Amazon original miniseries Good Omens dropped May 31, 2019.

#GoodOmens is based on literature of the same name.

rottentomatoes: 82%

metacritic: 66

imdb: 8.4

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Crawley

Crawley thwarts Armageddon with his angelic counterpart Aziraphale outside of London, England.

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“Go on.  This apple will give you… well, that went down like a lead balloon.  I said, ‘well, that went down like a lead balloon.’  Bit of an overreaction, if you ask me.  First offense and everything.  I can’t see what’s so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil anyway.  Crawley.  Oh, they just said, ‘get up there and make some trouble.’  Not very subtle of the almighty, though.  Fruit tree in the middle of a garden with a ‘don’t touch’ sign.  I mean, why not put it on the top of a high mountain.  Or on the moon?  Makes you wonder what God’s really planning.  The Great Plan’s ineffable?  Didn’t you have a flaming sword?  You did.  It was flaming like anything.  What happened to it?  Lost it already, have you?  You what?  Oh, you’re an angel.  I don’t think you can do the wrong thing.  I’ve been worrying, too.  What if I did the right thing with the whole ‘eat the apple’ business?  A demon can get into a lot of trouble for doing the right thing.  It’d be funny if we both got it wrong, eh?  If I did the good thing and you did the bad one.  Well…” — Crawley

“Uh, hi, guys.  Sorry I’m late, but you know how it is on the A40 at Denham.  I tried to cut up towards Chorleywood– of course.  Deeds, yeah.  Yeah, nice one.  Right, you’ll like this.  I brought down every London area mobile phone network tonight.  Yeah.  It wasn’t easy– oh, come on, think about it.  Fifteen million pissed-off people who take it out on each other.  Well, head office don’t seem to mind.  They love me down there, guys.  Times are changing.  So… …what’s up?  No.  Already?  And it’s up to me to…?  You know, listen, it… …really isn’t my scene.  Why me?  Now what?  Centuries?  Triumph.  Glorious tool.  Yeah.  OK.  I’ll, um, be off then.  Get it over with.  No, I want to get it over with, obviously, but, I’ll be popping along.  Great.  Fine.  Yeah.  Ciao!” — Crawley

“Shit.  Shit.  Shit.  Shit!  Shit!  Shit, shit, shit!  Why me?  The M25?  Yeah, well… yeah, I’m glad it went down so well.  Has it started yet?  Any idea how long we’ve got?  Got it.  What room is she in?  Room three, got it.  Psst.  Yup.  It’s definitely him.  He doesn’t.  Take him up to room three.  Pray that he doesn’t.” — Crawley

“Call Aziraphale.  Aziraphale, it’s me.  We need to talk.  Armageddon.  Yes.  I should know.  I delivered the baby.  Well, not ‘delivered’ delivered, you know?  Handed it over.  The Earth and all the kingdoms thereof.  You really believe that?  Out of interest, how many first-class composers do your lot have in Heaven?  Because Mozart’s one of ours.  Beethoven.  Schubert.  Uh, all of the Bachs.  And you’ll never hear it again.  No more Albert Hall.  No more Glyndebourne.  Just celestial harmonies.  And that’s just the start of what you’ll lose if you win.  No more fascinating little restaurants where they know you.  No gravlax in dill sauce.  No more old bookshops.  We’ve only got 11 years, and then it’s all over.  We have to work together.  It’s the end of the world we’re talking about.  It’s not some little temptation I’ve asked you to cover for me while you’re up in Edinburgh for the festival.  You can’t say no.  We can do something I have an idea.  Well, let’s have lunch, hmm?  I still owe you one from… yes.  The Reign of Terror.  Was that one of ours or one of yours?” — Crawley

“Alcohol.  Quite extraordinary amounts of alcohol.  Not very big on wine in Heaven, are they, though?  Not going to get any more nice little Châteauneuf-du-Papes in Heaven, or single malt scotch, or little… little froufrou cocktails with umbrellas.” — Crawley

“My point is– my point is, dolphins.  That’s my point.  Big brains, the size of… damn big brains.  Not to mention the whales.  Brain city, whales.  Well, that’s my point.  Whole sea bubbling.  The dolphins, the whales.  Everything turning into bouillab– fish stew.  Anyway, it’s not their fault.  And that’s the same with gorillas.  They say, like, ‘whoop.’  They say a lot of– sky’s gone red.  There’s… stars crashing down.  And what are they putting in bananas these days?  And you know what’s worse?  When it’s all over, you’ve got to deal with eternity!  Yeah, it won’t be so bad at first.  Although no Stephen Sondheim first nights in eternity, I’m afraid.  Although, I have heard rumours that your boss really loves The Sound of Music.  You fancy spending eternity watching that?  You could literally climb every mountain over and over and over and over and over and over and over.  Yeah, me too.  Well, what about diabolical plans?  You can’t be certain that thwarting me isn’t part of the Divine Plan, too.  I mean, you’re supposed to thwart the wiles of the Evil One at every turn, aren’t you?  See a wile, ya’ thwart.  Am I right?  But the Antichrist has been born.  But it’s the upbringing that’s important, the influences.  The evil influences, that’s all going to be me.  It’d be too bad if someone made sure that I failed.  No.  Be a real feather in your wing.  We’d be godfathers, sort of, overseeing his upbringing.  We do it right, he won’t be evil.  Or good.  He’ll just be normal.  It’s not that bad when you get used to it.” — Crawley

“I understand you need a nanny.  Of course, dear.  ♪♪ Go to sleep ♪♪ ♪♪ And dream of pain ♪♪ Doom and darkness ♪♪ Blood and brains ♪♪ Sleep so sweet ♪♪ My darling boy ♪♪ You will rule ♪♪ When Earth’s destroyed ♪♪.  Don’t listen to him.  Listen to me.” — Crawley

“He’s a remarkable child, Lord Beelzebub.  Fantastically evil.  Uh… not yet, but there’s more to evil than just killing people, eh?  They don’t suspect a thing.” — Crawley

“The boy’s too normal.  I hope you’re right.  Only six years left to go.  Yeah?  I’m sure it won’t come to that.” — Crawley

“Well, we’ve done everything we can.  All we can do now is wait for his birthday.  The Hell Hound will be the key.  Shows up at 3:00 on Wednesday.  Oh, yeah.  Yeah, they’re sending him a Hell Hound to pad by his side and guard him from all harm.  Biggest one they’ve got.  No one will notice anything.  It’s reality, angel.  And young Warlock can do what he likes with that, whether he knows it or not.  It’s the start of it all.  The boy’s meant to name it.  Um… Stalks by Night, Throat-Ripper, something like that.  But if you and I have done our job properly, then he’ll send it away unnamed.  Then you and I have lost he’ll have all his powers, and Armageddon will be days away.  If there was no boy… then the process would stop.  Well, there is a boy now.  That could change.  Something could happen to him.  I’m saying you could kill him.  Not even to save everything?  One life… against the universe.  Yeah.  No, no, no.  Please, no.  No.  Oh, no, no.  Don’t do your magic act.  Please.  Please!  I’m actually begging you.  You have no idea how demeaning that is.  Please.  In your finger.  It was in your pocket.  Never anywhere near my ear.  Fun?  It’s humiliating.  You can do proper magic.  You can make things disappear.  Make you disappear.” — Crawley

“Five, four, three, two one.  Nonsense.  You gave them all a party to remember.  Last one any of them will ever have, mind.  Comes of putting it up your sleeve.  Uh, hi.  Who’s this?  Yeah, just checking in about the Hell Hound.  Wrong?  No, no.  Nothing’s wrong.  What could be wrong?  Oh, no, I see him now, yes.  What a lovely, big helly Hell Hound.  Yes, OK, great talking to you.  No dog.  Wrong boy.” — Crawley

“Armageddon is days away, and we’ve lost the Antichrist.  Why did the powers of Hell have to drag me into this anyway?  Is it my fault they never check-up?  I’m to blame they never check-up?  Everyone stretches the truth a bit in memos to head office.  You know that.  So the humans beat me to it.  That’s not my fault.  Something’s changed.  Not you.  I know what you smell like.  The hell hound has found its master.  I felt it.  Would I lie to you?  No, I’m not lying.  The boy, wherever he is, has the dog.  He’s named it.  It’s done.  He’s coming into his power.  We’re doomed.” — Crawley

“You have sought the Black Knight, foolish one.  But you have found your death.  Crowley.  It’s alright, lads.  I know him.  He’s alright.  I’m here spreading foment.  No.  I’m, you know, fomenting dissent and discord.  King Arthur’s been spreading too much peace and tranquility in the land, so I’m here, you know, fomenting.  So we’re both working very hard in damp places and just cancelling each other out?  Be easier if we both stayed home.  If we just sent messages back to our head offices saying we’d done everything they’d asked for, wouldn’t it.  Eh, possibly, but the end result would be the same.  Cancel each other out.  Oh, our lot have better things to do than verifying compliance reports from Earth.  As long as they get the paperwork, they seem happy enough.  As long as you’re being seen to be doing something every now and again.  Right.” — Crawley

“Look, I’ve been thinking.  What if it all goes wrong?  We have a lot in common, you and me.  I didn’t really fall.  I just, you know… sauntered vaguely downwards.  I need a favour.” — Crawley

“Yeah.  For the record, great pustulent mangled bollocks to the Great blasted Plan!  I won’t be forgiven.  Not ever.  That’s part of a demon’s job description.  Unforgiveable.  That’s what I am.  That was a long time ago.” — Crawley

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Aziraphale

“Sorry, what was that?  Yes, yes, it did, rather.  Well, it must be bad… …Crawley.  Otherwise… you wouldn’t have tempted them into it.  Well, obviously.  You’re a demon.  It’s what you do.  Best not to speculate.  It’s all part of the Great Plan.  It’s not for us to understand.  It’s ineffable.  Exactly.  It is beyond understanding and incapable of being put into words.  Uh… uh… gave it away.  I gave it away.  There are vicious animals.  It’s going to be cold out there.  And she’s expecting already.  And I said, ‘here you go.  Flaming sword.  Don’t thank me.  And don’t let the sun go down on you here.’  I do hope I didn’t do the wrong thing.  Oh, oh, thank– oh, thank you.  It’s been bothering me.  No.  It wouldn’t be funny at all.” — Aziraphale

“Thank you chef, that’s very kind of you.  Mmm.  Gabriel?  What an unexpected pleasure.  It’s been… it’s sushi.  It’s nice.  You dip it in soy sauce.  It’s what humans do.  And if I am going to be living here among them, ahem, well, keeping up appearances.  Tea?  Obviously not.  Nice suit.  They won’t?  They are?  I do know, yes.  I’ve been on Earth doing this since the beginning.” — Aziraphale

“I’m afraid we’re quite definitely closed.  Yes.  Yes, I rather think we do.  You’re sure it was the Antichrist?  An American diplomat.  Really?  As if Armageddon were a cinematographic show you wished to sell in as many countries as possible.  We will win, of course.  Obviously.  Heaven will finally triumph over hell.  It’s all going to be rather lovely.  They have already written their music.  Well… no.  No.  No!  I am not interested.  Paris.  1793.  Can’t recall.  We had crepes.” — Aziraphale

“Mm.  That was scrumptious.  So, what are you in the mood for now?  I have several very nice bottles of Châteauneuf-du-Papes in the back.  I picked up a dozen cases in 1921, and there’s still some left for special occasions.  Crowley, I’ve told you, I’m not helping you.  I’m not interested.  This is purely social.  I am an angel.  You are a demon.  We’re hereditary enemies.  Get thee behind me, foul fiend.  After you.” — Aziraphale

“So, what… what exactly is your point?  Kraken.  Ooh, great, big bugger.  Supposed to rise up to the surface.  Right… right up at the end, when the sea boils.  Bouillab– they’re All creatures, great and small.  Eternity?  I don’t like it any more than you do, but I told you, I can’t diso– not do what I’m told.  I’m an angel.  I… oh, God, I– I can’t cope with this while I’m drunk.  I’m going to sober up.” — Aziraphale

“Even if I wanted to help, I couldn’t.  I can’t interfere with the Divine Plan.  Well… I… broadly.  Actually, I encourage humans to do the actual– if you put it that way… Heaven couldn’t actually object if I was thwarting you.  It might.  Godfathers.  Well, I’ll be damned.” — Aziraphale

“They do say as you might be looking for a gardener.  Oh, Young master Warlock!  You’re growing fast.  You must be all of, um… oh, that’s Brother Pigeon.  And Brother Snail.  Oh, and Sister Slug.  Now, you remember, young Warlock, as you grow, to have love and reverence for all living things.  Well, don’t you listen to her.  You listen to me.” — Aziraphale

“I am proud to say that on a very real level, the Antichrist child is now being influenced towards the light.  But I won’t fail.  I mean, that would be bad.” — Aziraphale

“Excellent.  It’s working.  The heavenly influences are balancing out the hellish.  A no-score draw.  Crowley?  I mean, if he comes into his full power, how do we stop him then?” — Aziraphale

“Right.  You’ve never actually mentioned a Hell Hound before.  Oh.  Won’t people remark on the sudden appearance of a huge black dog?  His parents, for a start?  What if he does name it?  There must be some way of stopping it.  Yes, but there is a boy.  He’s over there, writing a rude word on a description of a dinosaur.  I’ve never actually… killed anything.  I don’t think I could.  Then, this Hell Hound, it’ll show up at his birthday party?  Well, then we should be there.  Maybe I can stop the dog.  In fact, I could entertain.  I just need to get back into practice.  No, it was in your ear.  It was close to your ear.  You’re no fun.  Yes.  But it’s not as fun.” — Aziraphale

“Where has he got to go?  Is he in here… somewhere?  There he is!  Ha!  This– we’ll come back to that one.  You see, it’s me old top hat.  But, wait.  What’s this?  Could it be our old furry friend, Harry the Rabbit?” — Aziraphale

“It was all a bit of a disaster, I’m afraid.  It’s late.  No.  The Hell Hound.  It’s late.  No dog.  Wrong boy.” — Aziraphale

“Well, don’t quote me on this, but I’m pretty sure it’s because of all those memos you kept sending them, saying how amazingly well you were doing.  Yes, but you told them you invented the Spanish Inquisition and started the Second World War.  Oh, it’s a new cologne.  My barber suggested it.  Are you sure?  Well, obviously.  You’re a demon.  That’s what you do.  Well, then… welcome to the end times.” — Aziraphale

“Can I help you?  Gabriel, come into my back room.  Yes.  Ahem, good job.  You– you fooled them all.  Uh… Sodom and Gomorrah.  You were doing a lot of smiting and turning people into salt.  Hard to forget.  Oh, that’ll be the Jeffrey Archer books, I’m afraid.  Why?  What’s wrong?  I– I mean, if there is something wrong I could put my people into it.  All good?  Right.  Who exactly summons them?  I– I didn’t stick around to see.” — Aziraphale

“Ah, but evil always contains the seeds of its own destruction.  No matter how well-planned, how foolproof an evil plan, no matter how apparently successful it may seem upon the way, in the end it will founder on the rocks of iniquity and vanish.” — Aziraphale

“Hello?  I, Sir Aziraphale of the Table Round, am here to speak to the Black Knight.  Oh.  Right.  Um… hello.  I… I was hoping to meet with the Black Knight?  Is that you under there, Crawley?  What the hell are you playing at?  What is that, some kind of porridge?  Well, I’m meant to be fomenting peace.  Well, you could put it like that.  It is a bit damp.  But that would be lying.  But, my dear fellow… well, they’d check.  Michael’s a… bit of a stickler.  You don’t want to get Gabriel upset with you.  No!  Absolutely not!  I am shocked that you would even imply such a thing.  We’re not having this conversation.  Not another word.  Right!” — Aziraphale

“I don’t know.  We may have both started off as angels, but you are fallen.  We already have the agreement, Crowley.  Stay out of each other’s way.  Lend a hand when needed.” — Aziraphale

“It’s the Great Plan, Crowley.  May you be forgiven.  You were an angel once.” — Aziraphale

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The Archangel Gabriel

“Mind if I join you?  Quite a while, yes.  Why do you consume that?  You’re an angel.  I do not sully the temple the temple of my celestial body with gross matter.  Yes, I like the clothes.  Pity they won’t be around much longer.  We have reliable information that things… are afoot.  Yes.  My informant suggests that the demon… Crowley may be involved.  You need to keep him under observation without, of course, letting him know that’s what you’re doing.  So has Crowley.  It’s a miracle he hasn’t spotted you yet.  Yes, I know.  Miracles are what we do.” — The Archangel Gabriel

“Very commendable, Aziraphale.  Excellent work, as usual.  Aziraphale, what you’re doing is praiseworthy, but obviously doomed to failure.  Still, as the Almighty likes to say, ‘climb every mountain.'” — The Archangel Gabriel

“I would like to purchase one of your material objects.  Books.  Let us discuss my purchase in a private place, because I am buying, uh… pornography.  Human beings are so simple… and so easily fooled.  You remember Sandalphon?  Well, we just wanted to stop by and check on the status of the Antichrist.  Nothing’s wrong.  Everything’s going perfectly.  There’s a lot happening.  All good.  Well, all going according to the Divine Plan.  The Hell Hound has been set loose, and now the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse are being summoned.  Death, Pollution, Famine, War.  Not my department.  I believe we outsource that sort of thing.  Sandalphon, that is very good.  You can’t have a war without War.  I might use that.  Huh?  Anyway… no problems?  How was the Hell Hound?  Thank you for my pornography!  Excellent job.  ‘You can’t have a war without War.’  Clever.” — The Archangel Gabriel

“Middle Eastern unrest.  Everything else just follows.  The Four Horsemen ride out.  Last great battle between Heaven and Hell.”

“Don’t talk to me about the greater good, sunshine.  I’m the Archangel fucking Gabriel.” — The Archangel Gabriel

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Archangel Michael

“Yes.  But, Aziraphale, we will be most understanding when you fail.  After all, wars are to be won.” — Michael

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Archangel Uriel

“Not avoided.” — Uriel

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Archangel Sandalphon

“‘Ford every stream.'” — Sandalphon

“Books.  Pornography?  We humans are extremely easily embarrassed.  We must buy our pornography secretively.  Something smells… evil.  About time, that’s what I say.  You can’t have a war without War.” — Sandalphon

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God (Frances McDormand)

“Current theories on the creation of the universe state that if it were created at all and didn’t just start, as it were, unofficially, it came into being about 14 billion years ago.  The Earth is generally supposed to be bout 4 1/2 billion years old.  These dates are incorrect.  Some medieval scholars put the date of the creation at 3760 BC.  Others put creation as far back as 5508 BC.  Also, incorrect.  Archbishop James Ussher claimed the the Heaven and the Earth were created on Sunday, the 21st of October, 4004 BC, at 9:00 a.m.  This too was incorrect, by almost a quarter of an hour.  It was created at 9:13 in the morning.  Which was correct.  The whole business with the fossilised dinosaur skeletons was a joke the palaentologists haven’t seen yet.  This proves two things.  Firstly, that God does not play dice with the universe.  I play an ineffable game of my own devising.  For everyone else, it’s like playing poker in a pitch-dark room, for infinite stakes, with a dealer who won’t tell you the rules, and who smiles all the time.  Secondly, the Earth is a Libra.  The entry for Libra in The Tadfield Advertiser on the night our history begins reads as follows: ‘you may be feeling rundown and always in the same daily round.  A friend is important to you.  You may be vulnerable to a stomach upset today, so avoid salads.  Help could come from an unexpected quarter.’  This was perfectly correct on every count, except for the bit about the salads.  To understand the true significance of what that means, we need to begin earlier.  A little more than 6,000 years earlier, to be precise.  Just after the beginning.  It starts, as it will end, with a garden.  In this case, the Garden of Eden.  And with an apple.” — God

“It was a nice day.  All the days had been nice.  There had been rather more than seven of them so far, and rain hadn’t been invented yet.  But the storm clouds gathering east of Eden suggested that the first thunderstorm was on its way.  And it was going to be a big one.” — God

“Good Omens, being a narrative of certain events occurring in the last 11 years of human history, in strict accordance, as shall be shown, with The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch.” — God

“It wasn’t a dark and stormy night.  But don’t let the weather fool you.  Just because it’s a mild night doesn’t mean that the forces of evil aren’t abroad.  They are.  They are everywhere.  Two demons lurk at the edge of the graveyard.  They are pacing themselves, and can lurk for the rest of the night, if necessary.  With still enough sullen menace left for a final burst of lurking around dawn.” — God

“Crowley was all in favour of Armageddon in general terms.  But it was one thing to work to bring it about, and quite another for it to actually happen.” — God

“Meet Deirdre and Arthur Young.  They live in the Oxfordshire village of Tadfield.  Meet Harriet Dowling and her husband, American diplomat Thaddeus Dowling.  It may help to understand human affairs to know that most of the great triumphs and tragedies of history are caused not by people being fundamentally good or fundamentally bad, but by people being fundamentally people.  There’s a trick they do with three playing cards which is very hard to follow.  And something like it, for greater stakes than a handful of loose change, is about to take place.  Deirdre Young is in delivery room three.  She has just given birth to a golden-hired male baby we will call ‘Baby A.’  Harriet Dowling is giving birth in delivery room four.  She is having a golden-haired male baby we will call ‘Baby B.’  Sister Mary Loquacious is about to be handed a golden-haired male baby we will call ‘The Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Prince of This World and Lord of Darkness.’  Three babies.  Watch carefully.  Round and round they go.” — God

“As methods of human communication go, the human wink is quite versatile.  For example, Sister Theresa’s meant… and as far as she was concerned, Sister Mary’s answering wink meant… Sister Mary, on the other hand, had thought that Sister Theresa’s wink was more on the lines of…” — God

“It would be nice to think that the nuns had the surplus baby discreetly adopted.  That he grew to be a happy, normal child, and then grew further to become a normal, fairly contented adult.  And, perhaps, that is what happened.  He probably wins prizes for his tropical fish.” — God

“Everyone knows the best place for a clandestine meeting in London is, and always has been, St. James’s Park.  They say the ducks are so used to being fed by secret agents that they’ve developed Pavlovian reactions to them.  The Russian cultural attaché’s black bread is particularly sought after bu the more discerning duck.  Crowley and Aziraphale have been meeting here for quite some time.  That night, Arthur and Deirdre Young proudly took the baby they believed was theirs home to the quiet English village of Tadfield.  The Antichrist had been on Earth for 24 hours.  While in London’s Soho, an angel and a demon had been drinking solidly for the last six of them.” — God

“Harriet Dowling took baby Warlock to his new home, an official London residence.  There are many doors that will take you to Heaven or to Hell.  But when Crowley and Aziraphale report in an official capacity to their respective head offices, they take the main entrance.” — God

“The right boy was playing in the woods with his friends.  After all, it was his birthday.  Hogback Wood was their Eden, where they could play unbothered by adults.  The children called themselves the ‘Them.’  Pepper and Brian, Wensleydale, and the birthday boy, their leader, who found their den and invented the best games of all… Adam.  And this is the moment.  The naming.  This will give it its purpose, its function, its identity.  This is the moment that sets Armageddon into motion.  The Hell Hound growls a low, rumbling snarl of spring-coiled menace.  The sort of growl that starts in the back of one throat and ends up deep in someone else’s.” — God

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Lord Beelzebub

“Tell us about the boy, Warlock.  Have you encountered any problems from the… …opposition?” — Lord Beelzebub

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Duke of Hell Hastur (Ned Dennehy)

“Bugger this for a lark.  He should have been waiting for us.  Nope.  Crowley.  Here he comes now, the flash bastard.  If you ask me, he’s been up here too long.  Gone native.  Enjoying himself too much.  Wearing sunglasses, even when he doesn’t need them.  All hail Satan.  Now that we art all here, let us recount the deeds of the day.  I have tempted a priest.  As he walked down the street, he saw all the pretty girls in the sun.  I put doubt into his mind.  He would have been a saint.  Now, within a decade, we shall have him.  Yeah?  And what exactly has that done to secure souls for our master?  This is.  Yes.  Yes.  Like you said, times are changing.  Well, they love you down there.  And what an opportunity.  Ligur here would give his right arm to be you tonight.  Sign here.  You will receive your instructions.  And why so glum?  The moment we have been working for all these centuries is at hand.  And you will be a tool of that glorious destiny.  ‘Ciao,’ it’s Italian.  It means ‘food.'” — Hastur

“Well, no need for the convent any longer, ten, is there?  Dissolve.  Your order is dissolved.  So irritating.  You never shut up, do you?  Would you like to tell them that the order is dissolved?  Or would you rather that they all perish in the fire?” — Hastur

“He’s the biggest we’ve got.  Only the best for our young master-to-be.  Only one way to find out.  You.  Get in there.  Watch out for his teeth.  Ooh.  I think he was hungry.” — Hastur

“The time is upon us.  As soon as the boy names the Hound, Armageddon will begin.  Go.  Find your master.” — Hastur

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Duke of Hell Ligur

“Do you trust him?  Good.  It’d be a funny old world if demons went around trusting each other.  What’s he calling himself up here these days?  All hail Satan.  I have corrupted a politician.  Let him think that a tiny bribe wouldn’t hurt.  Within a year, we shall have him.  It’s not exactly… craftsmanship.  Yes.  Yes.  Your scene.  Your starring role.  Take it.  They come to an end, for a start.  Or someone’s right arm, anyway.  Our moment of eternal triumph awaits.  What’s that mean?” — Ligur

“But is he evil?  Killed anyone yet?  I suppose.  But it’s fun.” — Ligur

“He’s big.  Do you think he’s hungry?  Yes, yes, you.  It’s not like you didn’t tell him to look out for the teeth.” — Ligur

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Mother Superior

“At some point this evening, Mrs. Dowling will arrive.  She will undoubtedly have Secret Service agents with her.  You are all to ensure that they see nothing untoward.  Sister Theresa and I will deliver the Dowlings’ child in room four.  Once he has been born, we will remove the baby boy from the mother… and give her back our master’s child.  Everything is ready.  Tonight, it begins.  Sister Mary Loquacious?  Master Crowley is on his way with our dark lord-to-be, Sister Mary.  We do not need to know more than that.  We are Satanic nuns of the Chattering Order of St Beryl.  And tonight is what our order was created for.  Sister Grace, you are on duty reception.  Sisters Maria Verbose and Katherine Prolix, you will assist Sister Theresa.  The rest of you know your duties.  Places.  Yes, of course.  You could make sure there are biscuits.  The kind with pink icing.  I think we had a tin in the convent larder.  Now, we just have to take him away for a minute to weigh him and the usual.  You must name the child.  Damien’s an excellent name.  Warlock, then.  It’s an old English name.  A good name.” — Mother Superior

“Our mission is done, Lord Hastur.  The baby is in place, and his parents are none the wiser.  I’m afraid I– what?  We’re what?  What fire?” — Mother Superior

---

Sister Mary Loquacious

“Yes, excuse me, Mother Superior, I was wondering where the other baby was going to come from?  Not the American baby.  I mean, that’s obvious.  It’s just the birds and the bees.  But, you know, the, um… oh, it’s an ambulance!  Excuse me, Mother Superior.  I didn’t get a job.  Probably an oversight.  Is that him?  Only I’d expected funny eyes, or teensy-weensy little hoofikins.  Or a wittle tail.  Fancy me holding the Antichrist.  Counting his little toesie-woesies.  Do you look like your daddy?  I bet he does.  Do you look like your daddy-waddykins?  Room three.  Do you think he’ll remember me when he grows up?  Master Crowley said to take the baby to room three.  Oh, yes.  Congratulations.  Your lady wife’s asleep, poor pet.  Oh, no, no.  This one’s yours.  That one’s… someone else’s.  Just looking after him.  No, no, this one is definitely yours, your ambassadorship, from the top of his head to the tops of his hoofy-woofies… which he hasn’t got.  Oh, yes.  He’s normal.  Very, very normal.  Now, we call these biscuits.  But you’ll be looking at them and going, ‘oh, cookies.’  This child is the Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Prince of This World and Lord of Darkness.  But I can’t talk now, because there’s this outsider here.  But I’m wittering on.  Where were you before you took up this appointment?  Cain.  Very modern sound, Cain, really.  Well, there’s always… I mean, there’s always Adam.” — Sister Mary

---

Sister Grace

“Welcome to St Beryl’s, Mrs. Young.  We weren’t expecting you till next week.  I’m afraid not.  We believe that fathers just, uh, complicate the process for everybody.  We’ll let him know when to come up.  She’ll be in room three.  Sister Mary, what are you doing here?  Shouldn’t you be taking biscuits to the refectory?  Well, get on with it, then.” — Sister Grace

---

Sister Theresa Garrulous

“Where’s the baby?  Satan, give me strength.  Do you know where our master’s child is?  Sister Mary Loquacious has him in room three.  Where the hell have you been?  We’re ready to make the switch, and here’s you in the wrong room with the Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Prince of This World, Lord of Darkness, drinking tea.  Well done, that, Sister Mary.  Switched over the babies all by herself.  Now, indicate to me the superfluous child, and I shall remove it and let you get on with your tea with His Royal Excellency, the American ambassador.  Extra baby removal.  Here’s your little man back, all cleaned up and weighed.” — Sister Theresa

“Now hang on a moment.  We did everything that was asked of us.  What about our reward?  We are a chattering order.  We say what is on our minds.  And right now, what’s on my mind is that you can’t treat us like–” — Sister Theresa

---

Arthur Young

“It’s definitely this way.  It’s just the roads look all different in the dark.  Breathe, dear, breathe.  Oh!  Well, I’m not going to argue with nuns.  Nurses know what they’re doing, Deirdre.  I’ll see you when it’s– right.  Good– good luck.  You’ve left your lights on.  Oh.  Well, that’s clever.  Is it infrared?  Um… they made me go out.  I think we were getting on with it, doctor.  We’re in room three.  Has it happened yet?  I’m the father.  The husband.  Both.  Twins?  What?  Nobody said anything about twins.  Oh.  All, uh, ahem, present and correct, is he?  I call them biscuits.  Swindon.  Damien?  No.  I’d always fancied something more, well, traditional.  We’ve always gone in for good, simple names in our family.  Adam?  Hmm.  Adam.  Do you know, Deirdre, um… I think he looks like an Adam.” — Arthur Young

“He’s not back yet?  Right, well, give me a shout when he gets back, then we can light the candles.” — Arthur Young

---

Deirdre Young

“Are we there yet, Arthur?  I’m four minutes apart.  The nuns said to come in when they were four or five minutes apart.  It’s just an… oh, do we have any egg and cress sandwiches?  Oh.  Oh!  I am breathing.  Oh, God!  Excuse me, Deirdre Young.  Contractions are now four– four minutes apart!  Now, Arthur will be with me while I’m in labour.  Oh!  Ooh.  Come on, little one.  Oh.  Hello, Adam.” — Deirdre Young

“He’s down in Hogback Wood, playing with his friends.  I’ve told him to be home by teatime.” — Deirdre Young

---

Thaddeus Dowling

“Breathe, honey.  Just breathe.  Honey, I’m with you.  I’m with you.  I’m just also here with the President.  Birth is the single most joyous co-experience that two human beings can share, and I’m not going to miss a second of it.  I’ll get back to you, honey.  A boy!  Mr. President.  I have the honour, sir, to report myself the father of a regular Y-chromosomed son.  This father-of-a-male-boy-son is all yours, Mr. President.  Harriet.  Yes!  He’s beautiful, hon.  What a little tyke, huh?  Oh… seeing him makes me understand what’s important in life.  It’s not work.  I’m going to teach him to play baseball.  And on Sundays, we’ll go fishing.  Sorry, honey, well call you back.” — Thaddeus Dowling

---

Harriet Dowling

“I am breathing, goddamn it, Tad!  Why aren’t you here?  You’re meant to be with me, you useless son of a bi– ohh!  Look, honey. Our son.  Well, we were going to name him Thaddeus, after his dad and his dad’s dad.  Damien Dowling?  Too alliterative.  Hello, Warlock.” — Harriet Dowling

“Warlock, are you listening to me, honey?  Look what they used to think dinosaurs looked like.  They’re old and educational.  It’s not dumb, sweetie.  It’s a dinosaur.  Honey, for the last time, we’ve already hired a…” — Harriet Dowling

---

President Bush

“Hey, Harriet, sorry we had to borrow your husband.  Tad, if we could get back to the matter at hand.  Tad!” — President Bush

---

Young Warlock

“Five.  I’m five.  What’s that?  Nanny says living things are only fit to be ground under my heels, Brother Francis.  Will you sing me a lullaby, nanny?  The gardener says that I must be kind and nice to everybody.  Even Sister Slug.  And not ever destroy the Earth.” — Young Warlock

“Whatever.  It’s dumb.  Dumbasaur, more like.  Can we talk about my birthday party?  Why can’t we have my party in an escape room?  But, mom…” — Young Warlock

Warlock Dowling

“It was in the table.  You’re rubbish.  That was the best 11th birthday ever.” — Warlock Dowling

---

Adam Young

“It’s my birthday.  Of course, I’m gonna get a dog.  I want a dog.  I don’t want a big dog.  I want the kind of dog you can have fun with.  A little dog.  I want a dog that’s brilliantly intelligent, and can go down rabbit holes, and I can teach tricks.  And I’ll call him… I think I’ll call him ‘dog.’  Saves a lot of trouble, a name like that.  Maybe.  Here, boy.  Come on.” — Adam Young

---

Pepper

“You never get what you want.  I wanted a bike, and I asked for it.  And I told them I wanted a razor blade saddle, and 12 gears and everything.  And do you know what they got me?  A girl’s bike.  With a basket.  That’s just sexist.  Oh, right.  And your mum and dad are just going to get you a big old Rotten-weiler, then, Adam?  And, what, this dog’s just gonna turn up?” — Pepper

---

Wensleydale

“But you are actually a girl, Pepper.” – Wensleydale

---

DJ on Radio

“When Queen released ‘Bohemian Rhapsody…’ …in 1975, it was because–”

Satan (Over Radio)

“You earned it, Crowley, didn’t you?  What you did to the M25 was a stroke of demonic genius, darling.  Here are your instructions.  this is the big one, Crowley.”

Dagon, Lord of the Files

“Hello, Crowley.  Dagon, Lord of the Files, Master of Torments.  He should be with you by now.  Why?  Has something gone wrong, Crowley?”

Sushi Chef

“Here is the selection of your favourite sushi rolls, my dear Aziraphale-san.”

Voice Activation??

“Calling Aziraphale.  Sorry, all lines to London are currently busy.”

Disposable Demon

“Me?”

Tarquin

“He’s right, you know.  You’re actually rubbish.”

Trixie

“You said there was gonna be a celebrity magician.  I had Penn and Teller at my party, and I had a silent disco, and I got a–”

---

Agnes Nutter

---

Mr. Harmony (Mark Gatiss)

---

Anathema Device (Adria Arjona)

---

---

War

---

Death (Brian Cox)

---

Pollution

---

Famine

---

Hell Hound

---

Madame Tracy (Miranda Richardson)

---

---

Witchfinder Sergeant Stadwell (Michael McKean)

---

Satan (Benedict Cumberbatch)

---

---

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@goodomensprime is officially out!!

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We are @goodomensprime. 1 more day!

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Wanted to share some behind the scene pics from @goodomensprime we had so much fun filming this and it makes me sooo happy to see you all love it. Thank you!!!

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#GoodOmens stars and creators Michael Sheen, David Tennant, Jon Hamm, @NeilHimself, and Rob Wilkins honor Terry Pratchett, the greatest angel of all. 😇

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WARNING: Bringing about Armageddon can be dangerous. Watch #GoodOmens now on @AmazonPrimeVideo.

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You won't find a copy of this in even the rarest of bookshops! Tell us why you love #GoodOmens for a chance to win a signed copy by @NeilHimself! Ends June 12 at 11:59pm PT. We will direct message the winner with instructions on how to claim the prize. US only, 18+. Swipe up on our Instagram Stories now to see official rules.

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Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett took this photo together before #GoodOmens was published on May 1, 1990. Who wants to thank these two for making the Apocalypse so fun? 📸: @neilhimself

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