Dave: Well, I just pray they’re a bit more understanding about us, that’s all.
Horse: You what?
Dave: Well, they’re going to be looking at us like that, aren’t they, Eh? I mean, what if next Friday 400 women turn ’round and say “He’s too fat, he’s too old and he’s a pigeon-chested little tosser.”? What happens then, eh?
Horse: They wouldn’t say that, would they?
Dave: Why not? He’s just said her tits are too big.
Lomper: That’s different. We’re… blokes.
Dave: Yeah, and?
Gerald: I think she’s got nice tits, actually.
Lomper: I never said owt about her personality, like. I mean, she’s probably quite nice if you get to know her.
Dave: No. And they won’t say nowt about your personality neither. Which is good ’cause you’re basically a bastard. Bollocks to your personality – this is what they’re looking at, right? And I’ll tell you summat, mate. Anti-wrinkle cream there may be, but anti-fat-bastard cream there is none.