Original subtitles

D'you know what?

Every fuckin' story about Belfast starts like this.

But not this one and don't be acting the fuckin' balloon,

that's not the start.

This is the start.

With my best mate, Naoise, when he was a wee baby,

and his ma, Dolores, out in ma nature...

This wasn't his ma's idea at all.

Naoise's da, Arlo,

well, he wanted his firstborn baptised here

at this secret Mass Rock.

It was a tribute to the Irish Catholics who,

just a few generations ago,

gave the middle finger to British rule by sneaking here

to practise their own religion and speak their own language.

Except the peelers went and thought

they'd uncovered themselves an IRA training camp.

So on the day wee baby Naoise was supposed to be taken

by the light of Christ,

instead he got the full beams of an RUC chopper.

Fuck off!!!

I mean, what fucking chance did the wee boy have?

♪♪ Powerful

Me and Naoise, we got our first taste for drugs

at Ireland's most infamous criminal finishing school.

♪♪ Powerful

Stop! Stop there!

♪♪ Powerful ♪♪

Next Sunday, that congregation doubled.

♪♪ Powerful, powerful ♪♪

That's drugs for you - they bring you closer to God.

For Naoise and me, they were our fucking calling.

and as Mass Rocks proved

nothing gets between us Taigs and our religion.

Didn't matter what community

in the north of Ireland you came from,

we could always find common ground

in a love for throwin' shit at the Peelers.

And as for Naoise, he was off learning

that public transport doesn't mix well

with ketamine.

As for myself, tonight I learnt what it's like

getting bitten by a dog wiped on MDMA.

It feels... ...fucking mental.

Okay.

Northern Ireland's government

has in the last hour collapsed

over failure to agree on an Irish Language Act

giving the minority language equal legal status to English.

Many republicans see the language as an expression

of their political identity.

They say it's a matter of civil rights.

The Irish language is my heart and soul.

If it was the colour of my skin and you could easily identify

me as being of a different colour, and the DUP said,

'We can't give equal rights to this guy',

I think the issue would be clearer.'

Hello.

Yes, it is.

What... Now?

Nothing but a hood.

H double O D.

Lowlife scum.

Waste of fucking space.

Do I look like I want to read fucking subtitles?

Why don't you just speak the Queen's English?

You...

This was a fair question, though rudely asked.

For me to respond to this sectarian prick in Irish,

I'd have to say something along the lines of...

Which means:

'May the lowest stone in the sea be on top of your head'.

You do get there a lot quicker with...

Stop that, they'll catch a cold!

I'm proud to have learnt my irregular verbs

on a wall covered in shite!

-Aye, your own shite! -Aye.

And you know what that shite smelt like?

Freedom.

Not when I've been in the toilet after you it doesn't.

What'll the next class be, Grade 1 tunnelling?

Yoga actually, Ma.

Leave them be to get on with their real homework.

Catch yourself on!

Pity your ma, Naoise. Born with Irish in her mouth.

Now disowns her own mother tongue...

Get you home, your mammy will think we've kidnapped you.

A wee operation for youse.

I want you to sit down tonight

and watch an American Western on the telly.

But here's the thing:

Watch it from the Indian's point of view, ok?

And remember:

And then Naoise's da was gone.

Like, gone gone.

Turns out since leaving jail

Arlo was having an affair with blowing up anything British.

He blew this up.

And this.

And...

Alright, that one didn't go off.

Anyway, three years after going on the run,

Arlo fell to his death from a fishing boat.

Or, if you believe the peelers, he didn't.

With his dead body never found,

Arlo couldn't be proved dead,

and with his alive body never found,

Arlo couldn't be proved alive.

The dead Arlo had his funeral.

And the alive Arlo remained on the run.

And to this day, just having met the man

was enough to have some lump spitting in your beak over it.

I mean, Arlo was right about one thing:

Cowboys... were proper cunts.

Move!

This is Mr O Dochartaigh.

He is an Irish interpreter.

I'm not...

-D'you speak Irish? -Aye.

That'll do.

What's he saying?

Just discussing the furniture.

So, eh, what are we doing here?

Resisting arrest, public nuisance,

and unless he can somehow prove

he can't speak the language of his home country,

then we can throw in obstructing the police

in the execution of their duty.

Am I supposed to translate that?

I think he understood just fine.

What's this mean?

'I got up this morning,

well, at the end of the day.

Before I leave the bed, a spliff and a cup of tea,

'Now I've a big night ahead of me because of yesterday,

I spent all my DLA on MDMA.'

I want you to look for any reference to an Arlo...

...O Caireallain.

What's he saying?

Aye... eh... he says he doesn't have to prove

Irish is his only language because

absence of evidence is not evidence of absence.

It's just a basic principle of modern justice.

-He said that? -Yeah.

And he says that, furthermore,

and notwithstanding the aforementioned,

he sees no reason to prove that he cannot speak English

because he is here asserting his right to speak Irish.

Hmm!

Sit down!

What d'you call a Provo

that's become a yoga instructor?

Bobby Sandals.

You bring a stolen car here? Here?

So you bought this, did you?

You're putting the whole operation at risk...

Every day I am not captured

is a psychological victory against the occupiers,

that's the operation.

What's this, drugs?

'Think I don't have eyes in Belfast? I hear things.

I know where you'll end up.

You'll end up face down in an alley.

You don't speak Irish.

You might know the words

but you don't understand the language.

It is the light that guides us towards our freedom.

Those who see it, stand up for it.

You don't stand for fuck all.

No, she wasn't.

I need you to do something for me.

Arrange a memorial service.

For me. It's 10 years next month since, y'know...

These peelers won't let me rest in peace.

I need something to remind our community I'm dead,

make it harder for these RUC bastards

to keep behaving like I'm alive.

I thought maybe you'd be doing something anyway, but...

What did you expect me to do?

If you got pulled over and they found that...

Use your head, lad.

They called our generation the Ceasefire Babies

as if our only defining feature was

we were not the shit that came before us.

Maybe they were right.

Maybe we were only ever gonna be the moment after the moment

just as fucked up and miserable as the last

only with less chance of gettin'

blown up to escape it all.

But we still found ways to escape it all...

You've heard of intergenerational trauma, right?

-Right. -Our history...

-Our history has become... -Our biology.

It's like the trauma our ancestors suffered

...has inserted itself...

...has actually inserted itself into our genetic code.

Post-traumatic stress disorder.

-Psychological... -Reverberations...

Reverberations.

Reverberations.

A.D.H.D. O.D.D.

-The Troubles? -The Troubles?

I've got fucking troubles.

I just pray that this medicine

grants me some relief.

D'you not think I'd be better going straight in with 500mg?

Is there... something else?

I've got a bit of a problem...

...down south...

...with my mickey.

Ok.

-It's political. -Your problem?

My mickey.

See, I've no problem pulling birds.

I can do that no bother, anytime.

LIAM: This isn't the first bap you've buttered.

Just can't get the wee man to stand to attention...

Go on.

Without a King Billy loving Prod.

And there's this weird wee Tourettes thing before I...

...until the other week I met this wee ride, Georgia.

Say it again!

Again!

Don't you dare cum!

I wanna blow you like a Brighton hotel.

Have you thought about...

...seeing a priest?

Oi!

This is a community

who live their lives through Irish

through the schooling, youth clubs, arts projects,

through the GAA clubs.

And for them, there's been a very, very strong...'

♪♪ Change my pitch up! ♪♪

Top man!

What the fuck...!

-Fuck! -Here!

Oh bollocks!

♪♪ Pissed off, Sittin' around,

♪♪ No money in our pockets for going out,

♪♪ We're sick and tired of being skint,

♪♪ but that's all gonna change tonight.

♪♪ Me and Mo Chara, We're making plans,

♪♪ And there's gonna be a downpour, oh bam, bam, bam,

♪♪ Soon we'll be drowning in cash,

♪♪ Well-earned of course, young renegade,

♪♪ Run around, trying to grab what I can,

♪♪ Look, Mo Chara, there's a security van,

♪♪ Now, look, man, don't wanna do you no harm,

♪♪ Just listen carefully and I'm sure it'll be grand.

♪♪ 'Cause my friend, Mo Chara, he's a bit of a psycho,

♪♪ The type of fella loses the head at a typo,

♪♪ So whatever you do,

♪♪ do whatever he says,

♪♪ Móglaí get the noose

♪♪ I'll proper introduce myself

♪♪ I'm Mo Chara, and I'm not well,

♪♪ Are yiz ready for abuse?

♪♪ But first, I'm sure you're thinking, aw look,

♪♪ I seem decent and clever,

♪♪ Don't I feel bad for this ever?

♪♪ Guilty conscience, no thanks,

♪♪ I meditate and have plenty of wanks,

♪♪ I never spare a second thought for cunts in suits,

♪♪ When the revolution comes I'm first out to loot, yeah!

♪♪ New guds , happy days ,

♪♪ So much comfort when you don't have to pay,

♪♪ And when I'm happily tripped in designer gear,

♪♪Then all of you cunts are getting one behind the ear.'

Something like that?

♪♪ Guilty conscience, no thanks

♪♪ I meditate and have...

♪♪ New guds, Happy days,

♪♪ So much comfort when you don't have to pay,

♪♪ And when I'm happily tripped in designer gear,

♪♪ Then all of you cunts are getting one behind the ear.

♪♪ Yeah, yeah, yeah

Don't you touch me, you filthy Taig!

You've interned my dick!

Now for the hard interrogation...

That's right - confess, confess...

Never.

Spill your secrets inside me, you Fenian cunt!

Northern Ireland!

-North of Ireland! -Northern Ireland!

North of Ireland!

Northern Ireland!

The North of Ireland!

Oh!

Celtic... are... fucking... shite!

Leave Celtic out of this!

Wait till I get onto the Pope.

Right. I suppose I may go here

before your fucking Black and Tan da walks through the door.

I live with my aunt.

Well, go on then.

I'm going.

This can never work.

Suits me.

Maybe.

Or maybe you're scared.

Scared of you?

Of not me.

Of being with someone who might ditch you for you -

not just what foot you dig with.

Bollocks.

Ok then, tell me something about you.

Something you've never told anyone else.

I'm a rapper.

Stop spoofing.

I'm a rapper - Irish hip-hop.

What the fuck is that?

Hip-hop - in Irish.

-Why Irish? -Why not?

When's your next gig?

Soon.

Let us listen to something then.

Maybe next time.

What makes you think there'll be a next time?

Here, what's your rap group called?

Kneecap?

♪♪ Fuck me, I never saw the bastards comin'...

When I said I'd booked us a gig what I meant was,

my Uncle Peadar said we could play in his bar

if I sorted some old folk smoke for his gout.

JJ only agreed to DJ

if he could set up his decks in the store cupboard,

just in case he was spotted by any pupils.

His paranoia was not helped

by his new love affair with the 'schniff'.

Young man,

we caught you damaging public property.

You are coming to the station so we can talk properly.'

You know, in West Belfast,

the only thing worse than getting arrested and charged

is getting arrested and not charged.

This yours?

Game over!

Well, well, well, well, well, well, well, well...

Look who it is here, look, Bone Thugs and No Harmony!

I hear you got scooped.

-What they charge you with? -Fuck all.

They just gave me a hiding.

Or maybe you're just a dirty 10 pound tout.

Sorry. Who would I be touting on exactly?

Us.

Who the fuck are 'Us'?

Us is us. We are us.

The Radical Republicans Against Drugs.

That's right.

How the fuck do you pronounce that?

-R-RAD. -R-RAD. R-RAD

Aye, that's right. R-RAD. We're Rrad.

What, like you've all got a fucking s-s-stutter?

Fuck up you, tout.

What have you ever done to tout about?

Plenty, actually. We're an active fucking unit.

Not like the Republican Volunteers Against Drugs.

Or New Republicans Against Drugs.

Or New Republicans Against Drugs.

Or them.

All they ever did was fucking slabber.

Don't think I don't know what youse two are up to.

Runnin' around the woods sellin' gear like druggie...

fuckin'... eh... wombles. Huh?

Your da will be turning in his grave.

Peelers say he ain't dead - it was in the papers.

Word is he ain't dead.

Never mind the word.

Brits don't get to decide

when Irish patriots are dead.

We'll decide when we're dead.

God rest his soul.

Right, tell me who's supplying you.

The truth was, the biggest drug supplier in West Belfast

was called The Postman.

That wasn't some cool underworld nickname.

That was his job.

52 fuckin' years.

Some people say the worldwide web

is the greatest invention of the 21st century.

Those people have never been on the Dark Web.

We bought MDMA from Holland, Ketamine from India,

and Mephedrone from Vietnam.

They arrived disguised as bath salts, flower seeds,

DVDs, kids toys...

Here, spaceman! I'm talking to you!

When you gonna get my ball?

When you gonna give me a go on your fucking hurl?

Go ahead then.

I'll just skip the bit

where we get our bollocks knocked in.

♪♪ O-ro, we welcome your return

♪♪ O-ro, we welcome your return

♪♪ O-ro, we welcome your return

♪♪ Now that summer is coming.

♪♪ O-ro, we welcome your return

♪♪ O-ro, we welcome your return

♪♪ O-ro, we welcome your return

♪♪ Now that summer is coming.

♪♪ Drink all night with Ronan Mac An Ri

♪♪ because fuck the rules of RTE.

♪♪ R.I.G.H.T.S.

♪♪ Don't give a fuck about any Garda,

♪♪ R.I.G.H.T.S.

♪♪ Don't give a fuck about any Garda,

♪♪ A joint lit, I'm way too quick

♪♪ Won't be standing around too long

Here.

Here. Here. Here.

It's not like we never had a line of ket before, is it?

It'll be 20 minutes

before it kicks in properly...

..and by then we'll be halfway done. No need to panic.

What are youse flippin' staring at?

No need to panic!

No need to panic!

♪♪ 'Round and 'round,

♪♪ Big skins, down at the mini-mart,

♪♪ Few loose Capri-suns and a Mars bar,

♪♪ Big dirty joint and I'm all set, round and 'round,

♪♪ Like my grinder, yeah, Busy wee man when I'm on tour,

♪♪ No top, moshpit, sweaty balls, encore.

♪♪ Another day, same shit,

♪♪ Pass the stuff, I'll put one together,

♪♪ Moglai the builder,

♪♪ Welcome to the latest, green branch of Volunteers.

♪♪ 24 hours, morning until night,

♪♪ Fuck all else to do 'round here,

♪♪ Back to the shop to get a pack of raws.

♪♪ Caught in a loop Like I'm tryna read a book

♪♪ Same page over and over and over and over...

♪♪ Ah fuck, let's watch a movie!

♪♪ Caught in a loop,

♪♪ Nothing to do,

♪♪ It's been too long,

♪♪ I need an encore and sweaty balls too.

What are we gonna do tonight?

Same thing we do every night.

-Try to take... -Drugs.

How many times I gotta tell you?

He's either dead or dead to me. Same difference!

Can I come in?

Got a warrant?

You look like shit.

Always did think you'd make a good Avon lady.

You've no shoes on the rack.

Why have you no shoes on the rack?

What does that got to do with anything?

Not much. Only I've been in this game long enough to know

you can still be a victim of men like Arlo

without a crime to match it to.

Consider this here as the knock at the door

before the knock at the door.

Maybe it's their door you should be knocking on.

Oh, so you want the police's help now?

Just an observation.

Well, whilst we're making observations,

him and his wee pals' music,

it's drawing attention from all the wrong places,

and I count myself among those places.

Bloody kids, eh?

And when it all falls down, and it will,

I'm going to be knocking at your door

with one choice to dig him out of the rubble.

I won't enjoy it, but don't doubt for a second I'll do it.

Remind me, how d'you take your tea again?

In a cup or straight in the face?

Arlo's was a strange sort of memorial service,

given a third of the people thought he was dead...

He was taken too soon.

...a third of them thought he was alive...

It's as if he's never gone.

..and the other third were undercover peelers.

You don't know me but I'm an old, old friend of Arlo.

Can I buy you a drink?

We, the Radical Republicans Against Drugs,

are gathered to honour the memory of Arlo O Caireallain.

When I was a wee boy, the actions of Arlo O Caireallain

against the Imperialist State

were a lesson to me to follow my dreams,

especially because my dreams were about killing the Brits.

He was like a da to me, so he was.

In recent months

we have seen a rise

in anti-social behaviour and drugs.

Now we will not tolerate these parasites

SUCKING THE LIFE out of this community

with their hedonistic and toxic lifestyle.

Let us be clear now, okay?

Anybody found to be involved in the illegal trade of drugs

or encouraging their use through their actions,

are to be considered legitimate targets.

And it's what Arlo O Caireallain would have wanted.

Where's the...?

You were meant to give me that in the car on the way up.

Is everything okay, officer?

Mind stepping out of the car for a breathalyser, sir?

- He isn't driving. - Isn't he?

Really?

She doesn't know, does she?

Know what?

What about your school?

Do the students call you Mr DJ Provai, or...?

Harder!

At the station, is that when it started?

I feel like I discovered the Beatles.

If the Beatles were shit.

What is it, some sort of early onset midlife crisis?

Some men buy a Porsche, you join a Republican rap group?

Why are you doing this?

Pass.

You have a life, a career, a future...

Remember I can take it all away from you like that...

Message from on high:

what those hoods have to say

this city doesn't need to be hearing, d'you understand?

C'mon.

Thanks for your time, drive carefully.

There's a lot of lowlife scum around.

♪♪ I'm a H double-O D,

♪♪ lowlife scum, that's what they say about me

♪♪ A dog with a job, what the fuck is that?

♪♪ When our poor Micky's just sitting in the flat?

♪♪ Sippin' on his cans and smokin' rollies,

♪♪ 'Cause all the best jobs are taken by the dolies

♪♪ Squidgy black, yeah craic, and my spliff every day,

♪♪ Get the facts, not assess, Get that note off my car.

♪♪ It's gonna be a bloodbath,

♪♪ It's gonna be a bloodbath,

♪♪ It's gonna be a bloodbath,

♪♪ Throw a hook, a jab, and a boot,

♪♪ I sneak a quick toot, Then I fire another boot,

♪♪ For callin' me a fruit,

♪♪ For tryna take the loot,

♪♪ But Billy won't be bothering any more hoods.

♪♪ 'Now for some questions:

♪♪ Do you want it in your chest, or your knees or your head,

♪♪ DJ Provai has the lead,

♪♪ You can beg, you can plead, You can tell us what we need.

♪♪ You can change your name but you're all the fucking same!

Turns out a leafleting campaign

about how your band gives out free drugs

really drives ticket sales.

No more pay-to-play-with-hash, people were paying us cash.

♪♪ Equals a cocktail brave for unleashing the beast,

♪♪ He's beating some fella.

♪♪ Fucked in to the back of the jeep,

♪♪ He falls asleep, He does it every week.

♪♪ Get the Brits out now,

♪♪ A one-way ticket, please, I've lost my bus pass!

♪♪ I'm a H double-O D,

♪♪ Lowlife scum, that's what they say about me,

♪♪ I'm a H double-O D,

♪♪ Lowlife scum, that's what they say about me,

♪♪ I'm a H double-O D,

♪♪ Lowlife scum, that's what they say about me,

♪♪ I'm a H double-O D,

♪♪ Lowlife scum, that's what they say about me,

-What the fuck was that? -What the fuck was that?

Brits Out?!

I've said far worse things than that to you!

-That's different! -Sorry!

Hold on. You're giving me more stick for telling youse to leave

than what I just got for coming here in the first place.

You don't tell me to leave, I was fucking born here!

I don't mean you, Georgia.

'Brits Out' as in British State, MI5...

Then why didn't you say that then?

Because it's the chorus of a fucking song,

not the 1916 Proclamation!

The wha'?

Don't give me that look 'cos I don't know some Taig shite!

Who the fuck are you calling a Taig?

You! Or should I get up on stage and say it to the whole world?

You seemed just fucking fine in that wee crowd.

Aye! Well, what do you care?

Oh I don't fucking care.

I never wanna see you again.

I never wanna see you again!

What's happenin', Georgia?

Fuck up.

We have bigger issues to tackle in our society

than fawning over a language

spoken by less people in Northern Ireland

than Polish.

CAITLIN: But you say that as if it's something to be proud of.

That the native language of this island

has been driven to near-extinction.

Type the name Kneecap into the internet.

So-called Irish language rappers promoting drug use,

anti-social behaviour and violence.

One even wears a balaclava and calls himself DJ Provai.

This is the true face of the Irish language.

I wouldn't read too much into that.

Well, if you can't be bothered to go...

Widow.

Widow.

Oh aye, that lovely Detective Ellis dropped it 'round.

Why do you think?

I'll take care of it.

You'll do nothing of the sort.

Doing nothing has allowed our son to be dealing drugs.

That's unacceptable.

This operation will not fail...

'Operation?'

There is no operation!

Jesus, you're like one of those Japanese soldiers,

stumbling around some jungle 50 years after the war ended.

I sacrificed my life for the cause.

You sacrificed?

You left us in a prison cell

so you wouldn't have to go to one.

That lad is becoming something despite you.

And if you've turned up here with a mind to get in his way

I'll show you a woman going to war.

Aye.

Aye so...

...turns out me and Georgia did want to see each other again.

Auntie!

How can that be your fuckin' auntie?

-I know, she's a peeler. -I know she's a fuckin' peeler.

She's gonna shoot me dead in your fuckin' hallway!

No, she won't.

Unless I tell her you broke in and...

That's not even fuckin' funny!

Right.

Take it off.

-He's using you. -Maybe I'm using him.

He's trying to get at me.

Don't flatter yourself. He didn't even know.

You believe that?

-Who is he to you? -Nobody.

Then what's the problem?

The same one that's always been here.

You mix green and orange you get brown.

Nobody likes brown.

Some people like brown. I LIKE BROWN!

Will you take some more soup?

No. I found it a bit tasteless.

A Belfast band has been criticised

for chanting anti-British slogans at a city centre bar

where Prince William had spoken 24 hours previously.'

The band involved are called Kneecap.

The incident is making headlines,

and they've been condemned by the DUP.'

There are 80,000 native Irish speakers in Ireland.

Only 6,000 of them live in the north of Ireland.

Three of us have become rappers.

I don't know if we've become popular by talent

or if it was just our turn.

It's a weird thing suddenly being seen

when you come from a place

that never even wanted you to fucking exist.

I guess sometimes, change happens on the down low.

Too little to notice until one day, you can't not notice

and by then everything's changed.

Including you.

And sometimes change hits like a filthy bass line.

A boulder being pushed over a cliff.

You can't control what it's gonna hit on the way down,

but you can be sure as fuck, it's gonna wreck something.

Hi, guys.

My name's Lorna, I'm a radio plugger.

That gig was deadly.

I'm meeting one of my contacts at RTE tomorrow.

I'd love to take them a copy of your music.

Maybe get you a Track of the Week.

So whaddya think?

Could you get me something by then?

You mixed up that coke and ket again, didn't you?

So I'm just gonna... leave this here...

...and I'm gonna go.

Fuck...

And off to the studio we went...

...or at least, what was left of it.

Those R.RAD bastards!

Fucking yes.

Bom -

Ba-bom bom -

♪♪ I've got a point to be proven to myself,

♪♪ Sitting too long getting mouldy on the shelf

-♪♪ 'Cos I'm too far gone... -No, no.

♪♪ Rather be sick in the head With a little bit of wealth

♪♪ Sick of taking strangers' advice

♪♪ 'Cos the decisions people make for me are dangerous

♪♪ I'm not gonna listen from now on

♪♪ They're doin' it to you constantly,

♪♪ An individual is really what you want to be

♪♪ You gonna stand out? Live your fantasy

♪♪ Before they eat you up, they put you out to laugh at you.

♪♪ Don't be pushed back, Bought for a sucker,

♪♪ I've got a point to be proven to myself,

♪♪ Sitting too long getting mouldy on the shelf,

♪♪ Because I'm too far gone when it comes to mental health,

♪♪ Rather be sick in the head with a little bit of wealth

♪♪ I said to the devil, Let me be rich instead.

♪♪ He said: You'll no longer be skint, but sick in the head

♪♪ You'll never be in the streets But you will have issues,

♪♪ Do you want this for extra zeros when you're paid?

-♪♪ Yes -You're a mad cunt, Mo Chara.

♪♪ I'll be back for a fat loan tomorrow,

♪♪ Never gettin' dressed, depressed, and now I'm para,

♪♪ Throwing tantrums in my mansion, am I embarrassed?

♪♪ Nah!

♪♪ Every chance I'm a little bit crazy

♪♪ There's no doubt about me and Mo Chara,

When we're smoking

♪♪ Until it's aw naw!

♪♪ But we're making up our own laws

♪♪ Never getting worried 'bout our own flaws

♪♪ Kneecap, 3CAG, We're our own law.

Fuck off.

Oh happy days!

Oh shit!

Fuck. Let's go, Let's go. Fuck.

Special delivery.

You sell drugs.

You sell them for the Radical Republicans Against Drugs.

A bit off-brand, is it not?

No, it's not actually and here's why. Listen.

Radical Republicans Against Drugs are Radical Republicans

before they are Against Drugs.

It's right there in the name.

We're certainly not Radical Republicans Against Making Money

because being radical, as your Da was,

it costs a pretty penny.

The price of Semtex has gone through the roof I'll tell ya.

Some fuckers are making a killing.

Maybe you shouldn't go about blowing up garages, then.

Blowing up garages?

We haven't blown up any garages, have we?

-No. -What the fuck you on about?

Look at me, right?

No more music.

Your hear me? HEY!

Youse are drug dealers. That's all you'll be.

No more music. Alright?

...and with talks to get Stormont

back up and running still at a deadlock,

today's 'The Red Day' Irish language rights march,

will further amp up the pressure on politicians

to find a resolution to the long running dispute.

Now, it's time for Track of the Week.

So excited to play you this song for the first time

on the airwaves...

What the fuck's this shit?

♪♪ Caught my eye

'Concerns were raised around some sex and drug references'.

Oh fuck!

Fuck!

Fuck!

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

There are some things in life you just don't cross:

motorways, picket lines, and West Belfast ma's.

News of RTE2's decision was soon flying down The Falls

quicker than a joyrider in a Mitsubishi Evo.

With each telling, the snub got more and more heinous...

...and they were promised to be Track of the Week.

Fuck the fuck off!

This Dublin music executive tore the record contract up

and called them all 'bin bombers'!

Hunger strikes. Dirty protests.

When it comes to a good ould campaign,

us Fenians do it better than anyone.

Is that RTE?

-...discrimination... -...censorship...

Don't make me come down there.

West Belfast protested our persecution

by purchasing our tickets.

Thanks to Naoise's ma, we'd sold out quicker

than Michael Fucking Collins, but we'll not go there.

There aren't many things that unite the Irish media, Peelers

and dissident Republicans,

but trying to stop our music had gone and done it.

Sure, fuck it,

at least we had DJ Provai back behind the decks

where he belongs.

♪♪ Gets further away Every time I try to grab it

♪♪ Underneath all the chattering there's heaven

♪♪ Got a little peek one day made me feel like I was seven

♪♪ I know it exists but I can't stop getting pissed

♪♪ One more thing I'll be adding to the lyric ♪♪

No better publicity than getting banned, eh, lads?

It's gonna be bunged out there tonight, so it is.

Anyway, you're late - so chop chop.

Because of youse.

Kneecap! Kneecap! Kneecap!

♪♪ Out tonight, cannot fuckin' wait,

♪♪ Mici Dainin is on the way,

♪♪ 24 Carlsberg gin and tonic,

♪♪ That's the way I leave

♪♪ Big bag of weed to end the night,

♪♪ For the comedown

♪♪ Gum in your mouth,

♪♪ Stop your jaw getting destroyed.

♪♪ Shower and a shite

♪♪ Music in the background, up full whack,

♪♪ Shaven my balls, that's my sack,

♪♪ Now I've an STI, didn't do a check.

♪♪ Knock on the door. It's Postman Ket.

♪♪ Three consonants and a vowel And we don't pay VAT.

♪♪ We don't cut the gear 'cos that's pure cat.

♪♪ We take out a strap Because we're Kneecap!

♪♪ Woke up this morning, Well, at the end of the day,

♪♪ Before I leave bed, spliff and a cup of tea,

♪♪ Big night ahead of me after yesterday,

♪♪ Spent all my DLA on MDMA.

♪♪ Get on the phone to Moglai Bap.

♪♪ 'What's the craic? How'd you get the clap?

♪♪ Never mind, We're going out tonight',

♪♪ 10 kilos of coke on Moglai Bap

♪♪ Almost at the party, I'm already buzzin'

♪♪ Me I love double-dropping bad boys,

♪♪ Make sure there's MD in your bag,

♪♪ And heed the following instructions:

♪♪ Finger in your bag, buzz on your lips

♪♪ Knock back a few bombs, And if there's nothing left?

♪♪ Get a bump from Mo Chara, Steal 20 from yer da

♪♪ Sure what's the harm?

♪♪ Finger in your bag, Buzz on your lips

♪♪ Knock back a few bombs, And if there's nothing left?

♪♪ Get a bump from Mo Chara,

♪♪ Sure what's the harm?

♪♪ Finger in your bag, buzz on your lips

♪♪ Knock back a few bombs,

♪♪ And if there's nothing left? Get a bump off Mo Chara.

♪♪ Steal 20 from yer da Sure what's the harm?

Kneecap! Kneecap! Kneecap!

You sell drugs, you sell them

for the Radical Republicans Against Drugs.

Radical Republicans Against Drugs

are radical Republicans before they're Against Drugs...

-Is that me? -What the fuck?

-Is that me? -That is fuckin' you.

'We're not Radical Republicans Against Money

because being radical costs a pretty penny.'

'And one other thing, right? No more music.

You're drug dealers. That's all you'll be.'

It was in this moment JJ showed

he had truly come to embrace

his inner lowlife scumbag

by doing something impulsive, violent...

...and utterly fuckin' pointless!

FRA: Wait. Wait.

Who's there?

If my son's blood is to be spilt,

then it should be his own blood pulling the trigger.

Leave. Georgia. Alone.

Speak English.

You think a garage is the only thing I can burn down?

♪♪ Don't you wanna?

♪♪ Don't you wanna fall in love again? ♪♪

And it was at this moment

I realised something about Georgia.

I fuckin' love her!

Oh fuck...

Leave him, Ma'am. He's had enough.

MAN 1: Give it to him.

Da?

Who the fuck brings one gun to a kneecapping?

What if it jams?

What if the shooter decides to fucking shoot you instead?

Like that!

Amateur hour. Take your hoods off.

That one there's an MI5 tout.

He's in the pay of the Special Branch.

You can't be a serious dissie with judgement like this.

Last man to the end of the alley gets one behind the ear.

Every word spoken is a bullet...

I reckon everyone's fired enough bullets by now

without the need to be shooting metaphorical ones.

Maybe not firing the bullet should be the bullet.

Ah fuck it, I dunno...

I mean, we didn't set out to be bullets, or guns,

but when do bullets ever set out to be bullets?

They just are.

Waiting, hoping to be unleashed into the world,

to find their velocity.

We'd found our velocity.

The Irish for 'The End' is 'An Deireadh'.

Ah, fuck it - encore.