Love Actually Monologues

Follows the lives of eight very different couples in dealing with their love lives in various loosely interrelated tales all set during a frantic month before Christmas in London, England.

Whenever I get gloomy with the state of the world, I think about the arrivals gate at Heathrow Airport. General opinion's starting to make out that we live in a world of hatred and greed, but I don't see that. It seems to me that love is everywhere. Often, it's not particularly dignified or newsworthy, but it's always there - fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, husbands and wives, boyfriends, girlfriends, old friends. When the planes hit the Twin Towers, as far as I know, none of the phone calls from the people on board were messages of hate or revenge - they were all messages of love. If you look for it, I've got a sneaky feeling you'll find that love actually is all around.

Ah! You know, um, being Prime Minister, I could just have him murdered.

Do. The SAS are absolutely charming. Ruthless trained killers are just a phone call away.

I love that word "relationship." Covers all manner of sins, doesn't it? I fear that this has become a bad relationship; a relationship based on the President taking exactly what he wants and casually ignoring all those things that really matter to, erm... Britain. We may be a small country, but we're a great one, too. The country of Shakespeare, Churchill, the Beatles, Sean Connery, Harry Potter. David Beckham's right foot. David Beckham's left foot, come to that. And a friend who bullies us is no longer a friend. And since bullies only respond to strength, from now onward I will be prepared to be much stronger. And the President should be prepared for that.

Yes, in fact, I am. Merry Christmas.

Part of the service, now. Trying to get round to everyone by New Year's Eve.

It's fine, it's fine. You could've said "fuck," and then we'd have been in real trouble.

Yes, I'm afraid I am. And I'm sorry for all the cock-ups, my cabinet are absolute crap. We'll have to do better next year.

*You* have this kind of problem? Yeah... of course you did, you saucy minx!

I'm very busy and important. How can I help you?

Good King Wenceslas looked out, on the Feast of Stephen

When the snow lay round about, deep and crisp and even / Brightly shone the moon that night…

Who do you have to screw around here to get a cup of tea and a chocolate biscuit?

Yes, I would like that very much, indeed. Anything to put off actually running the country.

I'm not sure that politics and dating really go together.

Yeah, well, the difference is you're still sickeningly handsome, whereas I look increasingly like my Aunt Mildred.

I had an uncle called Terence once. Hated him. I think he was a pervert. But I very much like the look of you.

Option One: ask her out.

Fair enough. Option Two: become her friend.

Okay. Option Three: kidnap her and keep her tied up in your room until she agrees to marry you.

And quite rightly rejected on the grounds of...

So what's the problem, Sammy-o? Is it just Mum, or is it something else? Maybe… school - are you being bullied? Or is it something worse? Can you give me any clues at all?

Tell her that you love her.

Even better! Sam, you've got nothin' to lose, and you'll always regret it if you don't! I never told your mom enough. I should have told her everyday because she was perfect everyday. You've seen the films, kiddo. It ain't over 'til its over.

I think it's brilliant! I think it's stellar! Uh, apart from the one, obvious, tiny, little baby little hiccup...

You know, Sammy, I'm sure she's unique and extraordinary, but… the general wisdom is that, in the end, there isn't just one person for each of us.

So, let's go. We can definitely crack this. Remember, I was a kid once, too. So come on, it's someone at school, right?

Aha, good, good. And what does she - he - feel about ya?

Good. Good.

Basically, you're fucked, aren't you?

Jo and I had uh, a lot of time to prepare for this moment. Some of her, uh, requests - for instance, that I should bring Claudia Schiffer as my date to the funeral - I was confident she expected me to ignore.

Thank the Lord! Tell me.

That's right. Meatloaf definitely got laid at least once. For God's sake, Ringo Starr married a Bond girl!

And her name's Joanna?

Well, in one way then, we're in luck. At least we still have the god-like genius of Scott Walker.

She's going to say her final words, not through me, but inevitably, and ever so coolly… through the immortal genius of the Bay City Rollers.

No. As you know, that was a done deal long ago. Unless, of course, Claudia Schiffer calls, in which case I want you out of the house straight away, you wee motherless mongrel.

No, no, we'll want to have sex in every room. Including yours.

When she first mentioned what's about to happen, I said, "Over my dead body." And she said, "No, Daniel, over mine… "

You've seen the films, kiddo. It ain't over 'til it's over.

We need Kate, and we need Leo. And we need them now. Come on.

I'm afraid that there's somethin' really wrong, you know. I mean, clearly it's about his mum, but Christ, he might be injecting heroin into his eyeballs for all I know.

Well, maybe not his eyeballs, then. Maybe just his veins.