All language subtitles for Burnistoun s02e05.eng

This programme contains adult humour.

Ca-caow! Ca-caow!

Ca-caow! Ca-caow!

Ca-caow! Ca-caow!

Ca-caow! Ca-caow!

So, there WAS actually
another hunter.

Ca-caow!

Ca-caow!

Come on, doll.
You and me up the dancing.

No, I said. I've got a boyfriend.

Well, where is he? I don't see him.

You heard the lassie.

Doberman Man. Oh, my God.

This is so cool. Doberman Man.

My arch nemesis -

big Sonny Dolan's boy.

You don't change,
do you, Doberman Man?

You still got a baldy
wee acorn in your pants?

That wee acorn has become an
extremely hairy oak, my old enemy.

I bet you're still
a virgin, but, eh?

I suggest you walk away from this
situation before things turn ugly.

See, he's not even
answering the question.

He's still a wee VL,
wee virgin lips.

I've got a girlfriend,
actually. Who?

You wouldn't know her.
She stays up my granny's bit.

She stays up my granny's bit.
Aye, ding-dong, wee man.

Ow! What was that?

A 30 centimetre Helix ruler.

Just what you used to use on all
of us back in 2C, my ancient foe,

and I've got plenty more
of them where that came from.

There a bus stop.
You know what to do. My pole-shagging days are over.

The only things I screw
are the criminal careers

of ne'er-do-wells like yourself.
So you are admitting that you're a virgin. I never said that.

Don't listen to him, hen.
I've had loads of girlfriends.

I bet you've never even gave
a lassie a slippy slammer.

I think you'll find I have.

Have you? Ew!

Imagine you giving
a lassie a slippy slammer.

Well, obviously I was joking.
I haven't.

You haven't? He's not even
given a lassie a slippy slammer. Ew!

Ow!

This is my city now
and I will make this a city that is safe for good, decent virgins...

Good, decent people.

Nobody will be getting the back
of their jackets groggered on on my watch. I loved that jacket!

Ow! That was years ago,
for God's sake. Get over it.

Are you all right, ma'am?

Oh, that was amazing, Doberman.

You want to come back
to mine for a drink?

Er... No, my mammy
says I've got to be in by 12.

But it's only half 11 and I actually
just wanted to get off with you.

Really? Look out, Susan!

MACHINE WHIRS

MACHINE STOPS

Not again.

MACHINE WHIRS

MACHINE STOPS

Come on!

Come on, you robbing...bastard!

Aaaaaggghhhhh!

MACHINE WHIRS
Oh! Oh!

Agh!

Agh! Ah!

Agh!

Ah-argh! Ah!

Do you have a loan of a tenner? No.

How many books did you buy? Ten.

Ten? You're off your nut.

Did you hear what happened
to wee Jenny Russell's man?

Oh, Jenny Russell that used to go
to the dancing with Kathy Bennett?

Kathy Bennett
never went to the dancing, she had an orthopaedic shoe.

Not Aine Watson's pal, Kathy Bennett.

Rita Laidlaw's pal, Kathy Bennett.

Aye, her, aye, that's right.

That Jenny Russell, her man.

Did you hear about her man?

Is he dead?
Aye, did you hear already?

No, it was just a guess, mate.

Whenever you tell me about
somebody's man, they're usually dead. You're a bit morbid that way.

Och, away! Me? Morbid?

Me that is up that club every
Saturday night jigging away?

I was just relating a story.

A story about death. As usual.

Och, away you go, Nan.

Oh, did you hear about wee
Jenny Macintyre's man? Is he dead?

Aye,
but that's not the story anyway.

It's about something that
happened months before he died.

All right, what happened? His doctor
told him he had six months to live.

There you go again,
you are obsessed with death.

I am bloody well not
obsessed with death. What, me?

Me that's up that club
every Saturday night, jigging away like nobody's business?

Look, I'm winning this national the
night so let's just focus on that.

How much is the big one the night?

Three grand. Ooft!

That's how much Annie Donnely
said her man's funeral cost.

There you go again, more morbid talk.

That was money talk, Nan,
money talk.

Well, I don't want to hear any talk
about death, OK?

There's enough about without
listening about it at the bingo.

You better calm yourself down,
hen, or you'll have a stroke.

Like the one
that killed wee Ruby's man.

I'm sitting somewhere else, Dr Death.

It just slipped out, sit down...

I'm a bloody widow, you know.

I'm sorry, it will not happen again.

Eyes down, everyone, as we kick off.

And the first number
is six and seven - 67.

Here, that's the age
your Harry was when he died.

I'm looking for an attractive girl.

I'm supposed to meet her here.

There's a lassie hanging about
in that booth, my man.

Thanks.

Hello, Bond.

My name is Pocahontas. Pocahontas?

Yes, my great-grandfather
was Native American.

You can call me Poke for short.

Poke McGusset.

I thought you'd never ask.

This is my friend,
she'll be helping us.

Her name's Giza.

I was conceived when my parents
honeymooned at the Great Pyramids.

Giza, Giza Gobble. That's my line.

This is our other friend.
She'll be helping us too.

Hello, Mr Bond. My name's Myfanny.

Myfanny Smith.

Don't have any designs on me,
Mr Bond, I will be marrying my fiance next week -

Italian financier, Gian Luca Zichi.

Consider me future
Mrs Myfanny Zichi.

It certainly will be by the time
I'm finished with you.

This is my friend.

He's been very keen to meet you.

Hello. My name's Mustafa,
Mustafa Sex Change.

I've been looking forward to...
working with you. Um...

Well, big chap.
I'd hate to be a strippergram, man.

Aye, nightmare.

How you doing, mate? How's it going?
Och, all right, you know how it is.

What have you been up to?

Same old, same old. Yourself?

Just the usual, man. Same old story.

Aye. I've been there myself, mate.

Aye? Oh, aye. Many times. A veteran.

A veteran. Got to be done though, eh?

You can't turn round
and say no, can you?

No danger, mate.
Not with people like them.

No, they'll just mess you up.

At the drop of a hat.
Nobody knows it better than us.

That's what I've been saying.
For years I've been saying that.

But who listens? Exactly, mate.
Exactly, mate. Exactly.

Exactly. They are frightened
of the truth. You know too much truth, you get a knife in the back.

Exactly, mate, and I don't want to
be sticking knives in people's backs. But... But... Exactly.

Exactly, mate, it's got to be done.
Got to be.

Without that threat, it would be
chaos. They've got to all be feared.

It's the only way we can
control the masses, mate.

Too true, mate.
And they have got to be controlled.

You cannae have mob rule, mate.

It's for their own protection.
We are doing it for them.

And what thanks do we get? None.
Exactly, mate. Exactly.

They hate us
because we know how to love.

And they never will.

Exactly, mate. Exactly.
We give them what they want, mate,

it would be the end for us all.

It could be the end
of humanity itself, bud. Nae doubt.

Nae doubt. Oblivion.

Exactly, mate. Oblivion. Exactly, and
who wants that on their conscience?

Exactly, mate. Not me.

Anyway, see you down
the bookie for the National.

Aye. See you there, mate.

My name is Carlos Zumba.

Zumba!

LIVELY LATIN MUSIC PLAYS

Guys, I know what you wondering.

Just what is my wife doing at Zumba?

TEARING

She is doing me. She is doing...

Zumba.

Zumba step ladder, ladder.

Zumba step ladder.

Zumba step ladder, ladder.

Zumba step ladder.

Zumba, Zumba, Zumba,
Zumba, Zumba, Zumba, Zumba.

Zumba,
Zumba, Zumba, Zumba, Zumba, Zumba...

See, guys,

that is why all your wives
want to come to Zumba,

want to cum WITH Zumba.

Cum in the sexual sense,
spelt C-U-M.

Zumba!

17-0.
KNOCK AT DOOR

Hello?

Come in.

I phoned earlier.

My...granny passed away.

Of course.

Creepsie, could you show this
gentleman to the chair of comfort?

I'll pour you a wee cup of tea.

There we are.

My name is Falls, Archibald Falls.

And this here is my son, Creepsie.

Will you give me a hand
with this, son?

There we go. That's it,
unhook yourself, that's it.

There we go.

Right.

Creepsie, could you play
something appropriate on the fiddle?

Now, let me guess.
CREAKING

Only the best for your wee granny.

Am I right? Of course. Aye.

How did she die,
if you don't mind me asking?

She passed away in her sleep.

LAUGHTER CONTINUES

Isn't that just
the best way to go, son?

Always laugh with joy when I hear
somebody passed away peacefully.

Now, how can I help you
with your preparations?

Well, I need a coffin.

Let me just fly
this wee idea past you.

How about we take your wee granny,

we stick her in a bin bag and
we cowp her into the canal? What?!

I'm not like all the other
undertakers fi' Burnistoun.

They're all in it for the money.

They'll try to sell you the
most expensive coffin they've got.

Me and my boy here will stick
your granny in a bin bag,

dump her in the canal

and we'll dae it for 20 quid
and some rolls and ham at the wake.

I don't want my granny
in a black bag! HE SIGHS

Look...

I bet you that at some point
in your wee granny's old age,

she said to somebody something like,

"Och, don't bother about me. Just
stick me in a black bag and put me oot the back for the clemmy."

She did. She said it to me once.

And I bet you she told you not
to bother wi' a big expensive casket when she was gone, eh? Aye! She did!

See? See?

Your wee granny's wishes.
That's what we're all aboot here.

But does that mean
there'll be nae funeral?

Son...

who likes a funeral?

We'll pop your granny
on some bricks in a black bag,

pap the whole lot in the canal,
then we'll go and get leathered,

fill our faces, have a wee jig and
remember what a great wee woman your granny was. Noo, what d'you say?

I cannae believe I'm saying this,
but...you're on.

Excellent.

How's Friday for you?

Just leave her body out by the bins
and we'll pick her up. Aye.

Cheers. See you then.

SQUAWKING

Seagulls!

Every morning,
woken up by bastard seagulls!

Shoo!

Shoo!

'A poor tackle there
from Burnistoun United's hometown hero Craigie Winters.

'And it's going to be up
a penalty kick to Burnistoun City!'

Right. Get that remote control
in your hand.

See the second that ball
crosses the line, switch it off.

I don't want to hear them cheering.
I don't want to look at their faces celebrating. Defo, mate.

Don't want they faces smiling at me
in my own living room, Peter.

If I need to look at
they ugly bastards celebrating, I'll end up punching a wall.

It's no' them scoring, mate,
it's them being happy.

They don't deserve happiness,
their lot. Exactly.

If it crosses the line,
we switch it off till all the celebrating's done with.

Then we'll put it back on again.

Right. Here he goes.

'And Wilson steps up
to hit this one...' HE SWITCHES TV OFF

We didn't see
if it went in, you dick!

It's hard to time it right,
isn't it?

I didn't want to risk
seeing even one smile.

I'll turn it back on.

No, no! If it went in, they're
going to be celebrating it noo.

I don't want to look at
their rotten faces celebrating. Cannae stand to see that, man.

Well, we'll time it then, right?

They're celebrating, right?
The players celebrating.

The dirty animal fans celebrating.

The big fat arsehole manager
celebrating.

Noo. No, no. A wee bit yet.

See, to be honest with you,
Peter, see if we turn his back on

and I see that it's 1-0 to them,
I'll be pissed off just knowing that they HAVE been celebrating.

I'll be able to imagine it.

Aye. Sickens me to my stomach
just thinking about it, man.

Their faces, man.

What we'll do is cover
up the top of the telly so we cannae see the score.

This side?

Aye.

Hold on.

The commentator. He's going to say
the score at some point, isn't he?

Then I'll be able
to imagine them, man, smiling at me.

Just mute him, then.
He's one of them anyway.

That lassie didn't look
too happy, did she?

She wasn't
wearing any colours, but...

She was a stank monster, Scott.

A total stanko.
She was definitely one of them.

I thought she was all right looking.
She may be one of us.

They're going to catch us
on the break here.

Oh, Winters, come on.
You're a total care-horse.

He's threw on goal.
Switch it off. Off, off!

No, Peter, that big diddy
would have missed that.

Maybe.

Let's just assume that it went in,

so we don't need to look
at their faces celebrating.

Man, I hate to see them celebrating.

See their faces.

I can just picture
their mutant inbred faces, man.

That'll be long enough, won't it?

Aye.

Corner to them.
Put it off, off, off!

No, man, Peter.

We never concede from a corner.
Never.

I'm confident of that.

Aye. Right enough.

Go for it.

He's going to shoot. Off, off!

Know what? Why don't we just say
that every time they come in our half, we're turning the telly off?

Then we never see them scoring,
we never see them celebrating, their big faces...

Oh, see, the thought of their
dirty ape faces celebrating, man. HE GRUNTS

Right, that's it really done, right?

But if we wait
till the final whistle, we might see them put their arms up,

then we'd know they'd won,
we'd need to think about their faces celebrating about it.

Man, see, even just the thought of
that, mate... Just put it off now.

We've nae choice.

Great game, but, eh?

Aye. Cracking game of football, man.

MOBILE RINGS

Hello? Why will this thing
not let me put in any letters?

Gran, is that you?!

I'm trying to message Theresa
to see if she's landed in Spain yet.

But the letters aren't coming up.

Well, what do I know about it,
missus? Gran, Gran!

This thing's bloody hopeless.

Gran.

Hello? Hello!

You've phoned somebody.

Gran, it's about 25 times a day you
phone me leaving messages like this!

Gran!

Are yous coming up again?
Let us catch our breath!

Yous two would dance all night.
Rita, oh, my God!

Oh, my God! Look.

Oh, my God! It's the Yanks.

Hey, baby.

Now, ain't you two
a couple of hotsy-totsies?

My name's Bruck Abronk.
I'm from Bronkhario, Bronkonhonkas.

And my name's Honk Hucklehanka,
from Ohonko, Hoklahonka.

Hiya.

Now, I don't want you two Scotch
lovelies fainting or nothing,

but me and Honk here,
we want to want to dance with you.

That's right.

And then we want to have
unromantic sex with yous.

Up what you bonny lasses
would call a close.

Oh, that sounds great.

Yes please. Now, wait a minute, pal.

These are OUR girlfriends.

Oh, wow. Is that a real gun?

Like, from America?
It sure is, honey.

Honk, show them some more crap that
their tiny little brains will enjoy.

Here's something else
from the United States of America.

It's a kids' toy.

It's called a cracking glass.

That's a mirror.

Is that what you call it here?

Weird.

Do yous have
any nylons for us, then?

I'm sorry, sugarlips.

I don't speak sheep.

I think they asked for nylons.

It's like talking
to a grunting perfumed ape.

Nylons?

Sure.

Honk, double team.

Sorry, baby.
We're needing these back.

You know, I can't wait
to see your fanny in those nylons.

That's so funny how you say
fanny instead of bum in America!

Not in Hoklahonka we don't.

God bless America!

The graffiti is still all over
the wall in the Burnistoun Botanics.

Children are walking past
it every day and getting exposed to this filth.

As your MP, Mrs Clark,
I'm going to look into this.

No, you've fobbed me off
about this before.

I don't think you give a damn
about it. Well, that's not true.

Darcy, could you post a denial of
that acquisition on Twitter, please? Of course.

Type "I deny any accusation that
I do not care about the graffiti on the wall of..." Where was it?

Haven't a clue.
The Burnistoun Botanics!

There we are, Mrs Clark.
I've now publicly aired my concerns on the internet.

We should go Facebook on this.
Same message?

Yes. No.
We're more passionate on Facebook.

When you think of those
children reading that filth, you literally weep with anger.

We can't just post updates
to Facebook and Twitter about the issues, we need personal stuff, too.

So write something about some band
a young man might be into. What if I Tweet "the Saturdays are sexy."

Oh, that's good.

Done.
PHONE RINGS

Hello. Joan Smyth.

OK.

That was BBC Burnistoun News.
There's been a backlash

against your sexy Saturday Tweet.
It's officially a scandal.

Bloody hell. Deny that. Get on
Facebook and it make me deny that I see any sex appeal in the Saturdays.

Excuse me.
Never mind the public statements.

What are you actually doing
about this graffiti?

I'll phone and find out.

Hello. Hello, Darcy, it's Joan.

What are we actually doing about
graffiti in the park? Bugger all.

It isn't a priority right now.
It's my number one priority.

We should, however, get
on the internet and post about how much of a top priority it is.

Darcy says we should put
on the internet how much of a top priority it is. Darcy.

Just a second, Joan. ..Yes, William?

I think we should post on the
internet about how much of a priority this graffiti thing is.

Twitter, Facebook or blog?
Twitter, Facebook or blog? Twitter, Facebook or blog?

Darcy? Darcy, are you there? Hello.

Twitter, Facebook or blog. Blog.

Blog. Blog, Darcy.
Just a second, Joan.

Blog, Darcy. Blog?

Has this been approved?
Has this been approved, Joan? Has this been approved, Darcy?

Darcy, are you there?
Joan, are you still there? Yes.

Has this been approved? 100%. 100%.

100%. Why are you saying 100% to me?
That figure was off the record.

If you repeat it to the press,
I'll deny it and I'll sue!

PHONE RINGS

Hello? Hello, Joan. I've just
accidentally divulged a figure to that graffiti woman. Shit!

Excuse my language. Bollocks!

Should I answer that?

No. I'll answer it. Then we can
Tweet about how I always answer my own phone in my own office. Hello.

I just wanted to let you know that I
won't be voting for you ever again.

Hiya.

All right?

Come here.

I'm going to miss him so much,
you know?

It just seems so final.

I keep thinking that I'm going
to turn around and he's going to be standing there. I know.

So, why are we down by the sea?

Were we not going to the chapel?

Right. Come on,
we'll go and get leathered.

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