All language subtitles for Half.Man.S01E04.1080p.10bit.WEBRip.6CH.x265.HEVC.PSA

What can I say
about Niall Kennedy?

He's funny.

He's odd.

He's awkward.

He's determined.

He's devoted.

He's self-sacrificing.

He knows what he wants...

and he takes it.

I remember the first time
I met Niall Kennedy.

I was only a kid,
around seven at the time.

The wee bastard
was terrified of me.

I suppose it didn't help that I
would terrorize the wee fucker...

but he was such easy prey.

Always wore a shirt
with the top button done up.

Made his head look massive.

We'd play hide and seek,
and he was so scared of me,

I would find him
in the most random of places.

Under cars, on top of bookcases,

at the end of the road
in other people's gardens.

I remember this one time,
it was raining,

and I'd long given up
finding him,

but the poor wee bastard
was so committed to the game,

he developed pneumonia.

And there was this other time.

He said, "You hide, I'll seek."

And I hid up in the attic space
under some random tarpaulin.

But he never came.

When I walked down
the stairs half an hour later,

the wee bastard was tucking
into my birthday cake.

But that's Niall Kennedy.

He knows what he wants.

And he takes it.

Here, stand.

Come on. Stand.

Come on, how long's it been?

Let's go.

All right. That's it.

Mm-hmm. Hmm.

So...

here's to Niall Kennedy.

A man who knows what he wants...

and he takes it.

- Call me Daddy.
- Yes, Daddy.

Yes, Daddy.

- Hey, can I print something off?
- Mm-hmm.

Oh, you are
out of credit, I'm afraid.

Look.

This is the proposal
to my follow-up novel.

I don't wanna send it over email

'cause I don't trust
my publisher

to read it properly on screen.
Can you do me a solid?

Just this one time?

I don't know, Niall.

The boss hates it
when I do this.

Well, the boss is a prick.

Come on, do this for me. Hmm?

Promise I won't ask again.

Fine. Last time, okay?

Thank you. Thank you.

So, what do you think?

Um...

Just not really sure
what it's all about, you know?

I mean, the journey
the main character goes on.

Well, you know, it's all about
being true to your roots,

not selling out on yourself.

Well, I mean, if getting
an Oxbridge education

is selling out yourself,

I hate to think what other
impossible standards...

this guy holds himself to.

Look, it's a proposal.

All these things will come out
in the wash.

Mm-hmm. Yeah, you said
that about your last book,

and I hate to break it
to you, buddy,

but I think there might be
a problem with your filter.

Not to mention the fact

that it's clearly been cobbled together
between one too many nights out.

What? No, it hasn't.

You spelt "Glasgow"
with a seven.

Look.

All we're looking for here,
Niall, is a little more...

authenticity when it comes
to your writing.

My writing is authentic.
Come on, Daniel.

You read my first book.
It was straight from the heart.

The one about the boy
who tries to communicate

with his deceased father.
What was authentic about that?

Well, all of it.

My dad died when I was young.
I never knew him.

Well, that was evident
from the reviews.

Look, you've just got
to try opening yourself up

a little bit more.

It's what they all say, Niall.

The key to a good career,
in all of this,

is learning
how to tell your own story.

Oh, do they now? And why's that?

Well, it's quite simple, really.

Write about what you know.

Hello. How you doing?

Yeah.

Fuck!

Fuck! Gus!

Wait! Wait!
Niall! Please! Please!

Well, this has got
to feel good, right?

Not really.

You won't tell anyone, will you?

No.

But only because describing it
would place me at the scene.

Yeah, yeah, I hear you.

Plus, it's the doggers’ code,
isn't it?

"Wherever we wheel,
our lips are sealed."

I've never heard that before.

No, it's because I made it up.

Look. Do you fancy going
for a pint or something?

- Uh, no. I should, uh...
- Come on, man.

I've just been caught buggering
in a car park

in the dead of night
by the kid I bullied at school.

I'm standing here
with no shoes on.

Look at my socks, Niall,
for Christ's sake.

Wallace and Gromit.

Accept my humbling, will you?

Come for a bloody drink.

- Fuck, I hate lager.
- Me too.

So, are you, um...

- out?
- No way.

I'm not even gay.

You sleep with men
all the time, don't you?

- I mean, you must do, going to a place like that?
- It doesn't mean I'm gay.

Would be gay
if I fell in love with them.

Oh, you're one of those,
are you?

A man so straight, he fucks men.

Are you so vegetarian too
you eat meat?

Yeah, it's a fucking mess
is what it is.

Ah, you're fine.
It could be worse.

Could be married with kids.

I always had my suspicions,
you know?

You used to love a wedgie.

Yeah, it was a whole mix
of things.

Plus, your brother put me bang
to rights over all that, remember?

Pissed sideways for about
three months afterwards.

I didn't condone that, really.

I saw him
the other day, you know.

Still puts the fear
of fuck in me.

Sorry, what did you say?

Your brother.
I saw him just the other day.

What?

- Where?
- In the street.

No, but wait,
it can't have been him.

- He's still inside.
- Well, nah, mate. He got out.

We spoke for ages in the end.

He'd met some chick.
He was working...

Wait, I'm sorry.
He's working?

Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Up on the rigs in Aberdeen.

Three months on,
three months off.

Even gave me his card.

Jesus Christ.

What the fuck's a slinger?

I've no idea,
but you can keep it,

just in case there's a tracker
in it or something.

You're not winding me
up here, are you?

- He got out?
- Yeah, mate, I promise.

He got out.

It's Ruben. He's out.
He's out of prison.

What do you mean you know?

- I know.
- How?

What, did Maura tell you?

You're not still speaking,
are you?

- Kind of.
- What do you mean "kind of"?

- I thought things were finished.
- They are, Niall,

but we still see each other
from time to time.

Yeah, but you didn't think
to tell me

that any of this was going on?

Well, how could I, Niall?
You're never bloody well here!

- Well, you could have phoned.
- You never pick up.

I leave you
four voicemails a week

and never get anything back.
The last one,

I pretended
I'd fallen down the stairs

and was on my last dying breath,
and you still didn't call.

Well, I knew you were faking it.

Was I faking my birthday, too?

Wait!

I just don't understand
what the plan was here.

Were you just going to plot
and scheme

and hope I never found out?

Oh, you make it sound
like I'm enjoying it.

I have deep facial contours

devoted to the pair
of you bloody idiots.

I felt nothing
was to be gained from you

knowing anything
about each other.

It runs the risk
of him killing you,

or you dying from the worry.

Yeah, but what if he finds out
where I am

and he comes looking for me?

I highly doubt that.

He's hardly going
to bump into you

on Brunswick Avenue, is he?

Or in Kelvingrove Park
men's toilets at 2:00 p.m.

with your pants
around your ankles?

And you wonder why I don't come
around here anymore?

No. Wait, wait!

I'm sorry!

Everything I did,
I did to protect you, Niall.

But I...
I still don't understand.

- When did he get out?
- I don't know.

- Two years, maybe.
- Two years?

- Are you kidding me?
- That's a good thing.

That's two years
where he hasn't come looking.

But...

Have you seen him?

Yeah, a few times.

Right. And did you mention me?

- I may have.
- Well, come on. What did he say?

He didn't say anything.
He just smiled.

Okay, that's good.

That's good.

Was it like a... like
a nice smile? Like a fond one?

Oh! Look. I can't lie to you.

Well, what kind of smile?
Come on.

I don't know!

Sort of with his mouth
and not with his eyes.

You know, the one he tends
to do before he kicks off.

I've only got ten minutes.

Darren has to visit
his mum's today,

- so I've got the kids.
- Yeah, no worries. Um...

Well, look, Joanna,
I don't want to worry you.

Ruben.

What? How do you know?

Look.
I didn't want to say,

but I bumped into him
not too long ago.

He was doing this thing
where he was going round

apologizing to people
he'd wronged in his past.

Christ, this is crazy.

I mean, going round
and saying sorry to people,

that doesn't sound like Ruben.

Well, he's been in prison
for God knows how long, Niall.

- That's bound to change someone.
- No.

No, people like him
don't change, Joanna.

Come on, you know
that better than anyone.

I don't know.

- He seemed different.
- Right.

Wow, Jesus.

He must be coming to me
to apologize next, then.

No. He said I was the last one.

- Well, that's bullshit.
- How?

Because he owes me
the biggest apology of his life.

Don't do that, Niall!
It's embarrassing...

He messed up my life, Joanna.

And I dropped out of Oxford,
I was so stressed with it all.

I thought
you didn't like the snootiness.

No. That too.

It was...
It was a combination of both.

Look, I think you'd better put
this out your mind, Niall.

But how can I put this
out of my mind?

I mean, I just found out
he's working some

- fancy job on the rigs.
- Well, what's wrong with that?

Everything! What does it
teach him about life

if he comes out
to some cushy existence?

Meanwhile,
I work my arse off every day

and I'm rewarded with what?

Dreg payments,
handshakes and promises.

Look, I get it, Niall.

It's hard seeing someone
you have so much history with

doing so well.

But maybe it's not the fact
he's changed that bothers you.

It's the fact you haven't.

Shut the fuck up!

All right, chill. Breathe. Here.

Let's get your stuff out.

Come on. Here. Put this on.

- There you go.
- Thank you.

I think I know
what this is about.

- My comments the other night.
- No, actually, it's not.

I don't mind
you being gay, Niall.

- It's the way you go about it.
- It's about Maura.

Ah.

What happened, Mum?
Did the cancer come back?

No. Um...

She hung herself, as it happens.

The rope snapped
after about a minute.

Left her near brain dead.

Oh my God. Mum, that's awful.

It's life.

I mean, did she leave a note?

Kind of. It was more of a list
of things to do.

"The cats are in the shed,

the keys
are under the plant pot."

There was something
so matter-of-fact

about the whole thing, which...

made it all feel worse somehow.

Like it was just another thing
to do that day.

Well, look, I'm...

I'm sorry
I haven't been around much.

I mean, you get it, right?
The way you reacted?

I was just shocked.

I mean,
how was I supposed to feel

when my brother calls me to say

he found you rogering
another man in a public toilet?

I blame myself, really.

Should have spotted it
sooner in you.

It's like looking
for my glasses,

only to find they were sitting

on the bridge of my nose
the entire time.

So, that's why
Ruben got back in touch?

Yeah,
he contacted me from prison.

He needed my help
looking after her.

So, all this happened
whilst he was inside?

Yeah, but don't go
blaming yourself, okay?

She was in debt,
she had aches and pains,

all kinds of things.

Niall, I want you
to promise me here

that you're not going
to go blaming yourself.

I promise.

Hey, Stefan.

You couldn't do me a favor
and print this off?

Sorry, mate.
The boss was raging last time.

Well, you couldn't ask,
could you?

- Nigel?
- No chance.

Sorry, bud. No can do.

You're a sad man, Nigel.

A sad, sad man.

So...

would you like to tell me

why you were
in the toilet cubicle

with another man this afternoon?

Well, it's quite simple, really.

We were talking creative ideas,
and we didn't want to disturb

the rest of the library.

You must think
I was born yesterday.

No. Don't worry, Nigel.
I've never thought that.

Look, you can't keep me.

- So, if you're going to ban me, just ban me already.
- No.

It's a little more
than a ban, actually.

I was all for sexual liberation
until it started seeping its way

into our public services.

I started doing it
when I saw the library coming up

on Google searches,
"Renowned cottaging spot."

What are you intending to do
with this footage, Nigel?

Upload it online.
Make an example of you.

Stop anyone else trying it.

What? No! Please.

I mean, why me?
I'm not the only one.

You let the other guy go
straight away.

I know.
Because you're the constant.

Okay, look. What can I do
to make you not do this?

You can pay your fine.

What, my... my printing debts?
Well, that's easy.

What is it? Like, 20 quid?

No.

I'm looking here
and the computer has it down

- at 2,000 pounds.
- What? That's ridiculous!

Where you're getting
those figures from?

I don't know.

All those books
you sold online, perhaps?

Okay.

I'm sorry.
I've been in a bad place.

But listen,
there's no way I sold

thousands of pounds' worth.

No.

But that's the rate I'm charging
to buy them all back.

Oh, come on, Nigel.

You're a librarian,
not a bloody lawyer.

No.

I'm just a sad, sad man.

I just need two grand.

- Two grand?
- I know it's a lot,

but I'll pay you back
ten percent on every pound.

See it as an investment.
Don't be like those stockbrokers

who chose
not to invest in Amazon.

You have a high opinion
of yourself, don't you, Niall?

For someone caught buggering
in a public toilet yesterday.

Oh, come on, Joanna.
I am begging you here. Please.

Don't make me go to my mum.
You wouldn't believe the things

she said to me
when I got caught the last time.

Like what?

She called me a pervert.

Said she didn't mind a gay son,
she just didn't raise a deviant.

She said that?

Go on, Bubby.
Run to Auntie. Go play.

Look, Niall.

I still have a lot
of love for you,

but bailing you out every time
you're in a tough spot

is clearly not helping you
turn your life around.

Whoa, whoa. Wh...
Where is this coming from?

I can't do this anymore, Niall.

I have three kids
to look out for.

I can't handle one more.

Please don't visit us anymore.

What happened?

Gay stuff?

Don't say "gay stuff," Mum.

Well, come on, what was it?

Gay stuff.

I was caught in the library
toilet having sex with a man.

And now,
the manager's threatening

to upload the video
unless I pay him off.

Which library?

Clyde Park Library.

Jesus, Niall!
They do school trips there.

- What's your excuse this time?
- I was just exploring myself.

Exploring yourself?
In a library?

Yeah, it's not as crazy
as it sounds.

Oh, I don't know
about that, Niall.

I mean, would you bring a book
to a fucking brothel?

Look, I get that
it's hard for you to understand,

but I'm almost there
in terms of figuring myself out.

Are you now?

You got caught shagging a man
in a library ten yards

from where they stock Peppa Pig!

Great to hear
you're almost there!

What's it gonna take
to push you over the edge, then?

A fucking
intergenerational gangbang?

You're insulting
my struggles here, Mum.

I'm insulting my struggles.
They're my struggles, too.

At least you're the one cumming.
Jesus Christ.

What do you need?

- Two grand.
- Impossible.

I'm a social worker.
I couldn't get you it

if I robbed all the people
I work with.

- You don't have a pot somewhere?
- I used the pot.

I used the pot the last time
you had a breakdown

when you needed to go
into the madhouse.

Hospital, Mum.
It was a hospital.

A hospital is for arms and legs.
It was a madhouse.

You sat around in circles
talking about God.

You don't get
much madder than that!

Enough of the jokes, Mum!
I need money.

I'm not ready for the public
to think I'm gay!

Then stop having sex in it.
There's your answer.

Mum, I am begging you, please.

Surely you know someone
that can help?

I do, but you won't like it.

Ruben?

Are you serious?

How can you even ask me that?

After what he's done,
putting me in this position!

Oh, yeah? He put you
in a public toilet, did he?

I suppose he pulled your cock
out your pants, too!

I am talking
about the turning point,

the... the... the...
the seed of all of my issues.

Oh, the seed.

You're always talking
about the seed, aren't you?

First it was Dad,
after Dad it was Maura,

after that it was Ruben,

then it was the court case
and the Oxford elite,

and now we're back
to Ruben again.

Great!
Glad you see it so clearly.

Turns out your glasses
have been on your face

this whole time, too!

See, this is your problem.

You are too busy
blaming everyone else

for your issues

because it's easier
to point the finger

than turn it back on yourself!

You're acting like
my breakdown was my fault!

It was! You made yourself sick.

"Mum, was I right to tell
the truth on the stand?

Mum, I had to, didn't I?"
You became obsessed with it.

Nothing I said would help.

- I was ill!
- You were self-involved!

Now, as far as I can see,
you are out of options here.

No doubt about it.

So, either you let me ask him
for money,

and I will disguise it
by saying it's for me...

or you can face the music
on your own this time,

because I won't be helping.

Wait a minute.

Have you done this before?

Well...

You've used his money
to pay for things for me?

Well, of course.

Where did you think
it was all coming from?

Well, you remortgaged the house.

I thought you had
stuff left over.

I mean...

What else has he paid for?

A lot of things.

My bedsit?

Yes.

- My car?
- Yes.

- My therapy?
- Yes.

The therapy I use
to talk about him?

Yes, love, everything.

Your clothes,
your Christmas presents.

Converting your bedroom
into an adult's room

so you can come back
every time you have a breakdown.

Oh, is that right, is it?

Well, I hope
he accepts fucking refunds!

Oh, Niall! Wait! Niall!

Wait!

- Niall!
- I don't fucking need him!

- Stop this!
- This clock?

- Did you buy it with his money?
- Yes.

Done.

Jesus!

- This CD player?
- This is ridiculous.

Did he buy the CD player?

- Yes, he bought it!
- Fine!

This... This signed
Harrison Ford poster?

Yes, Niall.

Really?

He bought the poster?

Yes, Niall.

Okay. That's fine.

- No. You know what? Fuck this.
- Stop!

You're out of control!

You don't know what you've done!

- You've made me his bitch!
- Oh my God!

- You're losing your mind!
- Well, good.

If Ruben's anything to go by,

perhaps you'll start paying me
some attention!

I hate him. I fucking hate him.

- No, you don't.
- I do.

- I'm his bitch! I'm his bitch!
- Hey.

Come here.

You are nobody's bitch, okay?

I sometimes wish he would
just kill me, you know?

Put me out my bastard misery.

He doesn't need to.

You're doing such a good job
of it yourself.

I have lost sleep
over you, Niall.

I keep thinking
I'll wake up one day

to find you've taken too much,

or contracted HIV...

or done a Maura.

I think you need to move back
in here and calm yourself a bit.

Meet someone.

They don't have to be perfect,
they just have to be steady.

Settle down.
In life. In yourself.

Give up
these silly writing dreams.

They're not doing you any good.

I can't.

You can.

One of the most lethal acts
of self-harm you can commit

is convincing yourself

you're worthy
of a higher purpose.

You were published
five years ago.

You sold less than 100 copies.

You live in a bedsit
in a shitty part of town.

Don't make me tell you
to get a job, Niall.

At least have the self-respect

to land
on the conclusion yourself.

Hey. Come on.

Fuck all this stuff,
let's get inside.

Lemme get that.

Oh, shit!

Hey! Oi! Get back!

Get back here! Hey!

I can fucking see you!

Get back,
you little fucking shit. Hey!

Hey! Get back here!

Hey!
Where the fuck are you?

Yeah, I can fucking hear you!

Hey! Hey!

Oi!

What are you doing?

Oh, sorry, I, uh,
I kicked my ball in here.

It's, uh... It's Ruben
from down the road.

Oh, yes. Hello, dear.

Sorry, I didn't recognize you
with your top off.

Here, I'll let you out the front
of the house.

You can get your ball
back tomorrow.

Don't move.

Don't make a fucking sound.

- Ruben, please...
- What did I just say?

Are you going to kill me, Ruben?

Is that it?
'Cause you shouldn't.

You have your whole life
ahead of you.

Don't you talk about my life.

Not after what you did to it.

Oh, come on, Ruben.
This is ridiculous.

- I mean, what's it been now?
- Fourteen years, seven months,

23 days.

You've been counting, have you?

You're damn right
I've been counting.

So, what is this?

What are you looking for
here, huh?

- Revenge?
- Revenge?

Now, there's an idea.

Ruben, please, this isn't right.
We should just stay apart.

You have your own life to
worry about now and I have mine.

That's why you were
in my driveway, was it?

That's why you scared...
my wife...

in the dead of the night?

I wasn't on your driveway.

- I was just passing through.
- Oh, yeah?

Explain this, then.

Explain it, you little rat...

or I'll twist it up
your fucking arse without lube.

All right, Ruben!

I didn't know
it was your driveway.

- Honestly, I didn't...
- Have it your way, then.

- You fucking little fucking rat!
- Jesus! Fuck's sake!

Hey, hey,
this is what you came back for?

Wasn't it, Bambi, hey?
This is what you wanted,

- isn't it?
- Help!

- Fucking shut the fuck up.
- Help!

Shut the fuck up.
Shut up, you little fucking rat.

Trying to take
something from me, were you?

Hey! Hey! Come here,
you little fucking rat.

- No!
- Yes!

- Hey, this is what you've always wanted from me?
- Don't, please!

Isn't it, Bambi? Yeah? Yes!

Come on, then. Hey?

Are you ready for this,
you little fucking rat?

- Help! Just wait.
- Shut the fuck up!

- Shut... Shut the fuck up!
- Wait. Stop. I'll tell you.

I'll tell you. I'll tell you!
Wait, I was angry!

I wanted to take
something from you to...

- to get a win, you know?
- A win?

Don't you have
enough wins, you fuck?

Taking my life not enough, you
wanted a piece of my car as well?

Well, no, no, I didn't...

I rotted in a prison
for over a decade

- because of you.
- No, no, fuck! Wait!

Just... Ruben!

Look, I'll talk!

No, wait! Ruben...
Ruben, please, I'll talk.

I'll do anything you want.

I'll beg for forgiveness
if that's what you want.

Just don't do this, okay?

Why'd you do it?

Ruben, it was 14 years ago.

Why'd you fucking do it?

I guess I felt I owed it
to justice to tell the truth.

Justice?

Justice is letting
a recently diagnosed

cancer patient
watch her son go the clink?

I felt like it at the time.

No, I don't think it had
anything to do with justice.

I think you couldn't stand
to see me doing well.

- You were bitter.
- Bitter? I was off to Oxford.

What did I have
to be bitter about?

My real life.
Your fucking fake one.

Living in my shadow.

You wanted me out of the way
so you could flourish.

How's it been in my absence, eh?

Flying, are you?
You little fucking cuck!

Or did you realize the hard way,

when you try
and walk in my boots,

they're always gonna slip off
at the heel?

Ah!
You didn't like that, did you?

You know, it kills you,
doesn't it?

To know that even in my absence,

with all
the fucking opportunities

in the world at your feet,
all you've done is kick up dust.

While I, with my back
against the wall

and a glass ceiling
above my head,

and a fucking army in my way,
clamber over you to the top.

I don't know what
you're talking about, Ruben.

I'm doing just fine.

Oh, I know from your mum
that's not the case.

As she comes begging for money

to solve all your pathetic
little problems,

your printing costs,
your therapy.

- She told you that, did she?
- Oh, she told me everything.

You know, I have to bite my lip
from laughing

as I hand over the money.
You should see me.

"Well... Well, Ms. Kennedy,

I hope he gets himself back
on his feet soon."

I mean, imagine it.

I go to prison for 13 years,
and you go to Oxford,

and I'm the one
lending you money.

And you wonder
if I'm here for revenge.

Shit, son. Don't be ridiculous.

It's already mine.

Is that what you want, is it?

Me to just admit that
you're doing better than me?

Well, you can have it. You're
doing better than me, and I hate it.

I hate that the scum always sits
at the top of the water.

But no, I'm not bitter.
I'm gleeful.

Because when you
inevitably fuck it up,

and you will fuck it up,

I'll be the one grabbing
the popcorn, watching you fall.

Say it.

- Say you were bitter.
- No chance.

I wasn't bitter
in the slightest.

I did what was right

and you can beat me
all you want.

I'll never admit it.

Okay.

I admit I was bitter.
Please don't hit me again.

Fuck! I was bitter, okay?
I was bitter.

Bitter that you put me
in that position

in the first place.

Bitter that you kept doing
the same old shit.

Never learning, never growing,
never accepting responsibility.

Always smashing shit up
and expecting others

to pick up the pieces.

Well, I wasn't gonna do it
over the Alby stuff.

Not when it put
my freedom in danger.

What would that teach you
about life, anyway?

Life? I don't need to learn
about life, rat boy.

- I wrote the fucking book on it.
- How?

You've done fuck all!
You never applied yourself.

You never got an education,
or a degree, or a proper job.

I've never got
a degree or a proper job?

Why the fuck
would I need to do that?

I think you're forgetting, son.
I don't need to work for status.

I was born with it.

I mean, why be a general manager
or an academic

when you're king
of the fucking world?

"King of the world."
That's a joke.

I'm not jealous of that.

I'm jealous of the fact that
you can so willfully think that

- without irony.
- Challenge me on it, then!

Prove me wrong!
I'm your fucking muse!

I'm the reason you have meaning
in your miserable life!

Don't tell me you sit there
telling people about that time

you... you...
you fucking aced your exams,

or you smashed out
your dissertation.

No. No, you tell them
about that time

we egged that house,
we slashed those car tires,

we took mushrooms down the lake
and saw the water shoot green.

I'm the soundtrack
to your greatest moments.

And it pains you to know

that all your achievements
fill you with a void,

whereas a smile
from me fills you

with all the fucking energy
you need.

You might be the painter, Niall,

but I'm the rolling hills.

So, you can point at my CV,
my 13 years in prison,

and all the bullet points
you need

to think you're better than me.

But you know fine well,
you'd do 40 years

in a windowless fucking cell...

just to walk
in my shoes for the day.

I mean, look at you.

I went to the clink
for over a decade,

and you didn't even do something
worthwhile with your life.

You didn't even give me something
to take from you when I got back out.

And just as I stop thinking
about you,

just as I pull my life together,

you appear like a rat...

on my driveway.

How dare you appear like a rat
on my driveway?

Come on, Ruben,
with all due respect,

- you broke contact first.
- How did I?

You talked to my mum
about Maura.

You don't talk
about my mother, all right?

You don't mention her name.

But that's
what I'm talking about.

You and Lori in cahoots
behind my back for four years.

She didn't even tell me
Maura was sick!

What did I just say?

What? I'm saying...

I'm saying
I could have been there.

Been there?
Are you kidding me?

She's half-brained
because of you.

Half-brained because of me?

I haven't seen her in 14 years
since the court case.

Well, it started
with that, didn't it?

The separation from Lori
not long after?

Because they couldn't come
to terms with what you did.

- You fucking did that!
- I did that?

Or was it looking after
a fucking animal for a child?

Oh, you're talking
real talk now.

Yeah, well, what do you expect?
You're blaming me

for your mother's
suicide attempt?

Oh, spare me the self-pity,
you little prick!

She did it
while I was in prison!

I mean, I couldn't even get
to her!

I couldn't even phone!

I mean, imagine it!

So, if you don't want
to take the blame for it...

at least admit
you wished it upon her.

I didn't.

She wished it upon you.

You know
what she used to call you?

King Rat.

You know why?

Because you act like royalty...

but you belong in the gutter.

You're a gutter rat
who looks in a mirror

and sees a king.

- Is that right?
- Yeah.

So, come on, gutter rat,
come back at me.

I know you want to.

Well, it's a little glass house,
isn't it, Ruben?

If I'm in the gutter,

I hate to think
of where you both ended up.

Yes!
That's what I'm talking about!

Come on, more of that, please.

The gutter is something you
and your mum can only aspire to.

Beautiful.
Let's have it. Come on.

The court case was convenient

'cause she could draw
an imaginary line

between past and present

and assuage
her own responsibility

in raising a fucking monster.

"Oh, it's an illness,"
she would say,

time and time again.

"Oh, it's just an illness.
He can't help it."

But when on the fourth,
or fifth,

or even sixteenth time you stamp
someone's head into the floor,

does it stop being an illness
and become some sick, sinister,

fucking gleeful act
of perverse violence?

I've never once seen you show

an ounce of remorse
for what you did

to that poor Alby boy,
whose face, I hear,

is still mangled, by the way.
The callousness you possess

is born straight out
of your mother's heart.

So, yeah, I hate her.
I hate everything about her.

I hate how she let you get away
with near murder,

but if I did anything minor,
she was on me like a rash,

turning my mother against me,
squeezing the life out of me

because I was her
second-chance child,

seeing as how she
so royally fucked up the first!

But I mean, I don't expect her
to be anything less

than blinded by you.

I mean, you hit her enough times
to forget, didn't you?

And the worst part
about all of this...

is you are totally right.

I would face 40 years in prison
to walk in your shoes for a day.

An hour even.

To feel what it must be
like to be you.

To look the way you look.

To fuck the way you fuck.
To talk the way you talk.

Hell, they can lock the door
and throw away the key

for all I care.

Because I would be happy
to lie back on the bed

and feel what it must feel like
to be the center of the universe

for a change
rather than some cunt

standing in the queue outside.

I hate everything about you

and the giant shadow you cast
which seems to turn with the sun

whichever way I'm walking.

But that doesn't stop me...

wanting every bit of it.

So, yeah, I'm bitter.

I'm bitter that I'm alone.

I'm bitter that I have no money.

Bitter
that no matter how hard I try,

how hard I work,
sweat, and toil,

I just can't find the click
that's gonna make me happy.

And I'm bitter
that you went around

apologizing to people

and you didn't think
about apologizing to me.

And I'm bitter
that I'm being blackmailed

by some cunt.

I'm bitter
that I can't pay him off

'cause I'm broke or threaten him
because I'm too pussy.

And I'm bitter that I had
the whole world

at my fingertips.

Scholarship, Oxford education,
all of it.

And I squandered it
all thinking about you.

What the fuck
are you talking about?

I couldn't breathe.

I couldn't do fuck all
'cause my mind was still reeling

from that bastard court case.

I couldn't get it
out of my mind.

Your words,
your screaming as you left.

That you would make me ugly.

I've seen you make
people ugly, Ruben.

I know what it means!

I lived in fear of you
from that point on.

Just imagining all the things
that you might do to me,

that you might tell one
of your prison mates about me

and they would come looking
for me when they got out.

I woke up in the night once,

convinced that you'd bugged
the flat,

that you were monitoring
my every move.

I started to sleep
in the garden.

I wandered the streets
pulling up phone wires.

I went through
about 30 pen lids,

swallowing them down whole

because I would chew on them
when I wrote.

And throwing them
away wasn't safe enough

because you might find them
and use my DNA

to pin a murder on me.
I ended up in a madhouse.

I had to have an operation
on my gut.

Why?

Because I was telling the truth!

And then you appear,
out of nowhere,

with a six-figure salary
and a house

and a girl and a car.

How dare you appear
out of nowhere

with a six-figure salary
and a house

and a girl and a car?

So, just be safe
in the knowledge

that when you're imagining
the worst kind

of revenge for me,

nothing can come close
to the damage

that I've unleashed on myself.

So, go ahead, Ruben,
fucking kill me.

I don't give a fuck.

I'm already dead.

I didn't know any of this.

Yeah, well...

Your mum never said that part.

The part about the hospital.

It's good to know she still has
some respect for me left.

Hmm.

You sound different.

You talk different.

I've done
a lot of reading, Niall.

Oh, great. So, now
you're cleverer than me too.

Yeah.

You're getting blackmailed?

Yes, sort of.

Do you know their name?

No, not like that.

What do you need?

Money.

I've got money.

What do you want in return?

An apology...

for what you did.

That's it?

It's a lot, Niall.

It's a hell of a lot.

I'm sorry.

Hmm.

Hmm.

Well, I'm sorry too.

Missed you, yeah?

Missed you.

Right, now, a proper toast.

Come on, Alby, stand.

Come on.

To the happy couple.

On their special day.

At the start
of a beautiful journey together.

Hand in hand.

Heart to heart.

Forever and ever.

Amen.