Human Traffic (1999)
Jip: The weekend has landed. All that exists now is clubs, drugs, pubs and parties. I've got 48 hours off from the world, man. I'm gonna blow steam out my head like a screaming kettle, I'm gonna talk cod shit to strangers all night, I'm gonna lose the plot on the dancefloor. The free radicals inside me are freakin', man! Tonight I'm Jip Travolta, I'm Peter Popper, I'm going to never-never land with my chosen family, man. We're gonna get more spaced out than Neil Armstrong ever did, anything could happen tonight, you know? This could be the best night of my life. I've got 73 quid in my back burner - I'm gonna wax the lot, man! The Milky Bars are on me! Yeah!
Lulu: Take me to a world where the drugs are free, the clubs have no gravity and every shag guarantees an orgasm!
Moff: I'm making love to the music man. And believe me, I can go all night.
Koop: [Playing a Jungle Record] This could turn Hare Krishna into a Bad Bwoy!
Jip: We wanna go somewhere else. We're not threatened by people anymore. All our insecurities have evaporated. We're in the clouds now. We're wide open. We're spacemen orbiting the earth. The world looks beautiful from here, man. We're nympholeptics, desiring for the unobtainable. We risk sanity for moments of temporary enlightenment. So many ideas. So little memory. The last thought killed by anticipation of the next. We embrace an overwhelming feeling of love. We flow in unison. We're together. I wish this was real. We want a universal level of togetherness, where we're comfortable with everyone. We're in rhythm. Part of a movement. A movement to escape. We wave goodbye. Ultimately, we just want to be happy. Heh, yeah, hang on, what the fuck was I just talking about?
Jeremy Faxman: Every club is different, but in the Asylum it's the manager. He has a string of homeboys dealing the pucker Es to the party people in the club. He makes the most coin out of this enterprise. His homies will make just a couple of quid on each pucker. His homies are also scoping for other dealers on the block. Where the homies have an illegitimate pucker E dealer in their website they tell the bouncers. The bouncers grip him, nab his stash and kick him out with a physical warning. They give the pucker Es to their homies and they sell it on to the kids in the club. What's your name? What have you had? Reach for the lazers. Safe as fuck.
Moff: [while high] The Emperor... wants to conquer outer space. Yoda... wants to explore inner space.
Nina: I can voluntarily perform a fanny fart at all times.
Koop: [on the phone] Are your legs open you filthy little harlot?
Lulu: Is that you Koop?
Koop: Oh fuck, shit, sorry Lulu. Yeah, is Nina there please? Sorry
Koop: Fucking wanker.
TV interviewer: Why do you come to these nights?
Lulu: I'd like to answer that one if I may.
Lulu: To get absolutely trashed.
Jip: I fucking hate this job man. We spend nine hours a day, five days a week incarcerated in this wanky fucking store, having to act like C-3PO to any wanker who wants to condescend to us. We have to brown nose the customers, then we get abused by some... mini fucking Hitler who just gives us stick all day.
Jip: [after discussing the huge phonebill Moff ran up after a drunken phone-sex session] How many times have I told ya, get your own fucking flat. Get your own flat man, you need your own flat. It's a piece of piss, you can get it on the social.
Moff: [sighs] Where am I gonna go for fuck sake?
Jip: I dunno. What the fuck do you care?
[gestures a wanking hand]
Jip: As long as it's got a fucking phone-line you're all right ain't ya
Moff: [laughs] Fuck off you cunt.
Lulu: Why would I want a man? They're all emotionally retarded, egotistical pricks who fuck with your head. They try to control you and make you feel like the whore of Babylon if you wear a mini skirt. I'm an independent girl who wears lipstick because she wants to, not because men find it more attractive. I'm fine being single. I am! Peachy fuckin' creamy.
Jip: [narrating] This is Lulu. She's a full on club minx. Major head banger. We've known each other for years. Some people find her very intimidating. It's purely social camouflage. Recently we became dropping partners. And that is how I got to know the real Lulu. She's a pussycat.
Lulu: Write a song, Tyler. I don't care. Good luck with your life 'cause you're gonna fucking need it.