Joe Orton (1933 – 1967)
English playwright.
Prentice: My nerves are on edge.
Rance: You should consult a qualified psychiatrist.
Prentice: I am a qualified psychiatrist.
Rance: You're a fool. That isn't quite the same thing. Though, in your case, the two may have much in common.
Rance: How shocking! His abnormal condition has driven him to seek refuge in religion. Always the last ditch stand of a man on the brink of disaster.
Rance: A search party must be organized. What have you in the way of dogs?
Prentice: A spaniel and a miniature poodle.
Rance: Let them be unleashed!
Prentice: What this young woman claims is a tissue of lies.
Match: This is a boy, sir. Not a girl. If you're baffled by the difference it might be as well to approach both with caution.
Truscott: Why aren't you both at the funeral? I thought you were mourners.
Fay: We decided not to go. We were afraid we might break down.
Truscott: That's a selfish attitude to take. The dead can't bury themselves, you know.
Truscott: How dare you involve me in a situation for which no memo has been issued.
Fay: Have you given a thought to the priest?
Truscott: We can't have him in on it, miss. Our percentage wouldn't be worth having.
Fay: Mr McLeavy threatened to expose us.
Truscott: I've been exposed before.
Fay: What happened?
Truscott: I arrested the man. He's doing twelve years.
Rance: You may speak freely in front of me. I represent Her Majesty's Government. Your immediate superiors in madness. I'm from the Commissioners.
Prentice: Which branch?
Rance: The mental branch.
Prentice: Do you cover asylums proper? Or just houses of tentative madness?
Rance: My brief is infinite. I'd have sway over a rabbit hutch if the inmates were mentally disturbed.
Geraldine: I've no idea who my father was.
Prentice: I'd better be frank, Miss Barclay. I can't employ you if you're in any way miraculous. It would be contrary to established practice. You did have a father?
Geraldine: Oh, I'm sure I did. My mother was frugal in her habits, but she'd never economize unwisely.
Mrs Prentice: You put me in an impossible position.
Nick: No position is impossible when you're young and healthy.
Geraldine: At least give me back my clothes. I feel naked without them.
Rance: Were your relations with your secretary normal?
Prentice: Yes.
Rance: Well, Prentice, your private life is your own affair. I find it shocking none the less.
Fay: What will you do when you're old?
Hal: I shall die.
Fay: I see you're determined to run the gamut of all experience.
Geraldine: I'm quite sane!
Rance: Pull yourself together. Why have you been certified if you're sane? Even for a madwoman you're unusually dense.
McLeavy: My duty is clear.
Truscott: Only the authorities can decide when your duty is clear. Wild guesses by persons like yourself can only cause confusion.
Fay: Your explanation had the ring of truth. Naturally I disbelieved every word.
Usual messages from the heads of the establishment. The Queen from Windsor, the Pope from Rome: Pilate and Caiaphas celebrating the birth of Christ.
Mrs Prentice: Have you taken up transvestism? I'd no idea our marriage teetered on the edge of fashion.
McLeavy: Has no one considered my feelings in all this?
Truscott: What percentage do you want?
McLeavy: I don't want money. I'm an honest man.
Truscott: You'll have to mend your ways then.
Truscott (shouting, knocking Hal to the floor): Under any other political system I'd have you on the floor in tears!
Hal (crying): You've got me on the floor in tears!