- MAN: Come on, Billy. - Go on, Bill!
MAN: Billy!
- Go on, Bill! - MAN: Play it inside, Bill.
Go on, straight through!
(MEN GROAN)
MAN: Billy!
(THAT'S AMORE BY DEAN MARTIN)
(INAUDIBLE)
(MUSIC CONTINUES)
- (BALL BEING KICKED) - (CHEERING)
MAN: Wanker!
(MUSIC CONTINUES)
- (MEN CHEERING) - (WHISTLE SOUNDS)
# That's amore #
MAN IN CAR: Go on! Go for Bexy!
Yeah! Stiff the bastard!
LOMAX: Wankers!
(YELLING INDISTINCTLY)
LOMAX: Tossers!
(YETI'S MAN APPLAUDING HIM)
# That's amore #
Transgressed the unwritten law, this has.
Can you do anything with those scratches?
Sorry, boss.
BEX: Ta.
It's not on this, you know, Bex.
It's all in hand, Nunk.
- Ta-ta. - See you later.
(CAR HORN SOUNDING LA MARSEILLAISE)
That is well out of order.
You don't let people treat you like shit, I learned that in the Army.
You sort it out there and then, otherwise they'll shit on you
every other minute of the day.
- Well, you tell him, then. - Don't you worry, I'll sort Bexy out.
(ALL HUMMING THE COLONEL BOGEY MARCH)
Very funny, son, very funny.
(INDISTINCT CONVERSATIONS)
All right, hold it, hold it down, hold it down. What're you having, girls?
- Heart attack, if you're paying, shorty. - SNOWY: Got him.
Shut up. Now, do you want to try the tactful approach,
- or are you tired of living? - (EXCLAIMING)
Well, I'll have a pint of Drambuie if you're plush, Aitch.
Plush? Me?
Look at me wodge. I got loads of money.
- Loads of money! - Give us some of that money, mate.
Oi, did you find anything interesting
while you were crawling up around Bexy's anal passage?
Nah, only your Rasta cap, man.
(JAMAICAN ACCENT) Bloodklaat, me wonder where me leave that ting, y'na?
- Where's me boy? Oi, Nocka! - (BANGING ON TABLE)
- Nocka, come on! - NOCKA: All right, what you having?
- Vodka and tonic. - What you want, Snowy?
- Hey, I'll have a Babycham. - Right, that's three lager tops.
- What do you want, JT? - Lager. (CHUCKLES)
- Trigg? - Snakebite, Aitch.
And a Snakebite for Rambo.
- SNOWY: Hey, Sid... - Hey, hold up. Hold up.
MAN: I had to bring me girlfriend.
(MEN CHEERING)
(MAN WHISTLING)
- MAN: Come on girls, give us a flash. - Come on, boys, get a load of this.
ALL: Ooh!
We are cheeky girls.
Ooh!
# Get your tits out
ALL: # Get your tits out
# Get your tits out for the boys
# Get your tits out for the boys, oi! #
(CHUCKLING)
- SUE: You all right? - Yes, he's fine.
SUE: Hello, babes.
Hello, darling.
Boo!
Why don't we let them take Sammy down the park for a bit?
What, let my mum stuff him full of sweets?
Well, that's what grandparents are supposed to do, innit?
Yeah, one or two, but the rate the old girl stuffs them down his neck,
I'm surprised she's got time to take them out the bleeding packet.
Oh, well, it was just an idea.
I thought I might let you stick your willy up me.
That's a nice idea, innit?
You not got any knickers on?
Oh, suspenders, eh?
You've been seeing that milkman again, you dirty cow.
I'm all wet!
TRIGG: Bexy!
Oh, Trigg, You bastard, this ain't the bleeding boozer, you know.
You got your in-laws playing in the garden,
I didn't expect to find you having it off in the living room, did I?
We were not having it off.
What you want anyway?
TRIGG: We gotta do 'em, Bexy, tonight!
You can't let people treat you like shit!
- All right, Trigg, mate, calm down. - Well, look at it!
I've been looking at it. I've seen it, mate.
- That is well out of order! - Trigger, Trigger.
Look at me, son, look at me.
Do I look concerned?
No, you don't! You should!
It's all in hand, mate.
(JAMAICAN ACCENT) Now, cool out guy, y'na?
(SUCKS TEETH) Heart attack time.
(SIGHS) Well, ta-ta then.
A cup of tea would've been nice.
Give my love to your mum.
(LAUGHS)
(BIG BEN TOLLING)
Have you brought his nappy with you?
We can't get them, the Buccaneers must've used them all up.
- MAN 1: Piss off. - MAN 2: Shut up, shut your mouth.
Listen, we ain't been in Europe for three years, right?
In two weeks' time,
there's going to be half of Europe waiting in Germany for us.
So?
Oh, no reason, Oboe, you leery prat.
(ALL SNICKER)
Is there anyone in?
Look, I know they don't cover it in the Beano,
- so I'll tell you what's been happening. - I've seen it.
There's over four thousand Dutch booked in for Germany, for a start.
Four thousand, Oboe, you micro-moron.
This is not a bunch of tulip growers on a day trip to the Munich Beer Festival.
These geezers are coming tooled up, and twelve car workers from Birmingham
with their brains in their right hand ain't gonna do nothing.
I don't know, we could sell 'em a British car,
the poor bastards'd be stranded there for life.
Listen, listen, if we don't stick together
they're going to have us on our toes before we get off the Harwich ferry.
Sounds like you're running scared already, Bexy Boy.
(MEN EXCLAIMING)
Oh, that's funny.
Dumb animals aren't supposed to speak, are they?
Animal I might be, dumb I ain't.
Did you win this morning?
I always win, Yeti, you should know that by now.
That's funny, didn't look like it to me.
It looked like we walked into your back yard and tinted your windscreen,
and nobody lifted a finger.
(CLAMOURING)
OBOE: Oi, oi, oi!
What are you two slags going on about?
Our friend from the Buccaneers here thinks that driving a car
across a football pitch at fifty mile an hour means he's had a result.
- Shows imagination though, don't it? - Yeah, well, I suppose it would to you.
I mean, when you've got the intellectual capacity of a lump of jelly
I should think anything shows imagination, don't you?
OBOE: Are you two slags going to bitch all night?
'Cause we got a train to catch, okay?
Now, you gonna tell us about this mega plan of yours or what?
It's simple, Oboe, even you and Snow White might get the drift.
If we don't stick together, they're going to trample all over us.
Told you, he's running scared.
Am I wasting my time here, or what?
Look, I'm recruiting for a national firm, do you want in or what?
Don't tell me, you want to be top girl.
(ALL LAUGHING)
There you are, Oboe, I told you it was simple enough for you to grasp.
Who's a clever little girl then?
Oh, you make me sick, you Cockneys.
Always think you've got the right to run things.
(ALL CLAMOURING)
No, no, no, you couldn't run a piss-up in a brewery.
You're a joke! I'm off.
Oh, what's a matter, love, getting too late for you, is it?
Here, Nunk, ring room service and get Oboe his warm milk.
It's well past his bedtime.
I ain't following a bunch of thumb-suckers.
You want to run a national firm, friend,
you put your arse in gear behind us, right?
Oh, what with your track record you'd need an A-to-Z to find the bog.
(MEN LAUGHING)
Well, at least I won't be on it all night shitting meself.
Listen, this is a fact, right?
Past two seasons, right?
We have rumbled everyone in here.
(ALL CLAMOURING)
(INAUDIBLE)
Have a look at this, Cliffie, we got pigs flying over here.
YETI: Hold up, all right, look.
Ten of you, ten of us.
You take us out with just the top boys about
and then you can take us on tour, sunshine.
OBOE: Ditto!
'Dildo', mate, the word is 'dildo'.
You are a pair of dildos.
(MEN LAUGHING)
MAN: K-Y?
Listen, friend, if we want to go tulip picking,
we'll go with me as top boy.
If you want to stop us, then you'll have to come and rumble us.
(CLAMOURING)
- All right? - All right.
YETI: And when you two shirt-lifters are finished,
the winner can come down to us.
I'll leave you with the ICC motto:
We come in peace, we leave you in pieces.
- MAN: Bollocks! - (MEN EXCLAIMING)
Do you want your spanking now?
You, Oboe.
Tuesday.
You,
blondie,
Saturday.
(CAMP VOICE) Look over your shoulders, girls.
(ALL CLAMOURING)
MEN: Pieces, pieces, pieces, pieces.
(ALL CHANTING) ICC, ICC, ICC...
Ta-ta, mate. Here, say hello to Gus for me.
He owes me a fiver.
(SNIFFS)
MRS BISSELL: That you, Clive?
Well, I hope so, otherwise you're being burgled.
- Do you want a cup of tea, love? - Yeah, lovely.
- Is there any hot water, Mum? - Yeah.
(KEYS CLATTER)
(QUIETLY) Right...
MRS BISSELL: Clive, Sue rang earlier.
She wants to know what time you'll be home.
About half eight.
Got it.
(NEWS ON RADIO)
The feeling at one of the country's cursed regions
in south-east London was subdued.
The three thousand workers here are expected to return to work by Thursday,
but many are unhappy with the agreement that's been reached...
Yeti!
(SHOUTS) Yeti!
Yeti!
Oboe!
(GRUNTING)
- You on for tomorrow night then? - MAN: A bit short notice, innit?
You'd have found out last night if you'd turned up.
Well, I'm very sorry, Mr Bissell.
But if it comes to a choice between having a drink with a load of hooligans
and getting my end away, you come a very poor second, chief.
Which reminds me,
don't forget I was supposed to be with you, right?
Oh, yeah, how did you get on?
Well, when I got her out in the light I changed my mind.
(LAUGHS) That's an original way of saying you didn't get anywhere.
She was a dog. I'm telling you, Bex, every woman has the right to be ugly,
but this one just abused the privilege.
Yeah, well, never mind, my son.
Listen, I just might accidentally let my tongue slip
if you don't get up a posse for tomorrow night.
Yeah, all right, all right. I'm in, I'm in.
Look, I'll take the new motor, right?
- Yeah, four-thirty, there. - What?
Well, it's an element of surprise, innit?
Ah, it's all right for you, innit?
You can just pretend you're selling an Arab a garage for fifty grand,
I get missed if I do a bunk.
- What's the matter with you? - WOMAN: Latimer, 12 o'clock, Hythe.
Yeah, bollocks, trouble, Sime. I gotta go.
See you there, four-thirty on the dot.
We must distinguish, I think, between the bovver boy,
yobbo-type hooligans, so representative of the 1970s
and today's more sophisticated, more disciplined hooligans.
Most of them have jobs.
In fact, some of them have quite skilled jobs
and quite a comfortable lifestyle.
Basically, I see it as a kind of search for meaning.
An attempt to validate their lives, give it significance.
Why don't he just tell them we like hitting people?
# Wank-wank-wank, wank-wank-wank, wank-wank-wank
What a tosser.
ALL: # Wank-wank-wank, wank-wank-wank, wank-wank-wank
SNOWY: What a tosser!
# Wank-wank-wank, wank-wank-wank, wank-wank-wank
# Wank-wank-wa-a-nk, wank, wank, wank
- # Wank-wank-wank... # - Oi, you'll wake the baby up.
Sorry, Sue, it was Nunky.
No, it was all of us.
Can you turn that down a bit, please?
BEX: Yeah, it's finished anyway. A load of crap.
What's happening tomorrow, then?
Well, you can get yourself over to Sime's for about midday.
You can go in the car.
Oh, why can't I come on the train, Bex?
Because you are an under five
and you're not allowed to play on the chuff-chuff.
And, anyway, you always turn up with no money
and muggins here ends up paying for you.
- That's why. - So?
You've got to pay for the best, boss.
Besides, you make the first-class carriages look a mess, son.
How can a man who wears rejects from an Oxfam shop have ago at him?
Leave it, Trigger.
Okay, you can come with us.
But no jeans, bring your sweets and don't forget your pocket money.
Yo!
(BEX CHUCKLES)
- Is she coming? - Yeah, sure thing, boss.
No, come on, Bexy. No passengers, eh?
- We're taking you, ain't we? - TRIGG: Piss off.
Stunned to the core with another witty reply.
You can piss off and all, Nunk.
Two in a row? How do you think them up, Trigg?
Oi, give it a rest, will you? You'll wake the kid.
He'll have it on his toes, Bexy, I'm telling ya.
(JAMAICAN ACCENT) So, you want to go to Europe, do you, Dominic?
Yeah.
Yeah, if I can raise the cash.
Oh, innit sweet?
You'll have to get bloodied first.
You ever been tattooed?
No.
BEX: Virgin, eh?
What you looking at?
I can see you.
(WHISPERS) It's all right.
Gotta give you the mark, haven't we, son?
(CHUCKLES)
Dominic, I would like you to meet a very old friend of mine and yours.
Put your hands together for...
Stanley.
(LAUGHING) No. You ain't gonna do it with that, are you?
Well, now, we all had to, son.
Bet you're glad you brought your brown trousers, ain't you, Dominic?
- Jesus... - He won't help you.
Come on. Come, up you get.
Get a hold of that.
Well, go on, then.
(DOMINIC GASPS)
BEX: It's poisonous, that is.
Now, my son, if that gets into your bloodstream,
you could be dead by the morning.
DOMINIC: Oh, yeah?
You lot are still walking, ain't you?
(ALL LAUGHING)
You plonker.
What a wally!
(CLAMOURING)
What a muppet!
AITCH: You little plonker.
SUE: (SHOUTS) Will you shut up?
- (BABY CRYING) - (ALL SNICKERING SOFTLY)
Yeah.
MAN: (ON TV) ...but the Duchess of York outshone them all,
with an outfit that was easier to admire than to describe.
And even to seasoned Royal watchers, this was a special occasion.
It was the hottest ticket in Tinseltown...
You all right?
(BEX SPEAKING INDISTINCTLY)
Is something wrong with him?
SUE: Yeah, he's still teething, ain't he?
Oh, are you still teething, are you, darling?
That'll be teeth that's biting on Mummy's nipple, eh?
SUE: Well, I've gotta have a reserve, ain't I?
You're never here to do it.
Oh, dear, Mummy's being sarcastic again.
Shall we be witty back?
Eh? Shall we say "piss off"?
- SUE: Bex, don't. - Say "piss off".
- Let's tell Mumsy to piss off, go on. - SAMMY: Piss off.
- (BEX LAUGHING) - SUE: Oh, Bex, don't!
He's starting to say it now.
Anyway, I'm glad you're pissing off tonight.
At least I'll get a bit of peace and quiet that way.
What was all the cold shoulder bit for then?
- SAMMY: Piss off. - Don't! Don't tell me what Daddy does.
It ain't good for you to get your own way all the time, is it?
Wouldn't that be a bleeding miracle?
You must think I'm stupid or something.
Well, do you want the truth or the diplomatic answer?
- You ain't playing tonight. - I never said I was.
- That's your cheek? - That's my cheek, yeah.
- I'm screwing Jacinta again. - (SUE CHUCKLES)
Well, I told you. She can't get enough of me.
Twelve-inch willy, working class.
I'm a yuppie's dream come true, I am, ain't I, darling?
Well, it's a shame I ain't a yuppie then, innit?
- You're my bit of rough trade, you are. - (SAMMY BABBLING)
- Don't stay out all night, will you? - No.
It's just a quick in-and-out job, this.
Oh, well, whoever she is, tell her she's got my sympathies.
Oh, very funny. Almost funny.
Almost funny, Sammy, innit?
Give Mum a kiss.
Good boy.
BEX: Woooh!
Giz us a kiss.
(KISSING)
Daddy loves you.
Daddy loves you, doesn't he?
Say "Daddy".
Daddy.
- I'll see you later. - Don't be late.
- BILLY: Look, look, look, look. - JT: Yeah. Look at his face.
(ALL EXCLAIMING)
- You forgot to kiss her goodbye, Beef. - Shut up.
- Here, what's all this? - What's all what?
Beefy's Mum's a slapper!
# Beefy's Mum's a slapper #
- # La la la-la... # - Belt up and shut up.
# Hornchurch boys, we are here
# We rape your women and we drink your beer
# La, la, la, la, la, la, la-la-la-la-la
# Hornchurch boys are big and strong
# Hornchurch boys, we are here
# We rape your women and we drink your beer
# La, la, la, la, la, la, la-la-la-la-la
# Hornchurch boys are big and strong #
(PHONE RINGING)
All right, mate?
Er, can I have three adults and one child to Birmingham New Street, please?
That's first class.
That's £178 and 50 pence, please, sir.
BEX: That'll do nicely, thank you.
(CLEARS THROAT)
(INDISTINCT CONVERSATION)
- Oh, hang about, here's Adolf. - Triggsy boy.
- Yo! - All right?
I'm off to get a paper. I'll see you later.
I see you brought your boyfriend then, Aitchy-poo, eh?
Well, I don't like to leave him at home, he pines for me and scratches the door.
You know what I mean, Triggsy?
He's gonna piss off as soon as the ruck starts, you know that, don't you?
Look, Triggsy, if it's good enough for you, it's good enough for him.
You little bastard, I'll have you for that.
Yusef! (WHISTLES) Over here.
DOMINIC: Oi, Yusey-boy.
- NUNK: Come on, then, come on, mate. - SNOWY: Get over here.
(WHISTLES) Come on, son.
AITCH: Come on, boy.
- NUNK: Come on, mate. - DOMINIC: On your toes!
- Over here. - What's he got on his head? Cor blimey!
TRIGG: Oh, what a hero.
- Where have you been? - Well, I had to go to school, innit?
Well, I didn't wanna get into trouble, did I?
You got your homework with you, son?
What's this? Celtic?
What the fuck 'ave we got to do with Scotland, son?
It's PMT.
- Well, what's that? - Pre-match tension.
- A cup of tea. - Better make this one a quickie, lads.
Funny you should say that. Yeah, go on, Beef.
(SCREAMING)
It's love.
(HISSING)
MAN: Wankers!
YETI: Buccaneers!
My car.
(TALKING INDISTINCTLY)
- Here y'are, it's just up here. - NUNK: We here yet, Bex?
- Yeah, we bang on for Simon, all right? - YUSEF: Who's Simon, then, mate?
(INDISTINCT CONVERSATION)
Come on, Simon, where are you, mate?
(TYRES SCREECHING)
(YELLING)
Oboe!
(GRUNTING)
Bastard!
(GROANING)
(GROANS)
(MAN SCREAMING)
Go!
(SCREAMING) Go! Go!
MAN: Oboe! Oboe!
OBOE: Come on then!
(GROANS)
(SCREAMING)
(SCREAMING CONTINUES)
NUNK: Nice of Simon to turn up, wannit, eh?
He must've got held up.
- In the traffic. - I'll hold him up when I see him.
Maybe he got a puncture.
Or something.
You want to get that sorted out, Yusef.
Now.
Come on, Dom.
Come on, Dom!
We'll all get nicked.
POLICEMAN: Come on your own, did you?
You didn't by any chance come on a train from London, did you?
Ah, hitchhiked, yeah.
One-nil to me.
And your name is...
Michael Jackson.
You need some more plastic surgery, Michael.
BEX: Oboe!
OBOE: Bag.
Bexy.
(SNARLING)
Snowy!
Grab his arm.
(GAGGING)
- And the other one. - Give us it.
BEXY: Oboe!
(BREATHING HEAVILY)
(OBOE SCREAMS)
(SCREAMING CONTINUES)
BEX: Okay! Let's go! Go! Go!
(GROANING)
(VEHICLE APPROACHING)
(VEHICLE STOPS)
Cheers, mate.
(DOOR OPENING)
Yo.
(KEYS BEING TOSSED)
(TAP RUNNING)
You'll be knackered for work.
BEX: Guess what.
Did you get the sack?
No, I won't.
Latimer fancies me too much.
- I've got a really good excuse. - Yeah?
Yeah.
Oh, well. That's all right then.
Yeah.
"I'm sorry Mrs Latimer,
"but we got ambushed and, er,
- "Yusef got StanIeyed." - I don't wanna know, Bex.
- Yes, you do. - I don't!
You do-o.
SUE: Get off!
Get off. There's no way, right!
(BEX HUMS)
SUE: Fuck's sake. Do you want this tea or not?
- Ooh! What a choice. Tea or tits? - Who's got the choice?
You have.
On the floor,
or on the kitchen table?
Turn over!
Do it!
Or you'll be sorry!
SUE: Pull my hair.
Don't tell me what to do, bitch!
(SUE LAUGHS)
(SOFTLY) Don't laugh.
(SHE CONTINUES LAUGHING)
SUE: I'm sorry!
(LAUGHING CONTINUES)
You've put me off now.
Oh, babes!
(BEX BREATH ES HEAVILY)
(COOING NOISES)
(PHONE TRILLING)
Hello, yeah, can I speak to the poof with the blonde hair?
Bexy Boy.
So what's this,
you got a part-time job as an alarm call or something?
Yeah, yeah, you could say that.
You still got your curlers in, love?
Here, you spoke to your boy in the BMW lately?
No, not yet, why?
Nah, course. He probably ain't home yet.
Had a little meet with him, didn't we? On the motonmay.
Fixed his motor for him.
They don't half burn well, them German jobs, don't they?
It's getting to be a bit of a speciality with you, ain't it?
Smashing up cars.
Is that what you're planning to do in Europe?
I bet there ain't a BMW in Germany that ain't parked on a kerbside,
shitting itself already, Yeti.
Well, at least you've finally clocked on it's me that's going and not you.
Listen, my son, the only place you're going is the mortuary.
'Cause you ain't got the bottle to have it with me.
I know you're well gutted, Bexy, 'cause you're giving it the cool one.
You'll be the gutted one on Saturday,
I'm gonna fillet you, you got that?
You want to look over your shoulder, boy.
Because I am going to engrave my name all over your arse, boss.
I didn't think you knew how to get down here.
Ain't had the bottle to come before, have you?
Do you want directions?
Oh, no, I'll just stick my head out the window and follow me nose.
Oh, and while I think about it,
don't bother inviting your mate Oboe down to help you out, will ya?
'Cause he won't be able to see anything.
That 'cause you won't be turning up again?
Nah. It's because I cut his fuckin' eyes out.
I'll see you Saturday.
Ta-ta, sweetheart.
(SHOUTS) Shit! Come here.
- Give it to Daddy, give it to Daddy! - (SAMMY CRYING)
(SHOUTS) Right. Sue! Sue! Sue!
Right, hospital, hospital! Come on!
- Oh, Jesus Christ! Jesus Christ! - I'm sorry, babes!
- Look, I was on the phone. - It's too fucking late, Bex.
(SAMMY CRYING)
SUE: (CRYING) My baby...
(EARRING DROPPING)
(SOBBING)
Will you stop?
Yeah, yeah, I told you.
When?
I need the buzz.
Well, buy a bloody beehive then.
BEX: That's almost funny.
I've gotta have him!
You know that!
You saw what he did to the motor.
What's the matter with her?
I'm not exactly flavour of the month at the moment.
Yeah, well, this feeling's not entirely alien to me, Sime babe.
SIMON: Yeah, why's that?
BEX: Little Sammy, he's cut his mouth on me Stanley.
He all right?
Oh, yeah, fine. Loves the attention.
Scared the shit out of me, though.
It's a mess, innit?
- You had anyone look at it? - No, not yet.
I've got to do some work on it before I get the insurance in.
- Yeah? What you gonna do? - I don't know, really.
Billy reckons he can make it look like an electrical fault
gotta burn the engine out at the weekend.
What for?
Make it look like an electrical fault.
Well, I can't just say the inside caught fire, can I?
Not with the engine pounded to bits.
Yeah, well, it's vandalism, isn't it? You're covered.
Yeah, probably.
I'm gonna make sure it's a complete write-off.
I fancy a new one.
Well, keep Saturday free, we'll go and write off the Yeti.
No.
Come on, don't get depressed. That's what he wants, innit?
I don't give a toss what some thumb-sucker
south of the border thinks of me, Bex.
It's getting ridiculous, this is, boss.
Yeah, I know, so we're gonna put him out of the frame, aren't we?
Yeah, well, you can do it without me.
Okay.
Well, I did Oboe for Yusef.
- I might as well do the Yeti for you. - Don't do nothing for me, Bex.
Just let it drop.
What's the rush?
- He'll still be around next week. - No, he won't.
Yeah, all right. I bottled it, so what?
Look, if I'm going to have a ruck with someone,
it's because someone wants to fight me, right?
- Simple as that. - Oh, what? And the Yeti don't want to?
No, not really, no.
He has it on his toes all the time, doesn't he?
Gets his kicks smashing up property, right?
Sniper stuff that, Bex, your car, my car.
I ain't interested, mate.
Kids' stuff.
Crap.
I don't know why you're so keen.
One more little trip down the Bailey
and the next time you'll be seeing that kid of yours,
you'll be a grandfather.
(BANGS LETTERBOX FLAP)
(BANGS FLAP AGAIN)
All right, Wes, mate? Yusef in?
Piss off, Bissell.
Oi, don't get heavy with me, Wesley.
I'd hate to annihilate you in the comfort of your own home.
(WHISTLES) Oi.
Yo.
- Does it hurt? - (WESLEY) Happy?
- I'm delirious, Wes. What's with you? - Oh, nothing, man.
It's really good seeing your little brother sliced up.
Yeah? You wanna see the other geezer.
I couldn't give a shit about the other geezer.
You're getting on my nerves, Wesley.
Oi, I don't ask him to come, right? He knows what's going down.
You stood your ground, though, didn't you, son?
Yeah, me and Snowy put him out of the frame for you. Okay?
Oh, ethnic bonding ritual. Right on, brother.
He'd be smiling right now, only it would split his cheeks open.
Know what I mean?
- Doing the Yeti Saturday. - I'll come.
BEX: Don't be stupid, you talk too much.
Anyway, get yourself fit for Europe, boss.
WESLEY: Piss off, Bex.
BEX: Do you ever get the feeling you're not wanted?
Take care, champ.
Wes, mate, how can I put this?
I can't.
(WESLEY GROANS)
You're out of your league, son.
Take care, Sef.
WESLEY: The man's an animal.
- We've had enough of him. - TRIGG: What do you mean?
Well, it's no buzz, is it,
chasing someone who's on their toes all the time?
That's fox hunting, that is, innit?
TRIGG: I don't know what you're talking about, son.
BEEF: Yeah, well, you never saw the state of the motor, did you?
Oh, so the big brave Hornchurch boys are bottling it, are they?
BEEF: No, I never said that, it's just pissing us off, that's all.
That's what it looks like from where I'm standing, squire.
AITCH: Bex, are we still going to sort the Yeti if Simon, Beef and that lot
don't want to have him?
Well, someone's got to fly the flag, ain't they?
Yeah, well, Beef don't seem to think so.
It's all in hand, Aitch.
Bit of a loser all round, aren't you, Beef?
Oh, if you say so, Nunky.
Well, I'm off to the bog, see if I'm still man enough to have a piss.
NUNK: D'ya wanna borrow my magnifying glass?
(CAMP VOICE) No, it's all right, darling,
I'll get someone else to help me look, it'll be more funny.
AITCH: Ooh, bagsy me.
MAN 1: What's a matter with you, someone been screwing your wife again?
Well, someone has to.
You're getting up everyone's nose tonight, aren't you?
What you talking about?
What you doing here, anyway?
You know, if you want to bottle it, Beef, that's okay with me,
but don't come down here and try and take the rest of the crew with you.
Oh, come on, Bex, I wouldn't do that, I was just passing.
Yeah, well, pass off then.
Confucius say: Man who bottles out gets bottle-in'. Know what I mean?
It's just talk, Bex, I'll be there.
No, you won't.
I'm dropping you.
Take the weekend off.
- Go fishing or something. - Aw!
I don't understand, what you getting so heavy about?
You're scaring off the snipers, and I need my Trojan horse for Saturday.
I can do without that.
And I can do without you.
I didn't know.
You're giving me the right raving hump, my son.
I make a bad enemy, Beef.
Avoid me.
(DOOR CLOSES)
(MEN WHISTLING)
(TALKING INDISTINCTLY)
- TRIGG: Oi, feast your eyes on this. - AITCH: This is Mandy.
- Are you Clive Bissell? - Yeah, why?
Right.
(ALL WHOOPING)
Bexy, mate, you've pulled there! You've had it there, mate!
- Your birthday, innit? - No, why?
Look, do you want to hear this or not?
Go on, then.
- AITCH: Shut up. - Shut up, Nunk.
- DOMINIC: What is it with you? - MANDY: Oh...
"Your brains will drip like spaghetti off the end of a Bucco machete,
"if you're south of the border you're well out of order
"and you'll die at the hands of the Yeti."
Oi, wait a minute, wait a minute. That is well out of order, right?
Well out of order.
Trigg, take it easy.
Come on, well, what're we going to do about it?
- It's well out of order! - MANDY: Will I do me belly dance now?
TRIGG: You what?
Let's get something straight,
when that kid is in this house, he's safe, right?
- What you talking about? He is safe. - Oh, yeah, yeah.
Most folks leave Stanley knives lying around the house, don't they?
What you talking about?
I've had enough of your big boys' games, Bex.
- Yeah. Yeah. - Don't turn your back on me.
I ain't turning me back. I'm getting a drink, ain't I?
I ain't exactly fucking running away!
I'm gonna hear your nagging voice wherever I fucking go.
- Yeah, too right. - Look...
It is late, you're tired, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera...
I said, "I am sorry."
You know, I am sorry, I am more sorry than you know.
I'm having to put up with all this emotional crap. I don't see why.
He's all right and I told you it won't happen again!
He could've swallowed it, he could've poked his eye out.
- Yeah, but he never! - It doesn't fucking matter,
I do not want you to carry a blade in this house, right?
This is a normal house with normal people.
I don't want to live with a thirty-year-old boot boy.
You're a fucking joke.
- I don't see anyone laughing at me. - No, no, you don't.
No, they won't laugh at you. Well, not to your face, anyway.
But they laugh at me, darling, for putting up with you.
You don't see it.
What I want to know is what's so bad about being normal, eh?
- What's wrong with being bloody normal? - I told you, I need the buzz.
- Well, buy a bloody beehive then. - That's almost funny, that is.
Don't follow me about, it's like showing a punter around a house.
Well, stop keep walking away from me, then.
Right, I want you to stop and I mean it this time.
I told you I will.
- When? - When you stop.
- Stop what? - When it's my corpse on the floor.
SUE: You're a fucking animal! Do you know that?
- BEX: Who? Me? - Yeah, pathetic.
(SHOUTS) Well, I told you I have just got to have him!
Right, if you want to carry on like a kid, you can go back to your mother's.
Go on, piss off!
I want to live with a grown-up, Bex, not a thirty-year-old hooligan.
- Don't give the ultimatum. - I just have.
You go chasing that leery git, you don't stay here.
Suits me.
Oh, oh, yeah. Yeah, that's right. Yeah.
Go on back to your mummy's. Go on, kid.
Do you wanna see me across the road?
(KICKS DOOR)
That's it, girl, go on, kick the door down.
Give me something to do at the weekend!
Bex!
What's the matter, love, feeling lonely already?
Fuck off!
(DOOR SLAMS)
(KEYS JANGLING)
Shit!
(BANGING ON DOOR)
BEX: (WHISTLES) Oi!
- BILL: Hold on. - (BANGING ON DOOR)
- All right, I'm coming. - BEX: Come on, hurry up.
(SIGHS)
What the hell are you doing here?
I've got a couple of punters with me, show them around the house.
- What's going on? - Ain't Mum told you? You're selling up.
(GIGGLES) He only looked!
- You staying the night? - Yeah, how much you charge?
Well, you always did treat the place like a hotel.
Your night-porter's uniform could do with letting out.
I'll put the kettle on.
BEX: Come on then, darling, open your handbag.
TRIGG: Christmas.
BILL: Well, I think you're bleeding pathetic.
Pater, you're just the ph-ph-ph-photographer, okay?
In my day we would have rushed up the Old Kent Road
and kicked the shite out of them.
All this shows is that none of you have got any bottle, if you ask me.
Well, no one did.
This is a precision raid, right?
- Right. - BEX: Yeah, right.
It's like cutting out a cancer.
You should of done him Sunday.
I said that, Bill. Don't take no shit.
Sort them out straightaway, I learned that in the Army.
You ever get that sort of feeling where you think you've heard something before?
- Shut it, will you? - SNOWY: Yeah, déja vu, mate. Yeah.
No. Don't use that language in front of the snipers.
What's a matter with you, are you brain dead or something?
No, I left mine at home, didn't I?
It seemed like the best thing to do.
(MEN EXCLAIMING)
(CAMP VOICE) Here, don't worry about Dominic, girls, it's nerves.
This time next week, my son, you're going to be a local hero.
A living leg-end.
When you walk into the pub they're going to point at you and say,
"Look there goes Dominic, the man who led the Inter City Crew raid
"on the Buccaneers.
"He's going to fly the flag in Europe."
Well, either that or you'll be dead, it's difficult to say, really.
Anyway, let's cut the bollocks.
Are we going to have this team photo or what?
Right, everyone hold something.
- Oh, God, not another orgy, mate. - Don't muck about, Snowy.
All right.
Or I'll give you a good run, mate.
(ALL LAUGHING)
BILL: Come on son. Right, let's be having ya!
- Oi, take it easy with that, Trigg. - Come on, hurry up, hurry up.
They're too 'eavy!
- TRIGG: All right. - BILL: All right.
NUNK: Give it some, Bill. Go on, give it some.
All look vicious.
(ALL YELLING)
- TRIGG: Come on, Bill. - Pathetic.
- Come on, Bill. - Come on, hurry up.
AITCH: Here we go, here we go.
BEX: All for one!
ALL: And one for all!
(ALL GRUNTING)
(WHIRRING)
(ALL CHEERING)
SNOWY: Great, mate, that will come out a treat.
DOMINIC: I don't know what we're getting so excited about.
You forgot the flash.
Why so unhappy, girls?
Look, it ain't bottling, Bex, it's just...
It's just bloody stupid, that's all.
I mean, it was daft enough eleven of us going to Birmingham, right?
And now there's only six.
It's just suicide, Bex.
So, I'm daft now, am I?
No, look, he didn't mean it like that, Bex.
(SHOUTS) Well, it sounded like it to me!
AITCH: Bex!
I thought you told me this man was well hard, eh?
Yeah, Bex, he is, he is.
Except I've got this aversion to getting meself killed, yeah?
Come on! Come on!
Let's have ya!
Come on, let's have it.
You don't talk like that to me, see?
'Cause you ain't earned the right.
I'm going to give you a little lecture now, Dominic.
Do you know what sociology is?
Eh? I do.
I've got an A-level in it. Clever git, ain't I?
Sociology is the study of social problems.
Now, you...
You got a big social problem, boss.
AITCH: Come on, Bex, we're on your side.
(SHOUTS) Well you've got a funny way of showing it, ain't ya?
You see, Dom, Simon and Beef can run away, they live ten miles out.
You know, they can hide if they want to, but you...
This is your manor.
You've gotta walk up and down the street every fucking night.
And you're gonna see me everywhere.
And I don't like seeing people who let me down, 'cause it gets me mad!
So you're in.
Both of ya!
Right up the pointed end.
That's peer group pressure, that is.
(CHUCKLES)
It's a real bastard.
(ALL LAUGHING)
You all right?
TRIGG: All right, lads, back in the toy box, go on.
- You all right, Snowy? - Yeah, mate.
You know, he was right.
You should've used the flash.
BEX: Dad, do us a favour, get the Hoover out.
BILL: I'll put the kettle on as well if you like.
Two sugars.
There we are.
Off to work we go, eh, Bexy?
Heigh-ho.
(CROWD CHANTING)
- YETI: Anything? - Nothing.
- MAN: Station? - Nothing there either.
YETI: Gotta be inside then, ain't he?
What, is he off his head or what?
(CROWD ROARING)
(CROWD APPLAUDING)
He ain't here, boss.
I told you, Bexy's bottled it.
Are you sure?
On my life, he ain't here.
I told you he would, boss.
(CROWD CHANTING)
(CROWD ROARS)
Right.
Let's do it.
- What's Bexy done? - ALL: He's bottled it!
- What has he done? - ALL: He's bottled it!
- I can't hear you. - ALL: He's bottled it!
- Bottled it, Yeti. - ALL: He's bottled it!
(ALL CHEERING)
ALL: (CHANTING) Yeti! Yeti! Yeti!
Yeti! Yeti! Yeti!
(BREATHING HARD AND FAST)
(SCREAMING)
(WOMAN SHRIEKING)
(MEN SHOUTING)
(GRUNTING)
(SHOUTS)
Come on! All of ya!
You're dead, son!
(GRUNTS)
- (GRUNTS) - (SHOUTS)
(SCREAMING)
Yeah!
YETI: (SHOUTS) Bexy!
(LAUGHS) Oh, come on.
We're going to Europe to do the Europeans,
is that plain enough English for ya?
All right? All of them.
Hold up, hold up. For me...
For me, I'm going for Bexy, 'cause he was top boy, right?
- ALL: Yeah. - That's right.
He didn't die in vain because we will come again.
MAN: Together.
Right, the Buccaneers, the ICC, we're all here...
Hornchurch, don't forget the Hornchurch.
We're all here. We're all here.
And we're all going to Germany.
We're all going.
Well, it's dog eat dog, innit?
INTERVIEWER: What's dog eat dog?
Well, you know, one man steps on my toe, I step on his.
You know what I'm saying?
YUSEF Hold on, hold on, it says in the Bible,
"An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth."
- ALL: Right. - Well, that's what we're going to do.
SNOWY: So, in a way we're all Christians.
(ALL CHEERING)
He was visionary and he wanted a national firm.
- NUNK: He had brains! - Yeah.
You had to come in on it 'cause it was visionary.
- He sorted it, for all of us. - Yeah. The man was special.
MAN: For Bexy it's not the time.
But he lives on. Bexy lives on!
- Bexy lives for all of us. - He's not dead, you can't say he's dead.
We're carrying him, how can he be dead? Because it's about belonging.
It's about belonging, it's about belonging.
And we all feel like we belong, we belong because of him.
- You can't say he's dead. - ALL: # Bexy, Bexy, Bexy, Bexy
# Bexy, Bexy, Bexy, Bexy
# Bexy, Bexy, Bexy #
No, listen, it's unfortunate I got this, but it's a buzz, and we love doing it.
ALL: Yeah!
And we'll do it, we'll do it anywhere.
We'll go to Europe and do it, or we'll do it in this country.
And they're not going to stop us.
Oi, oi, oi, listen, I'll tell you something, mate.
Shut up, right.
I tell you something, if they stop it at football, right?
Stop the rucks at football,
we go boxing, we go snooker, we go darts,
- fuckin' anything, pal. - (ALL CONCURRING)
Look at that, look at that, that's football.
- INTERVIEWER: What does that prove? - What do you mean?
It proves... It proves I stood, it proves I stood.
NUNK: You see that?
That's what it's all about, mate, that's what it's all about.
ALL: (CHANTING) England! England! England! England!
England! England! England! England! England!
(ALL CHEERING)
(ALL SINGING)
TRIGG: That'll do, mate! That'll do!
(ALL SHOUTING)
ALL: # Here we go, here we go, here we go
# Here we go, here we go, here we go-o
# Here we go, here we go, here we go
# Here we go-o, here we go... #