- Where is your son?
- Up in top fields. You can’t miss him. His leg’s bound in polythene.

- These aren’t accidents! They’re THROWING themselves into the road gladly! THROWING themselves into the road to escape all this hideousness! Throw yourself into the road, darling! You haven’t got a chance!

Withnail: Right, you fucker, I’m going to do the washing up!
Marwood: No, no, you can’t. It’s impossible, I swear it. I’ve looked into it. Listen to me, listen to me! There are things in there, there’s a tea-bag growing! You haven’t slept in sixty hours, you’re in no state to tackle it. Wait till the morning, we’ll go in together.
Withnail: This IS the morning. Stand aside!
Marwood: You don’t understand. I think there may be something alive.
Withnail: What do you mean? a rat?
Marwood: It’s possible, it’s possible.
Withnail: Then the fucker will rue the day!