Coach: Hey! Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. You got a pass for bollocking around the hallways like a couple of wankers?
Pass, in your hand. Hello. Bollocks. You guys are late. Now I’m going to have to take you to the principal’s office.
Schmidt: No, no, no, man. Come on, please. Sorry.
Jenko: Come on, please.
Coach: You have exceptional muscle tone there, mate. When’d you go through puberty? Like, at seven or something? You look like you’re in your mid-20s, for crying out loud.
McQuaid, huh? Doug McQuaid. I read your file. You got a lot of something special going on there, mate.
What the hell was that? God damn it, son! Don’t ever raise your hand to me like that again, all right? I consider that a threat.
Schmidt: I was just saying that I’m Doug. I’m Doug McQuaid. See, that’s Brad.
Coach: You’re the new bloke who’s All County in track? Really, mate?
S: Yes, I’m Doug McQuaid, the track star, and this is Brad, the science prodigy.
J: He’s really fast.
C: Are you taking the piss? So you’re Doug. You’re Doug. You’re Doug.
You’re Doug. I’m gobsmacked.
Here’s the deal. My track team is full of physically that make me simply want to chunder more often than not.
I mean, if I wasn’t the coach, I’d be laughing my ass off at how tosh they are, but I am the coach, so I need you.
I need me some Doug McQuaid. Understand? Brilliant.
I need you to run anchor on the 4 X 400 at today’s track meet. You do that, and I’ll sign this pass.
Don’t blow on me, son.
S: I haven’t trained.
C: Guys, don’t make me take you to the principal’s office. Do we have a deal?
Bugger off, I don’t like that.
Put your tongue back in your mouth. Put your tongue in your mouth, and close it.
What are you doing? Stop it. Actually, that’s not bad. Hunky-dory, then.