Chris wants to show girlfriend Tina his world, but events soon conspire against the couple and their dream caravan holiday takes a very wrong turn.

Chris: He's not a person, he's a Daily Mail reader!
Tina: This is not my vagina!
[after looking first at an image on Chris's digital camera and then at her own body]
Carol: Murderer.
Tina: It was an accident, Mum.
Carol: So were you.
Chris: If the caravan's rockin', don't come a-knockin'.
Chris: [in an outdoor clothing shop] Choose anything you like, love.
Tina: Anything?
Chris: Anything you like, as long as it's under 10 quid.
Chris: Report that to the National Trust!
Martin: [sharing a joint with Chris] She don't mind you smoking a bit of the old herb every now and again?
Chris: No, she don't care about that. She doesn't like me drinking and she doesn't like me doing her up the
Chris: [asking Ian about his caravan] How do you find it on petrol consumption?
Ian: Uh, not too bad, actually. Takes her less fuel to pull than some of the older models.
Chris: Yeah, you're probably right, yeah. We use loads of petrol, don't we, Tina?
Tina: Yeah, we love it.
Tina: You all right?
Carol: I was just thinking about Poppy. She was me only friend.
Tina: Oh, Mum. I'm your friend.
Carol: You're not a friend. You're just a relative.
Radio Newsreader: The police announced today that they're pursuing a ginger-faced man and an angry woman in connection with inquiries.
Carol: You didn't let him see you do number twos, did you Tina?
Tina: Never!
Carol: Mystery, Tina, is a woman's sanctuary.
[Tina and Martin are at the table. Chris joins them]
Chris: What?
Tina: Martin just said some filthy things to me, Chris.
Chris: Yeah? Well, do tell.
Tina: He said I was a dirty, slutty bitch. And he wanted to f*ck me. And he said he wanted to sh*t in my mouth and in my underwear. And he said he wanted... he wanted to sh*t in my hand and make me use it as a brown lipstick.
[first lines]
Tina: Mum? Mum. Mum. Mum. Mum. Mum. Mum. Mum. Mum. You all right?
Chris: I'll bring her back safe, don't you worry. Hey, I understand you collect snow globes.
Carol: I don't like you.
Chris: OK, well, see you, then.
Chris: Mint me.
[last lines]
Chris: So, have you had a nice holiday?
Tina: Yeah, I've had a brilliant holiday!
Chris: Sorry about calling you a witch an' that... What do you reckon? You sure this is what you want? Three... Two... One... Go!
[Chris steps off the viaduct, while Tina remains]
Tina: [looking at Martin's 'Carapod' bicycle trailer] It looks like an alien's coffin.
Chris: This is exactly how I imagined it. No one sticking their nose in. No one penetrating the mind. Take the noble English oak, Old Knobbley. That won't stab you in the back or belittle your five year plan. That tree won't... steal things that belong to you and put them in another place just to piss you off. That tree won't involve itself in low-level bullying that means you have to leave work.
Carol: What's going on?
Chris: I'm just admiring your artwork, Carol. It's fantastic.
Carol: I don't want anyone in my room.
Tina: Chris was just saying how talented he thinks you are.
Carol: It's my private sanctum. I don't want anybody looking.
Tina: Well, no one's looking in your sanctum, Mum.
Chris: So what were you like when you were a little kid, then?
Tina: Unhappy.
Chris: You didn't like school? I know, nor me.
Tina: What were you like at school, Chris?
Chris: I wasn't like anything. I was, like, invisible.
Tina: What about you being ginger?
Chris: Well, that's a problem, yeah.
Tina: That's not invisible, is it?
Chris: No, but I wanted to be.
Chris: [arriving at the caravan site] They've only got two spots left. One by the Dingley Dell and one by the bogs.
Tina: [they are behind another car towing a caravan] He's going for Dingley Dell.
Tina: Chris, I want Dingley Dell.
Chris: I'm gonna get this bloody Dingley Dell.
Tina: Can't we go around it?
Chris: Just hold on, I'm gonna do it.
Tina: [whining in her grating Brummie accent] Go around them. Go around. Go that way.
Chris: I will, just wait there, wait...
Tina: Just go around it.
Chris: OK! Hold on.
[he puts his foot down and goes onto the grass alongside them]
Tina: Oh, Chris! Don't look at them, Chris.
Chris: Woohoo!
[he aggressively overtakes the other car and caravan, forcing it off the track]
Chris: Ha ha! Fuck you! I am the best. Get in.

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