Paul
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Over the last 60 years, the human race has been drip-fed images of my face, on lunchboxes and t-shirts and shit. It’s in case our species do meet, you don’t have a fucking spaz attack!
Graeme Willy
Clive Gollings
Agent Lorenzo Zoil
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(to Haggard and O’Reilly) Listen to me, Frick and Fuck, I want you to tell me everything you remember about the pissy nerds.
Dialogue
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(sharing the same bed at the hotel)
Clive: What are you going to dream about?
Graeme: Wonder Woman.
Clive: Please don’t.
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Graeme: (taking pictures of the Black Mailbox) Do you remember when we Googled it on your mum’s computer and the phone rang and you thought it was the FBI?
Clive: I didn’t really think it was the FBI.
Graeme: You started crying.
Clive: I had jet lag.
Graeme: We’d only been to Brussels.
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Graeme: Are you an alien?
Paul: To you I am, yes.
Graeme: Are you gonna probe us?
Paul: (annoyed) Why does everyone always assume that? What am I doing? Am I harvesting farts? How much can I learn from an ass?
Graeme: Uh – what?
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Paul: I’m Paul.
Graeme: Paul?
Paul: Yeah. It’s a nickname that stuck. My ship crashed on a… dog. It doesn’t matter!
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Haggard: (looking at the cover of Clive’s book) Ha! Three tits. That’s awesome.
O’Reilly: You guys should have given her four tits.
Graeme: ... That’s just sick.
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(after Paul heals and eats a recently dead bird)
Graeme: Did you ever do that to a person?
Paul: Yes. I’ve eaten many people.
(Clive looks at him, scared)
Paul: I’m kidding, big guy. Relax.
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Graeme: (after Ruth fainted) If we take her with us, we could get her on our side!
Clive: Yeah, you’d like getting her on your side, wouldn’t you?
Paul: … That doesn’t make any sense.
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Graeme: There’s probably billions of intelligent civilizations out there.
Ruth: So where is everybody? Hmm?
Graeme: I - But one of them’s there!
(points at Paul, who is in the RV showing them his butt)
Paul: (to Clive) Are they looking? Are they looking?
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Graeme: Look, just because your truth isn’t the true truth, it doesn’t mean there’s no truth, Ruth.
Ruth: That’s easy for you to say.
Graeme: It’s really not.
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Ruth: Fuckeroo. That was the best titty-farting sleep I ever had.
Paul: I have the feeling you’re new to cursing, Ruth.
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Ruth: (talking to the agents about Paul) He showed me things.
O’Reilly: She’s talking about his spaceman balls!
(Haggard slaps him)
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(Paul becomes invisible in order for them to go outside)
Ruth: Okay. I’m in.
Paul: Rocky?
Clive: Sure.
Paul: Bullwinkle?
Graeme: Well, I’m a little bit tired.
Paul: Don’t be a pussy.
Graeme: Don’t call me a – all right.
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[Graeme has just pushed Paul out of a rifle blast.]
Graeme: That was close!
[Pauses, looks down at the gaping wound in his chest] Oh my...
[Collapses]
Ruth: No!
Clive: Oh God, Graeme!
[Rushes to his side] Graeme!
Mr Buggs: [Shocked] I never meant to...
Zoil: Put the gun down, Mr Buggs!
Ruth: Drop the
fucking gun, Dad!
Graeme: Oh no... I really liked this t-shirt...
Clive: This is all my fault! We should never have come on holiday.
Graeme: No, no, no, it's- it's fine, it's fine Clive, you know we've, we've had a good time, haven't we?
Clive: Yeah? But you got shot.
Graeme: Aghagh-- Yeah I know but, I can honestly say, Clive, this is the most fun I have ever had...
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