Citas

Brannigan

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Brannigan: Commander, it's my breakfast time. I'd sure like, uh, two over easy, some bacon crisp, and a short stack.
Cmdr. Charles Swann: [to the waiter] Right. I think what my guest would like is two eggs lightly fried on either side, a couple rashers of bacon, and a modest portion of pancakes.
Brannigan: Not too modest on the pancakes.

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Brannigan: [after kicking down door] Knock, knock!

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Brannigan: If I sound like a bear cub with a toothache, it's just that...
Brannigan: I understand, sir. My father flew with the RAF. He said there were only three things wrong with the Yanks: 'overpaid, oversexed, and over here'.
Brannigan: I really walked into that one - and deserved it. I'm sorry.
Det. Sgt. Jennifer Thatcher: Might we start again, sir?
Brannigan: Why? We're doing fine.

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Brannigan: How's the second-best navy?
Royal Navy Sailor: You should know.

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Cmdr. Charles Swann: This isn't Chicago, you know, Brannigan.
Brannigan: That's right, commander. You can't buy a decent burger any place... .
[unintelligible]

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[Brannigan approaches a motorcyclist who has just thrown a bag in the Thames]
Brannigan: Can you swim?
Motorcycle Courier: Yes.
Brannigan: Go get it!
[pushes motorcyclist into the river]

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Brannigan: Kinda strange, having a couple of cops advise you on what's in your client's best interest.
Mel Fields: Knock it off, Brannigan. If Larkin's friends in Chicago find out I'm in bed with the Yard, they'll part my hair with a blowtorch!

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Brannigan: Last time I was here people were getting bombed a different way!

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[Larkin employed Gorman the hitman to plant a bomb in Brannigan's flat. It has just gone off, blowing a hole in the wall through which the Albert Memorial is visible]
Brannigan: [ironically] Larkin paid twenty-five grand to get me that view.

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[to Brannigan]
Cmdr. Charles Swann: [yells] I've asked you politely. Now I'll ask you impolitely. Give me that gun!

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Cmdr. Charles Swann: I just hope you don't lose 'em back in the colonies!

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Cmdr. Charles Swann: In all my years at The Yard, I've never received a finger in the morning post. Lord knows what they'll be sending us next.

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Cmdr. Charles Swann: You're a bloody magnet for trouble.

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Cmdr. Charles Swann: [Speaking of the private automobile that Brannigan commandeered for his police chase and that he wrecked] Incidentally, regarding that automobile, where would you like it shipped?
Brannigan: Huh?
Cmdr. Charles Swann: You bought it, you know.

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Mel Fields: Somebody talked, somebody listened.

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Capt. Moretti: I packed a bag for you.
Brannigan: That is my bag!
Capt. Moretti: I put everything in that was clean. Here, don't catch cold.
Brannigan: Moretti, you're gonna make somebody a nice little wife.

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Mel Fields: Chicago is sending Jim Brannigan over with extradition papers and handcuffs. He'll be at Heathrow any time now.
Larkin: I told you I wanted that big Irish bastard wasted!

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Mel Fields: Look, the boys'll take care of you. They have to. They've got more skeletons than most graveyards. And you know what closets they hang in.

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Mel Fields: Listen to what I worked out. Now, in Devon, at an airport nobody's used for years, I've got a pilot who'll take you to Ireland where you'll skip - immigration and Customs. Then you'll head on south to Ecuador, Venezuela...
Larkin: Oh, that's just great. I end up eating bananas, listening to my *arteries* harden.
Mel Fields: Ben, I'm talking to you as your lawyer, your friend, not a tour guide.

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Cmdr. Charles Swann: Would you like a glass of sherry?
Brannigan: Well, actually, I'd like a boilermaker. That's whisky - neat, you'd say - and a beer chaser, cold, if you can find it.

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Cmdr. Charles Swann: Under our judicial system, Mr. Larkin has the right to apply for bail.
Brannigan: Well, unfortunately, we have the same law. That's how we lost him.
Cmdr. Charles Swann: Rather careless, wasn't it?

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Brannigan: Should I call you Sir Charles?
Cmdr. Charles Swann: I think Swann'll do nicely, thank you. I only use the "Sir" for theatre tickets and table reservations.

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Larkin: Mel, I'm the one that's gonna take the heat. Now, nothing can screw up.
Mel Fields: Stay cool, Ben. It's ticking like a Swiss watch.

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Insp. Traven: Well, Guv, what do you think of our friend Brannigan?
Cmdr. Charles Swann: Well, he's an American.

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Brannigan: If it was up to me I'd get some men out thumpin' on the streets, passing out some 'e pluribus unum'. That's what 90 per cent of police work is today.
Cmdr. Charles Swann: The murder rate in your country, I'm sure, gives *ample* testimony to your superior police methods.

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Cmdr. Charles Swann: Do you think you can raise that money by tomorrow morning?
Mel Fields: That's no problem. Fortunately Mr. Larkin has generous and influential associates in the States.
Brannigan: Translation, Commander: hoods!
Mel Fields: A bank draft is on its way.
Brannigan: Mob money, squeezed out of hookers and skimmed off of casinos.

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Cmdr. Charles Swann: They certainly made bloody fools of us in that Piccadilly caper.

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Brannigan: They pulled a Murphy!
Cmdr. Charles Swann: A Murphy?

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Cmdr. Charles Swann: I want you in Chicago alive, you big sod. I don't want you in London as an unsolved homicide. We're short-staffed as it is.

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Cmdr. Charles Swann: Dammit, I'm having to take more flak than an air gunner over Normandy on this. Forget the commissioner. Now we've got the Home Secretary blowing his top, demanding to know what kind of a lunatic I've turned loose. This isn't Chicago, you know, Brannigan!
Brannigan: That's right, Commander. You can't buy a decent hamburger any place.

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Cmdr. Charles Swann: You're a bloody magnet for trouble!

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Cmdr. Charles Swann: Poor ignorant wee laddie, isn't he?

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[Brannigan has used a revolver wrapped in a plastic bag to coerce Angell into revealing the whereabouts of Ben Larkin. Brannigan then puts the weapon on the table and telephones police headquarters]
Brannigan: You must be getting old, Angell, trying to push second-rate paper like this.
[Brannigan reaches the desk sergeant and doesn't notice that Angell has taken the gun in the plastic bag]
Angell: Turn around, big man!
Brannigan: Angell, you're a real bush-leaguer.
Angell: Oh yeah?
[Angell squeezes the gun's trigger, but it clicks empty]
Brannigan: Oh, you know something, I don't think it's loaded.
Angell: [flying into a rage] Why you dirty lousy Mick! You got no rules! You got no...
[Brannigan grabs a piece of wood and clobbers Angell, who falls unconscious onto the table. Brannigan ties him up while the desk sergeant on the phone yells for him]
Brannigan: [to the phone] Nice to be wanted.
Angell: [waking up] Listen Brannigan, you're dead! There's a contract out on you!
[Brannigan tosses the empty gun on the table next to Angell]
Brannigan: Try explaining that to your parole officer.

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Angell: Larkin's put up 25 Gs to get you knocked off. You're gonna be walking down the street, or sleeping, or sitting on the can, and the next minute, Brannigan, you are dead! You lousy Mick, you!

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Brannigan: The Grand Jury finally indicts him and he disappears like a short beer.

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Miss Allen: Just follow me, Lieutenant.
Brannigan: [eyes get big] Anywhere.

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Det. Sgt. Jennifer Thatcher: Lieutenant Brannigan?
Brannigan: Yes? How did you know?
Det. Sgt. Jennifer Thatcher: Well, headquarters told me to look for someone slightly smaller than the Statue of Liberty. Detective Sergeant Jennifer Thatcher, sir. Scotland Yard.
Brannigan: They've made *real* improvements since I was last here.
Det. Sgt. Jennifer Thatcher: Well, thank you.

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Larkin: I'm not running. I like this town. I like the women, the clubs, the action. I always did.

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Brannigan: Cheer up. All we can lose is our jobs.

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Brannigan: Can I call you Jenny?
Det. Sgt. Jennifer Thatcher: Of course.
Brannigan: Boy, I knew a great gal named Jenny. Whoo! She used to lend me money when I was broke.
Det. Sgt. Jennifer Thatcher: Did she contribute any other - philanthropies?
Brannigan: We were friends. Good friends. Damn good friends.

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Brannigan: No castles or booty?

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Julian: Right on, bucko.

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Luana: Nice and gentle, luv. I'm not kinky.
Gorman: You are what you're paid to be.

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Det. Sgt. Jennifer Thatcher: Here we are, sir. The Garrick Club. See you later, sir.
Brannigan: Aren't you joining us?
Det. Sgt. Jennifer Thatcher: If I walked in I'd cause a dozen heart attacks. It's a *men's* club - rules strictly enforced.
Brannigan: Too bad.

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Brannigan: Blame it on your Yankee slave driver.

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Brannigan: [sarcastically] Oh, you're a real Eagle Scout, Fields.

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Det. Sgt. Jennifer Thatcher: He's a bookie. He's also a grass - what you call a stoolie. He's got his eye on every keyhole in London.

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Mrs Cooper: I'm sorry I haven't a room available. But, I'm sure I can make room for you in my place.
Brannigan: Oh, that's very kind, but...
Mrs Cooper: No, really, it'd be a pleasure. A pleasure.

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