All language subtitles for Stuart.A.Life.Backwards.2007.WEBRip.x265-RARBG.en

"Hello, Alexander. It's Stuart."

Hello, Stuart.

"You know, admitting I've had
lots to drink and that...

but I can't help reflect..."

"I'm Alexander,
the bloke in the glasses driving."

"Not the mumbly one on the tape.
That's Stuart."

"I got to know Stuart in 2000
and decided to write his biography."

"All my friends said it was mad."

"After all this man was unknown,
he wasn't famous, not a celebrity."

"But the book turned out okay."

"Just wish Stuart
could've been here to see it."

"I think it was the first ever
biography of a homeless man."

"From birth to the present day."

"So, back in 2000...

I was earning
a bit of extra pocket money...

working as a fundraiser
at Wintercomfort."

"Which is a busy little day shelter
in Cambridge."

"Normally full of homeless people."

"Full, that is...

until the morning that the police
decided to raid the place."

They've been arrested.

All of them?

What a good idea.

"No. It was, just my boss, Ruth,
and her deputy, John."

"Some of the clients
had been secretly...

dealing drugs on the premises."

"But because Ruth and John ran
the charity...

they were held responsible."

They've got evidence.
On film.

I was furious at the injustice of it.

"And then really,
for the first time in my life...

I actually began to take a real and
practical interest in the homeless."

Fuck off, pisshead!

I'd like to introduce to you,
Alexander Masters...

a dedicated friend
of the homeless himself...

chairman of the campaign.

"We were convinced
they'd never be convicted."

"I mean,
if prisons can't control drugs...

then how could Ruth and John
be expected to?"

As everyone knows,
we're here this evening...

- about Ruth Wyner and John...
- "The judge, Justice Howarth...

- sent them down..."
- For five years, and four years.

- Shame.
- Thank you.

- Fascist.
- Thank you.

But this is the crunch,
what are we going to do about it?

How is this campaign going
to get Ruth and John out?

- Yes?
- We could send them books.

Bunyan, he's good for prisons.

Hardly. "Miracle of the Rose"
by Genet, if you must.

Excuse me, this isn't going to work.

Sending them books?

It won't fit in the box.

- Sorry?
- The inmate's belongings.

Everyone's got one.

- Who is that?
- No idea.

They all look the same to me.

You also allowed a piece of carpet
what won't fit in your box...

and a budgie, or a canary.

And obviously the cage is not
going to fit in the box.

But, it is Ruth and John
what will suffer.

All of them books,
the screws'll just chuck them out...

because they won't fit in your box.

I'm not being funny, but you should
really know about boxes...

if you're going to have a campaign.

Me name's Psycho.

But you can call me Stuart,
if you like.

What's your address?

Two Laurel Lane.

Yeah, they help me.

Doctors,
a couple clothes, outreach...

sometimes lunch with two puddings.

Yeah, they put it all on,
those two. And the staff.

I'm not being funny here.
But I am really grateful.

- The other day I got a really...
- Great.

- Can I help?
- Yeah.

"That's how I first met
Stuart Shorter."

"Street brawler, alcoholic,
heroin addict...

sociopathic street raconteur with
a fondness for what he called...

"little strips of silver".
Knives, to you and me."

Thank you very much
for agreeing to store these.

No problem.

Mind the step. Dear.

Here you go, Mate.

Welcome to my humble abode.

Two Laurel Lane.
Well, they are laurels, aren't they?

I only heard about the meeting
this morning...

when I was picking up my breakfast.

Your address?

A bad idea, number one, Mate.

You could get any
old riff-raff showing up.

Yes?

It's you.

I've addressed some envelopes.

- Which...
- They alright?

Horrible.

I've had a blinding idea
for the campaign.

Yeah, get us on television and all.
Not even violent.

If we leave out the kidnapping.

- Do you want to come in?
- Yes, please.

Bit wet out there.

That's nice.

- How many sugars?
- As many as you got, Mate.

Hot.

All them books.

- Have you read all of them?
- No.

Half?

Not exactly.

"The Hunting Wasp."

A whole book
about them little summer things.

This one.

- What is this one about?
- The colour mauve.

How'd he fucking get away with this?

Now...

this blinding idea.
Have you got a car?

- No.
- What do you like better...

Ford or VW?

"And then a few weeks later,
I had the idea about the book...

and started doing a little research."

That boy has suffered.
He deserves a book.

You should write a book about me.

Always such a caring boy.
Happy-go-lucky little thing.

Legs all over the show, bless him.

"Three months after that we
carried out Stuart's blinding idea...

which was a sleepover protest
in front of the home office...

to persuade the then Home Secretary,
Jack Straw to release Ruth and John."

"Which was better than his
first idea, which was to kidnap him."

"Stuart took care of our transport."

"Somehow."

"And on the way to London...

I read him the first few pages
of my book idea."

"Stuart Clive Shorter
was a happy-go-lucky little boy."

"The most considerate of my children,
marvels his mother."

Bollocks. Boring.

Why do you want to write
this fucking book anyway?

To make lots and lots and lots
of money.

Seriously? You think you can
make money out of it?

Could, maybe.

- Something as boring as that?
- Don't be so rude.

Anyway, it's not my fault
that you started out so dull.

You got make it more exciting.

Do it backwards.

Like a murder mystery.
Like a best-seller.

You know,
like what Tom Clancy writes.

Yeah! How'd I get to be like this?

What murdered the little boy I was?

Make them nine-to-five sit up.

I mean...

you put ten socks in the washing
machine and only seven come out.

Where do they go?

- Stuart?
- I'll tell you another thing...

You take the machine apart
and it ain't in it neither.

- Stuart? What's this?
- What?

This.

That, Alexander, is a lice.

The main place you get those
is around your bollocks.

That lice, that'll grow.

Scabies are smaller and they go under
the skin and live there...

literally nibbling.

"It took five and a half hours...

for our convoy to do the 50 miles
from Cambridge to London."

"Stuart would never drive
above 30 miles an hour."

Hey, Buckingham Palace.

What a load of bollocks!

Who needs the Queen?

- No, not like that.
- What?

Use this, right? Underneath, yeah?
Here you are.

You lose more heat that way
than you do that way.

Ruth and John need these!
Eyes in the back of their heads!

End Blair's Police State now!

Ruth and John need these!

People are being
wrongfully imprisoned...

for working in a charity
and doing nothing...

but trying to help the homeless.

Charity workers in prison because
of a miscarriage...

Fuck off.

For fuck's sake.

Charity workers in prison because
of a miscarriage of justice.

Okay, listen up, everyone!

Okay, everyone. Listen up.
Everyone, please. Quiet, please.

Everyone, we need you to move
this way, thank you.

Wait a minute, hold on.
Why? This is a peaceful protest.

- Yeah! Fucking why?
- Can't cross these brass plugs if...

- the Home Office doesn't want it.
- That's social fucking fascism...

And then we must put a fence in
behind you...

to ensure you're not trespassing.

And ones on either side
to protect you.

What?

From the public, sir.
They might step on you.

And a fence in front, just in case
during the night...

you roll onto the road
and get run over.

I see. So you mean
to cage us in completely?

I didn't say cage, Sir.
No, that was your word.

Do prisoners really get wages?

Yeah.

- I mean, a lot, like normal people?
- Yeah, make a fucking fortune.

Millionaires coming out of the nick
every week.

You've been in a lot of prisons,
then?

Have I? Fucking hell.

- How many?
- Well...

Well, start off...

when I was a nipper
there was Send Detention Centre.

Baintnow House, back to Send again.

Elstoke, Norwich.

Then I grew up
and went to big boy prison.

Whitemoor. Now,
that's what I call a real prison.

You got everything there, Mate.

Terrorists, psychopaths,
security threats...

murderers, manslaughters, crazies...

Which lot do you belong to?

Crazies, really. Yeah.

Norwich, Whitemoor again.

- Grendon Underwood.
- Die, you fucking nonce!

Thirty-one.

I don't feel I've missed any.

Yes, I have actually.

I've been to Leicester
three times as well.

Wayland was me last one.

- Good night. Sleep well.
- Thank you. Same to you.

You.

Since you got so much
fucking time on your hands...

answer this one.

Do you know how many people...

get killed by screws in prison
every year?

Murders.
"Sorry, Gov. Excuse us."

"How was we supposed to know
that bending him in half...

the wrong fucking way
was bad for his health?"

It was only people like me what is
really rotten, isn't it? Really bad.

Beyond hope.

You haven't got the faintest
fucking clue, have you?

- Yeah, all he said was "Good night".
- You can fuck off...

- and all you fucking geeky...
- Shut up yourself, Stuart.

You fucking wanking
middle class cunt fuck, Alexander.

You want to know
how I became what I am?

I'm giving you fucking answers.

Why don't you write a book
with no fucking answers?

Go on, you fuck off.
You find your fucking answers.

On a scale of anger, one to ten...

I'm probably on four
and Stuart's on eleven.

You never can tell...

how families have been down
and they've been up...

then they've been down again.
You just like Stuart, you know?

Drugs, prison, being a beggar.

Go on.

- Yeah, Mate. Morning.
- Bastards!

Like the taste of piss?

- You bastards.
- Something smells nice.

After three months of preparation.

I mean,
whose bloody stupid idea was it...

that we camp out
over the weekend anyway?

The one time Mr. Straw's
not going to be there.

- I bet it was yours.
- Fuck off.

- I like this song.
- This is a good song.

"Because you're gorgeous.
I know it can't be true."

"You're gorgeous.
I know it can't be true."

"Still, one blinding thing
did come out of that weekend."

"Stuart's idea that his life
should be written backwards."

It was cutting me throat
what done it.

Put a beer glass into me neck.
Just lost it.

Sometimes you wouldn't believe
how hard it is to fucking die.

So, you got a council flat,
because you tried to kill yourself?

Works a treat for
the old housing points, doesn't it?

Straight to the top of the list.

- It's not all gone, though.
- What's not all gone?

The hatred.

I got so many enemies.
Up here, Mate.

Somebody's going to get hurt, though.
That's what scares me.

When's this thing going to happen?

I call it me black mists.

Next week? Next month?
Next ten seconds?

That is lovely bit of workmanship.

That's value.

God.
This for the series.

For my son.

- You've got a son?
- Yeah.

In Glasgow with his mum.

Fourteen years of age tomorrow.

Always out on the golf course,
the little one.

Not bad, Mate?
Not better than Laurel Lane.

Wine always smells like sick.

Here, have a beer.

Fancy a sarnie?

There.

So why do you want to be
a writer then?

I don't know, really.

Bit like a disease,
all my family's got it.

- Didn't want to be left out, did I?
- No. I know what you mean, Mate.

Me dad is a thief,
and me mum's a barmaid.

What's the colour orange highlighter
in your diary for?

Family stuff.

- Yellow?
- Social.

Now, this book
that you're writing about me...

is it just to make your name?

And yours.

I've had an idea for a job, too.

For the foreign businessman
what doesn't have time to waste...

what does he need?

An office. In a van.

It's lateral thinking, isn't it?

Gets off the plane at Stansted,
straight into the back of me van.

Van will have everything.

Good-looking bird
what can do shorthand.

Fax, internet, wires all over
the fucking gaff. It's brilliant.

- Red sauce or brown?
- Yes, please. I mean, red.

- What...
- That fella upstairs...

is going to make me a bed
what folds up against the wall.

Like what James Bond has.

Yeah. It's got to have springs
and latches on the floor.

Otherwise it's...

You know what I mean...

bird's not going to be too happy
if she gets her face...

squeezed up against the plaster,
is she?

Hey.

Sorry.

Good stuff, that.
You can use it with anything.

See there around the bed?

This should be a huge stain
where I overdosed there last week.

All the spilled cans and vomit.

That cleaned it up really,
really well, I say.

But you want to you want to leave it,
for about...

about a week,
I mean, before you vacuum.

Here you are, Mate.

Be careful, yeah. It's a bit hot.

I never asked you
why you were in prison.

The last time...
Stupid things.

Me mate, Smithy.
World bubble gum champion.

I'm not being funny, he's in
the Guinness Book of Records.

1983 edition, as it goes.

Like brothers fighting the world.

Respect, trust, and honour.

Go!

Right.

- Fuck. Did you get menthols?
- Menthols?

- Fuck off.
- She'll fucking kill me.

- She asked for menthols.
- Well, give her the vodka.

She don't want vodka,
she wants menthols.

Go!

I don't believe it.
These aren't fucking menthols either.

They're just in a green packet.

I've got ten packets
of green cigarettes.

Hurry up.

Twenty five quid, sixty?

Women! They think they can boss you
about in everything, don't they?

And one day, Smithy got a tip-off.

- Twenty thousand quid?
- Just keeps it under the counter.

Not a cop shop in 20 miles.

Fucking...
That's fucking irresponsible.

No pride of ownership.

Go!

Right.

Let's just say it was funny because
as soon as we was sent down...

Smithy's missus moved in
with the fellow...

what told us about the job.

Five years.

Pretty steep sentence.

- Were you armed?
- No.

Only with a crowbar.

Hey, Alexander?
You want to stay for tea?

Me favourite, convict curry.

We used to make it in jail.

Mushrooms.

- What about the first time, then?
- First time what?

When you were sentenced,
as an adult.

I can't...

I can't really talk about that, Mate.

But, I mean,
robbing an empty post office is...

Burgling.

Rob people, burgle post offices.

Yeah, but what I mean is it's hardly
a schedule one offence, is it?

Of course not.

Well, that's serious, isn't it?

It wasn't kiddy fiddling.

I didn't say that it was.

It wasn't.

We'll talk about it Thursday, yeah?

Thursday afternoon.

No other time, right?

"Finally the mosaicist'd carefully
peel back the cloth and then...

an instant form. Fantastic."

"This mosaic section would arrive
on a cloth backing."

"I'm covering the reverse side
with glue."

"The Romans would've used water."

"The most important design was
usually in the middle of the room."

"We think this was the dining room."

"And you see, here is Cupid riding on
a dolphin carrying a toasting fork."

"The mosaicist would work...

out through through here towards
the border...

but he'd probably leave his minions
to do the less important bits."

"Because if there were mistakes
up there...

they'd all get covered up
by the furniture."

"Putting in each tile one by one
with great care."

"But I suspect it wasn't really
like that at all."

"The Romans were very keen
on short tiles."

"You could probably..."

When you mop, use the bread.
Mop up your juices.

So, smash the window,
break the steering wheel lock...

by turning the wheel
in opposing directions.

And if the street is too public
to use a brick...

Slide stick.

Remove the metal band...

from a pallet of bricks,
reduce to eighteen inches...

remove a notch from one side,
insert into door panel.

I'm in the post office.
Boot in the rubble.

No, there's no point
in ram-raiding a post office.

- Why not?
- You're not paying no attention!

There's no point in ram-raiding
a fucking post office.

There's never no money in the till,
is there?

Gone are them days.

No money.

Here.

No. I'll get a taxi,
I'll stop at a bank on the way.

No, honestly, take it.
It's me beer money.

You'll be doing me a favour.

You'll be doing society a favour.

And buy a fucking car.

Get yourself a fucking license.

I almost forgot.

Here. Bought you this.

Your black mists.

Thought you could talk into it
next time you're in one.

You'll be okay?

Call if you need any help.

2 AM, 4 AM, anytime.

Yeah,
so you can bring a fucking camera?

You're alright, Alexander.

Often used to say to Stuart...

"I wish I could just
pick you up sometimes...

turn you upside down and shake all
the bad things out of your head...

then put you back up
the right way again."

The change in him.
We just couldn't understand it.

And of course I'd like to thank you
all for coming here today...

to hear me talk about the campaign
and the petition.

"Stuart and I gave 9 or 10 talks
together...

about the campaign that spring...

in Burmingham, London, Oxford, and
of course villages around Cambridge."

Mr. Stuart Clive Shorter.

"I'd speak first,
and then Stuart would get up...

and knock the audience off its seats
with the story of his life."

A typical suicide attempt...

just an unbearable
sense of hatred, waste...

"I am the nightmare you frighten
your children with, he said."

"The sort of person
that these two charity workers...

were trying to help
to get off your streets."

"We should have awarded Ruth
and John medals...

instead of sending them to prison."

So I just twisted around
and I emptied everything...

that remained into my right buttock.

"Stuart did two things
for the campaign, really."

"He folded letters."

"And he exposed his soul."

That alright?

- Exactly. So, if we write...
- This is your name.

If we solve the puzzle,
do we solve you?

He's just very, very interesting,
you know?

He tells me about a world
I knew nothing about...

and I just like him.

It's absolutely extraordinary.

He knows the exact day
that he changed into a sociopath.

Between 4 PM and 5 PM.
The exact day.

It's like knowing what
was in Dr. Jekyll's potion...

that turned him into Mr. Hyde.

"This thing, Stuart's black mist,
came that night."

"Apparently it started
by a knife fight."

"The first I heard about it was
a call a day later from his mother."

At least there's no blood.

Usually there is blood.

Perhaps the cleaners
have been around.

Just for the blood.

Campaign's helped him a lot,
you know.

Kept him straight.

Ain't been this happy since
he was a little boy.

"Alexander only."

"Hello, Alexander. It's Stuart."

"You know, admitting I've
had lots to drink and that, but...

I can't help reflect about..."

"Stuart had been bailed to appear
at Cambridge Magistrate's Court."

"I went with him for moral support."

They don't look too upset to be here.

Wait till they get to Crown Court,
that's when it gets serious.

Godspeed the day.

Excuse me,
you're about to fall off...

Fuck off.

Good lad, just say that to
the nasty man with the wig and...

everything will be fine.

Sometimes it takes so long you forget
what your fucking crime was.

Here, listen to this.
It's the little one.

"I don't know you, fuck off!"

"I'm not in
and I don't want to talk to you!"

I didn't think it was like that.

I was thinking maybe he should go
to business school.

But now I don't know.

He ain't right.

I've had to have words with him about
the importance of politeness.

- He's fourteen.
- It really shocked me, to be honest.

Mr. Shorter?

According to police statements...

they could smell smoking oil
when they arrived on the scene.

Chip fat.

It was the anniversary
of my brother's death.

I wanted to burn
the devil out of myself.

"The Magistrate's Court
decided they couldn't handle...

the complexities of Stuart's case, so
they referred it to the Crown Court."

Disgrace. Forty policemen
and you still get bailed?

Beats me why you hate the system.

Well, my mum says she doesn't
understand it neither.

What did the barrister mean
when he was talking about...

"attempted manslaughter"?

I reckon I tried to cut my neighbor's
head off with a bread knife.

You didn't. Did you?

Yeah.

And if he hadn't have moved,
I'd have got him too.

So you called your neighbor
who made your bed a poofter?

And then that's why he lost it?

No, he thought that I called him
a poofter.

- And you did nothing of the sort?
- No.

Then what did you do?

I just asked his friend
if he was a poofter.

- It's not a joke, Alexander.
- Well, I mean...

When my bail's up,
I'm looking at life.

I've lost my keys.

So you didn't call your neighbour
who made your bed a poofter.

But what did his mate say
when you called...

What did his mate say when
you asked him if he was a poofter?

Said he suffered
from premature ejaculation.

Which I thought was quite
interesting at the time...

because I suffer from
the same complaint myself.

I'm going to see some friends
in Norfolk next week.

- Come along.
- No, can't.

You heard the Magistrate.

I'm not allowed out of Cambridge
until me trial.

And another thing
about washing machines, right?

This fella on the TV...

he put three of them washing machine
inner bits together.

Not even a concrete one. Nothing.

And he said it was a sculpture.

And somebody bought it.

I'm not being funny, yeah?

But there is a viable business
opportunity there.

Rent a barn.

Lay out all the bits.

And when you've had enough
of washing machines...

do fridges.

You know, that's what really
annoys me, Alexander.

I'm always getting these great ideas,
you know, about how to make money.

People are always telling me
they're wrong, you know?

I never get no encouragement.

No encouragement at all.

Can you hold the wheel?

You want some?

- Yes. Thank you.
- Save me some.

I will.

I think I've got
a bit of a cold coming.

Here, listen to this!

"I apologise for not being
currently available."

"Be so kind as to leave
your name and message."

So, why don't you just get
an ordinary job?

- Nine to five?
- That's the one.

Getting up in the morning,
coming home late at night.

- On the nose.
- Full time.

- Have you ever had one of those?
- Nope.

I've done a bit of valeting work for
a friend of me brother's.

And?

I head-butted the bloke.

Your version of putting your
head down and getting on with it...

- I suppose?
- He tried to fiddle with me sister.

And then later on, you know...
I don't know.

You don't know what?

Nothing. Just later on
my brother Gavvy killed himself.

You don't have to say anything,
Stuart.

Talk about it another time.

Yeah. Thanks.

When the police found Gavvy
they said he'd really suffered.

The tablets he'd taken
had eaten his kidneys...

and his liver away before he died.

And he'd have been in absolute
agony dying.

And I'm glad.

I'm glad my brother suffered.

- "Chainsaw carved mushrooms"?
- Fucking hell.

What did they do to deserve that?

Fucking nice little number
you got going here, Mate.

Get many nobheads falling for it?

Yeah, plenty.

I'm James. Good to see you.

Alexander's told me all about you.

Reuben, yes?

- I'm Dido.
- You have a lovely house.

- Hello, Darling.
- Hi.

- Good to see you.
- This is for you.

Thank you. Lovely.

Now, Alexander told you
that I'm an alcoholic, hasn't he?

I'm also a schedule 1 offender and a
thief, but I won't cause no trouble.

May I have a tour of the estate,
please?

- Is that a pear tree?
- Yeah.

You make cider out of that.
And them apples?

Famous actors used to
come here and play tennis...

- like Lawrence Olivier and...
- Lawrence Olivier, really?

Right there?

Twenty five love!

You ought to knock all of them trees
down and build a go-kart course.

You could fix this place up
and it could be really lovely here.

Mind, it's hot.

Lapsang shoepong? Very nice.

It's very tasty. Yeah.

Fucking amazing here.

Yeah, A-fucking-One.

They're so false.

False tits.

Now, I prefer a bit of natural bounce
myself.

I mean, and if they're going to sag,
they're going to sag, aren't they?

I don't get it, Alexander.

How come you're so interested
in homeless people?

I'm not.

I was only working at Wintercomfort
because the money was good.

Nine quid an hour.
And the hours, shift work.

How long are these onions
meant to cook?

Till you feel satisfied.

No, it meant I could write
in the morning.

Yeah, but why?

Look, Stuart, if I was interested in
you as a homeless person...

I'd have been sacked
for unprofessional conduct ages ago.

- So?
- So I like you as a friend.

Is that so bad?

Fenugreek?

- It's a bit weird, if you ask me.
- Couldn't agree more.

There's always somebody
who won't want two.

Yeah, but why?

Because you're funny, intelligent,
good company.

What do you want,
a fucking love letter?

Now shut up
and drink your freaking beer.

Marvelous.

- What was it again?
- Convict curry.

Hey Stuart, it's Thursday.

- You've got to tell.
- No, not now.

Come on. A promise is a promise.

Come on, you've talked our ears off
about everything else.

Give it a rest, Alexander.

- You don't want to know.
- Stuart's first prison sentence.

He'll only talk about it
on a Thursday...

because he gets his dole money
Wednesday afternoons...

which means that
if talking about it upsets him...

he's still got enough heroin left
to calm him down. Is that right?

It was nothing. I was...

I was in the pub one night.

It was the little one's birthday.

I was in the pub celebrating.

It was over ten years ago.

This bloke says...

- It was just nastiness.
- Come on.

- Alexander, please.
- Look, Thursday's the day.

So, I come home.

Mark says you've been fucking Graham.

You're drunk.

If you want it, you got to rape me.

- I'll fucking kill you, you cunt!
- Get out!

You waked the fucking baby up!

And I think then I realised that...

I had made a proper mess of it all,
really.

I'm leaving.

You fucking are not!

You fuck around with me! Yeah?

I'm a little bit ashamed of that,
to be honest.

Go on, fuck off!

Fuck all of you! I'll do all of you!
For fuck's sake.

Go on, fuck off!

Fucking hell!

It's alright. Fuck off!

So we sat around for a bit...

and decided we'd come out together.

We're coming out now.
We're together.

I'm sorry.

Go! Get him!

Can't you just shoot the fucker?

He just lost it. It's not Stuart.

Move!

Lovely stay, Alexander.
Thank you very much.

I really enjoyed it.

I was really surprised, Alexander,
to be honest.

I thought that middle class people
had something wrong with them.

But they're just ordinary,
aren't they?

I was a bit shocked,
to tell the truth.

"Over the next few months...

Stuart's trial for the attempted
manslaughter of his not poofter...

bed making neighbour
was postponed once...

twice...

a third time...

and then a fourth."

"He needed some cash so I gave
him 250 quid for his car...

and I'm still waiting
for the paperwork."

"Meanwhile, the campaign went
from strength to strength."

"Newsletters, petitions, protests,
even benefit gigs."

"And then it was Stuart's bright idea
to go and see our local MP."

Shit.

I'm sorry,
I'm just a bit nervous is all.

Mr. Shorter is not
from Anne's constituency...

I'm from Anne's constituency.
I wish to take Stuart as my guest.

Alexander...

For that you'll have to make
a new appointment.

Rubbish! She's got nothing else
to do, has she?

The Council isn't going to have...

no emergency
winter shelter for the homeless.

And I'm frightened...

In winter it's smack
what keeps you fucking...

I'm sorry.

Keeps you warm.

But this year there's going to be
one more death a month, again.

- Why?
- Puppies.

I'm not sure I follow you.

On the streets.

Puppies.

Because the homeless love
their dogs, right?

But the hostels only allow two
to three places for pets.

So, if there has been
two new litters...

then loads more people are going
to have dogs, aren't they?

And therefore will be forced
to sleep out.

And hence, therefore, furthermore...

more deaths.

You see, on the street it's
the little things that kill people.

That Justice Howarth must hate
the campaign's guts. Humiliation!

"Seven months after they were
sent down Ruth and John..."

"Have been released on bail. After
a high profile campaign by MPs...

and other homeless charities...

they won the right to appeal
against prison sentences...

four and five years."

"This was our first sight
of Ruth Wyner and John Brock...

on the steps of the Royal Courts
of Justice this morning."

"After seven months in jail,
the so-called "Cambridge Two"...

have been released
on unconditional bail...

and are now free to challenge
their original convictions."

I can't see if the light's on.

Stuart, it's Alexander.
Stop whatever illegal thing it is...

that you're doing and get down here!

It's me muscular dystrophy.

Humeroscapu... or something.
Muscular dystrophy.

It's a real gobstopper,
I never learnt the name.

What you don't know can't hurt you.

I only came in...

to see the nurse because I wanted
a cuddle and it spits too soon.

Stuart!

I thought maybe it's because
of me muscular dystrophy.

Because your dick's a muscle,
isn't it?

It started on me ticker.

They tried twice
to put a pacemaker in me tits...

but the veins just crumble because of
the amount of critic I've injected.

Got to laugh, haven't you?

I can't believe he hadn't told you.

He tells everyone. About everything.

- Well, now, that's not true.
- Mum, yes.

That's his way of coping, isn't it?

Twenty years. Non-stop.

Ever since he first went on
the streets.

Twenty years?

But I thought it was Gavvy's...

his brother's suicide
that made him homeless.

Don't be stupid.

Stuart had been on and off
the streets since he was twelve.

Then, all of a sudden,
this little horror.

Twelve years old,
that's when it started.

Gavvy had to run to fetch mum.

Mum, it's Stuart!

Put me into care! You hear me?

Do it now otherwise I'll kill you!

Put me into care now!
I'll do the lot of you!

Put me into care!
I said, put me into care!

In you get. Watch your head.

"He was taken into care that night."

"We didn't see him for three weeks."

Another one for you, Mr. Laverack.

You're getting popular,
he asked to come.

Poor boy.

Out of the frying pan into the fire.

- Well, we weren't the frying pan.
- You know what I mean.

We just couldn't understand it.

People said she ought to disown him.

How can you wash your hands
of your own child?

He's my flesh and blood, I'd say.

He's my son.

I just wish I could do more.

"Working on the book after the end of
the campaign, writing, rewriting...

I realized then that I could never
hope to justify or explain Stuart."

"And whatever had murdered his
innocence had long ago ceased...

to be simple enough
to sort out with words."

"All I could hope to do was
to staple him to the page."

- Hello?
- "It's in me tits."

"I'm at Papworth Heart Hospital.
Come visit."

"Yeah, on your way, can you pop in
to see me gran and grandpa?"

"They've got a present for me."

"I told them it smells like soup.
I don't miss them."

We haven't seen Stuart in years.
Lots of years.

Well, things haven't been very
easy for him recently.

His mother says it's the buses.
They're not convenient.

Stuart?

- No.
- Rory, his son.

- Stuart?
- No.

Rex, his dad.

A bad man, his real dad.

Gypsies.

Gavvy, Stuey's brother.

One day when Rex was beating
our Judith real bad...

Gavvy hit him over the head
with a broom.

He was only five.

Rex moved out after that.

I know why Stuart changed.

Gavvy came around special to tell me.

Promised I'd never tell.

Three days later
he committed suicide.

To celebrate his getting better.

Couldn't decide red or white.

Tell him to come and see us.
We've waited long enough.

Can't wait forever.

You fucking star.

I almost died.

How are Ruth and John?

Not good.

He can't work.

Wife says he cries in his sleep.

And Ruth?

Got cancer.

Bastards.

Now, do you see what I mean
about the system?

The system. It's the system
that's going to keep her alive.

It's the system that's just given you
a 5,000 pound pacemaker for nothing.

- Hello?
- Excuse me guys...

do either of you know
where the toilet is?

Yeah, sure. I saw a sign
that said down there on the left.

Thanks, mate.

Fucking hell.
I need a cigarette.

Yeah, the whole town's like it.
All cripples.

I spent six years
in a school like this.

The day I end up like that...

death day.

- Care was like this?
- No. Spaggy school.

They sent me because
of my muscular dystrophy.

Said I wasn't allowed to go
to proper school.

Well, it was the '70s.

Funny thing, that. There was nothing
wrong with me at that stage.

I was just a bit uncoordinated,
but you'd hardly notice.

But they said since I was
going to die a spag...

I might as well get used to the idea.

Before I was too spaggy
to understand, I suppose.

Now all together.

Stu spag!

Gimpy! Gimpy, come here!

Where's your brother now, Gimpy?

- Help me! Love me!
- Hold me!

We're coming to kill you.

- Did they kick the shit out of you?
- Every day, Mate.

Give them something to do
after school.

Then Gavvy would console me.

- Please, not Howarth. Please, not...
- "Only one month out of Papworth...

Stuart's day in court...

for attempting to cut off
his neighbor's head finally arrived."

We were dreading it would be
Ruth and John's old judge.

Fuck.

All rise for Justice Howarth.

"At this point Stuart really was
looking being imprisoned for life."

Court is now in session.

This case concerns
Stuart Clive Shorter.

Affray...

disorderly conduct, resisting arrest,
an incident at the accused's flat.

No. No, he just said
the whole thing was nonsense.

All that adding charges, taking them
away, attempted murder, not...

"I don't know,
I mean, what can I say?"

"The lucky bastard got off on
a series of technicalities."

You know what Judge Howarth
thinks about...

Shit. Stuart, I'm so sorry.
Are you alright?

I'm so sorry.

He's free.
He's absolutely fucking free.

You're disgusting.

Wakey.

Sun has got his hat on, Mate.

Rise and shine!

Now, I've got to try on a suit
for me sister's wedding.

Can you give me a lift?

Have you listened to the tape?

I was nine, Alexander,
when it started. Nine.

It was three years of abuse.

My own brother.

And then his mate joined in.

That night...
I couldn't take it no more, you know?

They had done everything.

There was nothing more they could do.

- You got any more of these?
- Yeah, backseat, I think.

I think the reason mum still
pampers him like she does...

is because she feels guilty
about what Gavvy did.

But he did the same to me.

I'm the same as Stu.

One minute, nice as pie.
Next minute, I'm a rattlesnake.

"How'd I get to be like this?
What murdered the little boy I was?"

"When the police found Gavvy,
they said he'd really suffered."

"Legs all over the show."

"That boy has suffered."

- "Happy-go-lucky little thing."
- "Mr. Laverack."

"Out of the frying pan
into the fire."

- "Put me into care now!"
- "Stu spag!"

- "Stu spag!"
- "We're coming to kill you."

"The tablets he'd taken
had eaten his kidneys...

and his liver away before he died."

"Always such a caring boy.
Happy-go-lucky little thing."

"And I'm glad."

"I'm glad Gavvy suffered."

That's Gavvy.

That's Gavvy and me.

So he's what murdered the boy
you were.

- What made you change.
- Wasn't that.

What was it then?

So many people have had the same
sort of childhood and experiences...

as what I have and they learn to
accept and cope and live a very...

in brackets,
normal and competitive life.

I'm quite philosophical about that.

If you had to change one thing
about your life, what would it be?

Well, how much is one thing?

It's very easy to blame, isn't it?

Me muscular dystrophy?

The nonces?

Gavvy?

Honestly,
it'd be easier to change me.

One thing only.

The day I discovered violence.

"Me step-father...

said if I didn't go out there
and stick up for myself...

he'd belt us once."

"Fucking fantastic."

"Weakling became strong."

The day that I found violence,
I felt fifty times more strong.

After you've been bullied and
pushed about, called spastic...

you learn that violence,
and fear of violence...

and madness, it scares people.

I used to deliberately get myself
in a rage.

And after six months,
I found I couldn't stop them.

I wasn't making the madness up
no more.

You know what, Alexander?

I don't know myself
how I got to be like this.

Sometimes I think I'm the child
of the Devil.

I let the Devil in.

Now I can't get him out.

I tried...

burning him out and cutting him out.

He don't take no notice.
Why should he?

He don't want to be homeless.

You know,
there's still one question left.

- What's that, Mate?
- Guess.

We're writing the book backwards...

so what's the last bit of information
we need?

- What's your date of birth?
- Right, yeah.

I am Stuart Clive Shorter.

I was born on
the 19th of the 9th, 1968.

So, you're...

- You're 33.
- I am 33. I'm getting older.

As they say.

And I have led a very controversial
and unpleasant life.

Yeah.

Best man or what?

It is going to be grand.

"On 96 and 95.7 FM. And 10:26 AM.
BBC Radio Cambridgeshire."

"The top story this hour..."

"Near the French entrance to the
channel tunnel."

"Police have now formally indentified
the man who died after being hit...

by a train near Cambridge
early this morning."

"He was Stuart Shorter, a 33-year-old
from Waterbeach."

"The coroner has been informed...

and an inquest will take place
at a date to be fixed."

Judith? It's Alexander.

"Blessed be the God and Father
of our Lord Jesus Christ."

"Was it suicide?"

"I don't know.
He didn't leave a note."

"But then, suicides often don't."

"All I do know is that...

he stepped in front of
the 11:15 Cambridge to Kings Lane."

"I have overcome the world,
says the Lord."

"Since the earthly life of Stuart
has come to an end...

we commit his body to be buried."

"Earth to earth, ashes to ashes,
dust to dust."

"In sure and certain hope
of the resurrection to eternal life."

- "To our Lord Jesus Christ, Amen."
- Amen.

"Hello, Alexander. It's Stuart."

Hello, Stuart.

"You know, admitting I've
had lots to drink and that...

but I can't help reflect
about my brother...

and my brother's friend.
And they didn't believe me."

"And then in Care, the abuse."

"Being asked to do things
that I wouldn't have thought...

possible that anyone
could ask of an 11-year-old."

"I'm just head-butted...

and head-butted."

"The more that you speak,
the more they disbelieve."

"And nobody was listening
to anything I had to say."

"When I've got my drink inside me...

I sit here having mad conversations
with myself."

"Talking about mutilating myself,
killing myself...

tracking down
those who are responsible."

"I want to just lay down and die."

"I feel so dirty,
and fucking horrible...

and hating and attacking
anyone I get close to."

"I just wish once...

there could be an escape
from this madness."

"The book was finally published
in April 2005."

"I think Stuart would have liked it."