Chris: I've been waiting for my trousers, took your bloody time didn't ya?
Sharon: Oh I could hardly drag meself away, it was so romantic watching your jeans wrapping themselves around my knickers, it took me right back to when a quick tumble meant more than 20ps worth of hot air.
Chris: Hot air? you can talk about hot air...next time Richard Branson feels like crossing the Alantic in that giant virgin jolly of his...he can come round here, you can talk him up...right do you want a lift to your sisters or are you going to stay here nagging the wall paper off the walls.
Sharon: Hang on hang on I'll just do me face.
Chris: I can't wait that long...my tax disk expires at Christmas.
Sharon: There was 30 quid in here when I went up the launderette.
Chris: No some thieving twerp must have had that away whilst you were adding the fabric conditioner.
Sharon: I didn't take my purse up to the launderette you lying merchant...look that's my shopping money I worked bloody hard for that you thieving ponse...do you know how many customers I had to short change to scrape that 30 quid together...gunna put it on one of your 3 legged horses was ya?
Chris: What I do with my money is down to me.
Sharon: Your money? you parasite...you're supposed to be the bread winner here...instead you're nicking the crumbs off my plate...what sort of husband are you?
Chris: Don't start all that least I didn't marry you under false pretences.
Sharon: Meaning what?
Chris: You know.
Sharon: Say it.
Chris: What's the point?
Sharon: GO ON SAY IT!
Chris: Alright...if i knew you couldn't have kids...
Sharon: Oooh you bastard [elbows him in the stomach]
Chris: [holds his stomach] You told me ta say it....you're bloody mental. [leaves the room]