are we gonna do, William? There’s no more canals to dig.
    Hare: Don’t you worry, Willy. I have got all kinds of ideas.
    Burke: Aye, but no money to speak of. No plan.
    Hare: Just enough money for one last dram.
    Burke: I’ll drink to that.


& Burke: Holy shite!


& Patterson: Why is he bent in half like that?
    Professor Knox: Er, this man obviously died in some kind of construction accident.
    Hare: That is exactly what hap... isn’t that exactly what happened, Mr. Burke?
    Burke: Aye, Mr. Hare, yeah, that’s exactly what happened.


& Hare: I think you’ve got a perfectly lovely arse. ... Evening, Mrs. McFie.
    Burke: Is it bad?


& Ginny Hawkins: Have you not heard of William bloody Shakespeare? Show some respect! Bollocks.

---

& Nicephore: It is an heliographic, a device to capture the image forever.
    Professor Knox: An heliographic?
    Nicephore: Oui.
    Professor Knox: We shall have to come up with something better than that.


& Hare: Men like us make our own luck.
    Burke: What do you mean? Have you gone mad?
    Hare: No, Willy. We’ve gone into business.
    Burke: That doesn’t give us the right to determine another man’s fate.
    Hare: Man is gonna die from the moment he leaves his mother’s womb. Their fate’s already been determined. All we’d be doing is... helping them along a bit.


& Burke: I need to make more money. Fast.
    Hare: Don’t tell me she charged you for the night.
    Burke: She is an actress, not a whore!
    Hare: What’s the difference?


& Burke: I am gonna finance her play.
    Hare: Well, with the economy in its current condition, I think I’d have to advise against such a high-risk investment.


& McTavish: Let me tell you how things work in this little city of mine. Anyone who attempts to start a new business here has to agree to pay me a small percentage of the gross. And in return, I make sure you stay out of jail. You’re not harassed by the authorities, the competition, or any other antagonist that might just come along.
    Hare: So we pay you for... protection?
    McTavish: Why, yes, I like that. Protection.
    Hare: How much of a percentage are we talking about?
McTavish: 50%.
    Burke: Half?!
    Fergus: Don’t be unhappy, boys. Mr. McTavish hasnae yet told you the good part.
    Burke: And, uh... what would be the good part?
    McTavish: You get to remain alive.


& Lucky: Keep going, Willy. Helps me think. The thing is... that nobody likes dealing with dead bodies. So, for a fee, you could take them off their hands. Sell them a coffin for their loved ones, arrange a burial. Yeah, and when people are grieving they don’t think about how much things cost. We could call it a “funeral store.” Ah!
    Hare: Arghhh!
    Lucky: Oh! Funeral store... no. Sounds too down-market. I’d prefer something like “funeral parlour.”
    Hare: Oh God, yes! Yeah, that’s a fantastic idea!
    Lucky: Oh, don’t stop! Don’t stop, Willy! I’m almost there. Oh. Oh! Oh!!!


& Lucky: Unhand my boys!


& Hare: Morning, Willy. For the love of Lord Jesus, she finally gave it up!
    Burke: No! No. Although I’m pretty sure tonight’s the night.
    Hare: I know this amazing trick you can do with your tongue...


& Captain Tam McLintoch: Now, Mrs. Hare, I have some questions I’d like to ask you.
    Lucky: I’m not saying anything, especially not to a Presbyterian.
    McLintoch: I’m half Jewish.
    Lucky: I’m being persecuted by a heathen*! This is an outrage*.


& Nicephore: Say “cheese”!
    — Fromage!
    Nicephore is widely credited as one of the inventors of photography.
    Nicephore: Parfait. Bravo.


& But the real star turned out to be Professor Monro’s young assistant, Charles Darwin. He went on to write a book that sold almost as well as the Bible. It said only the fittest survive.

The Proclaimers - I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles)

When I wake up, well I know i’m gonna be,
I’m gonna be the man who wakes up next you
When I go out, yeah I know I’m gonna be
I’m gonna be the man who goes along with you
If I get drunk, well I know I’m gonna be
I’m gonna be the man who gets drunk next to you
And if I haver up, Yeah I know I’m gonna be
I’m gonna be the man who’s havering to you

But I would walk 500 miles
And I would walk 500 more
Just to be the man who walks a thousand miles
To fall down at your door

-- Dict:
heathen — язычник; неуч; варвар
outrage — произвол; надругательство; оскорбление; безобразие; насилие; беззаконие


On Imdb.