Cyril Quotes in Five Children and It (2004)

Cyril: Hello, Horace.

Horace: I was taught never to talk to strangers.

Cyril: But we're your cousins.

Horace: Yes, but you're strange.

Mother: Robert! Robert, wait! Now, Uncle Albert will meet you at the station.

Robert: Do you think he'll have model planes? Fighters, like the ones Dad will be flying?

Mother: I'm not sure, dear, but he does have a son called Horace who's about your age. He might.

Father: Cyril, you're in charge now. Children, you're all to listen to Cyril while we're away.

Robert: Why is he in charge? You're not in charge of me!

Cyril: Robert, I am.

Robert: Dad, is there any way I can come with you?

Father: Robert, who is the most important member of any mission?

Robert: You are. The pilot.

Father: No, it's the navigator. A pilot would be lost without one. Your mum and I need you to keep everyone on course.

Robert: You can count on me.

Father: [hands him a compass] So you always know where to find me.

Cyril: Good evening, Madam. We're looking for our Uncle Albert. We are...

Martha: Five children? Oh, my goodness! But you're not due till Friday!

Cyril: Today is Friday.

Martha: It is? But I have a goose in the oven. Goose is Thursdays. Oh, never mind. Come in. Come in. Come on, come on. Tuesday's duck, Wednesday's duck, Thursday's goose. Now put your cases down. It's duck, duck, goose! We must have had Wednesday on Tuesday and Monday on Sunday.

[sighs]

Martha: Well, it's just one day, I suppose. Last year we lost October. It's not an easy thing to do, you know, lose a whole month. I'll get you some towels, and tell your Uncle you've arrived.

Cyril: Uncle, It's me, Cyril. You came to my eighth birthday party. You gave me a subscription to Algebra Monthly.

Uncle Albert: Cyril? Cyril! No, Cyril was a much smaller boy.

Cyril: But that was five years ago.

Uncle Albert: Was it? Well, err... I should think he'd be about your age by now.

[laughs]

Uncle Albert: I wonder what he's doing.

Robert: I can eat a whole goose by myself.

Uncle Albert: Well, if it is Friday as you assert, then goose was yesterday so you'll have to wait till err... next Thursday.

Robert: But there is a goose in the oven, and today is Friday!

Uncle Albert: Ah, well, Martha. Looks like Thursday's gone missing with last October.

Robert: Come on, I can see light!

Jane: There's sea up ahead, and it's not raining!

Robert: It's beautiful!

Cyril: Robert, wait!

Robert: Look at it!

Cyril: Robert, wait, where are you going?

Robert: Here's a clue. It rhymes with hand hairy.

Cyril: No way, we're not going back. You saw all the trouble that wish got us into.

Robert: Oh look, this must be the pole that's been sticking up Cyril's ...

Cyril: Back off! You can insult me all you like, but ...

Robert: Thanks, but I'll save that for later. I'm going, whether you're coming or not.

Jane: Hand hairy? Sand fairy!

Psammead: Were the vases smashed to smithereens?

Jane: Yes.

Psammead: Add the floor flooded and dictionaries drenched?

Cyril: They were.

Psammead: And the house burned to the ground?

Robert: No.

Psammead: House didn't burn to the ground? I'd say you got off pretty lightly then, all things considered.

Robert: Not so fast, Sand Fairy!

Cyril: You made them ruin the house on purpose, didn't you?

Psammead: Look, it's not me, it's the rules. You make a wish, it goes horribly wrong, and then you learn something valuable.

Robert: That's terrible. I don't need to learn anything!

Psammead: Of course, everything is back to normal by sunset.

Cyril: That's not a car. That is the Portman Speedster 3000, and according to Motor-Car Monthly, the 3000 is the fastest motor of all time. We're talking eight horsepower.

Anthea: If it's so wonderful, why don't you just buy it?

Robert: Yeah, buy the car, Cyril!

Anthea: Oh my gosh, I've got wings!

Jane: So soft, so white...

Cyril: The little - He must've made a wish! He's out of control. I don't know how I'm gonna cut it. What am I gonna tell Mum? Look at you!

Robert: Cyril!

Cyril: You've done it again. What were you thinking?

Robert: I'm going to France to see Dad!

Cyril: France?

Robert: His letter said he wished he could fly to see us. He can't, but we can fly to him. Come on!

Cyril: Robert, wait!

Jane: Mummy, I can't believe you're home!

Robert: Mum, we didn't know you were coming!

Jane: Did you get my letter?

Mother: Yes, I did, precious.

Cyril: Something's wrong.

Mother: It's your father.

Robert: Is he here?

Mother: No, Robert. His plane went down behind enemy lines several days ago. He's missing.

Robert: No!

Robert: We have to help Dad.

Cyril: I know you want to, but we'll just have to wait for news.

Robert: Wait?

Cyril: I'm sure everything ...

Robert: Wait?

Cyril: Okay, Sand Fairy, all we wish is for our dad to come home safely, and that's all.

Robert: We've arrived.

Cyril: It's Uncle's castle. Come on, you two.

Robert: [Jane is playing her violin] I knew I should have hid that thing back at home. Oh, no. There must be a wounded cat in the room. Jane, put that thing down and help me look. Here, Kitty, Kitty.

Cyril: Take that back.

Robert: You can't tell me what to do!

Cyril: I can and you jolly well know it.

Robert: I hate it here!

Cyril: Stop fooling around. Come here.

Robert: You were saying something about not being in the Greenhouse.

Psammead: Stay back!

Cyril: [to Robert] You have to stop talking to it. It could be dangerous.

Anthea: I bet it has huge fangs and poisonous saliva.

Robert: It's an ugly little monster.

Psammead: "It"? "It"? "It"? Do you mean to tell me that you do not know what a Psammead is?

Robert: You're a what?

Psammead: I am a Psammead crustacea decapodlium wishasaurus. Got it?

Robert: No.

Anthea: Sand Fairy?

Psammead: Are you still here?

Anthea: Yes, and we wish...

Cyril: Anthea.

Anthea: We wish for all the tasks on Uncle's list to be done by magic.

Cyril: She's right, you know. This is big. It's huge. It's immense. It's monumentally, colossally ginormous.

Jane: Is that even a word?

Anthea: Apparently it is now.

Cyril: Three million, four hundred and sixty five thousand, two hundred and twenty two.

Uncle Albert: Say that again.

Cyril: Three million, four hundred and sixty five thousand, two hundred and twenty two.

Uncle Albert: A prime number of the Zeeman series. Toppety-notchety work, Squirrel - Cyril. It's my favorite series, although the Flugelstadt Succession runs it a close second. I'll show you Dr. Flugelstadt's book. He went mad, you know, completely bonkers. Lost his marbles. Fell out of his tree. Oak, I think.

Martha: What a to-do today turned out to be.

Jane: Oh... It wasn't us. Honestly, it was the sand fairy...

Cyril: Jane!

Martha: Sand fairy, huh?

Jane: Err... No!

Cyril: No. She didn't say "sand fairy", she said... She said...

Anthea: Safari.

Cyril: Safari. Yes.

Anthea: We were pretending to be on safari, and Cyril is an elephant.

Martha: A safari, of course. Well, now, if we all do as I do... we can undo all this to-do before tomorrow. Come along, you lot.

Cyril: I said, let's not go crazy.

Robert: Oh, shut up!

Jane: Hurry up.

Cyril: It's stuck.

Jane: Push it harder, Cyril.

Cyril: Buckets of the stuff.

Cyril: [to Robert] How could it have been worse? You keep getting us into trouble!

Jane: I've got you, Sand Fairy.

Psammead: [to Jane] Hello. You're my favorite one of the bunch, you know.

Anthea: I've got you too.

Psammead: [to Anthea] Well, you're my favorite one of the bunch, too.

[to Cyril]

Psammead: And you're very tall.

Cyril: Come on.

Psammead: Just burp me once.

Cyril: [to Robert] What were you thinking?

Cyril: Look, I think it's Dad. Come on!

[first lines]

[singers are performing "We Are Family" on-stage]

Cyril: [backstage, into a telephone] Agador! Where is Starina? She goes on in 5 minutes!

Celia: Where are we?

Cyril: We are in the land of poo. Duck poo, cow poo, goat poo.

Mike's Brother: How are you fellas doing?

Cyril: Well, we're a little disturbed by developments in the Middle East, but...

Moocher: [looking at Dave's beat up bike] Doesn't look that bad to me...

Dave: That's cause you don't have to ride it!

Moocher: Well, you know, you don't have to ride it either, Dave. We're not gonna beg you.

Cyril: We may plead, but we would never beg!

Dave: You hear from your folks, Mooch?

Moocher: Yeah, my dad called. He wanted to know if the house was sold. He could use the money something fierce.

Dave: Well, you can come and live with me when it's sold. In Italy, everybody lives together.

Moocher: [laughs] Since you won that Italian bike, man, you've been acting weird. You're really getting to think you're Italian, aren't you?

Cyril: I wouldn't mind thinking I was somebody myself.

Cyril: Hey! Are you really gonna shave your legs?

Dave: Certo! All the Italians do it.

Mike: Ah. Some country. The women don't shave theirs.

Cyril: I sure miss playing basketball. I got depressed as hell when my athlete's foot and jock itch went away.

Mike: That's the place to be right there, Wyoming! Nothin' but prairies and mountains and nobody around. All you need is your bed roll and a good horse.

Cyril: Don't forget your toothbrush! You're still in your cavity-prone years.

Mike: You want to tell me who did it?

Cyril: It was dark... All I can tell your for sure is that they all wore Brut after-shave and reeked of Lavoris.

Mike: [after discovering that the college kids beat Cyril up] They want a fight, we'll give 'em a fight.

Cyril: We rednecks are few... college paleface students are many. I counsel peace.

Cyril: You know what I'd like to be? A cartoon of some kind. You know, like when they get hit in the head with a frying pan or something, and their head looks like the frying pan, with the handle and everything? They they just go *booiing*

[shakes head]

Cyril: and their head comes back to normal? Wouldn't that be great?

Mike: How'd you get to be so stupid, Cyril?

Cyril: I don't know... I have a dumb heredity, I guess. What's your excuse, Michael?

Cyril: I was sure I was going to get that scholarship. My dad of course was sure I wasn't. When I didn't, he was real understanding, you know. He loves to do that. He loves to be understanding when I fail.

Cyril: When you're 16 they call it Sweet 16 and when you're 18 you get to drink and and vote and see dirty movies. What the hell do you get to do when you're 19?

Mike: You leave home.

Cyril: My Dad said that Jesus never went further than 50 miles from his home.

Mike: Well, look what happened to him.

Cyril: You know what I'd like to be?

Mike: Smart.

Cyril: Going to college must do somethin' to girls' tits, I swear. Just look at 'em.

[Yelling out the car]

Cyril: Hi there! What's your major?

Cyril: I wonder what its like to kiss a coed. I wonder about that a lot!

Dave: Well, I'm supposed to take this college entrance exam.

Cyril: Are you gonna go to college?

Dave: Hell no. I just want to see if I can pass.

Mike: The only thing I'm afraid of is wastin' the rest of my life with you guys!

Cyril: I thought that was the whole plan. That we were going to waste the rest of our lives together.

Cyril: [singing] There's something nasty round the bend!

Don: [very fast] You know I wouldn't be surprised / That gasket hood looks pulverized / The shock recoil is now reversed / At first you'd boil and then you'd burst / Compression seep will soon distend / The leak that leaks in your big end / The lousy coke has got a hitch around the choke adjustment switch / Your piston spout is dynamite / In cutting out the parking light / And, from its shake, your outside brake is needing a new drum!

Don, Cyril, Steve, Edwin: [slower] In fact make no mistake, you've really had it chum!

Don, Cyril, Steve, Edwin: [singing] For as guys we're really qualified / There's no need to look terrified / For when you have tried, you will say "wide-eyed", we are just what the doctor specified / We are pleading please let us take you for a ride with us! / Ride with us!

[short music break in which the car backfires leaving everyone with black faces]

Don, Cyril, Steve, Edwin: Please let us take you for a ride!