Gareth Peirce: It's not the stairs that are killing your father.
Gerry Conlon: Aye, what is it then?
Gareth Peirce: It's your lack of faith.
Gerry Conlon: Lack of faith? Faith in what?
Gareth Peirce: In yourself.
Gerry Conlon: No. I have faith in myself. Gerry Conlon. Lifer. 30-year sentence. And I know how to survive it, no problem.
Gareth Peirce: At what price?
Gerry Conlon: I'll pay the fuckin' price, don't you worry about it.
Gareth Peirce: The price for what?
Gerry Conlon: Aye. You're very good at the English, aren't you? You see, I don't understand your language. "Justice." "Mercy." "Clemency." I literally don't understand what those words mean. I'd like to put in an application to get all my teeth extracted. That way I could put my fist in my mouth and never speak another word of fuckin' English so long as I live. Do you see what I'm saying... Mrs. Peirce is it?
Gareth Peirce: Are you trying to impress me?