All language subtitles for Awaydays.LIMITED.DVDRip.XviD-DMT

Are you ready, Dad?

Yeah.

- I'll catch you up.
- OK.

Sorry, Mum.

I can't wait
to get into these today, boys.

Fuck off. Don't be tight.

- Yeah, eh, boys?
- Get some gear in there, will you?

- Got my fucking kung fu kit.
- Marty!

Fuck's that, you beaut?

Do one, you.
Prescription only, this gear.

Sent me granddad to his box.

Fucking good swill. Get you right
out of your tree, that will, lad.

- Baby.
- What you playing at, Marty?

- Are you going soft, Baby lad?
- We want to be able to drink it.

- Tastes like fucking granny minge.
- You'd fucking know, you sick cunt.

'How long had I
been waiting for this day?

'How long had I wanted this? '

You can sack that. Need to keep
your wits about you, where we're going.

You know the score, John.
Pack punch, it puts a tiger in our tank.

What for? We're not fucking Geordies.

Need to keep your wits about you,
Billy la, stay sharp.

Sit down.

Who's that cunt?

Carty. My name's Carty.

Tell you what, Carty,
you best fucking stand.

Got no room for runners
in this firm, son.

Know where you are. Now fuck off.

Think he's with Elvis.

- Where is Elvis?
- Fuck knows.

Owlroodi-doodi, Cartykins!

How's the old arse bearing up?

Dear me, Cartypants! Where
will it end, eh? Where will it end?

'Where did it start? '

Aaah! Aaah! Aaah!

All right, coming through.

- Fuck are you staring at?
- Nothing.

That's right, knobhead, nothing.
You never seen fuck all, get me?

Ponce.

- Who's that young buck?
- No one.

- Here.
- Cheers.

So?

- What do you reckon?
- You look like Dad.

This is what they wear.

Who do? The local anglers' club?

The Pack.

- Fuck you staring at, you prick?
- Nothing.

- What the fuck are you looking at?
- Come 'ead, Baby, leave him.

This cunt fucking wants it.

Look at the twat.

What the fuck
you wearing that jacket for, lad?

- Everybody wears 'em.
- You don't, you tit.

- Give us your jacket.
- No.

I'm not messing, lad.
Give us your fucking jacket now.

Your mates are gone.

Next time, lad.

Oi! Wait up!

- Hi, Dora. Busy night?
- No, it's still early.

- What d'you reckon to that, then?
- Sound, that.

- You all right?
- All right, mate.

Know your face, like.
You go the game, don't you?

- That was sound, mate. Nice one.
- Oh, yeah?

So can I get you boys a bevvy, then?

Listen, I'm gonna have to get off,
help the lads with the gear.

- How come you know him, like?
- I don't really. Bit of a tit.

Joking, aren't you?
Fucking cool dude, him, la.

Used to go to college with him.
Not college. Art school, like.

You went to art school? Jammy twat.
They turned me down, like.

But don't get me wrong, they loved
me work. The quallies fucked it up.

Mate, you didn't miss much.
Just a bunch of divvies in raincoats.

That's what I wanted to be,
a divvy in a raincoat.

Anyway. Elvis.

Carty. I'm Carty.

So what you drinking, Carty la?

Right, sound, mate.
I'll have a rum and black, thanks.

Rum and black, eh?

Think I'll have one of them.

Wrong trainies, like.

Excuse me...

Ta.

So, I mean,
how come you was on the gezzy, like?

They're my mates from art school,
aren't they?

The lads I knock around with...

The Pack?

- You what?
- The Pack. I seen you, remember?

That weren't me, mate.

But that fight at the footy...

That weren't me.

Look, Carty.

They're baddies, that lot.
Yeah? Take it from me.

Nice lad like you doesn't want to be
playing out with naughty boys like that.

Trust me.

Come 'ead.

Fucking lemon.

- Here you are, lad!
- Fucking hell, lad!

What the fuck are you doing?

It's fucking gorgeous, that.

- What?
- The sea, you div.

I'd love to get off, I would.

Where?

Anywheres. Berlin.

- Berlin?
- Just... just anywhere.

Out of here.

Out of this.

Wouldn't you?

Big sky, man.

I'm serious. 'New Dawn Fades' on low.
Noose around the neck.

Off we jolly well pop.

- Well, this is me, mate.
- All right.

- Have you got far to go?
- Nah, just down the road.

Big sky, man.

'I was in with Elvis.
Elvis and the Pack.

Fags, man. Fucking sound, get me?

Fuck off, you.

Oi!

You dickhead!

Shit.

- Arlrood.
- All right. All the lads here.

- Any Huddersfield?
- Not yet, like, no.

Be a scrap later, though, yeah?

Look, mate,
I've grown out of all that shit.

Yeah, looks like it and all. Have you
told the Pack you've jibbed 'em?

- It's different for me.
- I know it is.

Look, I mean it, kidda.
They're a gang of pricks.

Just look at Godden. Do you know
how old that cunt is? He's fuckin' 30.

The cunt's got about six kids,

and he's organising the Pack
like he's still in the fucking army.

- Just let me stand with you.
- No, mate, I can't. I'm sorry.

- Why not?
- Because, my friend, they won't let you.

- How come, like?
- Because they don't fucking know you.

That's how come.

Tell you what, though.
You doing anything tomorrow?

Do you want to go to Probe?

- You want to go to Probe?
- Deffo.

Mooch around town, just you and me.
Be a laugh.

- OK.
- Sound.

I'll meet you outside at 2:00.

- Owlroodi-doodi, Cartykins.
- I was about to do one then.

The road to hell is paved
with good intentions, Carty.

Come 'ead.

- This can't be genuine.
- What is it, like?

Bowie live in Santa Monica. It's the only
recording of him doing 'My Death'.

Bootleg, like,
but it's usually 25 rips. 5.50.

- What?
- I'll get it for you.

- Behave! It's a fiver.
- What's a flim between hombres?

So we go in the Masquerade. Eugene
is snogging Heidi, and who walks in?

- No!
- I coulda died.

- Excuse me.
- I'm like, "Swallow me up."

- Hideous.
- Excuse me.

Hideous, sweetcakes? I'm like, "Am I
seriously witnessing this car crash?"

Hey, Bela Lugosi. Are we gonna get
some service here or what?

Ask nicely.

Ooh, the Bowie bootleg.
Aren't you the subversive one?

5.50. Just call it a fiver.

- Thank you muchly.
- Fucking hell, Carty la!

- I didn't think you had it in you.
- Well, you don't know me, do you?

Welcome to Hades.

So this is chez Elvis, eh?
Cool gaff, la.

We aim to please.

Fuck's that?

It's an everyday reminder
of the absurdity of life.

And the absolute certainty of death.

- Fucking hell. What are these?
- Forest Hills.

Where did you get 'em?

Curiosity killed the cat, Cartypants.

- Never even seen these in the shop.
- You wouldn't.

- How much, like?
- Not for sale, la.

- Come on, EI.
- Haven't got your size.

- How do you know?
- I just know.

Now, skin up.

Don't exactly fancy getting stoned.

What he really meant
was he couldn't swim.

Don't talk soft.
Some of us have got work tomorrow.

Ah, Carty,
you don't know the half of it, you.

Don't know what you mean, mate.

You, my handsome friend,
have got it all, haven't you?

- You have choices.
- Right, let me guess.

You, the poor underprivileged council
estate wastrel, you're fucked.

- In one, Lucky Jim.
- Bullshit.

You may not know it yet,
but it is how it is.

Is it? Still can't go to the game with
you and the Pack. No choices there.

Oh, mate, just leave it out, yeah?

Take it from one who knows.
You do not belong there.

Right. And that mong in the parka,
he's not even from round here.

- Robbie?
- Yeah, him.

He may be a bit of a subby,
Robbie, but he's our subby.

D'you know? He belongs.

Right, ta. Now I know.

- Really means that much to you?
- Yeah.

Of all the good and wondrous things
we could do together,

you'd rather go fighting with a bunch
of knobheads from the Woody?

More than you could ever imagine.

- OK, then.
- You'll take me?

Birkenhead North.
Twelve bells. Saturday.

- Saturday?
- Er... yeah, Saturday, like.

It's generally when
footy matches happen, d'you know?

Got you.

- Who's that cunt?
- Carty. My name's Carty.

Youse all ready?

- You ready?
- I fucking am.

- All right. Get them together.
- Come on, boys.

- Stick together, lads.
- We're fucking here, boys.

It's rock'n'roll,
and no fucker better bail.

- Stick together. No noise.
- Ahh!

Whoa, whoa, whoa!

Slow down. Fucking walk, will youse?

Make sure you're in there, you ponce.

- What?
- You fucking know.

Stick together, you hear me?

Fucking told you, didn't I? Knew
they wouldn't show, the shithouses.

Hey, you fucks! Where's your scarves,
you gang of homos?

Fucking go through these queers easy,
boys, yeah?

I love it when they say that.

Go through these queers easy,
boys, yeah?

Go through these queers easy!

Fucking stand. Stand, you wankers!

You're fucking nothing, dickhead!
Get through him!

Fucking baldy prick!

Come on!

You fucking bastards!

You fucking bastards!

Well?

- Oh, yeah. Shit. Sorry, Moll.
- Forget it.

Look, just stop and think, will you?

Look, Molly, I... I completely forgot.

Try and think
what all this is like for me.

- Look, I'm sorry about last night.
- It should be me apologising.

It's just been tough all round, eh?

It has. I've been bloody useless,
but I'm gonna make it up to you.

Oh, yeah?

How?

If I was to say it was payday
on Friday, I'd be saying too much.

Oh, really? Honestly, Pug, you gonna
take me shopping? Where? Where?

Where do you want to go?

Chester. I want to go shopping
in Chester. How much have I got?

Just have to wait and see
how generous I'm feeling.

...Thursday, you know, it's...

Yeah, I know that, but it's Tuesday
now, you know? All right, then.

Well, do your best, yeah? Okey-dokey.

I will.
All right, ta-ra now.

Ta-ra.

Oh, shit!

Make it a round flim, Bob?

I don't know if it's me getting old,
but the bourgeoisie is expanding.

Don't know what you mean.

You should do. You're one of them.
Classic fucking petite bourgeoisie.

- Me?
- Like I say. You're my sister's son.

Oh, aye? How come, like?

In life, lad,
we fall into only two groups.

Those who determine
their own futures...

Round one. And those who sit around
waiting for it to happen to them.

Right, here we go.

Oh, shit.

You should be punching your
fucking weight, start you've had.

You sound like fucking Elvis.

Is existential bullshit
on the syllabus at Woody Comp?

You got a talent. Use it. Don't end up
like me. That's all I'm saying to you.

Don't end up like your Uncle fucking Bob
filling forms all your life.

Look at the state of 'em, eh? Poor
so-and-so's can hardly fucking wait.

Barely into December, and they're
already wishing fucking Christmas on us.

Summer holiday and the Christmas
piss-up. That's all they've got.

Huh! And they spend all year
planning it as well.

Huh!

Eh?

No, you don't.
Not this time you don't, lad.

Just letting fate take its course.

I'm telling you, kid, no. No way.

You've had more time off work
than you've been in work.

Yeah, well,
welcome to the petite bourgeoisie.

No. What are you doing?

No, no. Please.

Do you think you can just
walk in here and fuck me?

I'll call the police.

No, no. You bastard!

So how's my little wage slave?

The ladies love a man in a suit.

- I'm sure they do.
- The one I just porked did.

Porked? Where are you from again?

I've had some mad ones in my time
but this one was past kinky.

Fucking telling you, EI, it was sick
what she wanted me to do to her.

Berlin.
Serious about going, then, kidda?

Sit down. Just finish this.

Ten bobs?

- Do they work?
- "Do they work?"

State of you, Carty la!

- You don't know nothing, do you?
- All right, EI, I was only asking.

D'you know what I mean? Think before
you start making such a cunt of yourself.

D'you know?

Just learn, will you?

Know when to speak.

- And when to shut the fuck up.
- Fuck off.

- What?
- Get off my fucking back.

All right. Fucking hell.
I'm just saying...

Well, don't just say.
I get your drift so just leave it, yeah?

Peace... la.

Like, you can do what you want
when you're with me. You get me?

But when you're with them, if you
want that crew to take you seriously,

you can't keep on making such a twat
of yourself, eh, d'you know?

"Do they work?"

I said leave it.

When we going Chester?

I told you a hundred times,
sweetheart, payday. Friday.

Are you gonna meet me from school?

Better not tell Emily Bell.
She badly wants to go out with you.

Get some kip, snotface.
I'll see you in the morning.

Mm-hm.

Christmas spends.

- There you go.
- So what you got planned, lad?

Taking our Molly out shopping.
Birthday treat.

Good lad. About time too.
Cracking young girl, that sister of yours.

For once, Uncle Robert,
I can't disagree with you.

I'll see you Monday morning. And
remember, we all have inner potential.

Live each moment
like it's a precious gift.

Come on, lad.

- Thought I'd finished with you?
- No.

Want to see the face on you, lad.
Priceless. Fucking hell.

No, mate, it's nothing like that.
I'm made up to see you.

Good. Very pleased I am to hear it, too.
Come.

No, mate, I can't. Not today.

What d'you mean, you can't? You can
do whatever you want. I've told you that.

No, mate. It's my sister's birthday
and I'm taking her out.

So? We won't be gone long.

Mate! Where you going?

That's boss, that, eh?

- What?
- Being a sailor, like.

Just getting off whenever you feel like it.

Be a bit fucking boring, like, just seeing
the ships and the sea day after day.

- That's you all over, that.
- What is?

I don't know.
There's no romance in you.

D'you know, when we get off,
when we go to Berlin...

- Eh?
- You didn't mean it.

- EI...
- You said it, though.

- Why say it, if you never meant it?
- Elvis, I just didn't mean now.

That's fucking criminal, that, la.

Father Christmas? Necking?

That's just wrong.

- Mate, I'm gonna do one.
- Have a drink.

One bev. Then you can go.

- Say something?
- Come, come. Be not of meagre cheer.

'Tis the season to be jolly.

Ho-ho-ho.

- Is it?
- Yeah.

You better jolly well ask your mates
for two front teeth, then.

Come on, Elvis!
Leave it, fucking hell! Fuck!

You mad crazed sex-pest bastard!

Santa Claus, my arse!

See what you've done? You...

- Here, let's have a look.
- Mate, I've really got to go.

- I'll make you a cuppa.
- Mate...

I said, let me make you a cuppa.

Your sister'll forgive you, Carty.

Family always do.

Blood brothers, Carty.

You and me.

Please.

- What?
- Hold my hand.

Mate...

It's OK. I knew you wouldn't.

- Elvis, I just...
- I just! It's just! Don't "just"!

Don't "just", Carty!

Don't. D'you get me?

Yeah, that's right! Just fuck off out
of my flat! I'm better off without you!

Me, too.

Fuck! Fuck!

Shit. Shit.

Here you are, grab that.

Fix your laces. Come on.

- Hi, Carty lad.
- John.

- Where have you been?
- Elvis's.

- You two weirdos ready for tomorrow?
- Yeah, it's gonna be mad, eh?

Fucking right, lad.
Gonna be a big one.

We'll need all the boys for this one.
Got to get all the lads together, huh?

This fucking firm, they're no dickheads.
They don't fuck about.

- Can you handle that?
- Me?

Relying on you, Carty son.

Need someone I can trust.
No runaways, eh?

- Yeah, right, John. Yeah.
- Yeah?

- Up for it?
- Yeah.

- Deffo?
- Yeah, deffo.

Right, let me see a smile, then.
It's nearly Christmas.

- All right. Here tomorrow, ten bells.
- Yeah, great.

Yeah.

Come on, boys. See you later, lad.

See you later.

- Morning.
- You enjoy yourself last night?

- Look, Moll, I got caught up at work.
- Save your excuses. I'm not interested.

Here you go, Dad.

You going the match today?

Or are you gonna take me shopping
like you said you would?

Look, Moll, I promise you. Straight
after school on Monday, me and you.

- We'll go shopping, I promise.
- Forget it. It's too late.

Police are expecting trouble.

- Really?
- Says here.

You want to watch yourself
with that lot, son.

Starting to get
a very nasty reputation.

I know.

Didn't think you'd be coming.

Well, I'm here, aren't I?

Fucking hell, eh, Cart?
What a gang of fucking beauts!

- Fuck knows why we bother, eh?
- Good lads, these, EI.

Oh, and you'd know, wouldn't you?

Can't resist, can you?
Can't stop yourself.

- What? Stop what?
- Reminding me I'm a dickhead.

Well, maybe I'm not as big a divvy
as you think I am.

Aye aye, lads! Fucking hell.

Sorry about that, love. How much
do I owe you? How much for that lot?

We are evil!

We are evil! We are evil!

- What are you?
- We are evil!

We are evil!

We are evil!

- Twat some Woollybacks!
- We are evil!

- What?
- We are evil!

- No fucking runners here!
- We are evil!

We are evil!

We are evil!

We are evil!

We are evil!

We are evil!

We are evil!

Fucking come 'ead!
Come on, you fucking knobs!

Come on! Fucking come on!
Fucking come on!

Come on! Come on!

Come on, then! Fucking come 'ead!

Aah!

Come on, then! Come 'ead!

Come on! Come on!

Fuckin' love ya, ya cunt!

We are evil!

Go on, Looney Tunes,
get that down you, lad. Go 'ead.

We are evil!

We are evil!

We are evil!

We are evil!

We are evil!

We are evil!
We are evil! We are evil!

Robbie!

Come here, lad.
Let's go and have a well-earned pint.

Down the Pelican, then, eh, boys?
Victory celebration and that.

Nice one, John. Deffo.

- There you are, Superman.
- "Nice one, John."

- What?
- Fuck off.

- What?
- We was going to see Dalek tonight.

Be a laugh, though, down the Pelican.

Fuck off. You been the Pelican?

- But it'll be a grin, man. All the lads...
- Oh, for...

All the lads!

Fucking state of you, Carty.

Come 'ead, youse two!
Pair of weirdos.

Come 'ead!

Make-your-mind-up time, Carty.

Go, go, go, go,
go, go, go, go, go, go!

Good boy! Still undefeated!

Get up to the fucking bar.

Go on.

Three more pints, please.

Hello, handsome.

You all right?

Now, then. You don't keep ferrets
down there, do you, lad?

Dream on, you mong. As if!

- Want a rematch? Want a rematch?
- There you go again.

Wait, on three!
On three, on three! One, two...

Do I look like
a fucking smackhead to you?

You know what I mean, you prick.
No smackheads.

Do you understand me? You're worse.

You're fucking selling them the shit.
No smack.

But it's all right for Elvis, though.

What's he on about?

- You all right, love?
- Had you. Fuck off.

It's not for me. There's a new lad.

Where will it end?

Where will it end?

Do you want to go for a little walk?

Yeah, OK.

Go 'ead, lad! Fill your boots!

Get back to your kids, eh, Godden?
Before I tell them how little your dick is.

What are you fucking laughing at?
You little floppy-fringed fuck.

Think that's funny?

Come 'ead, then.
You should be well hard by now.

My fella's back 11:00 on the dot.

Nice cock, lad.

Oh! You dirty get!

Spunk all over me black kecks!
What am I gonna tell him?

Didn't even get it in!

Look at that, eh?
Spunked all over her fucking kecks!

He didn't even get a gobble!

Give me a hand, go on!

You dirty bastard!

Big sky.

Ah, that's brilliant, that is, lad.
She'll be made up.

Hope so, mate.
I've got some making up to do.

Ah, well, at least you realise that now,
eh? It's a start.

- Could you not go back to it?
- I don't know.

You've got a real gift there, kid.
Your ma'd be proud of you.

Oh, aye, yeah. Aren't I everything
she wanted me to be, eh?

Don't make the same mistakes I did.

I was coming here for six months
to get some bread together.

That was 27 fucking years ago.

Hey, just... you know, work out
what's important in life. And who.

I will, Bob. I will.

Elvis!

Fuck me sideways with a tickling stick!

Lord Cartykins, as I live and breathe!
To what do we owe the pleasure?

Got a little surprise for you.

- You're not having me on?
- Nope.

- We're on the gezzy, you and me?
- That we are, my friend.

Is right!

This more of your bohemian crew,
is it? The ones I never meet?

Now, now, Mr Elways.
It's nice to be nice.

Fucking sound!

This is fucking better, this, Carty.

- What you having?
- You know the score, kid.

Rum and black, times two.

All right, Tash.
Never knew you come here.

- Never knew you did.
- Oh, aye. We're on the gezzy, like.

- Who's she?
- Just some rip from by ours, mate.

- She's fucking amazing.
- You wouldn't think that if you knew her.

Know what I'm saying? Come 'ead.

Jesus Christ, Carty.

- Get on fucking Cruella.
- Fucking hell. She's magnificent.

You, Mr Carty,
are one bad head-the-ball lad.

Never had one of them
Probie types before. Have you?

You're joking, aren't you?
She looks like a manic panda. Urgh.

See them two?
They're talking about us.

- Really?
- They can't make it any more obvious.

- Look like a pair of quegs.
- Oh, behave!

Telling you, girl. Pound to a penny,
them two are chutney ferrets.

- You all right?
- Cool as the Fonz.

- I'm Carty.
- Elvis. Nice to meet you.

Oh. Just had a piss. Mwah!

- Give us one of them lighters.
- Please.

- Please.
- Sonya?

- Hiya.
- Carty. Pleased to meet you.

- Ta.
- Ta.

- You mean the lighter?
- I want the lighter.

- Cheers.
- Enchant�.

Fancy coming to a bat cave?

- All right. Do you want one?
- I was waiting for you to ask.

- Sorry.
- Light it for me, please.

Come here.

And we have light.

Hey, is this your bat cave?

Build up, Carty.

Bit out of it, la.

Listen, sexy.
Hoping to lose money on you tonight.

Ever seen this done before?

- Carty?
- No, not right now, mate.

- Not right now?
- I will.

I weren't asking you.
Come 'ead, Carty.

Come with us, man.
Come see the stars.

You'll fucking love it.

You will fucking love this gear.

Nah.

Why?

- Not for me, man.
- What you on about? It's gorgeous.

It's fucking heaven. Come with us.

Not into it, mate.

I'm not fucking into it, you quilt!

I'm not on it,
but I've got some here and it's good.

You won't, will you?

Choices.

We all have choices.

What?

It's not just the likes of him,
you know?

- I don't know what you're on about, lad.
- Don't sweat on it, babe. Just know it.

Yeah?

There's a way. For all of us.

I know, yeah.

I'm doing it.

- Yeah?
- Yeah.

I'm gonna do it.

I'm deffo gonna do it.

Couldn't be more pleased for you, kid.

Now, are you gonna bang me, or what?

He won't.

Can't you sleep neither?

Looks like neither of us got
what we wanted, then, eh?

Hang on, hang on.

Dirty cunts.

Your tickets.

- Billy.
- Here he is!

- Didn't think you'd come, Carty.
- You brought plenty of tissues, mate?

Here you are, get a ticket.
Give him a ticket.

Tell you what, Carty la,
you want to get yourself checked out.

That fucking Janie gives out more doses
than a traffic warden gives out tickets.

Oh, aye, John? Done your fair share
of time in the Q clinic, have you?

Once or twice, lad. Once or twice.

What do you want,
you fucking little drug-dealing gobshite?

It ain't personal, it's business.

It fucking is personal. I don't want you
fucking selling drugs round here.

So let me tell you now.
No fucking smack. D'you get me?

He dishonours me
in front of my family!

And for that, no way back.

So go 'ead,
you never even got it in, no?

Not her, John, but I had no problem with
the old breaking and entering last night.

Eh, Elvis?
Not for some of us at least.

What's all this, then, Elways, eh?

Not sure Elvis has got that much
to tell you there, boys. Get my drift?

Not unless you're into short stories.

What posh arse is trying to tell youse is
he goosed a pair of skates last night.

While you was on the nod,
you useless twat.

Oh, what are you gonna do
about that, Elvis lad?

Fucking hell, Elvis, you're not, er...
turning arse on us all, are you?

Ah, come on, mate.
I was only having a laugh.

Fucking come 'ead!

Fucking come on!
These cunts want to fucking know!

Come on, you cunts!
Come on, you sheep-shagging cunts!

You're nothing! You're nothing!
Come on, you cunts!

Come on,
you fucking bastards!

You soft fucking Wools, come on!

Come on! You're fucking nothing!

You're fucking nothing!
Come on, you cunts!

- Come on! Come on!
- Oi. Oi. Hey.

Here. Come here.

Who the fuck do you think you are?

Don't you fucking ever say that again
or I'll fucking kill you, you dickhead.

Come on!

# With a three-star jumper
Halfway up his back

# He's a fucking Woollyback!
Woollyback!

# There's a Woolly over there
Over there!

# And he's wearing underwear
Underwear

# With a three-star jumper
Halfway up his back

# He's a fucking Woollyback!
Woollyback!

What's the matter, Carty?

Thought you'd be off with the lads,
having a fucking grin.

You're fuck all without me, you ponce.

Take us home, will you?

You going anywhere near ours?

Come on, get in.

So, what did he tell you about me?

Doesn't matter.

So what's the holiday got in store
for Wirral Comp's wildest girl?

Hey, you! I am not boring.

It's just...

Well, you know how it is. My two
special boys have to come first, OK?

That's all very well and good,
but you need to get out more, sis.

Do you want to know the sum total
of my social offers this holiday?

Go 'ead.

The Caldy Rugby Colts piss-up.

You should go.

Will Harnault and the massed ranks
of the Heswall Young Conservatives?

I tend to think not, thanks.

You should go.
You've no idea what a grin you'll have.

It's what Ma would've wanted.

- But what will Cinders wear to the ball?
- Money, money, money.

That's all you think about.

- Bevvy, lad?
- Don't know. I'm trying to give it up.

Give up at Crimbo?
You off your head or what?

I'm getting my head together.

Might even go back,
finish my foundation course.

Are you messing?

Lad, I'm made up for you. It's the best
bit of news I've heard in a long time.

Right, then,
we're definitely drinking to that.

If you insist, then.

- Only cos you've got no mates.
- You cheeky...

Berlin.

- Who's your girlfriend, lad?
- No one.

- State of his hair!
- State of her! Move your hand.

Why do you read these magazines?

Ta-da!

Wow, honey! You look amazing!

Oh, thanks.

So go on.
What do you think of your sister, then?

Wow. You want to watch yourself,
young lady.

I have no intention of coming home
until I've had at least 17 gin and tonics

and been ragged senseless
on the bonnet of a mini.

- Just have a good time. And behave.
- I will.

Now, then, you.

Doubts have been raised by one Mark
"Elvis" Elways about your sexuality.

Completely unfounded.

Hello, sexy.

- Please, Will.
- Come on.

Will!
Will, I've tried telling you nicely.

Nicely?
She's tried telling me nicely!

Look, just shove off, will you?

Feisty. You weren't saying that
when I was buying you a drink.

I said yes to the drink
to get rid of you!

I didn't know
you were gonna stalk me all night.

Hard luck, Casanova!

I think somebody needs to teach
that young lady some manners.

Whoa, here we go!

Come 'ead, Robbie! Do your robot, la!

Come on!

Here we are.

Emergency, emergency.

Better.

It had to be Robbie, though, eh?
You know he's not all there.

Behave. Look at him.
Lad's fucking loving it.

Here we go!
Lubrication for the patient!

It was a cunt's trick, that.

Fuck off, John. Everything's
a fucking cunt's trick with you.

- It's funny how it's always you, though.
- Fuck you, you squaddie cunt.

What did you say, shitehawk?

Nothing personal, Johnno.

Boys.

John? John?

John? Someone's fucking stabbed him.

- Aren't you gonna get that?
- Be fucking carol singers, won't it?

Pug! Pug!

- Shit.
- Pug!

- Oh!
- Jesus, Moll!

- Baby, what's happened?
- I had a grin.

Here.

Sit down.

- I'll get her some water, eh?
- Molly?

Moll? What's happened?

The boys. Will and that.

Who's Will?

From the rugby club.

Those rugby cunts!

Where are you going?
You can't leave her like that.

Stay with her. I won't be long.

- D'you know where Will is?
- I think he's over there.

Which one of youse is Cunt?

'Are you all right? '

'Me? It's not me
you should be worrying about.'

Well, I am worried.

Who do you think I done all this for?

I don't know, Pug. You tell me.

'You're my sister.

'Do you honestly think I'm gonna let
these pricks do that to my sister? '

'That's the burning question,
isn't it? '

Baby,
when are you gonna stop all this?

'Soon.'

Fucking hell!

If it ain't the return
of the magnificent Carthorse!

Hold on there, you nutter.

Jesus.

I've missed you, you cunt.

Missed you, too, mate.

Jesus.

Most impressive... la.

Impressive.

So...

What happened?

That's what I wanted
to talk to you about.

This is the thing, la, and your Uncle EI's
only being a buddy to you now, yeah?

But how it stands, like,

the lads are far from being sure
about the enigmatic Professor Carty.

D'you know what I'm saying? He comes,
he goes. No one really knows him.

The jury is definitely out on the Carty
question, especially now JG's gone.

- Godden?
- Gone 'un.

- Where to?
- Where...? You divvy. Baby done him.

- Fuck, he's bad, like?
- Bad? He's fucking dead, amigo.

Brown fucking bread.

Fuck me. Has Baby been nicked?

Nicked? Behave.

Oh, Christ. John Boy Godden, eh?

Indeedy. It's like I'm telling you.

You're not gonna have him
to back you up.

I've got you. Look,
if I could do it by myself, I would...

Carty. My little angel.

Fuck me! Where will it end?

Where will it end?

Look, I'll see what I can do.

But no promises.

All right, lads?

So this is Cartyville, eh?

This is where it all happens.

Come 'ead, lads.
They're all in there.

Just up the road, eh?

Come on, man or mouse? Come on,
man or fucking mouse? Come on!

- Do it!
- Huh-huh-huh-huh!

- Oh, you fucking dick!
- Jesus! Bastard!

Tits like fucking melons.

- Let me explain.
- No need for introductions.

Man or mouse, Will?
Man or fucking mouse?

- Cunt! Fucking yuppie cunt!
- Calm down, lads. Enough's enough.

En... enough?

- Oh!
- What's enough?

What the fuck are you looking at?

You fucking rapist cunt!

You saw fuck all, get me? Get me?

Uh!

Elvis?

Elvis?

Elvis, mate, what's the matter?

Come 'ead, EI.

- That's it, now, isn't it?
- That's what?

That's us now, isn't it?

Elvis, mate,
I don't know what you mean.

Yeah, you do.

EI? Look, Elvis la, I'm made up with you
for helping us out tonight, and I owe you.

- Fucking no.
- Yes, I do!

Look, Carty.
You don't owe me nothing.

Please be seated.

Jesus said, "I am the resurrection
and I am the light.

"He who believes in me,
though he die, yet shall he live.

"And whoever lives and believes in me
shall never die."

- All right?
- Yeah, mate. Glad I made the effort.

- Stay.
- Why?

I'm just asking, like. Will you...
will you stay with us for a while?

Sure.

Just certain things, like.

Certain things have to be said.

- Yeah?
- Yeah.

- Will you take confession from us?
- What?

- I mean it. Will you?
- But the priest is probably still here.

No, no. Will you?

Will you hear my confession?
That's what I'm asking.

Please.

Like I'm saying,
certain things need to be said.

Course I will, EI.
Course I'll hear you.

Elvis?

We could have done it.

You and me, Carty.

Elvis...

He loves you.

I can't hear you, EI.

- Elvis, mate?
- He loves you.

Who does, Elvis?

You?

He always did, like.

Elvis...

Come with us, Carty.

Where, Elvis? Where?

Anywhere.

- Please.
- Mate, I can't. It's just not that simple.

- What about the game?
- Mate, I don't know. The lads...

Forget the lads!
Just you and me, Carty.

You and me.

- No, mate, I can't. I'm sorry.
- Please.

Please, Carty.

Come the game tomorrow.

And then we're done.

Yeah...

Sound.

Elvis?

Elvis?

Big sky.

He loves you.

'He loved you.'

He always did.

One last awayday.

Carty! Get on!

'Here we go, then.

'This is it, Carty la. This is it.

'How long had I been waiting
for this day?

'How long had I wanted this?

'Should've seen it.

'Should have seen it coming
a long time ago.'

Ponce!

'But when you're dazzled...
well, you're blinded, aren't you? '

'How long had I wanted this?

'How long had I been waiting
for the day?

'Out of here.

'Out of this.'