Tickets this way for the Chatsworth Express!
Come and watch pikeys making a mess of the lives
they were given by him upstairs
and kids they're convinced aren't actually theirs.
What sounds on earth could ever replace
kids needing money or wives in your face?
Cos this, people reckon, and me included,
is why pubs and drugs were kindly invented
to calm us all down and stop us going mental.
These are Chatsworth Estate's basic essentials.
We are worth every penny for grinding your axes.
You shit on our heads, but you pay the taxes.
Imagine a Britain without Chatsworth buccaneers
who'd come on your face for the price of a beer.
Make poverty history, cheaper drugs now!
FRANK LAUGHS
Scatter.
Party!
(Paddy) Used to know this fella - Bobby Cash Machine we called him.
Taxi driver. Terrible drinker as well, every sense of the word.
He was forever blacking out, waking up in the weirdest of places.
He once woke up in the basement of Manchester Cathedral.
No idea how he got there.
Aye. The demon drink.
That's a terrible thing, so it is.
KNOCKING AT DOOR
Debbie!
Get that!
KNOCKING AT DOOR
Frank!
KNOCKING AT DOOR
- Yeah? - Ah, Phillip Gallagher in?
- No, he doesn't live here any more. - Ian Gallagher?
Uh-uh.
I presume Deborah Gallagher has moved as well.
Oh, no, she's here. I'll give her a shout.
No need. Just need to see some proof, plus,
there's a Liam Gallagher and a Stella Gallagher as well, correct?
Can I ask what this is about?
Ah. Bernard White. Benefits officer.
Oh. Just a minute, please.
- Frank, benefits! - What?
- At the door. - Don't answer it.
Like fucking vampires - they can't get you if you don't let 'em in.
It's too late, and I told him Lip doesn't live here any more, or Ian.
So?
So we're still collecting benefits for 'em.
That's not good, is it?
(American) Got a dead man walking here. And his wife.
Dead wife walking, too.
Hiya, I'm the, er, man of the house.
Vernon Francis Gallagher?
Yeah, look...
What the wife was just saying, just pay no attention to her.
She's totally fucking gone.
In days gone by, we'd have just dragged her down the nuthouse.
Now it's all care in the community and all that.
- Mr Gallagher. - Yeah.
Benefit theft is a crime, not a joking matter.
No. No, but look, can't we just chalk this one down
to a sort of clerical error, bloody computers, that sort of thing?
What the fuck?
Mornin', Meena.
How are you?
Well, a little bit tired because of the party last night
and sort of pissed off because there was this cute guy,
only Debbie got in there first and he was all over her,
but then she pulled her "I'm not that sort of girl" thing.
So he ended up buggering off,
which was pretty pointless, because she more or less ruined a good thing.
And did you actually want to know that,
or were you just making boring conversation?
Boring conversation.
What are your plans for today, then?
Sit around on our sofa, feet up, watching our TV, eating our food,
like every other day?
No. I've got places to go, people to see.
Yeah, course you do(!)
Right, so let me recap.
You're claiming for five children who no longer live here.
Neither of you are actively seeking work.
And despite what you said on your form, Mr Gallagher,
you're not confined to a wheelchair.
Disability - it's more a state of mind, innit?
- (Monica) Are we in trouble? - I think that's safe to say.
She was a lesbian.
Sorry?
For a while. Moved out on me, living with that thing in the yard.
And?
Dunno, just, you know...
thought it might help...
get some compensation for it. Oh, that's right,
just walk away!
You'll be hearing from us.
Go on, back to your nice life and your wife and kids. Want the shirt off me back?
You can fuckin' have it,
any fuckin' dreams I've had lately, and me kid's nappies. Benefits!
Benefits!
Look around ya. D'you see any fuckin' benefits?
You know what you are? A total fuckin' inadequate.
Yeah, Germans had a word for people like you. Hitler!
HE SOBS
Are you...
crying?
It's just...what you said...
about being inadequate...you're right.
Just like me wife said...
when she left me this morning...
Bloody hell.
On me fucking birthday, too.
- Did she at least get you a present? - Yeah.
There you go. Silver lining.
A videotape of her doing the bastard next door.
Christ on a bike! Hey!
Wait a sec, wait a sec.
Can't let your birthday go by without at least having a drink, can you?
C'mon, you and me, no-man's-land, pipes of peace.
Hey, c'mon, eh?
Just wait. I'll just get me jacket. Just wait...there.
HE LAUGHS
Bring it on, sister!
Mmm! Great news.
Fat Donny's wife found out about him and that lap dancer.
Mmm. She took it dead badly, too.
Aaaaaargh!
Apparently, he was rushed to hospital
with Little Donny stuck in a bag of frozen peas.
- You know what that means, right? - What?
Well, he played right-back, didn't he? I'm off the bench!
Terrible fuckin' news, more like. You're shit.
I'm not!
Can't aim for arseholes. And he's got no positional sense!
Shane, shut the fuck up and unpack the shopping.
Eugh.
Micky...
- Yeah? - The key to defending is zonal marking,
none of this headless-chicken shite.
Mark your territory.
Never mind. Ask your dad to explain it to you when he gets home.
Maureen?
Patrick.
You're awake.
What the hell's going on here?
You're full of surprises.
Now, c'mon, you can untie me now.
Not that I'm complaining about the kinky stuff, it's just...
I don't even remember how I got here.
You had a little much to drink.
BOTH LAUGHING
So I thought it best you stayed the night.
What's this about?
I'm hoping you can tell me, Patrick.
That's really the point.
That you understand.
What do you think this is about?
Got to admit,
darlin', you got me stumped here. How about a clue?
Oooh.
C'mon, Maureen, untie me now. Enough is enough, huh?
Maureen!
Come on!
Oi!
Appreciate this, Mr Gallagher. Sorry, I didn't mean to get so emotional there.
No worries.
It just gets harder to keep things together, you know. Turning 40.
The wife leaving.
The job. I'm ashamed of meself - what I've become.
But it's never too late to change, though, is it?
A man in a position like yours has got influence, power,
you know, to help folk,
like, you know, maybe people who made a mistake on their benefit form.
I can't ignore fraud, Mr Gallagher.
What?! Come on, I'm joking...
just talking generally here.
God, what kind of scum do you think I am?
Sorry. I didn't mean to... you know, snap.
S'all right. No harm, no foul.
Er, two pints, Karen.
- Same again? - Yes, thank you...
Frank.
(And two Es, Karen.)
The Buddhists are the fucking same, you know.
I mean, they don't give a diffing, they're going to a better place.
They're not scared of death.
So me pubes are going grey and I'm nearer the end than the beginning.
But it's what you're remembered for, innit?
Like Geldof - shit songs, but he got the kiddies fed. It's a proper legacy.
Love, love...
love, love...
love.
Yes... Yes...
- Love. - Yes.
Yes. Yes!
Yes!
What the fuck you staring at, you pervert?
I think I'm drunk!
MANIC LAUGHING
I think I understand it all now, Frank.
- Yeah? - It's all about the love.
You, me, everybody.
Love.
Love it is, Bernard.
The treacle that binds us all together.
Why did she do that?
I just wanted to share my love.
- I just need love. - Whoa, whoa, whoa. Easy, tiger.
Love you need and love you shall have.
All about the love, brother.
All about the love. And then we can see how you can help your fellow man.
Yes.
Thank you, brother.
Christ, I hope we don't end up married to that.
That's nice. Is it real?
Uh-huh. A gift.
Jesus, he must be loaded.
Treats me like a princess.
Nice.
- Yeah. A bit much sometimes. - What d'you mean?
Nothing.
How's Jamie?
Yeah. Better.
"True love travels on a gravel road," and all that shite.
We'll be all right, though. No worries.
We keep it simple and we keep it tight.
Get an early lead, make them work for the ball.
Play it out to the wings and stretch them at the back.
- Micky. Hello? - Right, yeah...no probs.
- Tight at the back. Wings. Sorted. - Right, let's fuck 'em up, then!
Yeah! WHISTLE PEEPS
THEY ALL SHOUT TO EACH OTHER
GROANING
Here we go.
- Fuck's sake, Micky! - What?!
- Where were you? - Midfield...ish.
Right back! Right fucking back!
All right. Keep yer hair on. Fucking hippy.
What's he pointing at?
Fuck's sake, Micky!
Shane, Shane, sort him out. He's drifting everywhere.
Mum, please! You're embarrassing me.
- Can you get off the pitch, please? - I'm his mother!
Keeper, keeper... where the fuck were you?
Micky!
All right, mate? How's it going?
It's work. Remember that?
Not all of us get "compassionate leave".
Not my fault you took the prank wars too far.
Post-traumatic stress disorder. That's me all over - a victim.
- Well, I'm pleased to see you, Stan. - Cheers.
Only happy because she got a transfer, didn't she? Norfolk.
A transfer? What about the flat? You know, the three amigos.
Us. All for one and one for all.
That'd be the Three Musketeers, then.
You know what I mean. They offering you a pay rise or something?
I wish.
Don't go, then. Norfolk. It's shit. You'll be bored.
Right. Cos hanging out with the Keystone Cops was really working out for me(!)
You're not doing a runner, are you?
Nah. Still got things worth sticking round for.
I meant Debbie. Saw her earlier. Still might be something there.
I don't know. I think she made it pretty clear.
Stan, Stan. You don't know women.
What I'm thinking is some grand, romantic gesture.
Three-nil.
Three fucking nil.
They're nothing special. We can take 'em.
Keep it tight, stay in position, keep possession and, Micky...
- Yeah? - For fuck's sake.
- What does that mean? - Stop wandering about.
- Just stay in defence. - It's total football, you dick!
It's the total opposite. Maybe we'd be better off playing with ten men.
He's your brother. He might be a twat on the pitch, but family is family.
Right, come on. Let's have it. Come on!
- Yeah, thanks, Mum. - For fuck's sake, Micky.
CHEERING
Three-two. Come on, boys!
Micky, kick it, here.
(Mimi) Pass, Micky, pass it!
Micky. Bring it off, now! Micky! Micky!
GROANING You cock!
You...play it. You're shit!
You're shit!
Well played.
Come on! Showers! Showers!
No, that's just creepy.
- Tom! - Shit!
No...
no, no, not what it looks like.
No. Debbie!
Micky, give it to me, give it to me now.
Micky!
Give us the fucking shower gel.
- What the fuck you staring at? - Could ask you the same question.
It's the most attention you've paid all fucking day.
You're the one that's shit! We'd have won if it wasn't for you.
What the fuck you talking about? All I said was...
SHOUTING
This is not what it looks like.
There's been no funny business going on.
You are her husband, right?
I was against her doing this.
- I'm so sorry. - Great, man.
Good. So why don't you scoot over here and untie us?
I can't do that.
Listen, I don't know what your kink is, but it's going beyond a joke here.
And it wasn't that funny to start with.
Untie me.
I don't understand a fucking thing that's going on.
- You don't, do you? - No.
Then it's not my place to say.
Enough.
You walk over here, you turn me loose.
Last chance.
You do that, I promise I'll walk away. Won't look back.
And if you don't...
..I'll raze this place to the fucking ground with you and her in it.
You do as I say!
D'you have any idea who I am?
I know exactly who you are, Mr Maguire.
Stop. Don't go!
(Shouts) Don't you walk away from me!
Don't go!
Fu-u-u-u-ck!
Go on, it's all right. Don't be scared.
- All right, Lillian? - Looking for something special?
Oh, it's not... All right, love? No, it's not for me.
It's for my compadre here. Yeah?
- Hiya. - What can I get for 30 quid?
Thirty'll get you a Colombian Handshake or a Paisley Snowjob.
But for an extra tenner, I can chuck you in a Yugoslavian Quarterpounder,
which is popular with the young 'uns.
Just, you know, a traditional roll in the hay will be all right.
- Go on, then, love. - Go on, go on.
- Come on, then. - Everything is so lovely here.
No rush, Bernard. You just lose yourself up there, all right?
We'll talk later. All right, Leanne?
- Fine, thanks. - How's your gran?
- She's all right. - Great...
LOUD VOMITING FROM UPSTAIRS
Jesus!
(Bernard) I'm so...I'm so sorry.
Frank, I don't feel so good.
I think we'd better call it a night, then.
I know there's someone there!
Listen, I'm sorry. Whatever it is you think I've...
Whatever it is I have done, I'm sorry, OK?
Hello?!
Please, I need...
Fuck!
KNOCK AT DOOR
DOOR CLOSES
Frank, what the hell's the benefits officer doing in Debbie's bed?
Ideally, waking up to a new life.
One where the idea of helping out his fellow man -
ie, you and me, Monica - is most appealing.
What are you babbling on about?
I tried to expand his horizons, you know?
Sort of, you know, slipped him a couple of Es to change his world view -
give him his own mini-Woodstock.
You know, welcome to Spike Island, leave yer preconceptions at the door.
- And that worked, did it? - Sort of.
No, not really.
Oh, all right! I fucked it.
We're in the shit here, Monica. It's not funny.
It's not just cutting benefits off. We're talking jail here.
They don't send you to jail just for that!
The place is teeming with 'em. They don't fuck around.
Come on, seriously.
Strangeways, here we come. Again.
No way. I can't do jail.
I'm not wanting to Steve McQueen it meself.
Plus they're gonna take away the kids.
You can wave goodbye to lickle Stella up there, the house, everything.
- Well, we've got to do something. - All right.
We've got the answer, though.
Right here under our roof. Lying there, in bed. Benefits Boy.
Look, it's simple mathematics.
He's lonely. His wife's left him.
It was his fucking birthday.
Well, he's vulnerable, in't he?
We've just got to show him a bit of... care and attention -
bit of love -
so that he bins our report and we're back laughing again.
- What you getting at? - I'm just saying, you know...
..we need to be creative.
Maybe...you could do something.
You know, be nice to him. The old feminine wiles and that.
Fine.
Fucking fine.
DOOR OPENS
Good morning, Patrick. Sorry I wasn't able to look in on you first thing.
There was a bring-and-buy sale at the church.
Really, some of the junk people drag there!
SHE LAUGHS How did you sleep?
Why do you ask me that question?
I don't understand.
Like I've just popped round.
Kettle's boiling. Some fucking cucumber sandwiches
daintily arranged on a plate. You have me tied to a fucking bed.
- Honestly...language! - What is it you want from me?
You tell me I've got to understand.
I don't understand what the hell it is you expect from me.
You've soiled yourself, haven't you, Patrick?
Sorry. These things happen.
No. No, they don't.
Not unless some psycho bitch has tied you to a fucking bed.
They do happen!
People found lying in their own excrement, turned blue,
life thrown away -it happens!
I can make it easier.
I could clean you up.
And you must be thirsty by now - really thirsty. Would you like a drink?
If you don't answer me, I can't get you one.
A glass of water, Patrick? Yes or no?
(Yes.)
Yes.
Right, so you'll have to do something for me, then, Patrick.
Do you sing?
What?
I bet you do. The Irish love singing, don't they?
What beautiful voices.
Or is that... is that racist to assume that?
How the fuck should I know?
(Shouts) What did I say to you about language?
Sorry.
I'm really sorry.
I'm having a bad day. It happens sometimes.
Did you ever see the musical Bugsy Malone?
I saw the movie.
Yeah, of course you did.
Well, there's a song in it, We Could Have Been Anything.
I think it's...apt.
Could you indulge me, Patrick? Sing for me.
I don't know the words.
Of course you don't. Hang on a minute...
Ta-da!
I can get you started.
# We could have been anything
# That we wanted to be
# And it...
# And... #
All I'm asking you to do is sing, Patrick.
(Shouts) Sing!
# We could have been anything
# That we wanted to be...
# And it's not too late to change
# - I'd be... - Delighted...
-#..To give it some thought... # - Can't hear you, Patrick!
#..Maybe you'll agree that we really ought... #
He was sniffing your knickers?!
No, I never said he was sniffing 'em.
Yeah, only cos you disturbed him.
I'd have him hauled up for that.
But that's just me. Unless, y'know... you still fancy him.
Shut up!
So...when were you going to tell us you were getting a promotion?
Didn't think that was anyone's business but mine.
How did you swing that?
Hard work.
- Dedication. - Yeah, right(!)
Think I want to spend the rest of my career wasting away in this dump?
I made a choice. Sometimes a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.
Oh, before I forget, Super wants to see you.
What about? Could you not have told me earlier?!
Yes, Tom, I suppose I could.
I suppose I could stick toothpaste on your toothbrush every morning,
and warm your slippers, and wipe your smelly bum,
and hold your hand as you cross the road.
But that's not my job.
For too long I've let you losers drag me down.
So grow a brain and work it out for yourself, eh?
Right...
See ya.
KNOCKING
I'll be out of your hair in a minute. I'm really sorry.
Don't worry about it.
- Are you OK? - No.
I didn't mean to impose...
It's nothing to do with you at all.
It's OK. It's OK, don't worry.
He's a fucking psycho. There's something seriously wrong with him.
Don't need to tell me. He's me brother.
Mum'll go mental if you kick him out the team. Not worth the hassle.
There's a fella I know through work, can barely walk,
but he'd be up for a game. Stick Micky on the subs bench and it's problem sorted.
Yeah.
- Problem sorted. - Speaking of problems,
- we've got one. - What?
We can either go to that expensive French restaurant
where they turn their noses up at us,
or we can go to the expensive Italian one.
Tell you what, life's just full of problems!
It's all right. You can look if you want.
Fuck off.
- Don't bother me. - Poof!
I fucking knew it!
Carl!
- Stay away from me, you fuckin' psycho. - Wait!
For fuck's sake, Micky, what have you done?
What? It was an accident.
You know. I slipped.
Oh, yes, yes, oh, don't stop...
You're beautiful.
You don't have to say that.
But you are. Sorry.
Just...
you are beautiful, you know.
Oh...!
I presume you know what this is about.
I do.
There are certain things we frown on here...
Can I just explain? First of all, it wasn't like I didn't know her.
We used to go out. And OK, I admit, you step back, you look at it,
yes, she was 15 when I met her, but I didn't do anything.
And she'd testify to that.
And yes, technically, I let myself in to the house
which, if you look at it in the wrong way, you might see as breaking and entering,
but I was just putting the chocolate in the drawer.
Then I thought, "No, drawer, that's invasion of privacy,
"I'll stick them on the bed."
Then the pants got snagged and...
voilà.
Pants?
As in...underwear?
Yeah.
Of a 15-year-old girl?
No. Debbie's 16 now. Why would she say she's 15?
I have no idea who she is or what you're talking about.
We are here to discuss the circumstances
which led to Stanley Waterman having to take extended sick leave.
We've received a report about the incident
which we feel lays the groundwork for a disciplinary procedure.
You've received a report?
Sometimes a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.
A blatant abuse of position and waste of resources.
But maybe you should start again.
The other story sounds far more interesting.
So...
there was a 15-year-old girl...
Fucking hell.
I'll, um... Goodbye, then.
Wait, wait, wait!
What happened?
Our case is gonna disappear down behind some filing cabinet.
Really? Yeah! Fucking genius, Mon.
Fucking genius. How did you convince him?
Don't think we need to go into the gory details, do we?
- What do you mean "gory details"? - You know what I mean.
I told you to speak to him.
You told me to be nice to him.
What you fucking talking about? Eh?
Oh, no!
Tell...tell me you didn't...
It was your idea.
No. No.
Don't touch me. Don't come near me.
You...upstairs? In my own house? For fucking benefits?
Benefits, Monica?
Even prossies have the sense of mind to do it for cold, hard cash...
- Don't you dare turn this round! - Don't you fucking start!
You told me! This is what you wanted!
Oh, oh, yeah, yeah... Of course it is(!)
Of course it is. Yeah, this is what I wanted(!)
16 years of age, the world unfurling at me feet, I said,
"Hey, what I want is nine kids, a house that's falling apart around me,
"a wife who leaves me for another fucking woman, comes back
"and then fucks around on me again." Oh, yeah, this is what I wanted!
Don't... Fuck off!
Yeah, I was on me knees, praying, "Oh, please, grant my wish, your Almighty."
And He did!
I mean, this is heaven...with you.
Every day, every second, every breath.
This is fucking heaven, this is!
I did it for you. I did it for the family.
Don't, Mon.
Just...just don't.
From now on, Monica...
..just don't.
All right?
It's OK, Paddy.
It's OK. You're safe.
Oh, Mimi. I'm so sorry...
Sssh. Everything's going to be all right.
No, Mimi, no. I got lost.
I was stupid and I have to change.
This life we lead, this world of ours... Something's gotta give!
I forgot.
I forgot just how much you meant to me...
I love you so fucking much...
I know, Paddy. I know.
I don't even...
I don't even remember how I got here.
They found you by the side of the road, half dead.
Better let them see to you.
Need to tell the boys you're awake as well.
Mimi...
NURSE WHISTLES
SHE WHISTLES: Bad Guys from Bugsy Malone
No-o-o-o-o-o!
I think it's time now, Patrick.
PIANO INTRO
# We could have been anything that we wanted to be... #
SINGING CONTINUES
My daughter, Patrick.
Rachel.
It was a few years ago.
She looked different towards the end...
..once the heroin got hold of her.
Maureen...
Only 18 years old.
18 years...
that's nothing.
And the worst thing is,
I went to the police, and even if they did manage to make it stick...
..well, you'd be out long before that.
I'll stop. Swear to God, I'll stop.
Even if I believed you,
it wouldn't change anything.
We have to be accountable...
for our choices...
..for what we've done.
(Kids) # We could have been anything that we wanted to be... #
Oh, no, no, no, no!
- Not that, please! - I was a nurse. It's all right, Patrick.
- I know what I'm doing. - No, no...! Fuck off!
Get off, no!
It's better if you please stay still.
Argh! No!
That's it.
Maybe it would be a good idea for you to try your product.
After all, you didn't have issues with anyone else trying it, did you?
I'll fucking kill ya...bitch...
Fuck...
#..We could be the best at being bad... #
Shush.
Ssh...
MUSIC BOOMS AND ECHOES
- I don't really care. - Oh?
Carrie's gone. You leave. Just one more room to rent, isn't it?
'Scuse.
You're just saying that cos you know you'll miss me really.
No, seriously. I'm tired of you, anyway.
It's the accent, I think. It grates.
Been drifting apart for a while. It's the way of the world.
Get a hug, at least?
Whatever. Won't make a difference to me.
I'm really going to miss you, mate.
I don't know what to say, mate.
Geroff...! Twat!
- Take care of yourself, Carl. - Dick!
Carl!
(Phone) First new message.
Debbie, it's me, Tom.
I didn't get a chance to say goodbye,
and there's something I need to tell you -
something important I learned about life,
about Chatsworth, and about you.
And it's kind of mind-blowing stuff, see?
Debs, after all the time here, what I realised is, was, that I really love...
BEEP
Whatever.
Guess what. Micky...
- Micky's a poof. - Yeah, I know.
- Why didn't you warn me? - It's not catching, you dick.
It's just he's trying to kill me. KNOCK AT DOOR
- (Micky) Carl! - Fuck!
That's him now. Ian, please, you gotta to speak to him.
Hang on, I'll be there in a second.
- Ian! - Carl, I've got to go.
If he kills you, make sure he doesn't do it in the next few weeks.
I'll be well pissed off if I have to fly home for your funeral!
Carl Gallagher!
Carl!
Is that you up there?
WINDOW OPENS AND CLOSES
Wait!
- Aw, that's gorge... - What the...?!
- I'll be your best friend! - What?
If you don't tell anyone, I'll be yer best friend. I'm serious.
It'd kill me dad. And me mam. Or they'd kill me.
I'll do anything. Please!
I've got DVDs.
All the best films. Die Hard an' that.
Fuck's sake, Micky. I don't give a shit.
Just wish you were better at football. No need to go all psycho on us.
I've been dead lonely since Ian went.
Micky, I'm not gonna tell anyone.
Don't mean we're gonna be mates, though.
All right?
Sorry.
These DVDs. How many you got?
Two hundred. Maybe more.
- Did a film course, didn't I? - Got any porn?
Loads.
BLOWS KISSES
Monica?
Close the fucking door on the way out, eh?
PIANO PLAYS
APPLAUSE
Another fella I knew, Duncan. He was a right fucking terror.
One day he did over a post office. Driving off, full speed,
hits a dog.
Never seen a man so cut up.
This is someone who stabbed his mother, seriously,
and he's crying over a fucking dog.
Everybody's got a breaking point
when things just change
and after that, you realise everything's different.
You won't be going back.
Might be others who force your hand,
or it might be something within yourself.
I guess you don't know. Not until it hits ya.
(Man) Oh, yes, I'll do that for you, baby.
What the fuck...?!
Sorry.
- Dick. - Totally.