George Harrison: George

A Hard Day's Night

George

George: [as TV Director walks away with PA] There he goes. Look at him. Bet his wife doesn't know about her.
John: If he's got one. Look at his sweater.
Paul: You never know, she might have knitted it.
John: She knitted him.

John: Hey, look at the talent. Let's give them a pull.
Paul: Should I?
George: Aye, but don't rush. None of your five-bar gate jumps and over sort of stuff.
Paul: What's that supposed to mean?
George: I don't know, I just thought it sounded distinguished-like.
John: George Harrison, the Scouse of distinction!

Ringo: [referring to half-dressed room-service waiter hiding in the wardrobe] Any of you lot put a man in the cupboard?
George: Nah!
Paul: Don't be soft!
Ringo: Well, someone did.
George: [George gets up, walks over, looks in the cupboard, then sits back down]
George: He's right, you know
John: There you go.

[George has been mistaken for a teen model]
Simon Marshall: We'd like you to give us your opinion on some clothes for teenagers.
George: Oh, by all means. I'd be quite prepared for that eventuality.
Simon Marshall: Well, not your REAL opinion, naturally. It'll be written out for you, and you'll learn it. Can you read?
George: 'Course I can.
Simon Marshall: I mean LINES, ducky. Can you handle lines?
George: Well, I'll have a bash.
Simon Marshall: Good. Give him whatever it is they drink, uh, coke-a-rama?
George: Ta.
Simon Marshall: Well, at least he's polite. Show him the shirts, Adrian.
[Adrian gives George some shirts]
Simon Marshall: Now, you'll like these. You'll really "dig" them. They're "fab," and all the other pimply hyperboles.
George: [unimpressed] I wouldn't be seen dead in them. They're dead grotty.
Simon Marshall: Grotty?
George: Yeah, GROTESQUE!
Simon Marshall: Make a note of that word and give it to Susan. It's rather touching, really. Here's this kid, giving me his utterly valueless opinion, when I know for a fact that within a month, he'll be suffering from a violent inferiority complex and loss of status because he isn't wearing one of these nasty things! Of course they're grotty, you wretched nit! That's why they were designed! But that's what you'll want.
George: I won't!
Simon Marshall: You can be replaced, chickie baby.
George: I don't care.
Simon Marshall: And that pose is out too, Sonny Jim. The new thing is to care passionately and be right-wing.

Ringo: I don't snore.
George: You do, repeatedly.
Ringo: Do I snore, John?
John: Yeah, you're a window-rattler, son.
Ringo: That's just your opinion. Do I snore, Paul?
Paul: With a trombone hooter like yours, it would be unnatural if you didn't.
Grandfather: Now, Paulie... don't mock the afflicted.
Paul: Ah, come off it, it's only a joke!
Grandfather: Aye, it may be a joke to you, but it's his nose. He can't help having a hideous great hooter! And his poor little head, trembling under the weight of it!

George: He's very fussy about his drums, you know. They loom large in his legend.

George: Put yer tongue away, it looks disgustin' hangin out, all pink and naked.

Simon Marshall: Anyway, if you don't cooperate, you won't meet Susan.
George: And who's this Susan when she's at home?
Simon Marshall: Only Susan Canby, our resident teenager. You'll have to love her, she's your symbol.
George: Oh, you mean that posh bird who gets everything wrong?
Simon Marshall: I beg your pardon?
George: Oh, yeah. The lads frequently sit 'round the television and watch her for a giggle. In fact, once, we all sat down, wrote these letters, saying how gear she was and all that rubbish.
Simon Marshall: She's a trendsetter. It's her profession!
George: She's a DRAG--a well-known drag. We turn the sound down on her and say rude things.
Simon Marshall: [horrified] Get him out of here...!
George: Have I said something amiss?
Simon Marshall: Get him out! He's knocking the program's image!
George: Sorry about the shirts!
Simon Marshall: [angrily] GET HIM OUT!

Norm: Now look, I've had a marvelous idea. Just for once, let's all try to behave like ordinary, respectable citizens. Let's not cause any trouble, pull any strokes, or do anything I'm gonna be sorry for. Especially tomorrow at that television theater, because...
[looks at John, who is holding up a bottle to his nose]
Norm: Are you listening to me, Lennon?
John: You're a swine. Isn't he, George?
George: Yeah, a swine.
Norm: [indifferently] Thanks.

George: [George runs into Ringo in the hallway] Hey, Ringo, you know what just happened to me?
Ringo: No, I don't.
[George gives Ringo a dirty look]
Ringo: You ought to stop looking so scornful, it's twisting your face.
[George grabs his face and walks off looking confused]

George: What's the matter with you, then?
Ringo: It's his grandfather. I can tell he doesn't like me. It's 'cause I'm little.
George: Ah, you've got an inferiority complex, you have.
Ringo: Yeah, I know, that's why I play the drums--it's me active compensatory factor.

George: Honestly! Me mind boggles at the very idea, a grown man and you haven't shaved with a safety razor.
Shake: It's not my fault. I come from a long line of electricians.

[Having makeup applied]
George: Hey, you won't interfere with the basic rugged concept of me personality, will you, Madam?

T.V. Director: We are on in 20 minutes.
George: Can I say something?
T.V. Director: What?
George: I don't think it's very likely that we will go on. The law of averages is against it.