All language subtitles for Quadrophenia.1979.REMASTERED.BDRip.x264-VoMiT.eng

Darlin'! Oi!

- Nice bike, mate!
- Fuck off!

Bollocks! Fuck off!

Why don't you get off and push it?

Here, Ferdy.

- Ferdy.
- Hello, Jim.

- How's it going, eh?
- All right.

Here, you got something nice for me?

- At your service, man.
- Keep your brains warm, do they?

- How many do you want?
- Well, come here.

- I want about a dozen.
- Fuck off, Jim.

All right, all right. Twenty.
But how much?

They're pretty scarce. I had to go
over the water to get these.

Got on a banana boat
back to Jamaica, did you?

No, Brixton. And as you know, Jim,
it costs money to get down there.

- All right. How much?
- A quid.

You're a fucking liberty taker.

Oi, Ferdy...

- Hello, lovers.
- Hi, Monkey.

What have you come as?

Go on, then, get in there.
She won't bite.

- If you don't, I might.
- Nah, I'm not bothered.

Not much.

- I know, I'll pull it for you.
- No, you won't.

- Oi, Steph.
- Fuck off.

- George.
- What?

- I ain't...
- Why?

- You know why.
- Get off.

Don't say that.

It's always the same lately.
What's the matter?

- Pack it in. Don't do that.
- Why not?

Just shut up. Go to sleep.

I've always got to go to sleep.
I'm fed up with it.

Here, Yvonne, you got any scissors?

Over on the table.

Oh, what have you done?

I don't know what I've done.
I can't see, can I?

It's only nail varnish.
I'll clean it up in the morning.

You're so bleedin' clumsy.

Here, you wanna watch it, you know.

One day, you'll come out from
under there with first-degree burns.

It happened to
a mate of mine's sister.

Oh, piss off.

Oi, will you leave that out, please?

Do what?

Don't sing all that old rubbish, eh?

That ain't rubbish, pal.
That's Gene Vincent, all right?

Yeah, that's what I said, old rubbish.

Why don't you just turn over
and do a few underwater farts?

Why don't you just fuck off?

You fuck off.

Oh, God! What do you
think you are? A couple of fairies?

Shut up, for God's sake!

All right, cut it out.

What do you think this is?
The Eurovision Song Contest?

Right, I'll sort you out.

If you wanna start something,
I'll see you outside...

- Fuck me!
- Kevin Herriot?

- Jimmy?
- Yeah.

- I thought you was in the army.
- I got out. How you going?

I'm all right, yeah. The army
didn't teach you to sing, did it?

- Nah. Gonna give me me brush back?
- Yeah, all right.

Here, pile the licker on, mate.

All right.

Two and eight? Cheers.

Hello, Jim.

- What's the matter with you, then?
- That gear you got, it's leather.

That's it. Goes with the bike, dunnit?

- I never realised.
- You never realised what?

- Well, you's a rocker.
- What, am I black or something?

You ain't exactly white
in that sort of get-up, are you?

Nah.

- Give us a cup of tea, mate, please.
- All right.

Anyway, how long you been back?

Couple of months ago.

- You couldn't stick it, eh?
- Nah, they messed me about.

They treat you like a lump of shit.

Some sergeant-major
wants to order you about.

"Don't do this, don't do that".
Drove me fuckin' mad.

- Then they shipped me off to wogland.
- Whereabouts?

Aden. It was all right, as it happens.

Like, shooting matches
with the rebels and all that.

But they put the block on that.
Shipped me back home.

Back home to the same boring routine.

- Drove me fuckin' mad...
- I gotta go, Kev.

- Where you going?
- I'll see you later.

- All right?
- Yeah, fine, John.

What's this fucking rocker doing here?

Jim...

Here's your towel.

See ya later, Kev.

Bollocks.

Yes, hold on a minute, please.
Thank you.

- That's it. How's that feel, then?
- Awful.

- What do you mean?
- You've gotta bring it in here.

I could bring it in...

- All right, there, Dan?
- All right, Jim.

- Hands out, please.
- Stop fucking about...

Look here,
don't you use that language in here.

If you're gonna talk like that,
make your own suit.

- There you go.
- Tighter, it'll split.

- 30 shillings, please.
- I can bring it in that much.

- What about this?
- It'll split.

- I want it by Saturday.
- Saturday, yeah.

- What do you think?
- Fucking rent-a-tent, innit?

- How much?
- Two pound, nine pence, please.

- Sorry, I have no smaller change.
- Don't matter.

Thank you.

- All right, darlin'?
- Saturdays, I hate 'em.

Thought I'd drop by and say hello.

Been up to no good
while I been graftin'?

Nah, not really.
I just been down to pay me suit off.

- Yeah? What's it like?
- Handsome.

Three buttons. Side vents.
16-inch bottoms. Dark brown.

Have I got to wait here all day
while you finish your conversation?

I'm wearing it down to Brighton.

Gonna be one of the faces down there?

What do you mean going to be?
I am one of the faces.

- What's that? Bombers? Gis' a couple.
- Chalky, the ponce. He's about again.

I ain't had a decent blot for days.

What happened, then?
You get banged up in Margate?

In Shepherd's Bush. My old man ain't
let me out the house since Margate.

Put a padlock on me scooter.

I went round last night
and his dad tried to do me over.

I wouldn't stand for it if I were you.

If that was my old man
taking them liberties,

I tell you, I'd fuckin' do him.

- Seen his dad?
- He's 6'2".

How come you're so small?

- Dunno. It's thingy, innit.
- Genetic.

- His nan's a midget.
- Party down Kitchener Road.

- What'd I tell you?
- It's that posh bird.

- Yeah, she's a right goer.
- Bristols out there.

- No chance.
- Really?

Dave, what's that...

Wanna go to a party? Everybody's going.

- Where?
- Kitchener Road.

All right, then.

Only takes 20 minutes, half an hour,
to get there on a scooter.

- Where you off to, then?
- I'll see you later.

- Yeah...
- Come on, Jim, give him a kiss.

Ferdy.

This is the place, lads.
Come on, then. Come on.

All right, John?

Yeah, straight in. No problems.

Come on.

- No gatecrashers.
- Gatecrashers?

He's calling us gatecrashers.

You didn't even bring any bottles.

- Piss off!
- Who the fuck are you? Prince Philip?

I happen to be the boyfriend
of the hostess.

No, you're fucking not!

Listen.
Look, this is Sandra's party, right?

Me and me mates have been invited...

John.

Here, where'd you get that shirt?

All right, Jim?

- Anything you fancy?
- Nothing there.

- I see you found a bird.
- I know her.

Here, that's mine, ain't it?
Can I have that one? Ta.

Here, Dan,
you seen what's goin' on in there?

Go in there, it's a laugh.
You'll love it.

Cheers.

- Penny for your thoughts.
- Oh, let's have some.

Come on, Monkey, don't mess about.

Not unless you give me something first.

What?

You always have to ask, don't you?

One, two, three for you.

- Where'd you get these?
- That'd be telling.

You forgot I work for a chemist.

Oi!

- What's going on?
- Come on, then.

Come on, let's go.

Fuck off!

And again! Come on!

No!

- Dave?
- Leave it out, Jim, will you?

- Give us a break.
- I'm sorry, John.

Get in there.

- Dave?
- What?

- What are you doing?
- What do you think?

Oh, yeah.
Where have I seen that face before?

- Are you all right?
- Yeah, get in there, my son.

- Piss off, will ya?
- Sorry.

Shut the door!

What's that daft geezer doing now?

Oi!

- Knock it off.
- Mind where you're going.

Jimmy!

Jim!

Great!

- What is it?
- Oh, my God!

Look at my plants.

Here y'are.

- And the paper.
- Thank you.

- Take that to Mr Phelps.
- Mr Phelps, eh.

- Here y'are...
- You're late.

The letters.

Saw the rushes today, Michael.

- The "people like you" film. And?
- I'd like you to look at them.

- Sure. What's the problem?
- The overall campaign's going well.

- Seen the posters?
- Yes. Gorgeous tart.

The trouble is the clients
are getting over-greedy.

As usual.

They want to corner
the entire youth market.

Cut right across the groupings.

Well, it's all right with As and Bs.

Training professionals, young managers,
graduates, that type of person.

It's Cs and Ds I'm worried about.

A little bit upmarket for them.

I'll have a look at it for you,
with pleasure.

- 2.30 all right?
- Fine.

You don't think this talk of lung cancer
will make any difference?

Oh, no. Young people like it.

They don't worry about that sort of
thing. Glad I gave it up when I did.

Psychopathic, that's what it was.
Making me feel...

Shut up, both of you, and listen to me.

Your next assignment is to get
that swine Sir Thomas Weller.

Weller? Why him?
Are you bonkers? He's the guv, ain't he?

Not any longer...

Where you been?

Fell asleep on the train.
I wound up in bloody Neasden.

Running about on motorbikes all night,
I'm not surprised. It's not normal.

In the middle of
a nice, quiet piece of scenery

and kick him to a pulp.

Oh, yeah? What's normal, then?

Let me do it.
I've got some new boots I can try out.

What's that?

Tonight, I want you to do
a little job for me personally.

Hello, Jim.

Thought I'd just pop by, like.

- You don't mind, do you?
- No, I don't mind. Come in.

Cheers.

- What's the matter, then?
- She's misfiring a bit.

Yeah?

It's your plug.
Got some tools on the bike. Hold up.

I'll go and have a look.

Gis a go at this.

You'll break your leg off that.
No wonder you wear them big boots.

That's the best bike ever made, mate.

I got a ton-five out of that
the other day.

- Sure.
- Better than that poxy hairdryer.

- Oh, yeah?
- Yeah.

Well, that isn't it, is it?

I mean, it isn't the bikes, is it?
It's the people.

And the people who ride these
are states, third-class tickets.

- Do what?
- Well, rockers.

All that greasy hair and dirty clobber.
It's diabolical.

I don't give a monkey's arsehole
about mods and rockers.

Underneath, we're all the same.

Nah, Kev, that's it: I don't want to be
the same as everybody else.

That's why I'm a mod, see. I mean,
you gotta be somebody, ain't you?

Or you might as well jump in the sea
and drown.

That's why I joined the army.

To be different.
To get away from all this.

Don't matter where you go,

there's always some cunt
who wants to push you about.

Run it, please.

Two bob.

I'll see you.

- Three fours.
- No, no, that's bollocks.

- Three of a kind don't beat that.
- It bloody well does!

- Who says?
- I do.

He's right, you know, Harry.

Will you run it, please?

Your deal, Des.

I was late.

She was waiting.
In the wrong place.

And by the time I found her...

Could you get us some of those
French blues, then?

I'll have to see, won't I? I dunno.

You in?

One card. Down and dirty.

Make a mod out of you yet, Harry, eh?

I don't think, though,
they make Levis in your size.

Bollocks.

You and me.

- All right, I'll go.
- Three.

- Two bob.
- For people like you.

- I'm out.
- So am I.

You are a fucking jammy bleeder, Cooper.

You're getting chicken, Des.
Look, I only had an ace.

I gotta go off to Broadwick Street now.

- Take some stuff up there.
- Run that film again, please.

Shall we get out?

Oh, yeah, Des, I don't like to be cruel.
Here y'are, take it all back.

It's yours, you won it.

That's the ten bob I owe you.

Fuck off, I ain't carrying
all that fucking change about.

You take it or leave it, me son.

Take it or leave it.

I'll see you later, Harry. See you, Des.

Mr Cale sent me up to collect
some stuff for Broadwick Street.

Yes. I've been waiting for you
for over an hour.

Yeah.

Come on, hurry up.
That stuff's got to be over there fast.

F-A-S-T.

Watch the cloth, moth.

What a tacky Herbert.

- Do you wanna hear it?
- Yeah.

Number two.

- Oh, boy.
- What you gonna do tonight, then?

Wait for a phone call, I suppose.

- I'll see you later, all right?
- Bye.

Wotcha, Jimmy.
What you doing here, then?

- I was waiting for you.
- Yeah? What for?

- I thought I'd give you a lift home.
- Great.

- Steph?
- What?

- You goin' to Brighton this weekend?
- Yeah. You?

'Course I am. Who are you going with?

Pete's taking me.
It's gonna be good, innit?

Yeah. Good.

You and Pete getting a bit strong, then?

Nah, 'course not.
He's a laugh, that's all.

Bit flash, though, ain't he?

I wouldn't be with him otherwise,
would I?

Nah.

- Suppose not.
- Hey, you jealous?

- 'Course I ain't.
- Nah?

That's a pity, I thought you was.

- It's the technique.
- All right, boys?

What are we gonna do about pills?

If we're going to Brighton,
we're gonna need millions.

I wanna get out of me head for a start.

Wouldn't be too difficult
with your little monkey brain.

Get some rockers out their heads
when we're there, knock 'em off.

- I was thinking about getting a gun.
- Don't talk bloody daft.

Here, I get my suit tomorrow.

Only 'cause
you wanna screw Steph, innit?

Jim!

Hey, hey, hey, hey!

- Get off.
- Get outside.

- We're goin', aren't we?
- Let's go.

Let's go up the Goldhawk, lads.

Look, tomato sauce.
It's all watered down.

The rolls have got scabs on 'em.

Shit.

- Get off it a sec.
- Spider!

Here, look, lads.

- What's up, then?
- Dunno.

- Break down?
- Must be, the brakes are down.

- We'll see you down there, then.
- Ten minutes.

- You'd be better catching a bus!
- We will, then.

- Shit.
- What's the matter with it?

How am I supposed to know
what the matter is?

Oh, shit.

What's the matter?
Your mother's hairdryer blown up?

- Rubber band busted?
- Yeah. Let's fix it.

Let's fix it.

Hold on,
we don't do nothin' for nothin'.

Look, why don't you piss off?
Bloody leave us alone.

Hold on, Lenny,
they don't want our help.

Which one are you? The boy or the girl?
It's hard to tell with you lot.

This one's a bird. Give us a kiss.

Piss off, all right?

Bastards!

This one's the bird!
She got tits!

Let go!

- Spider!
- OK, let's go!

Spider!

So long, sucker!

Fuck off!

Bloody hell.

I've just seen Spider.
He's taken a right kicking.

- What?
- Some rockers have had him.

- He's outside.
- Where?

On the stairs. Come on.

Spider, you all right, yeah?

What's this about rockers
kicking your head in?

- Gonna murder the bastards!
- You lot, come on!

- Come on!
- You stay there, right?

- What are we gonna do?
- Fucking kill 'em!

Right. Are you with me?

- I'm with you.
- They're all going to meet death!

We're gonna fuckin' murder! Murder!

There they fucking are!

Christ!

Fuckin' hell!

'Ave him! Fuckin' 'ave him!

Fucking greaser!

Jim!

You wanted it, didn't you?

No, no, fuck off! Leave him alone!

No, leave him alone!

Where's he going?

All right, run!

- Leg it!
- The fuckin' law will be here!

- What time do you call this?
- I don't know, I haven't got a watch.

Don't come funny, lad.
It's nearly midnight.

Don't worry, I ain't gonna turn
into a pumpkin, am I?

Anyway, you're pissed.

George, what's going on?

Cunt.

I've been sitting up for
more than an hour waiting for you.

- I can do without your clever remarks.
- George.

- Who do you think you are?
- I don't know. You tell me, eh?

You're barmy, you are,
staying out all hours.

Getting up to God-knows-what,
dressing up like a freak.

Stand still when I'm talking to you.

Wouldn't be at all surprised
if you're not on drugs.

I know what you get up to
down that club, you and your mates.

You've gotta be part of a gang, haven't
you? Gotta be a mod, or this, or that.

Haven't you got a mind of your own?

I'll tell you what's wrong with you.
You're schizophrenic.

- What's that, then?
- I'll tell you.

Somebody, like you, who doesn't know
if his mind's over here or over there.

Bloody split personality.

Half your mother's family were the same.

I suppose that's where you get it.

Your Uncle Sid
was always trying to kill himself.

And when he did,
it was a bloody accident.

He never knew if he was coming or going.
Bit like you.

- What happened to him, then?
- He got drowned, didn't he?

Fell down a bleedin' well in the garden.

Go on, get off to bed.

Jimmy?

Jimmy!

Come on, you. You're late as it is.

- Jimmy!
- Don't.

Come on, wake up!

- I'm not well, Mum.
- What?

I can't go to work, I'm not well.

Oh.
Something wrong with your head, is it?

Look at you, lying there
in all your clothes. It's not normal.

I can't stand here. I've gotta get on.

You make sure you go to the doctor
and get a certificate. You hear?

Yes.

Hang on, what about them blokes
Pete's always on about?

What, always got bags of it?

Straight out the back door
of the chemical factory?

It's fucking rubbish.

Sort of bollocks you expect
from that flash cunt.

It's worth a try, though, innit?
I'm gonna pop...

- It's not like you got no work to do.
- All right, George, half a minute.

- I'll pick you up later, all right?
- Yeah, all right.

Do you want a push start?

No, thanks.

Hey, Jim, I'll be on me own bike again
tomorrow, won't I?

I'm getting the scooter back.

- Burn the arse of your rust bucket.
- Any time.

Butch! Jenny! It's all right.

Go on, get back in there.

All right, young Jim. On holiday?

Nah. Just fancied the day off.

You'll be getting like them beatniks.

Ban the bomb
and do fuck all for a living.

You're all right, ain't you?
Just you and your Uncle Charlie.

You don't have to bother
with a load of cunts like I do.

- Well, you know what I mean.
- No, I don't.

If you don't work, you don't get
no money. And I like money.

Pete, what about Brighton this weekend?

What about it?

Pills. Me and Dave thought
you might be able to get hold of some.

Why me? I'm not a fucking pusher.

No, no. But you know some blokes
who are, don't you?

Not me. Charlie's mates.

And I'm not about to start blabbing me
mouth off about mates of Charlie's.

They're fucking big, these blokes.
They don't mess about.

Anyway,
I don't know why you're worrying.

- Ferdy'll have some.
- Ferdy ain't been seen, has he?

He'll turn up. You watch, Friday night
he'll pop up like a jack-in-the-box.

Or a golliwog.

Ain't bloody here, is he?

Cunt. I wonder where he is.

- I don't know.
- This place gives me the shits.

- Bleedin' nig-nogs everywhere.
- Shut up.

It's like bleedin' Calcutta round here.

Calcutta's in India.

West India,
that's where they bleedin' come from.

What's so funny?

- Just who are you looking for?
- Is Ferdy in?

He not here. Him gone out.

Thank you.

- Looking for Ferdy.
- Yeah.

Yeah, yeah.

He's gone out.

Oh... yeah.

Stitchin' me up and all, the bloke.
Fucking...

Peter Fenton?

Peter!

Thanks.

Hello, Peter Fenton. Who is it?

- What d'you wanna ring me up here for?
- Listen, you cunt,

tell us where we can find these blokes
or we're stuck for Brighton.

Yeah, OK. This time.

- Hold this, then.
- What for?

I ain't going in there with me parka on,
am I?

Hey, Jim.

Excuse me.

- What d'you want, son?
- Is Harry North about?

- Who are you, then?
- I've got a message for him.

Hang about a minute, all right?

Come through here. Come through.

Come through.

Over there.

Through here.

That's him over there in the grey suit.

Go on, you're all right. Go on.

What can I do for you, son?

- Me Uncle Charlie.
- Who?

Charlie Fenton, he said...

- Are you Charlie's boy?
- His nephew, yeah.

Oh, his nephew. What's your name, son?

Jimmy.

It's a pleasure and a privilege
to meet any one of the Fentons.

- Now, do you want a drink, son?
- No, thanks.

- I gotta get going soon.
- What can I do for you?

Listen, you can have a talk here.
We're all pals.

- I wanted some pills.
- Oh.

What do you want?
Purple hearts? Blues? Dexedrine?

Some blues. I've got a tenner.

No, not here, son.

Teddy, come here.

This is Teddy. Go for a walk with him
and he'll do the business for you.

- All right.
- Give my regards to your Uncle Charlie.

Pillhead.

Come on, Ronnie.

Come on, Ron!

Tosser.

Chalk...

It's all there.

250 leapers! This'll see us through
till Christmas, eh?

- Show me.
- One for the road, eh?

Come on, hurry up.

That ain't a blue! That's paraffin.

We've been done,
that's my three quid down the drain.

Yeah, and mine!

Let's do the bastard's motor.

Come on.

Get out the way!

Come on! Go!

You on?

Wankers!

Nice.

Give it a shove. Go on, shove it, man.

Nice one.
You're fucking making a racket.

- Do we have to do this?
- Course we do.

We don't wanna leave fingerprints
all over the gaff.

They'll catch us on the smell.

Shut up.

We must be able to find some blues here.

Look at that.

Oh, yes.

- Dave.
- What?

Come here.

Shut up!

- Fucking shut up!
- All right.

This place...

- Here, Jim, I just had a thought.
- What?

- Footprints.
- Footprints. What?

You got lines on the back of your feet.

There must be thousands of pills here.

Or millions.

Nothing's there.
I'm gonna search in there.

I'm putting me socks on. I ain't stupid.

Police!

Hey, lads, look at these.

- Johnnies, hundreds of 'em.
- Chuck us a couple of packets.

- Got something planned for tonight?
- 'Course I have.

Oh! Fucking yellows.

Chalky, what you doing?
Come and give us a hand.

Not taking no chances, am I?

Come on, shut up.
Let's get down to it, eh?

I've found 'em. They're blues.

- I found some blues.
- There's not many.

- Perhaps someone's been nickin' 'em.
- Fucking hell!

Hang on!

Chalky, come on.

Just getting something for me mum.

- I'm dropping all the blues.
- Just get out.

- All right.
- One and tuppence.

OK. And you behave yourself tonight.

I'll try.
I'll try and behave myself tonight.

I'm flying. Terrific, ain't they?

- Did we have it off, or what?
- Just what the doctor ordered.

- We done your chemist tonight.
- You didn't.

I was gonna phone you.

Why didn't you?
I coulda told you where everything was.

Got you a Pepsi.

- And a present.
- What is it?

- You nicked 'em, didn't you?
- You are now handling stolen goods.

Here y'are, I'll give you some more.

Listen,
d'you fancy taking me home later?

What about Pete, then?

I'll worry about Pete.

But if you tell him, I will never, ever
speak to you again, right?

Don't worry, I won't tell him.

And I'm still gonna go down
to Brighton with him.

- Yeah.
- I've said I would, haven't I?

Yeah, I suppose so.

Oh, cheers.

How much d'you get?

Mr Fulford had a few words to say about
your unexplained absence yesterday.

- Like what?
- Like don't do it again.

Unless you want to end up hearing him
read the riot act. I take it you don't.

No, I'd rather be dead, Mr Cale.

All right.

Off you go. You too, Eric.

Have a nice weekend.

It's just the front
I'm a bit dodgy about.

The only way to keep that up
is with lacquer.

- I don't want any lacquer.
- Just a drop.

- Poofs wear lacquer, don't they?
- I wear lacquer.

That's what I mean, innit?

- There y'are.
- Cheers.

My bird'll pull that back for me.

As long as that's all she pulls back.

- Right. Usual miracle?
- Watch the neck.

Plenty of lacquer for him.

You know the hair falls? Down the back.

- Know what I mean?
- All right.

- See you, then, Dan.
- Yeah, cheers, Jim.

- Brighton tomorrow?
- Yeah, see you there.

Mum? Mum?

Where've you put
all them old newspapers?

Are you gonna get my carpets wet again?

No, I've given 'em
a really good wringing out.

They're under the sink.

Gordon Bennett!

What have you got on?

Is this some kind of new fashion
I haven't heard about?

- Sopping wet trousers?
- They're Levis.

Never mind what they are,
they're bleeding wet.

You've gotta shrink 'em on you
so they fit right.

He's definitely getting worse.

- What's this rubbish, then?
- Ready Steady Go!

- Ready what?
- Ready Steady Go!

Ready Steady Go!?

Bunch of louts.

Bloody moron.

I suppose they wear wet jeans
n'all, do they?

Is that how you're supposed to play
a guitar now, then?

Oh, gawd help us.

Here, have you seen this?

I haven't got time for all that rubbish.

I can sing better than that little ape.

Call that singing?

Sounds like a drowned dog.

That'll make you deaf, you know.

Gerry & The Pacemakers
And "Ferry Cross The Mersey".

The Animals are next.
This is Big L 266.

Good morning, it's 6.01,
and here is the news.

After yesterday's session at the
conference, the Colonial Secretary

commented that he hoped for a speedy
transition to independence in Aden.

The Bank Holiday
started in earnest last night,

with thousands of motorists
heading towards the south coast.

Traffic was reported heavy on the A127,
the Southend Road,

and there were jams on the M1
southbound, causing severe delays.

Shopkeepers in Brighton,
fearing a reoccurrence of disturbances

caused by rival gangs in other seaside
resorts, put up shutters last night.

A spokesperson for the shopkeepers
said while they weren't expecting...

- Watch it, Dave!
- I'll burn you off any day, son!

I thought you got that thing fixed up!

Show off!

Oh, shit.

Fuck off!

- Flash pig.
- He thinks he's Davy Crockett.

- Lend us a mirror.
- Piss off!

Chalky.

Hold the bike. Hey, Chalky!

- Chalky, you all right?
- Hey, Chalky!

- Yeah, I'm all right.
- Anything broken?

- No.
- Shame, eh? Shame.

Nah, it looks all right.
Looked good from back there.

Don't take the piss,
I nearly broke me fucking neck.

You look all right.
What we'll do, we'll go and get 'em.

Follow us up.

Told you I'd burn you off any day,
didn't I?

- Hang on a bit.
- Serves you right!

- See you down there.
- Jimmy!

Look at that. That is Brighton, my sons!

Blindin'. T'riffic. All right, lads!

Nice one. Ron!

Brilliant! Ace!

Here they are!

- Let's get down there. Come on.
- What about this? Everyone's here.

- This is great.
- Great. Brilliant.

Hey, look, look, there's Bonzo.

Bonzo!

- So, when did you get down here?
- About half an hour ago.

We left this morning,
before it was light.

- What was it like?
- It was dark, weren't it.

Cor, look at him.

- Don't he look smart?
- Wallop!

Look at the scooter.

That is ace!

So, what happened to you last night?

- That'd be telling, wouldn't it?
- That would be telling, would it?

Chalky.

Thanks for waiting. Bleedin' turd.

Where'd the bird go?

He's doing well.

How many you want?

He's out of his head.

Come on.

- You come up?
- I'm really up there.

Fucking great!

- Greenwich Village.
- Where?

Greenwich Village.
It's a commune in New York.

The geezer with the hair, man.

Oi, Dave.

The one with the hair.
Let's go and watch him.

- Jim?
- I'll see you over there.

Monkey, come and dance.

- All right, there, Steph?
- Hello.

Great dancer, eh?
He must be the Ace Face.

- Good looking.
- You wanna dance with a face?

- All right.
- Come on, then.

See ya.

Come on.

Come on, let's dance over there.

- No, let's dance over here.
- I wanna watch him. Come on.

- Why d'you wanna go?
- I wanna dance. Dance with yourself.

- Look at him.
- What's he think he's doing?

- Right, out the way, son.
- Out the way, come on.

Fuck off.

Oi, bouncers!

Come on, out! You stupid little bastard.

- Could've killed yourself.
- Leave him.

Jimmy!

Monkey!

Get out and stay out.

Bit of a girl, was she?

- Boys, where we going?
- Come on a ride.

No, I'm gonna find somewhere to kip.
You seen Jimmy?

Last time I seen him,
he was getting kicked out.

- Fenton's pulled.
- Don't it make you sick?

Got his sleeping arrangements sorted.

- Chalk, let's ride.
- Nah, we wanna be fresh for tomorrow.

- See you, Dave.
- Cheerio, Spider.

Steph, you coming with us, then?

No, I don't fancy
kipping on dirty floors.

Going to a bed and breakfast, ain't we?

Bye.

I wouldn't say no
to bed and breakfast either.

- I ain't got no dough.
- Not you. Them.

Oh. Yeah, not half.

Can you imagine it?
Legs wrapped round your face.

Fucking amazing.

Bit of all right, is that Steph.

- So where we gonna kip.
- I dunno.

I've got no fucking idea.

What we gonna do? Go back up?

- On the beach.
- Oh, yeah, can you swim?

I don't wanna go to sleep anyway.
Do you?

What d'you reckon?

It's cheap.

It's a bit of a shithouse, innit?

I dunno,
I've never slept in a shithouse.

- What d'you reckon?
- Well...

- Make your fucking mind up.
- Fucking hell.

Sorry. Is there room?

- Fucking hell.
- Sorry.

Who's farted?

Come on, then, let's make a move.

Come on, get a move on.

- I've heard there's a few mods about.
- See you down there.

Fucking hell.

- What d'you want?
- Egg sandwich.

Spider! You shithouse!

Hello, girls. Where's Jim?

He's over there.

How's the human cannonball...

Leave me hair alone, will you, Dave?

We go down this beach hut.
It's dark, right?

We wake up, there's greasers everywhere.
Right, Dave?

Yeah. They was all having a screw
with some bird.

- Bit rough, was she?
- He don't know, he only saw her arse.

Yeah, but that wasn't rough.

Well, apart from the splinters.

One of 'em was the geezer
that rode me off the bike yesterday.

He's on my fucking list. He's dead.

- It's all right if I sit down, then?
- Yeah.

What you got the hump about?

So why are you so humpy?

It's nothing.

Just looking at the sea, that's all.

Oh, Christ Almighty.

Take your feet off the table.

Piss off.

Just watch it, or you're out.

- Where'd you get to, then?
- Nowhere.

I just kipped on the beach.

You're fucking mad, you are,
getting chucked out.

You should have stayed around.
You would've been well in.

- What d'you mean?
- She was there on her Jack Jones.

- Steph?
- Yeah.

Fucking Fenton gets off
with this beatnik chick.

And she's all on her own, ain't she.
I tell you...

I would've been up her
like a fucking ferret.

Well, if I hadn't know that you and her
were so...

So what?
I ain't gone on her, you know.

Leave it out,
everybody knows you fancy her.

I reckon she's a right good bunk-up,
lads.

You animal!

- Hi.
- All right, Steph?

- Great, innit?
- Where's Pete, then?

- I dunno. Don't really care.
- Don't really care. Dave!

Come on.

We are the mods! We are the mods!

We are, we are, we are the mods!

We are the mods! We are the mods!

We are, we are, we are the mods!

- We are the mods!
- Fucking wankers!

We are the mods! We are the mods!

We are, we are, we are the mods!

We are the mods! We are the mods!

We are, we are, we are the mods!

We are the mods! We are the mods!

We are, we are, we are the mods!

That's the geezer that rode me
off the road yesterday.

Let's fucking have 'em!

Shut those fucking doors!

Have him!

Pete, stop 'em!

Get somebody here quick.

What's that? Stop!

Jesus Christ, they've gone... Oi!

Get 'em in here quick.

What's going on here?

Over the edge.

- Jimmy!
- All right!

I was there! The mods! We were there!

Look! Dan did that!

There was a geezer, I tell you,
I went crack!

Crack!

You bastards!

We are, we are, we are the mods!

We are the mods, we are the mods!
We are, we are, we are the mods!

- On my life, he was going...
- Quick!

Fucking hell! Run! Run!

We are the mods, we are the mods!
We are, we are, we are the mods!

Jimmy!

Chalk! Dave!

- We just got some rockers.
- We just done the caff.

- We pushed 'em off a wall!
- What's that on your...

Kill the bastards!

Leave him alone, you dirty rocker!

Oi, what the fuck!

Get out the way!

Come on!

Steph, come on!

Come on.

Come on, Ace!

Christ, the law!

- Leg it!
- Run!

Right, keep them in!

Control those kids.

We are, we are, we are the mods!

We are the mods, we are the mods!
We are, we are, we are the mods!

- Come on!
- Run! Run!

Up here! Come on.

Dogs! Dogs!

Come here. Come here.

Bloody hell.

Here, come on.

Down here.

Come on.

Get onto the footpath!

Get onto the path!

Spider! Come on!

Get off me! I ain't done nothing!

Jimmy!

- Right, get him in here!
- Steph! Steph!

Steph, come on.

Oh, no!

Fuck!

Get off!

All right! All right!

Get off! You cunt.

Cheers.

All right.

Steph, are you all right?

It seems strange to see this procession
of miserable specimens.

So different from the strutting
hooligans of yesterday,

who came here
to pollute the air of this town.

Yes.

These long-haired, mentally unstable,
petty little hoodlums.

These sawdust Caesars,

who can only find courage, like rats,
by hunting in packs,

came to Brighton with the avowed intent

of interfering with the life
and property of its inhabitants.

And so far as the law gives us power,

this court will not fail
to use the prescribed penalties.

It may perhaps discourage you,

and others of your kidney who are
infected with this vicious virus,

that you be ordered
to pay a fine of £75.

I'll pay now if you don't mind.

You haven't got a pen, have you,
Your Honour?

- All right...
- Be quiet!

- Take that man away.
- Silence in court.

James Michael Cooper.

You stay right where you are.

At least I don't have to ask
where you've been this time.

Do you think this is clever?
Proud of yourself?

- No.
- What do you mean no? You was there.

- And them animals you call friends.
- Yeah.

And I suppose you had some more
of this filth with you, didn't you?

You can look shamefaced, my lad.

I've a good mind to get the law on you.
Where'd you get these?

I dunno. Someone gave 'em to me.

Did he?
And of course, you had to take 'em.

- No.
- You've gotta look big.

If he'd said they was rat poison,
you'd have taken 'em,

then gone off like a pack of savages,
ruining everybody's peace and quiet.

I look at you
and I don't know what I brought up.

- Your sister's not like this.
- Ain't she? What do you fucking know?

Drugs and filthy pictures!
Running riot everywhere!

You're a little animal, you are.
You wanna be locked up!

I've done my best, look what
I've got for it! A bloody mad thing!

You're a little savage!

Get out of my house! Go on! Get out!

All right.

You're no son of mine!
Wait till your father comes home.

- Oh, yeah, I'll wait.
- Go on, get out!

Yeah, fuck off!

Who wants to live
in your fucking house anyway?

Come.

The postroom boy.

Be with you in a minute, Cooper.

Absent for a full day last week, Cooper.

Now I understand that one day's Bank
Holiday is not good enough for you,

so you have to take two.

May I inquire
if there's any reason for this?

- Not really.
- Not ill or anything, were you?

No.

Mr Cale tells me that
you spent the weekend in Brighton.

I imagine that you were involved to some
extent in the disturbances there.

Yeah, I was there.

You weren't arrested or detained
or anything, were you?

No.

I must say, I find your attitude
fairly incomprehensible.

I feel I must warn you, Cooper,

that we cannot tolerate this kind of
absenteeism amongst our junior staff.

You've a good steady job here, Cooper.

Plenty of young men'd give
their eye teeth to be in your shoes.

Yeah? Well, find one, then.

- I beg your pardon?
- You heard. I said find one, then.

I'll tell you what you can do
with your eye teeth and your job.

You can take that mail,
and that franking machine,

and all that other rubbish
I have to go about with,

and you can stuff 'em
right up your ass!

Hey, Jimmy.

What did you do?
Lose a shilling and find sixpence?

- Well, look who it isn't.
- Jimmy! I thought they'd locked you up.

Yeah, I got fined, didn't I. Fifty quid.

- Jesus.
- Another good customer bites the dust.

Sorry, but we couldn't
hang around for you.

- We had to get back to our jobs.
- Yeah? Well, I ain't bothered.

I was with Ace and that.

Yeah, we went to court together.

Yeah.

Christ, he's really weird tonight.

I couldn't give a shit.

- Ferdy.
- Jim.

- You got any blues or anything?
- Yeah. How many you want?

Dunno. Well, how many you got?

- A ton. French blues.
- Yeah, I'll have the lot.

- What?
- You can't afford it.

Where'd you get all that, then?

Golden handshake, innit?
Two weeks' money.

Told him to stuff the job
right up his ass, didn't I?

- You sure you want the whole bag, Jim?
- Yeah. Why not, eh? Why not?

All right. A fiver.

A fiver.

What are you gonna do with that lot?

- Start a one-man riot?
- Yeah, I might.

- Jim, why'd you chuck in your job?
- 'Cause I felt like it.

You're bleedin' nutty.

- You was on a cushy number.
- Don't give it all that.

I just got fed up.
Fancied something outdoors.

So do I, eh?

She's not bad, is she?

I found her by the road in Brighton.

Maybe there's some trouble at home.

See you found yourself
a new little boy, then.

Hey, Jimmy. I hope you find a new job.

Oh, yeah?

I could always get you a job
on the rubbish carts.

She says you're good
at going up and down in alleyways.

If I see you round here again
I'll fuckin' kill you!

- Get off me!
- What's the matter with you?

- Cunts! Get off me! You're not a face!
- Piss off!

- You piss off!
- Forget her, Jimmy.

You shut up and piss off!
You're all wankers and cunts!

Wankers and cunts!

- Jimmy! Pack that in and clear off!
- What do you want, you old spunker?

Right.

What d'you want? What d'you want?

I'll have you, you little bastard!

Are you mad? What's the matter with you?
You're worse than he is.

- Go back to bed.
- Come on in.

- You wanna wake the whole street up?
- It's a bit late to worry about that.

If he comes near this house again
I'll kill him.

Do we have to shout about it down here?
Do they all have to know our business?

- Hello, Steph.
- What you doin' here?

- I wanted to see you.
- Well, now you've seen me.

- Wait a minute, will you?
- What you gonna do? Beat me up?

All right, what d'you want?
Walk, I'm late.

Well, I left home last night.

- I kipped out, didn't I?
- In some nuthouse?

Look, I ain't mad, you know.

What is wrong with you, then?

Well, I dunno,

it's just it seems like everything's
going backwards, that's all, Steph.

You sure it's not you
that's going backwards?

No, it's just...

I can't think straight, that's all.

I mean, nothing seems right,
apart from Brighton.

I mean, Brighton was OK.
Going to court with the Ace and that.

And, like, I was a mod there, you know?

- I mean that's something, innit, eh?
- Oh, what are you talking about?

Brighton was a laugh. That's why we
went down. It was a giggle, that's all.

Oh, yeah? And me and you, then?

- Was that just a giggle?
- What do you think?

All right, so I fancied you.
We had it off together.

- But that don't mean nothing, does it?
- It did to fucking me!

Well, I can't help that, Jimmy, can I?

If I'd known
you were gonna go off your nut...

I told you, I ain't fucking mad, right?

No, not much. Look at you.

One minute you're all right,
the next you're going stupid.

You can't even have a bit of the other
without kicking your mate's head in.

Just leave me alone, all right?

- Steph, please.
- Look, fuck off!

You slag! You cunt!

Bastard! Slag!

What the bloody hell you doin'?

We could've killed you.

Look at this.

Oh, fucking look what you done!

- You cunts!
- Roll the van back, mate.

You've killed me scooter! Fuck off!
Leave it alone, get off it!

- Fuck off!
- Dent in it...

Take it easy.

Fucking leave it alone.

Get off! Get off it!

There it is, on the floor now.

- You're lucky you ain't been killed.
- I'm fucking lucky, am I?

- Course you are.
- You're a bastard.

- I didn't see you.
- Fuck off! Go away!

Fifteen years of driving,
I've never had an accident.

Never had a fucking accident.
You got me! Why didn't you kill me?

All of you fucking Mr Postmen!
Fuck off!

- Come on, let's do our report.
- Fuck off!

Fuck it!

Fuck it!

Come along, lad, what's been keeping
you? Get a move on with those cases.

Bell boy!

Me!