Top 30 Quotes From Friday

Joe: There's the limo from the mansion.
Pep: Yeah, and that's Emil Muzz.
Joe: Let's check Enid Bordon's description.
Pep: Well?
[Opens his notebook and reads from it]
Pep: Big, bad, stupid-looking.
Joe: An exact match.

Joe: [reading from notebook during high speed chase] "Reckless endangerment of human life, willful disregard of private property, failure to signal for a... "
Pep: Yeah, he's really raking up the violations, isn't he.
Joe: Not him, you. This is your one way ticket back to civilian life, Mr. I-Like-To-Throw-The-Book-Out-The-Window.
Pep: That's a good idea.
[throws book out the window]

Pep: Oh Joe, you never had these feelings before, have you?
Joe: Almost. I had a kitten once.
Pep: Yeah, it's going to be a little different. Connie is not going to be sleeping in a box, or meowing all night, or clawing up your drapes. Or maybe she will. I mean, you're both kind of starting from scratch with this.

Enid: The magazines and papers were his down in the trash. No cheques or money, I looked. I should have thrown it all in the river the day he left but unlike some people I have a heart, goddamnit, the miserable little bag of puke.
Joe: I think we're finished here, don't you Detective Streebeck?

Pep: You know, Friday, I think you and the Commissioner would make a cute couple. I like the way you both keep your jaws locked. Plus the two of you do share that same curious affection for hats.
Joe: May I remind you that only this morning Commissioner Kirkpatrick threatened to turn me into a... civilian?
Pep: Yeah, I know. There was was a gleam in her eye, though...

Pep: [to Friday] Can you swim?
Joe: Red Cross junior lifesaver with clusters, bub!
Pep: Silly me.

Pep: Well, what a pleasant surprise... Grannie Friday...
Friday: Not that it's any of your business, she's my maternal grandmother, her name is Mundy.

Joe: Ah, sure, but just like every other foaming, rabid psycho in this city with a foolproof plan, you've forgotten you're facing the single finest fighting force ever assembled.
Reverend: The Israelis?

Joe: [looking at a lion who's mane has been shaved into a mohawk] Somebody must have wanted that lion's mane pretty bad to pull a twisted stunt like that.
Pep: Although, as mohawks go it's not that bad. It'll grow back.
Joe: Yeah, and how do you tell that to these kids here who have never seen a lion before and now probably won't have the desire to ever see one again.
Pep: Kids, it'll grow back.
[kids cheer]

Friday: [Emil Muzz is in the drivers seat of the limo asleep. They approach showing their badges] Police officers. Emil Muzz?
[He doesn't respond, so Pep reaches in and blows the horn, and he wakes up]
Pep: We need to ask you a few questions, Emil.
Emil: Blow it out your pants, cop.
Friday: Oh, good Muzz. Give yourself a hard time.
[At that, Muzz, without taking his eyes off them, starts the limo, puts it in Drive, then burns rubber away, inadvertently running over Friday's feet]

Pep: This guy knows God personally, I hear they play racquetball together.
Joe: Well, just go ahead and chuckle away, mister. I don't hear God laughing.
Pep: You will, once he sees your haircut.

Pep: [In the interrogation room, there's a close-up of a pack of cigarettes, a hand goes to grab them. It's Emil Muzz, and Friday shoves him back in his chair] Siddown, unless you're growing!
Pep: Look Muzz, we've got you on 87 violations of the motor vehicle code, it's only a matter of time before we tie you into one of those PAGAN jobs, not to mention that you stole your landlady's wedding dress which so far is the only endearing thing about you. So why don't you talk to us?
Emil: [after blowing a nasty spitball that splats right on Friday's face] Shove it, you pawn! My attorney is on his way, and we both know I'll be out of here in 20 minutes on bail. So take off these cuffs, and open the door!
Joe: I wouldn't worry about the door, Muzz. The kind of scum that would represent you would just ooze right under it.

Pep: [as they're chasing Muzz, Friday grabs the CB mike] What are you doing?
Friday: Calling for backup!
Pep: Why?
Friday: Because there are specific procedures for high-speed pursuits, Mister, and we're going to follow every last one of them!
Pep: [Takes the mike from him and puts it back] Forget it, Friday! This is *our* collar!
Friday: *Our* collar, huh?
Pep: I think so!
Friday: Well, let me tell you something, Mr. Lone-Wolf, the proud men and women of the Los Angeles Police Department comprise of one big family! From my brother the traffic cop, to my sister the meter-maid! And when one of us makes a collar, we *all* make a collar!
[Goes to call, but Streebek quickly stops him]
Pep: Friday, are you on any kind of medications that, as your partner, I should be aware of?
Friday: [Speaks into mike] 2-King-14! 2-King-14! I am requesting a backup...
[Streebek snatches the mike out of his hand again, and they briefly fight over it]

Enid: [Friday knocks on her door, she opens] What the hell do you want?
Joe: [as he and Streebek show their badges] Police officers, maam.
Enid: 'Bout time you pencil-dicks showed up. Why couldn't you have gotten here before that big bad stupid-looking piece of sewage breath stole my white wedding dress?
Joe: 'Sewage-breath' is your little nickname for?
Enid: Muzz. Emil Muzz.
Pep: [Looks at Friday] Not much of an improvement.

Joe: Ma'am, what is the approximate dry weight of the average Madagascan fruit tree bat?
Pep: You mean you don't know?

Captain: [after waking Capt. Gannon and briefing him in the middle of the night] Friday, do you have any idea what time it is?
Joe: Yes sir.
[looks at his watch]
Pep: Oh, don't ask him that, Captain.
Joe: It's 4:27am, sir.
Pep: He lives for that. It's in his blood.

Joe: "Prepare the virgin"? I don't like the sound of that.
Pep: Let's just hope they're not referring to you.

Pep: [Friday is driving, speeding to the airport to rescue Connie] Be careful. This is a dangerous road.
Joe: When are you worried about my driving, Mr. l-Like-Life-In-The-Fast-Lane?
Pep: You just flew through a stop sign!
Joe: It felt good.
Pep: Look out for that bump! Don't you remember those films they showed us in high school? Red Asphalt. Blood on the Highway.
Joe: You picked two of my favorites.
Pep: [Returning to the driving scene] Come on, Joe. Slow down! What happened to those regulations on high-speed pursuits? I thought you were safety-conscious.
Joe: Close your eyes and think of Christmas.
Pep: Think of Christmas? Good King Wenceslaus looked out on the feast of Stephen. And the snow lay round about, deep and crisp and even. Brightly shone the moon that night, though the frost was cruel. When the poor man came in sight...
Joe: Try Silent Night.

[Friday's car was stolen]
Friday: With the exception of you and canned cling peaches I'd be hard pressed to find anyone or anything that doesn't know you should never leave your car keys in the ignition.
Pep: It's called a mistake, Friday, but I don't suppose you ever make any of those, do you?
Captain: Friday, Streebeck, we got another one. Chemical train hijack down at the freight yards. Damn Pagans must be living on No-Doz!
Friday: Yessir, Captain. We'll roll as soon as we requisition a new...
Captain: Oh, one more thing. Police and fire departments all over the county have been reporting vehicles stolen. So keep an eye on your car!

[after bursting into a suspected drug factory with a tank that ruptures all equipment in its path, sticks out tongue to identify liquid spraying in all directions]
Pep: I can't quite place it! It tastes like...
Joe: Milk. Just like the sign said before you obliterated it. Fresh wholesome milk.
Pep: You probably love this stuff.
Joe: Vitamin D, calcium, essential for good strong bones and healthy teeth. But that's all Greek to you, isn't it, Mr. Gingivitis?

Connie: Why is his so much bigger than yours?
Joe: Ma'am?
Connie: Your gun.
Joe: I've never needed more.

Pep: [He's sitting in a car being towed in by a wrecker, the door falls completely off and he steps out, dressed like a homeless bum] Sergeant Friday?
Joe: Who want's to know?
Pep: [Shows his badge pinned to the inside of his jacket] I'm Pep Streebek, your new partner.
Joe: Not looking like *that*, you aren't, mister.
Pep: [Scoffs] Oh really? What's that supposed to mean?
Joe: It *means* I don't care what undercover rock you crawled out from, there's a dress code for detectives in Robbery-Homicide. Section 3-605.10, .20, .22, .24, .26, .50, .70, and .80. It specifies: clean shirt, short hair, tie, pressed trousers, sports jacket or suit, and leather shoes, preferably with a high shine on them.

Joe: [Friday addresses Whirley after he has entered a bathroom stall] Hold it right there, Whirley. Police officer, you're under arrest.
Reverend: I beg your pardon, what is this? Some kind of a feeble joke?
Joe: Oh, it's a real knee-slapper, friend, if you consider California Penal Code section 4A, 4207A, 597 and 217: Theft, Kidnapping, Cruelty to Animals, and Attempted Murder something to laugh about.
Reverend: [seated on the toilet with his pants around his ankles] I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about.
Joe: My partner and I witnessed that little torchlight picnic you threw last night, we're gonna put you where your kind always ends up - in a seven by seven foot grey-green metal cage in the fifteenth floor of some hundred-year-old penitentiary, with damp, stinking walls and a wooden plank for a bed. Sure, this city isn't perfect, we need a smut-free life for all of our citizens; cleaner streets, better schools, and a good hockey team. But the big difference between you and me, mister, is you made the promise, and I'm going to keep it.
[everyone applauds]

Granny: Do join us, Detective Swayback.
Joe: Streebeck.
Pep: Pep.

[reading from huge lit up sign]
Joe: People... Against... Goodness... And... Normalcy. P, A, G, A, N. P.A.G.A.N.!
Pep: Nice work, Joe.

[Friday is about to eat a chili dog]
Pep: You know the kinds of things that can fall into an industrial sausage press? Not excluding rodent hairs and... bug excrement?
[Friday gives a disgusted look]
Joe: I hate you, Streebeck.

Friday: Look out. Muppets!

Pep: Are you crazy? Silvia Wiss wanted you!
Friday: Now let me tell you something, Streebeck. There are two things that clearly differentiate the human species from animals. One, we use cutlery. Two, we're capable of controlling our sexual urges. Now, you might be an exception, but don't drag me down into your private Hell.
Pep: You've got a lot of repressed feelings, don't you, Friday? Must be what keeps your hair up.

[Friday and Streebeck's squad car has just been blown up]
Joe: My hat was in that car.
Pep: Yeah, well I can tell you just who re-blocked it for you.

Sylvia: [pulls her top off] Do these look like the breasts of a forty year old woman?
Friday: No ma'am. They're quite impressive... bordering on spectacular.