Chicken Run (2000)
Tony Haygarth: Mr. Tweedy
Mr. Tweedy : What is it?
Mrs. Tweedy : It's a pie machine, you idiot. Chickens go in, pies come out.
Mr. Tweedy : Ooh. What kind of pies?
Mrs. Tweedy : Apple.
Mr. Tweedy : My favourite!
Mrs. Tweedy : Chicken pies, you great lummox! Imagine. In less than a fortnight, every grocers' in the county will be stocked with box upon box of Mrs. Tweedy's Homemade Chicken Pies.
Mr. Tweedy : Just "Mrs."?
Mrs. Tweedy : Woman's touch. Makes the public feel more comfortable.
Mr. Tweedy : Oh, yes. Those chickens are up to something.
Mrs. Tweedy : Quiet. I'm onto something.
Mr. Tweedy : They're organised, I know it.
Mrs. Tweedy : I said quiet.
Mr. Tweedy : And that Ginger one, I recon she's their leader.
Mrs. Tweedy : [losing her patience and slamming her fist on the table] Mr. Tweedy! I may finally have found a way to make us some real money around here and what are you on about? Ridiculous notions of escaping chickens!
Mr. Tweedy : [stammering] But... but...
Mrs. Tweedy : It's all in your head, Mr. Tweedy. Say it!
Mr. Tweedy : It's all in me head. It's all in me head.
Mrs. Tweedy : Now, you keep telling yourself that because I don't want to hear another word about it! Is that clear?
Mr. Tweedy : Yes, love. But you know that Ginger one...
Mrs. Tweedy : They're *chickens*, you dolt! Apart from you, they're the most stupid creatures on this planet. They don't plot, they don't scheme, and they are *not* organised!
[after the chickens have escaped in The Crate and the pie machine has exploded]
Mr. Tweedy : I told you they was organised.
[finding the chickens building the Crate]
Mr. Tweedy : Me tools! Why, you thieving little buggers!
[Fetcher and Nick are stealing tools, hiding in gnomes as they move about while Mr. Tweedy is working; they steal the tools and start walking away and Mr. Tweedy notices]
Mr. Tweedy : So, gnomes now, is it?
Mr. Tweedy : What... what... what's all this, then?
Mrs. Tweedy : This is our future, Mr. Tweedy. No more wasting time with petty egg collecting and minuscule profits.
Mr. Tweedy : No more eggs? But we've always been egg farmers. Me father, and his father, and all their fathers, they was all...
Mrs. Tweedy : Poor. Worthless. Nothings. But all that is about to change. This will take Tweedy's farm out of the Dark Ages and into full-scale automated production. Melicia Tweedy will be poor no longer.
[flings Ginger into the coal-bunker "cooler"]
Mr. Tweedy : Now let that be a lesson for the lot of ya - no chicken escapes from Tweedy's farm!
[Mr. Tweedy has attached Ginger to the clamps of the newly-completed chicken pie machine and activates it, bring Ginger toward the mouth of the machine]
Mr. Tweedy : Chickens go in; pies come out. Chicken pies. Not apple pies, chicken.