Gene Hunt: Why have you got an ant's nest up your arse over a bit of skirt!?
Sam Tyler: Because I loved her!
Gene Hunt: You great... soft... sissy... girlie... nancy... French... bender... Man United supporting POOF!!
Layla Dylan: Leave him alone!
Gene Hunt: Did I ask you? Did I ask you anything other than WHERE THE BLOODY HELL IS RAVI!

Gene Hunt: Will someone please put some bog roll in the toilets! I've just had to wipe my arse on Francis Lee!

Gene Hunt: Yeah, OK, no need to go all Dorothy. It was a long time ago.
[The rest of the team break in to find Sam lying tied up with an iron on his chest]

Gene Hunt: You know that guy in the Bible who tried to get a camel through the eye of a needle?
Sam Tyler: That would be ... Jesus.
Gene Hunt: Well, he had nothing on Mrs Luckhurst.

Gene Hunt: You so much as belch out of line and I'll have your scrotum on a barbed wire plate.

Gene Hunt: You think you know everything, don't you?
Sam Tyler: I know the stench of rotten apples.
Gene Hunt: Yeah? And I know your slag is lying through her teeth and do you wanna know why?
Sam Tyler: Yeah, why?
Gene Hunt: Steven Warren is a bum bandit. Do you understand? A poof! A fairy! A queer! A queen! Fudge packer! Uphill Gardener! Fruit picking sodomite!
Sam Tyler: He's gay?
Gene Hunt: As a bloody Christmas Tree! Mind you, he is a little touchy on the subject, being a twisted Catholic with an elderly mother and all, so I wouldn't go mentioning it to him... You challenged his authority so he stitched you up like a kipper. Pretty girl appealed to your vanity as the only decent sheriff in Dodge City. Slipped you a Mickey, tied you up and bounced on your ding-a-ling.
Sam Tyler: Why?
Gene Hunt: I suspect the answer will lie in the post. Photos, you idiot.

Glen Fletcher: Don't take this the wrong way, DI Tyler, but you're a mental case.

Hugo Barton: [runs towards the team] Excuse me!
Sam Tyler: Excuse me sir, can you go back behind the cordon, please.
Hugo Barton: Hugo Barton. I'm a reporter from the Gazette.
Gene Hunt: Oh, terrific. [shouts at the hostage taker] Oi! We've got another one for you!
Sam Tyler: Guv.
Hugo Barton: He walked in about 40 minutes ago; he was just ahead of me. He pulled a gun; he means business.
Gene Hunt: Y'know, I'd listen to the snot in my hankie before I'd listen to you.

Layla: About 8:30, straight after I left Sam's flat, he was still alive.
Gene Hunt: Straight after you left Sam's flat?
Sam Tyler: She needed protection.
Gene Hunt: Well I hope you used some!
[Interviewing Layla at the station]

Layla: He's really freaking me out, can we get him out of here?
Gene Hunt: I'd love nothing better, piss off Tyler!

Men in the Trafford Arms: What's this?
Sam Tyler: It's chicken... in a basket.

Nelson: I see a darkness in you, Sam.
Sam Tyler: Oh, you can see into me, can you, Nelson? Well, Come on then. Am I mad? Huh? Is this real? Come on. I just want to know the truth.
Nelson: We all want that, Sam. What's real. What's not. I see folk who walk about in a sunken dream, 'cause they feel nothing. Are they alive?
Sam Tyler: I wake up every morning and I tell myself I am alive.
Nelson: When you can feel, then you're alive. When you don't feel, you're not.

Nelson: I set the rules here.

Nelson: What can I get you, man, raise your spirits?
Sam Tyler: Diet Coke, please.
[Nelson looks blank]
Sam Tyler: Just kidding, a pint of bitter.

Ray Carling: [angrily] I got shot because of you!
Sam Tyler: I know. I'm truly sorry, Ray.
Ray Carling: Still, I met a bird, medical bird.
Sam Tyler: Called nurses.
Ray Carling: Big tits, arse like two cox's pippins in a bag.
Sam Tyler: She sounds enigmatic.
Ray Carling: No, boss, she was from Barnsley.
[Sam is looking around the pub for Annie and Phyllis notices]
Phyllis: Go and find her.
Sam Tyler: What?
Phyllis: I'm not just a sex goddess, I've got eyes. Go on. [She gestures to outside the pub]