- Yeah. Heh-heh.
I... I mean rules are like arbitrary, you know,
made up for people who believe in fairy tales.
Like, you know, like Santa Claus.
Hey, but not us, right?
I mean, we know what's important.
There's a war going on, man. A war!
Ain't that a bitch?
I just graduated today, man.
With honors.
Got my degree in... in... in pharmacology.
I'm licensed.
Look, if you write me up on this drug charge,
I won't be able to practice.
So what we're talking about here is... is my life.
The rest of it.
- The sixties are over... man.
- Jody and Nick, you have come together in this church
so that the Lord may seal...
- Mr. Jones, is it true this is the biggest deal
you've cut with the FBI?
- I now pronounce you man and wife.
- Aren't you supposed to be in court?
- Case adjourned.
They just seemed to run fresh
out of witnesses.
Frees up the Lizard for his other business.
One hundred large
has been deducted from your account.
As promised.
Can the Lizard offer a suggestion on how she can, uh...
work off the rest of her debt?
- The Lizard may not.
- Go.
Believe me, you'll thank me later.
Let's go.
No more free meals. Let's go.
- Christ, it's like a reptile house in here.
- Fuck off.
Ah, mix master.
To our star chemist, gentlemen.
Elmo McElroy.
Where's Durant?
I see five. I don't see the Brit.
Where the fuck is he at?
- He said he'd be here.
- Limey faggot needs a lesson in manners.
- Fuck Durant.
Just tell us about this new wonder drug.
Get your master chemist in here.
- Okay.
Konokko, fetch him.
Fetch the Lizard Elmo.
- No Durant.
No McElroy.
- Maybe he went out for something.
- Oh! What the fuck?!
- Nobody goes out
for something on deal day!
- Oh! - Stop your whining,
get up off your ass and go find him! Now!
- Ah...
- Just give me a moment.
"This is Elmo McElroy's phone.
He's not home.
You know what to do,
you know when to do it. Bye."
- Tasty Drops?
- He fucked me. I'm truly ass-invaded!
"You have one new message."
- "He fucked me. I'm truly ass-invaded!"
- Rest in peace...
motherfucker.
- You're going home, Dakota.
- I'm going to Vegas. - You listen to me.
There's this, uh...
Limey asshole in Liverpool
named Durant. He was supposed
to show up for this little deal we had going on today.
He didn't... he didn't show up.
The Lizard thinks he stole his Elmo.
- I'm not going back there. I don't care how much money
I owe you. - You listen to me, Dakota.
I want this Limey motherfucker Durant off the fucking planet.
And I want fucking Elmo fucking McElroy
off the fucking planet!!
- Did you hear what I just said?
That place has nothing to offer me.
- The Lizard... will wipe your marker clean.
Plus,
a bonus. One hundred thousand.
If the job is done in 48 hours.
And after that, there is nothing to stop you
from turning right around and leaving again.
- Two-fifty.
- Get it done.
- It's done.
Shite!
- Good evening.
I'd like to extend a very warm welcome to each of you
on behalf of all the crew on this virgin Atlantic flight.
Please store carry-on baggage in the overhead lockers.
- Can I show you to your seat, Sir?
- We are just waiting for our last remaining passengers
to board and then we'll be on our way.
- Spit it out. Spit it out now.
- Tommy?
- What?
What?
- Fuckin' Yanks.
The trouble with the fuckin' Yanks is,
they've no fuckin' sense.
Had some dick in Los Angeles
actually ask me where I learnt English.
English, fuck!
- You have a problem with America, Felix?
- Oh, yeah. I got one great, big, fat swollen fucker of a problem
with America, twat.
Listen to this.
I'm in fuckin' Florida, right?
This southern prat comes up and he's like, uh...
"Hey, England's small.
You must know that John fucking Smith guy, right?"
Fucking Smith.
I'm like, "Oh, yeah,
yeah, mate, that's right.
John Smith. Yeah, I do know him, but uh,
he doesn't come from England, mate. No, he comes from fucking
Pricksville, U.S.A.
Are you gonna answer that fucking phone or what?
- It's just my wife.
Now, when Mr. McElroy joins us, I'd be pleased
if you kept your opinions to yourself.
This particular Yank is not a traveling salesman.
He's a genius. Hm?
- Who is this cunt?
So I said to Mr. Durant, I said, "Mr. Durant,
we're gonna meet this fuckin' Yank McElroy,
bring him to the deal and that's it."
None of this fucking
conversation-and-coffee bollocks. None of this
asking how the Tampa Bay "Fuckanneers" are getting on.
No, I said fuck him. I bring him to the deal,
I get me fucking tickets and I'm off. That's it.
Take a left up here. - There's no time for this.
- Take a fucking left, will ya.
- Felix. Felix, listen.
This is a totally new chemical. Once we have the formula,
we could make this stuff in a kitchen!
We don't even need Durant. - Look. You see that?
Manchester United vs. Liverpool.
And that's tomorrow. Blokes are shagging
their fucking mothers-in-law to get a ticket for that.
And I'm getting two from Mr. Durant.
So unless you can shag us a couple of tickets on the spot,
I suggest you shut the fuck up.
- But this is a unique window of opportunity for you.
We are talking telephone numbers...
- Enough. Take care of him. He's getting on me fuckin' tits.
- We're gonna be late, boss. - Fuck the Yank! Let him wait.
"When you walk Through a storm
"Hold your head up high"
Boys and girls of Manchester...
just popped over from, uh... Liverpool
to invite you to a little game of footies tomorrow afternoon.
- What the fucking hell's that, you twat?
- But I'm fucking fucked if you think you are gonna win it.
- Someone get that fucking thing out!
- Hey, young man!
- Where the fuck've you been?
- Just around the block. - Drive. Quick.
- Let's go meet the Yankee moppet.
Where's Lawrence?
Where's he gone? We're late. - Well, he's...
- You left him at the pub. Twat.
- Well, you said... - Go back.
Go back and get him.
- This wanker. - Out, prick.
- Uh!
- Lawrence says, right,
he's gonna be carrying...
a load of drugs, right?
We do him. Job done, okay?
- Yeah. - I'm not having
some fucking nignog... put us out of business, right?
Right?!
Watch it! You're pissing on me fucking boots!
- What about Felix DeSouza? - Fuck him.
- He's a rabid dog.
- Is he? Well, fuck him!
Fuck him! Leave it to me!
Everybody fucking wants you off.
Heh? No problem.
No problem.
- Hey!
- Hey! Felix DeSouza.
Just the wanker I wanted to deal with.
- Deal with this. - Ah!
- What a fucking day.
- Arthur, come in, Arthur. Over.
Why don't you try the big fat button, Arthur?
- Yes, Sir.
- Now, we are looking for a large black gentleman wearing a dress.
That's what Lawrence said. It should be easy. Over.
- Yeah, and we want Customs to pull him over, right?
- Wrong. We want Customs to let him through and you follow him.
Over. Nutbag.
- Right. Over.
What now?
- Follow them all. Over.
- Madam. If you don't mind. - No. I gotta go.
- You'll have to come this way.
- Are you finished? - Uh, not quite, Miss.
I need to look at your shoulder-bag.
- Welcome to England.
Actually, that makes me out to be a bit of a liar,
'cause let's face it, pal, you're about as welcome
as a dose of the clap. But it's always nice to be nice.
- Who the hell are you? - Felix DeSouza.
Mr. Durant sent me. - I asked for a chemist.
Where's Lawrence? - He's in the car.
- Well, he should be here. - I should give a shit.
To me, you're just a ticket to a game.
- Where's the chemist?
- Where's Lawrence?
- You heard the man. Where's Lawrence?
Put these in the trunk. Get Durant on the phone.
- Put these fucking sticks in the boot.
Ah!
What's that? - It's Lawrence.
- I can see it's fucking Lawrence! What happened?
- You told me to take care of him.
I meant to take care of him, not fucking take care of him!
Shit.
Shit! Shit!
Shut the fucking thing, will ya?
- Get Durant on the fucking phone right fucking now!
Where's my motherfuckin' chemist?!
- Lawrence? Should be in the car. - Should be?!
What kind of fuck-up is this, Durant?
Look, we deal today or I go to the competition.
- Look, let me speak to DeSouza.
- DeSouza? DeSouza?
- Look, boss, it... it wasn't my fault.
Besides, he was fuckin' irritating.
- Right now, I couldn't give an ass, you twat!
You just make sure McElroy gets here.
- Where's my fucking chemist?! - I think we need
a new chemist, Mr. Durant. - I know, I know.
I can fucking hear him, can't I?
Tell him I'm gonna get a hold of, uh...
Pudsey Smith, okay?
Yeah. I am not buying aspirin for a fucking arm and a leg!
- He's getting Pudsey Smith for ya.
- Who?! - He's deaf-mute.
- Stall him. Just stall him.
You keep that Yankee cunt happy. And alive.
- All right, boss. Yeah.
- Oh! You fucking twat!
- What's the plan, then?
Freshen up?
Massage? Maybe you fancy a bucket
of fried fucking chicken?
- If I wanted cuisine, I'd've gone to Paris.
- You can still go to France, It's not too far,
full of pricks and they hate Yanks as well.
Do you fancy
a bite or what? - Yeah, all right.
- Hello, stranger!
Said hello to loverboy yet?
Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!
- Iki, I'm in a hurry. Can we get on with it?
Ruger Mini-14, 223 caliber.
Comes in a fetching chrome. Twenty rounds per banana,
unless the elite and snazzy Iki special takes your fancy,
extending the capacity to 40. We've got a Czechoslovakian...
- CZ-83, I'll take one.
- Ah, well that's young Felix's weapon of choice, isn't it?
Now there's a trip down memory lane.
I'm partial to bitter sentiment, me. I've heard things, you know.
He misses ya.
So what you're gonna say?
- I'll take the Baretta, the CEZ, an ankle-holster...
Add the Mini 14 and I'm done. I want to get in and out fast.
- Don't we all. - Does Durant still do his deals
at the Port Hotel? - Silly lad.
You know, that'll be his undoing one of these days.
But what do you expect from a fellow
who gets his ass waxed every month.
- I forgot what a circus this place is.
- Funny, that. Never did much like the circus,
all that poking-your-head- in-the-lion's-mouth shite.
Bring on the horses! And the dancing girls!
That's the circus!
These and these... are on the house.
Welcome home... Dawn.
- There you go, mate. Thanks, mate.
- What the fuck
did they do to this fish, batter it to death?
- Fish and chips. National dish, mate.
- More like a national disaster.
- The keys.
Twat.
Come on.
So, uh...
how much are they paying you to wear that skirt?
Fag?
- No, motherfucker.
- Ah, Mr. McElroy.
That's daring but very touching attire.
- Let's stick to the business at hand.
- Hey, come on. Mr. McElroy's a guest of ours.
Okay, boys. Guns on the table, please.
Felix. - Look, I've delivered your man.
I'll have me tickets and be off. - Put your gun on the table.
- Fuck, the game's tomorrow. - Put your fucking gun
on the table!
- What?
- So who's the chemist? - Pudsey Smith.
He's a first-class man. Fully qualified and everything.
He can't talk, he's been shot.
Felix, have you shit your pants or something?
- Something doesn't feel right, Mr. Durant.
- I know, because you're making me nervous, for fuck's sake.
Sit on your hands or something. Okay, Mr. McElroy,
the ball's in your court.
- MDMA utilizes serotonin.
Opiates like heroin utilize dopamine.
Sort of like the same sensation you get after sex.
Amphetamines increase adrenalin,
and cocaine gets those synapses in the brain firing really fast.
My product is 51 times stronger than cocaine,
51 times more hallucinogenic
than acid, and 51 times more explosive
than ecstasy.
It's like getting a personal visit...
from God.
- It's that good?
- Dog's bollocks.
- Felix DeSouza.
- I count 10. - That's right.
That's one million sterling gold. One point...
$1.6 million.
- But that ain't what we agreed on, is it?
You're $18.4 million shy.
And I don't care how you cut it, that's a whole lot shy.
- No, no, no.
Mr. McElroy, what we have there is a goodwill gesture.
A deposit, a down payment.
One-and-a-half million's not a bad start, is it?
I need to do some research.
I need to feed a few thousands to the kids, get some feedback.
You don't think I'd allow you to walk out of here
with $20 million for a formula that only exists in your head.
And all I get is, well...
an ointment for toe-jam.
- Uh-huh.
Market research. - Right.
- Profile your customers, send out some questionnaires.
- Get out the bloody way, Felix.
- Hey, I can dig that. But unless you got
what we agreed on, what the fuck am I doing here?
Give me a call when you're ready to deal.
I fucking knew it.
Room service.
- That old fucking chestnut.
- Ahhh!
- Uh! - Hey, hold it, fellas!
It's my sausage and flaming mash.
- Ahhh!!!
- Shh-shh-shh.
- Sorry, love.
Sorry about that, pet. It's just that, uh,
me dad ran off with the room-service maid, you see,
and things have never really been the same since.
- Bollocks.
- Now's not a good time.
- Change in plan. - What do you mean?
- I want McElroy kept alive.
- I don't do alive, I do dead. - It's a matter of $20 million
in cash being vaporized and it's a matter of a lot of anger
being directed toward the Lizard Man. You now do alive.
My future is inside McElroy's skull.
You waste anything and everybody that gets near him.
You waste them, not him.
His mind belongs to the Lizard.
- Shit.
- Fucking hell!
- Shit! Shit!
Ah, shit.
Asshole.
- Let go, you double-crosser, let go of that, mate!
Ahh!
- Oh, shit!
- Shit!
- Ow!
Shit!
- Told you to get out the way, Felix.
- Fuck! I've been shot! - Where?
- In the fucking ass!
- Oh, man, it's just a flesh wound. Come on.
- Fuck. Flesh wound,
is that supposed to sound like a fucking good thing?
- Come on, dude.
- Hey, saucy!
Saucy!
- Here, take these. - Fuck that!
- Ah! - Ahh! Fuck!
- Fucking get him, boys! Come on.
Uh! - Uh!
- Ah!
- Stay down, bitch. - Oi, you're not driving my car!
Shit!
- Give me the fucking keys. Get in the car.
- Fuck!
Ahhh!
- Fucking hell!
- Get your fat ass out of the flaming car and check the hotel.
- So put me in the picture.
What just happened back there? - Just got shot in the ass,
that's what happened!
- This is not the way we do business!
- Just get out the fucking car! - All right, all right!
- Oh, fuck!
- You fucking...
- What?!
- Take a fucking left!
Get off the pavement!
- Shit! - Watch out!
Fuck!
- Which fucking way? Which way? - Turn right! Right!
- Come on! Ah, Christ!
- Hey.
- Ohh...
- Another truck
is coming from the fucking right!
- I got it, I got it.
- Fuck!
- You, out of the fucking way!
- Oh, bollocks! - Dog's bollocks?
- No, just plain fucking bollocks.
- No dog involved? - No!
Watch out! Watch out!
You're gonna kill the fucking car!
- Fuck.
- Ah! Fuck.
- Hello.
- So let me get this straight.
"Bollocks" is bad, whereas "the dog's bollocks" is good, huh?
- Yeah.
Oh, bollocks.
- Gotcha.
Come on, then!
Come on!
- Ahhh!
...Ahhh! - Fucking hell!
- Stop.
Fucking Yanks.
- Come on!
- Stop fucking...
- You're scraping me fucking paint!
- Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.
- Fuck you, Kane,
your shite..! - Fuck off!
- "Bop-bop-bop-bop-bop!" - Ha-ha-ha!
- Holy little fuck. - Ha-ha-ha! Chicken bollocks!
Shit!
- Fuck you, Kane, you fucking wanker!
- Come here, you! - Fuck!
- You all right? - Fuck off!
We lost 'em.
- Yeah, well, let's not take any chances.
- Oh...
Oh, shiiiit!
Argh.
- You want to junk that, pal? - What?
- Dude, you have a car that works? I need transportation.
- A nice little Cooper that needs a lick of paint.
She goes. Throw in the XJ6
and she's yours for 100 quid.
- Deal. - What, a Cooper?!
Piss off, Popeye. And you.
- Tell you what, 70 quid
and the Jag. And I'm robbing meself.
- That... that's it. That... That's it!
I've had just about enough of this shite.
I got you to that deal in one piece, I got you out
of that deal in one piece.
As far as I'm concerned, my job's done, it's finished.
So you can leave me motor alone, get your golf clubs
and fuck off back to Dixie!
- Pay attention, Felix DeSouza.
I atomized a major drug syndicate
to be here this morning.
Now I'm stuck in Liver-fucking-fool with you!
And if I need you to sell
your car to help me, you will sell your goddamn car!
- Do I look like the Salvation Army?
Have I got Jimmy-Fix-it
written on me fucking hat? I'm sorry, mate,
but help's not a word I'm too familiar with, you know.
Fuck off!
I don't believe it.
- So who's the girl?
- That's me ex-girlfriend.
- Arthur.
- Yeah. - I want you to describe
the situation to me.
- Seven shades of shit and a one-shit trumpet, Sir.
Looks like some kind of a drug buy. None of your ordinary.
Aye-aye, got some blue tabs. They look like sweets.
How are you?
- What do you mean, how am I? Nearly cut my fucking ear off!
Then I... I hurt me knee.
Now, I want you to get the pills and take them straight down
to the lab, double time. You got that? Right.
And then you call me. Now what else you got?
- Six dead bodies and one live one.
Chief, it's Leopold Durant.
- Durant?
Right. Now concentrate, Arthur.
Get that fat fuck down here pronto.
- But Sir, he's dying.
- Well, then you'd better be fucking quick about it,
hadn't you?
- She dumped me.
Two years ago now.
Changed her name from Dawn to Dakota.
Fucked off for Las Vegas and a deck of cards.
- So who hired her to take me out?
- You're asking the wrong question, mate.
She's your guardian angel.
If she wanted you dead, you'd be dead.
She never misses. I mean, fucking look at that.
She really wanted to hit me.
I'll be "shiting" through a tube for the rest of me life.