AUBREY: The Cult of the Brigadoon is only a small fanatical sect of this community, I wouldn't worry about it. WARREN: Aubrey, I don't know you well enough to tell if you're joking.

GORD: The pink-footed goose. It's squawk heralds a new day. Covered in bird shit.

PAMELA: What is this meeting about? Oh, tell me it's not the Aloha Eternity. CLIVE: It's the Aloha Eternity.

CLIVE: Not your wife. Why didn't you tell Karen, who isn't your wife and isn't Karen, that you were going all that way? Did you not want her to know?

WARREN IS PACING UP AND DOWN THE QUARANTINE SUITE EATING GRUEL ANXIOUSLY FROM A PLASTIC BOWL

CLIVE: Tomorrow you can fly your helicopter over Sugarplum Mountain and watch the sun go down over one of the most beautiful cities in the world. All courtesy of Kontinue. REBECCA: It's Sugarloaf Mountain. Enjoy your paintings.

REBECCA: Sorry again, Pam about the mess. Grab her feet Clive. CLIVE: Er, er… I walk with a cane, Rebecca, I don't know if I can manage carrying a dead body- REBECCA: Just do it. CLIVE: Fuck sake.

GORDON: Don't fucking laugh at me. WARREN: I'm not laughing at you. I just don't know what you're trying to tell me.

WARREN: Crazy shit infusions? GORDON: Look, I wasn't there and I'm not a cryo...ologist. But the company's been trying to develop and refine life-extending drugs for years.

CLIVE: So, stop dragging it round like a bowling ball in a sock, yeh. Take it to a show. Take it to the beach. Put death on your bucket list. And then, maybe you can genuinely rest in peace. For real. True, earned rest. And wait for better minds than ours to bring you back.

CLIVE: I'm on my way to meet Fran Jones right now. She summoned me. PAMELA: She summoned you? CLIVE: Yeah, to a tapas restaurant.

BRYONY: Your mind was as riddled as the shitty genepool you were spawned from. We only came back to you out of sheer desperation.

GORDON: Ah. You're very special, Warren. WARREN: Well, thank you.

WARREN: This one’s not going to fit in my Dictaphone. GORDON: No, it won't Mr Godby, but luckily you're sitting in a 1998 Vauxhall Astra. What it lacks in air conditioning it makes up for in a top-notch cassette player.

HARVEY: What can you tell me about a Dr Bryony Halbech? CLIVE: Fucking hell Harvey! We're supposed to be friends! I introduced you to your mistress!

REBECCA: We need to help the poor man! CLIVE: You wanted to strangle him 30 seconds ago. Drink your drink.

CLIVE: I didn't pick Uncle Fucknut the piss fiend.

WARREN: Just wanted to go home.

CLIVE: Tomorrow you can fly your helicopter over Sugarplum Mountain and watch the sun go down over one of the most beautiful cities in the world. All courtesy of Kontinue. REBECCA: It's Sugarloaf Mountain. Enjoy your paintings.

GORDON: He was eaten by pigs? WARREN: Yeah, but very, very muscular pigs. GORDON: Pigs eat people anyway, don't they? WARREN: Do they? GORDON: I'm just saying it's not quite the wild sci-fi death you're making it out to be.

GORDON: I was scared of people. Talking to people on the phone. Or in person. Or anywhere. The idea of calling a customer service line because my wifi had gone down, or to haggle over upgrading my phone, that would make me sweat. And then I was here and it was all gone.

CLIVE: Warren, you're the first man ever to have survive cryonic preservation. Congratulations. And tonight, you'll be the first man to go in twice.

WARREN: Yeah. Because death can be fun. GORDON: It really can! And in a sense, isn't it slightly reassuring? These guys are dead. And we're not! WARREN: I can't even begin to unpack that statement.

WAFFLES DOES BUGGER ALL.

CLIVE: Oh you floridly drink piss.

GORDON: I've got a gold colour Vauxhall Astra. Well…it's more coppery but I like to say it's gold. I call it the Golden Bullet. It doesn't go very fast.

GORDON: And all the time his heart is slowing, all the beeps are dropping in tone and pace and it looked like no one wanted to help, that they were just going to watch him... die.

CLIVE: It's a goddamn cruise ship! PAMELA: It's a goddamn cruise ship. You poured the bourbon on top of the brine. You son of a bitch, you made cryonic preservation fun.

CLIVE: Little Sammy Scrotum.

GRACE TAKES WARREN'S HAND AND SHAKES IT HARD, AND CLAPS ANOTHER HAND ON WARREN'S SHOULDER. GRACE: You look great. WARREN: So do you. How have you got better looking?

AUBREY: Halbech? Dr Halbech? Bryony, answer your fucking comm! DR THOMAS: She's gone, you're in charge of this fucker's airway. Come on.

WARREN: I didn't even know what this job was, okay? My wife got it for me. GORDON: Oh. Right. WARREN: Look, I've been out of work for a while, okay. I... wasn't well. I... I wasn't well.

WARREN: Wow. Well. That was bleak. GORDON: Yeah. WARREN: What's the lesson then. That maybe death isn't fun after all? GORDON: Yeah… Maybe so.

CLIVE: Rebecca, you seem stressed. REBECCA: The world's on fire, Clive, everyone is stressed. CLIVE: I mean... that's just objectively not true. Sophia, you stressed? SOPHIA: Too blessed to be stressed, boss!

CLIVE: So, Amos got there first in cryo. It's not what any of us wanted. But your first reaction is to take everything we've done, everything we've achieved, tie it to a brick with my name on it and throw it in the sea?

AUBREY: Open you bastard's bastard!

WARREN: You're a really good friend Gordon. I'm really sorry you got caught up in all of this.

FRANCESCA: You're going to live or die on the Aloha Eternity, Clive. CLIVE: In many ways that is kind of the point.

AS GORDON'S STORY RETURNS TO OSCAR, HE BECOMES A LITTLE AWKWARD, NOT QUITE SO SURE HOW TO ARTICULATE THEIR RELATIONSHIP.

REBECCA: Clive, there isn't going to be a 'not long from now', and the people are starting to figure it out. CLIVE: The people? Your personal pilot landed your personal helicopter on the most expensive ocean liner on the seven seas that you part own, you want to talk about 'the people'?

WARREN: He's gonna die, isn't he? AUBREY: If I believed that, there would be no point in keeping it from you.

CLIVE: I- I have a daughter. M- my daughter. REBECCA: She lives in Sweden, doesn't she? Engaged to a foreign dignitary of some kind. Her mother is still there too, I believe. CLIVE: They all have their spaces booked. They- They'll be going. Going… going to the future.

WARREN: I mean… This is what you were talking about before wasn't it. Look how far we've come when you could've just been hit on the head by a plate and your whole story's over. GORDON: Humm… Good point.

FRANCESCA: You're going to live or die on the Aloha Eternity, Clive. CLIVE: In many ways that is kind of the point.

HESTER: I assume this wasn't the kind of diary where you worry about your GCSEs or when you touched your first boob?

AUBREY: Okay. Tunnel door, midnight. You and Warren, don't worry about anything else. I'll take care of it.

WARREN: I mean… This is what you were talking about before wasn't it. Look how far we've come when you could've just been hit on the head by a plate and your whole story's over. GORDON: Humm… Good point.

BRYONY: Clive wants his name, face and penis attached to the next great breakthrough in tech. He wants all the power and glory that Kontinue would provide, because he is a small man with a small mind. He's the kind of man who orders a woman's food for her. What more must be said.

HESTER: Warren Godby had a crappy life the first time round. Maybe in 2064 he can make a better go of it. You're giving him the chance to make his own choices.

GORDON: You want all your blood drained out and exchanged for a cryoprotectant compound that'll preserve your organs and tissues in the chance you might be resuscitated one day and live in the future, be my guest. But no one wants to talk about how we get to that future, Warren.