A city's Chief Constable has imposed a virtual police state, resulting in little crime — except from his own officers who infringe suspects' rights.
- Doyle Martin Shaw
Do you trust me?
Totally... utterly... implicitly. Up to a point.
I can hold my liquor, George, it won't colour my judgement.
I know. And it's my liquor.
[Talking about the power-abusing Chief Constable]
Suppose his standards change? Suppose he suddenly clamps down on those who don't go along with his politics, or ethnic groups, or... or people who grow their hair below the Plimsoll line, or anyone who doesn't measure up in his opinion! Unbridled power! That's the thing I've been fighting all my life. It starts wars, and it hurts people, and it's... it's damn bloody dangerous!
Know thine enemy — one of my favourite cliches.
[Bodie and Doyle are booking into their hotel]
Oh, can we have the same room, please? It's just that my friend here does a spot of painting, and he finds the view inspiring.
And the doctor says it's doing his fractured eyelash so much good.
Hotel Clerk: [to Doyle]
I'm sorry, but I need your full address.
Why, you thinking of writing to him, sweetheart?
I'm not used to sharing, you know. 'Specially with a fella.
[Bodie looks around their hotel room]
I s'pose it could have been worse. Could've been near a railway. [A train goes by; they look at each other and laugh]
It's like a bad dream.
Not a word, not a poster, nothing about gay youth.
Ah, that's a relief. My image remains untarnished.