Nigel Tufnel: [on what he would do if he couldn't rock] Well, I suppose I could, uh, work in a shop of some kind, or... or do, uh, freelance, uh, selling of some sort of, uh, product. You know... Marty DiBergi: A salesman? Nigel Tufnel: A salesman, like maybe in a, uh, haberdasher, or maybe like a, uh, um... a chapeau shop or something. You know, like, "Would you... what size do you wear, sir?" And then you answer me. Marty DiBergi: Uh... seven and a quarter. Nigel Tufnel: "I think we have that." See, something like that I could do. Marty DiBergi: Yeah... you think you'd be happy doing something like-... Nigel Tufnel: "No; we're all out. Do you wear black?" See, that sort of thing I think I could probably... muster up. Marty DiBergi: Do you think you'd be happy doing that? Nigel Tufnel: Well, I don't know - wh-wh-... what're the hours?
Nigel Tufnel: You can't fucking concentrate because of your fucking wife! Simple as that, alright? It's your fucking wife! David St. Hubbins: She's not my wife. Nigel Tufnel: Well whatever FUCK she is, alright? You can't concentrate!