All language subtitles for Kad Porastem Bicu Kengur 2004 MQ YUF domaci

�When I grow up,
I'll be Kangaroo�

Afternoon. -God bless you.
Yes?

-Three dinar-and-a-half
candles.

-Somi, what's your fucking problem?
Now you're saving?

-Don't swear in church.
-Forgive me God, I don't know

what I'm doing. -Sorry, please.
Give us three five-dinar ones.

-Madam, give us four of the
fifteen-dinar ones, and one for

Kangaroo's dead dad. I know you've
got sixty, give it here.

-Here you go. -Thanks

-Mate, god doesn't make
a distinction between candles.

-Clearly he does, or why would
there be ones for a dinar,

five, ten dinars... -OK.

-God, look down on us poor
and pathetic today.

I know you're busy, but you only
need look on us today.

And be merciful to our mate
Kangaroo in the Eastwich goal.

Mate, God... Don't Somi...
-Sorry.

-If we get rich today, we won't
forget the church, the poor,

the invalids. If we have to we'll
go to London and tell

Kangaroo to give half his wages
to those who need it most...

-Come on, man. -That's it.

-Two hundred, and the change.
God you're miserable, mate.

You're meeting an amazing bird
with 200 dinars in your pocket.

You're the saddest of the sad
in the saddest country.

-Hello?

-Rada, you gave birth to Kangaroo!

-Oh, it's you mum.

He hasn't called, how can he
when there's a game?

-I bought Kangaroo his
first gloves! Me!

-Neighbour Rade! Lying,
drinking, stealing Rade!

-Braca, when they invent a tool
to measure misery it'll have

your name on it. - Hi Polanski!
-Sladjana!

-Sladjana is the commonest of all
common names. But Iris.

-So how's it going at home?
-Everyone's fine, thank god.

-Look, you're better off finding
a job than wasting time

in the bookies.
-True, true.

-One suggestion. I'll pray for your
Kangaroo if you two look

for work. How's that? -OK.
-Roma as well. -Sorry?

-Roma have to win as well.
-You little rascals. Go away.

-Iris, man how that sounds!
Best of all, Braca's going to

make love to that same Iris.
Make love to her hard, gentle.

-Yeah, that's not the same poor
bastard. This is the new Braca.

Handsome Braca, successful Brace,
super-successful,

super sex-symbol,
Braca - King of the women.

-Afternoon, two of the
seven dinar ones.

-Kid, get rid of the cigarette.
-Sorry. Here are you exactly.

-Fuck, Avaks, I always get it
further than you.

-Mate, the point isn't in the
length but in the piss.

-Fucking air-conditioning.

-Good afternoon Mrs Rada.
-Hi Misa. -Get lost kids!

-How are you?
-Not bad, love.

-Are we watching the match together?
-Well we agreed to.

-Good, good. -Has Kangaroo called,
just tell me he did?

-He called. He wants stuffed cabbage!
He's never eaten

stuffed cabbage!
How can I send it to him?

-Did he say he'd wear the cap today?
-He promised he would.

-I told you! I told you!

Please, tell me honestly,
did he ask about us two?

-He only asks about you!
Are you still smoking that dope?

-Oh come on Mrs Rada!
Get lost kids!

-Oh Misa, those English
don't even eat bread.

What do those people eat?
-Come on! Fish and chips, Mrs Rada.

-Mate, pissing is the most
satisfying thing in life.

I'd love to drink 100 crates
of beer and piss all week.

-Where's that idiot? I can't believe
he's going let me down.

-Braca! -Hey, chief! How you doing,
did you bring it?

What's that? -A shirt, mate.

-And the cash? Mate,
did you bring me the cash?

-This is for you, mate. Tonight
you're going out with a model,

and not with some local tart.

-Great, I need the cash,
what's wrong with you?

-Try it, it's Italian. Don't be a bum.
-Hey, what's up guys?

-Hi chief! Look at him, came here
as a refugee, started with

shish kebabs and
ended up with a Mercedes.

Look at this. Look at him.
Why's he better than me?

-Hi, Braca. -Hi, put this on the tab,
and give me five shish

in a bun. Today.

-Sumpor, mate, you didn't bring
me the cash? -No.

-Give me five minutes.

-Here you go. -What the hell's this?
What do I do with this?

-Well, first you go to the cinema,
then an empty flat.

It's enough. -It's not enough,
Sumpor. Do you know what this

bird's like? -I know mate.
-You know shit, mate.

She shines, man! -So take her into
the dark to shine for you.

-Fuck you. -Sorry,
hold on a second.

Banjaluka, look what I've got
for you. -What's that?

-A pressure cuff.
-What pressure?

-Blood, mate! Age, fat, stress.
Get it? What good's money

without your health? -I lost my
bloody country, I don't give a

fuck about pressure. Have you got
some pussy to ease my lower

pressure? -Don't be vulgar,
I'm a serious salesman.

-Fuck it, you've got the shirt,
you've got charm, she's yours.

-Alright lads!
-Hi Cile!

-Thanks. Look at this.
-Give me a burger and a coke.

-What's that? -A pressure cuff.
-What do I want with that?

-You wouldn't believe the porno
I saw with one of these!

Hey, ask her if she's been
with Brad Pitt. I read it somewhere.

-How you doing Ljubica,
my little peasant!

Give everyone a drink.
Mile, give me the remote.

Has Grimsby started?
-He put down Derby.

-On its own?
-No, with Turin.

-Guys! Do you want me
to tell you what's football?

-I can't watch one match in peace,
my whole life disturbed.

-Football is when Sunderland
are leading two nil against

Leeds till the eighty-seventh minute,
and Leeds get three.

That's football!
-What's bloody football?

-That...when Leeds get...
-Stop talking shit.

-Fuck you fucking Brondby!
A hundred years they can't score,

till now! -Didn't I tell you it
would be a draw at Brondby?

-Who did you tell?
-I told Ljuba, didn't I?

-So, why didn't you bet! -I'm not
stupid enough to bet on

Scandinavians.
-Denmark isn't Scandinavia.

-Then what the fuck is it?
-A Benelux country. BE-NE-LUX.

Belgium, the Netherlands,
that's Holland, and Lux is

Luxemburg. -Then where does
Denmark go, fucker?

-Hybrid? -Yes, mate.
-What day is it today?

-Sunday, mate.
-No way it's Sunday!

-Why, something you have to do?
-No, I was just tripping it was

Tuesday, Wednesday,
or something. -Sunday, mate.

-The one and only Iris
isn't even coming. Good job too.

What's she gonna do with a bum
with 350 dinars in his pocket.

Braca, king of the bums.
Bra-ca-b-um!

-Alright Braca, mate?
-Hi Nebojsa.

-Sone, mate. Nebojsa's a bit
queer. -Iris will see me with

this idiot. Run, Braca, Run
like the wind!

-I guess you're waiting
for some actress?

You directors go for actresses.
Everyone knows that.

-Mate, I study editing.
-So have you edited her?

I bet she squirts like
a fountain! That's their job.

You know who I'd shag? That little one,
what's her name?

She's in that film, the beginning
is the end, and the

end is the beginning,
and everything's mixed in.

-Sone, mate, sorry. -I get it mate,
�artistic obligations�.

-Where you going idiot!
Get out the way!

-Two nights ago at an exhibition.
You know that

feeling all's ok when someone's
standing next to you.

-Suck my dick, twat! Fuck off!
-First the cinema, then I guess

into town, I don't know. Speak soon.
-Donkey, drive that shit!

-You don't have to rush like that,
I'm not in a hurry.

-But I am, sorry.

Model? Yeah,
you're familiar.

You going to that stylist's
place perhaps?

I'm always driving him.
He never leaves a tip.

Tell me, those stylists,
what the hell do they do?

A town full of stylists.
I don't get it! You've got

no style, so you go to a stylist
and pick some up!

-Enough makeup! We're going to be
the most spontaneous,

most natural couple in
the world. Braca and I.

-You know who those
stylists are? Queers with jobs.

-I don't have any change.

Where you going?
-Please, my wife's giving birth!

-Fuck you and your wife.

-Man, she's so beautiful.

-Braca, pissed-off,
self-confident and vulnerable.

All at once. -I look like an idiot.
Now she'll tell

me to fuck off, and she'll
go back home.

-Man, he's radiant!
-A town full of crazies. -Hi.

-So that's the cult cinema �Vozdovac�?
-That's where I

first watched a film. -And that's why
the cinema is cult?

-Oh man, a witty model!

-What's going on? -Some football match.
A mate from the

neighbourhood is goalkeeper
for an English club.

-I knew it! He told everyone he's
bringing home a model.

-Nuts, nuts, salted, roasted.
Sport for your teeth...

-She thinks that because of her
I won't get any nuts.

Braca doesn't care for the taste
of the petty bourgeoisie.

Braca will get nuts!
Nuts of the world unite!

-Do you want nuts?
-No, I don't eat them.

-Three please,
and a diet coke.

-Man, she's fantastic!
God, she turns me on.

-Can't go in yet. -But it's
one minute to seven.

-Film starts at half past seven.

-In the paper it says seven.
-So watch it in the paper.

-Never mind, let's go for a drink?
-Yeah, we could if I

wasn't a bum.
How embarrassing!

-Braca, you old charmer,
actress huh? Kiss your hand.

Just a second, Braca, have
you fucked this? -Oh, Sone, please.

-Braca, see you mate.

-You're very popular here.

-Do you want me to show
you the sights of Vozdovac?

-At that time I was flogging
stuff around Florence and

screwing some older woman.
She owned a hairdresser's.

-For money? -No, honey, for marbles.
No freebies, even for

grannies. I had 100,000
lira per orgasm.

Once, I went downstairs to the
hairdresser's, flicking through

�Gazetta del Sportivo�, heard the door,
turned around...

Batistuta! -Gabriel?
-I swear!

The hairdresser asks him: �How d'you
want it? � And he points

to me and says - �The same as
that guy�. -No shit!

-On my mother's life. God knows how we
got to know each other.

Me a word, him a word.

-People, I just drove some
serious pussy! Unbelievable!

Ljubica, give me an espresso!

-He doesn't follow fashion, hairstyles.

-And what does Batistuta drive?
-What do you think?

-Don't know. A Ferrari? -Yugo!
-No shit, he drives a Yugo?

-Ljubica, are you giving
birth to that espresso?

-A 65A black convertible,
I brought it personally from

Kragujevac. Modest lad, sends
all his money to his mum.

-Is it true you had his girlfriend?
-Cile, please.

-You did, admit it,
womaniser!

-I don't believe it. Do you know
how much this cost?

-Sorry. -You can see she's
distracted by Kangaroo.

-Does Kangaroo perhaps want to
buy my tracksuit? I don't give

a fuck, get lost, do you want
to read my tea leaves?

-Ljubica, did Kangaroo call today?
-Man, you're boring.

-When was Ljubica with Kangaroo?
-She left him,

for Gangula. Kangaroo didn't have
a contract. The lad wanted

to kill himself. And then the
next year, Gangula went behind

bars, and Kangaroo went
from Vozdovac to Eastwich.

Instead of a weekend in London,
Ljubica visits the prison.

-How love is blind!

-Hey, Ljubica, do they have
air-conditioning in prison?

-Like this. -Why?
-Why? Because of the parents.

So ourfingers don't
stink of fags. Get it?

Whole term we smoked like mad.
And this was our hideout.

-What wonderful, awfully
gnarled fingers he has.

-Besiktas leading! -Come on the Turks!
-Here you go, Zile.

-Wait, don't you dare spill it.
The Italians have started.

-Say hi to Gangula for me.
-Do it yourself!

-But in six months time.
-Cile, he's out forthe weekend!

-Aha, in solitary.

-Ljubica? -Afternoon.
-Hey man! -Hi Somi!

-How you doing, my boys!
My successors. Just to say hi.

Ljubica, juice forthe lady!
-No, No.

-Madam, please, this is
a special day for us.

-Burgija, mate, check out my
lucky charm, I'll give you it,

I reckon it's ok. Thank you,
you're a mate.

-And after smoking, we'd eat a
whole tube of toothpaste.

We were constantly
panicking we'd get caught.

We hid in the craziest places
and puffed till we fainted.

That tower block was
our main hideout.

We stood on the roof, watched
the stars, and smoked.

-And who's we?
-Avaks, Hybrid and me.

-Bye beer, mate.
-This is the last one.

-Banjaluka will give us
some on the tab.

-You don't mind going?
-Of course I mind.

-People, Kangaroo is going to wear
a cap just like this!

-Look, Doc, that Cile's school!
That, my boys - Belgrade!

Never and nowhere give up this
holy slice of Belgrade earth.

-Belgrade, Belgrade,
you live with us and in us!

-A great night out for 300 dinars!
You unbelievable star!

-Is that some kind of watch or...
-Pressure cuff.

-What's it for? -Well, you're
so good I could fall ill.

Look, when I get close to you...
Kiss her now Braca!

You can be the owner of
this exclusive, unique instrument

for an amazing 990 dinars!

-You thirsty? -No!
-I'm dying.

-And in a packed Mansfield Road,
David meets Goliath.

The great Manchester United...
-There he is, there's Kangaroo!

-...against Eastwich,
the second division novices.

The Manchesterteam,
Barthez, Neville, O'Shea...

-Kangarooooo... -That's it, boy!
With three fingers!

Fuck those Catholics. -Idiot,
the English aren't Catholics.

-What then? -Protestants,
Anglican provenance.

-All the same to me!

-A glorious atmosphere at
Mansfield Road. From thousands

of throats reverberates...
-Mate, take a seat. Chill out.

-Today our homegrown makes his
debut, the young, fearless

giant between the posts,
the unbeatable master of the

penalty area. It's underway!

-You haven't heard of
Todd Bannister? He's the greatest!

Those are the films that should
be made, cheap, fucked up.

A line of short cuts, like a video,
and then a long take.

-Hi, what can I get you?
-Have a heart, Iris, please.

-Just water. -For you? -Oh, why not
forget about my diet and

relax a little, huh? A Martini Bianco.
-No, Iris, No!

Er, nothing, later maybe.
In fact, a mineral water.

Actually no, sorry, a beer,
a small one...

You fucked me with the Martini.

-Eastwich are trying to muster an
attack but tiny Hughes wins

the ball. -Come on tiny!
Fucking come on.

I'd fuck them all, from the manager
to the goalie. Sorry.

-Boys, let me see that slip...

Millionaires from Dortmund, got it.
Spurs from London, got it.

-That's what I told them to play.
-What did you tell us?

-Look at him fucking around,
what did I tell you about

Tottenham? -You didn't tell us
anything, don't talk crap.

-Toma, come here! Doc!
-Hammers, got it...

-I've got money, come here.
-The boys got West Ham to win

at Liverpool. The old dame from Turin,
caught on the move!

Well done, boys. The wolf from Rome
leading. Boys, if Eastwich

take Manchester, you've got seven grand.
A family ticket!

-Excuse me, if Eastwich what?
-If Eastwich beat Manchester.

-It's about time Manchester
went down for once away.

-What? -I played Eastwich to win,
what's the problem?

-Eastwich to win, against Manchester?
The London paupers

to beat the Red Devils?
Kids, are you insane?

-Why couldn't they have them.
Manchester don't have a team.

-And you'd know whether
Manchester have a team!

What about the trusty
goalkeeper Barthez?

The ruthless Van Nistelrooy?
Paul Scholes, Ryan Giggs?

The lynchpin Roy Keane, and the
great Sir Alex Ferguson!

-Home ground is home ground.
Plus, Kangaroo in goal.

-Kangaroo hasn't conceded
for 1,250 minutes.

-Yeah, but in Vozdovac.
This is England.

-Looks what's England, lads!
A full stadium!

-You know, unemployment's high overthere.
-What, and everyone

here works? Don't talk shit!
That's a great nation!

It's raining, and the stadium's full.
Here, the stands are

empty like there's the plague.
Boys, have you ever been to

London? I'll take you,
if you win some money today.

You don't know football till you
visit an English stadium!

-The English build a stadium,
parking spaces, toilets...

Not like here, 30,000 people
in one pissing spot.

Red Star against Barcelona, at
the Marakana, reeked of shit.

The referee wanted to stop the match.
He thought it was a

gas bomb. But it wasn't.

-I don't know, I don't
like American films.

-So what the hell do you like?
Romanian?

Why did I say that? Why am l
a bum with a complex?

-I don't know about Romanian,
but American films are so

predictable. -Yeah, I know what
you're saying. Todd Bannister

is far from predictable.
Actually, you have to

distinguish between Hollywood
and the New York film schools.

They're totally different things.

-Why am I talking about films
when I don't have a clue?

-I'm just going for some fags.

-I knew it. He's not coming back.
I should just shut up and

show my legs. Stupid model
and her stupid personality.

-Mile, get your money out.
-Hey, alright Braca!

-Hello Aunt Rada.
-Hello, Bratislav.

-Get out the way,
Bratislav.

-Somi, you got some cash?
-No, mate, it's all on Kangaroo.

-Fuck, I haven't got any
money to pay the bill.

-That's it Kangaroo, Tsar!
-How's Kangaroo doing?

-Good mate, thank God.
-Cile, can you lend us some money?

-What's up kiddo,
you got hooked too?

-No, mate, but there's this bird...
-Ah, if it was for

education I'd consider it,
but for birds, I can't.

Look at that intervention.
-Compatible.

-Here you go, now go fuck yourself,
you and your pussy

and your education, fuck off!!
Go on, get lost and don't jinx

us anymore. -Thanks Zile,
I won't forget it!

-I know, son. When you get to
make a film, you'll put me in

some porno, forthem to
fuck me in the arse!

-Dear football fans, you'll
need this fortoday.

-Piss off, you bastard.

-Avaks, look! -What?
-I've got some shit in my beer.

-You're drunk and tripping.
-No, a flea or something.

Floating up and down in the bottle.
-Mate, my uncle found a

mouse in his beer. -No shit. Did he
drink it? -He sued the

brewery for mental suffering.
Said they wrecked his health!

-And did he win? -Screwed them, mate,
for a million dollars!

-A million dollars! Bullshit.
-I swear. He's in Hawaii,

fanning his balls.
-What a guy!

-Let's go. Hey, countryman,
the change?

-What does the jury say?
Five-five, five-six, five-four...

Why do I think he's different
from the other morons?

-Hold on mate, how did he
get it in dollars?

-Because he was in America.
-Fuck it, here he'd get shit!

-Not true, with a good lawyer
you can do okay here.

-And where do I get the money
for a good lawyer?

-You don't have to give
him money. You give him a cut!

Sue them for a million dinars,
and give him five percent.

-Five percent! Fuck that.
Three percent, and see you later!

-Where to? -What d'you mean
where to, the cinema.

-Film's cancelled. -How come?
-Only sold two tickets.

-How many tickets have to be
sold for the film to go ahead?

-Seven.
-Give me five.

-Can we go in the balcony? -No.
-Why? -The balcony isn't open.

-Thanks, you're so kind.

It's not exactly crowded.
-What do the masses know about films?

-Hey, those aren't your seats.
-The cinema's empty, man.

-The seats are numbered. Man.
-And who are we bothering here?

-And what if we get a
group visit? Or the army?

-Surely not the front row?

-Where are you going?
-What's this? -No, hold it!

-Oh, what an ugly strip, kids.
-Where's his cap?

-Where's your cap? You betrayed
your neighbourhood.

You think you're some kind
of big shot if you're in London!

-Perhaps he forgot. -But he didn't
forget the 70,000 quid!

You little fuck! Sorry.
-Hey, mind the language.

-Hold on, how much
is he getting?

-Two and a half grand a week,
isn't it. -That's right.

-Of what? -Pounds, old man.
-What's that in fucking

Deutschmarks? -Seven grand,
mate, seven grand.

-He's on seven thousand marks a week?
-But it's hard earned.

No social, no hot meals.
Isn't that right Mrs Rada?

-People, for that money I'd let
the whole stadium fuck me!

-Burgija, fifty thousand people,
that's quite a few...

-I've got time!

-It's not bad here? Different,
more interesting angle.

Andy Warhol always watched
films from the front row.

-I bet he plans to take me to
an apartment after the film.

He can, but in another life.

-Zivac, is that your
navy-blue Citroen? -It is.

-With taxi plates?
-Yeah, what do you want?

-Nothing, it's being towed!
-You little...!

-Full left! -Wait, hold on!
I came just to get the paper,

what's wrong with you.
Hey, genius, this is my livelihood,

-And what do I live off?
-Ok, tell me how much? -Wait!

-Listen, I know myself but
I don't know you. -Goal!

-Hey, the money? -Fuck yourself!
-What did he say?

-He told you to fuck yourself!
-I can't hear anything. Hello?

-Goal, goal. -He put the hat on,
he put it on!

-That's it Kangaroo, that's it Serb!
Fuck them. Sorry.

-It was a mile offside.
-One nil to little Eastwich!

-Do you know what's good
about this cinema? -No.

-Here a guy doesn't have to rent
the whole cinema to be

with someone he li... I mean...

-Someone he what? -Someone he li'...
-Someone he li'?

-Li'. -zkes. -Yes, zkes.
Very much zkes.

-I zkes you too, and li' that
you're funny, and that we're

alone in the cinema,
I li' everything.

-Here's to the nuts!
Nuts of the world, unite!

Make love, not war!

-And do you knowwhat's good
about the front row?

You can't miss the flying saucers.
-Hey, I have to ask

you something, ok? Is it true Brad Pitt
came onto you?

-Well, we spoke at a reception,
we were photographed, the

newspaper published it,
and there you go.

-Man, she turned down Brad.
Braca the man, alpha male!

-Oh I knew it!
-Oh, I'm such a peasant.

-But, I haven't felt such a shiver
down my spine for ages.

-Peasant, alpha peasant!
Come on, start the film.

-The seats are numbered.
-Oh fuck, he's not actually

going to sit with us, please no.
-kiss your hand.

-Why, for god's sake?
Why are you doing this to me?

-I love this film. I've seen it
seven times. You're lovely.

When does it start?
Can't wait!

-And on the green baize of
Mansfield Road, Manchester

tighten the noose. The Red Devils
are attacking, Eastwich

can only defend as they know.
-Oh for fuck's sake Kangeroo.

Fuck you, you freak.
-The thrills are lining up!

-There's the village idiot for you.
Makes two good saves, and

lets one in through his legs.

-And there's the punishment.
-Shut up! -Ljubica!

-Don't Zile. -Get off.
-Ljubica!

-I don't give a fuck if his dad
worked on the national team

-Hi! -The linesman's waving his flag.
-It's not a goal?

-...and it stays one-nil to Eastwich...

-No-goal, no-goal...Somi, mate,
offside. -Offside?

-It's not a goal, Zile.
-Beckham protests, but in vain.

Yellow card! The pedantic teacher
from Luton, a renowned

dispenser of justice, and above all
a great sportsman.

-Let's not fuck around. -Send them
all off, the Manchester

bastards. -You can't do that
in the cradle of football.

-Give everyone red cards,
three-nil to Eastwich! Fuck!

-Perhaps it's a mouse embryo.

-You reckon? An aborted baby mouse?
-Anything's possible.

How much do you reckon
I'd get for suing them?

-Who can you sue, you're
a moral dwarf. -Me? Why not?

Who gives a fuck! This bottle
could change my life. -Huh?

-This. I'll keep it in a warm,
dry place. Until a big white

mouse grows inside.

-What should I do?
Ask her something, you prick.

What? Anything, just ask.

-Tell me, this modelling...
-What? -Is that long-term.

I mean, are there prospects?

Oh how original. Come on,
something more imaginative.

Not about modelling or ex-boyfriends.
Tell me, that guy

from the exhibition. -What about him?
-Is that your ex?

Did I really say that?
-It was nothing serious.

-Bravo Braca, a real genius!
-Sladjana!

-Right, enough. Hey fools,
start the film!

-What you shouting at?
Get out of that chair, idiot.

-Come on man, play the film.
-Come here and play it yourself

if you're so clever. The film operator
saw they'd only sold

three tickets and went home.
He's not a fool like me.

Sit there and wait.
-Now I'm going to fuck him.

Do you know how much he stinks, man?
-His ticket doesn't stink.

-Listen, mate, do you drink brandy?
-Brandy, no.

But Vinjak, by the gallon.
-Enough for some Vinjak?

Here, just start the film.
And turn out the lights.

And give us some other row.
-We'll sort something out.

-And love flew away, like a bird.
-And now Todd Bannister.

-Judgment day! Sladjana,
Sladjana! -What's going on?

-An earthquake.

-Interference, I don't know,
dear countrymen...

-Sladjana!

-Hey, get off my TV!

-Everything's ok. Iris likes me.
I'll marry her. We'll have

a ten-room flat in Manhatten.
I'll get an Oscar for editing.

-Manchester have occupied
the Eastwich penalty box.

-Where you going, idiot!

-And what's young Kangaroo up to?
He's off his line, dribbles

past one, two... and a savage assault
by Van Nistelrooy!

Kangaroo's on the ground.
Is there a card, Mr Smith?

-Fuck you, you fucker!
-Referee Smith calls Van Nistelrooy.

Come here, mate,
here's your yellow card.

A recovered Kangaroo takes
his place between the posts.

-That's it boy! For your old mum!
For Serbia!

Ljubica, my peasant,
drinks for the players.

-Hey Zile, why's Cile so nasty to Ljubica?
-Because she won't

give him any. -What?

-Come on Ljubica, this isn't
a funeral. -Get off!

That's bad luck.
What did I tell you?

-Have you got a watch Mr Smith?
And as if he heard me, the

referee looks at his watch and...
half-time.

-Mate, do you reckon more
people would die from an

earthquake, or a volcano?
-�..we're trying to reach the

city seismology institute...�
-Don't know mate, never thought

about it.
-�Hello, can you hear us...?�

I reckon an earthquake.
Although I wouldn't fuck with a

volcano. A volcano could wipe
you out in a second.

-It's ok, mate.
-What's ok?

-What's yourfucking problem?
Why are you jinxing us?

-Alright Duje, you
watching the game?

-Somi, want to come with me?
-Get some fags.

-Hold on, what about money?
-The shish kebabs have arrived

for our dear guest,
Kangaroo's mother.

-Fucking hell. Why've we got that
radio if it doesn't work?

-Past tense, it used to work,
present tense, it doesn't.

-Alright footballers, teams...
-Give me a drag to chill out.

My ticker's going to die.
-There isn't any, mate. It's a

worldwide crisis.
The Arabs are holding out.

-Lift that aerial,
and move this.

-Please, people, if I take the
cash tonight, I'll bring a

whole crop here. -Man, is this guy
stupid or crazy?

There isn't any, mate.
-Sit down, man, relax.

-Miroslav! Have you set up my aerial?
I'll miss the news.

-What d'you reckon, will they give us
some money if they win?

-Like fuck, mate. There's no such
thing as a free lunch.

-Afterthe film I'll take her
to my place. Straight to bed.

Pants! I can't believe I've left
my pants in the middle of

the room! Twat! No problem,
I'll kick them under the bed

and introduce Iris to a world
of sensitivity. Loosen her up

with Baileys. Like fuck!
Svetlana drank it all.

I can't believe I spent a year
with that stupid tart.

-Turn out the lights!
-So, forget the Baileys.

Straight to bed! Marvin Gaye in
the background. Cuddling to

some soft black tones.
Wham! Iris all wet, hurtling from

orgasm to orgasm, neighbours on
the balcony, chanting:

Give-it-to-her Braca!

-How could I think it's just
about sex for him?

Braca, my gallant knight!

-Let me see that slip.
Why did you bet on Eastwich?

-Good odds. -But Manchester
are Manchester.

-But Kangaroo's our mate.
-Did he call you today?

When was the last time he called?

He won't call you. You're not on
the same level. It's over.

Forget him, like he forgot us.
-Kangaroo's not like that.

-But life is. -What's that?
-Choose.

-So why did you buy the slip?
-I can't help it, I'm already

up today. Uncle Cile won't
always be there.

-Take your mate out
to dinner, a bird on your arm.

-I haven't got a bird.
-What about Ljubica?

Uncle Cile knows everything...

-Look how sweet they are.

-At least fifty years old and
holding hands. Isn't it lovely?

-Zivac, look, there's Braca.
-Look, they're waving to us.

-Hello! Say hi to them.
-Do you know them?

-Neighbours from our building.
-That looks like his new

girlfriend. Isn't she pretty?
Really pretty, like an angel.

Come on Zile, let's say hello.
-Ah, sit down.

-Sorry, I have to go to the toilet.

Where you going? -To say hello.

-Don't look at me. Look at the screen!
What you doing here.

Why aren't you at Mile's?
-To Mile's, then to watch the

football. And we haven't been to
the cinema in twenty years.

-Twenty years, and now you
decide to go to the cinema!

-Braca, are you ashamed of us?
-Oh come on, ma! Look at the

screen. This film isn't for you,
get it? -Is that right?

And why's that? -Because there are
scenes of explicit violence

and even more explicit sex.
That's why. Satisfied? Go home.

-Oh please, for us it's explicit
and for him it isn't.

-Slavka, did you turn off the hob?
-I think so.

-You did, or you think you did?
-I think I did. -So you didn't.

-Let me introduce myself.
I'm Slavka, Braca's mother.

-Pleased to meet you, I'm Iris.
-Aren't you pretty, Ines.

Like in that song. Braca didn't tell
me he had such a pretty

girlfriend. -I'm not his...
-He's very nice. So are you.

Just so you know, he recently
finished a long relationship.

I didn't think he'd be
so quick to find...

You're a lovely couple, Ines.
-Goodbye.

-Beautiful Iris gets up,
and passing down the left wing

walks out of my life.
-And they're your... -Yes.

-Well why didn't you tell me...
-Because I didn't!

-Don't be unkind. I've also just
finished a relationship.

-I don't believe it. And what else
did she bloody tell you?

Did she tell you how I used to piss
the bed till I was seven?

-You know, there's no reason
to get angry with your parents.

-Take them home if you like them.

-My mother wouldn't even have
said hello to you. -Excellent!

-Nor would my father.
-Do you want to swap parents?

-You'd soon change your mind.
They don't talk to anyone.

Not even to each other. And when
they do, it's better that

they didn't. -What's with the outbursts
of personal stuff?

What does this mean?

I can't believe my mum's pulled
me a bird! Cheers Slavka!

-Alright crazies!
-Alright you estate agent!

Hey shift that aerial there.
-Mate, I've got bio-energy.

-You got something to smoke?
-You know what, Avaks, I've

paid my fair share.
-You got some or not?

-No, no. This estate agency fucked me.
They pay me nothing.

Isn't life beautiful!
-I'll fucking kill you!

-Another thirty-eight,
thirty-nine minutes of anguish, hope,

suspense. Eastwich have very
little in reserve. Do these

London boys have the strength?

-Come on Eastwich. For Kangaroo,
for Serbia!

-Why have you gone quiet, mate?
Look, he's the bollocks!

-I haven't, mate, what's up?
-Kangaroo, Kangaroo!

-Giggs puts over a useful cross.
And, nothing! The young

Kangaroo leapt like a panther
and claimed the ball...

-A quick tipple, madam? -Why not.
-Whisky for Mrs Rada.

-This young man has recorded
the most beautiful moments of

his goalkeeping career...
-Give me one as well.

-So you're ditching me
for Gangula this weekend?

-If you think I'm ditching you,
then I'm ditching you.

-A million dinars, mate.

Tonight you drank my million dinars.
-Sorry, man. How was I

to know? -It's like you killed me,
tonight you killed me.

-Look what your brother
brought for you. -Fuck you.

-The referees, with Mr Smith
at the helm...

-Fuck, they haven't crossed the halfway
line for half an hour.

Attack, for fuck's sake! -Free kick to
Manchester, ten metres

outside the penalty area.
Just three players in the wall.

-This is going top right.
-If it goes top right, you're top

casualty. -You're mad.
-I'll show you who's bloody mad!

And ask yourself later if I'm
mad and what's my problem.

-Fantastic save by young
Kangaroo. It's his day,

the hero, this prince from
the Danube and the Sava.

-Excuse me, madam,
but I have to kiss you.

-What's young Kangaroo done now!
-Fuck you, Kangaroo.

-What a careless move,
the price of inexperience.

-Why, Kangaroo, Why?

-Young Kangaroo let himself be
provoked by old Keane, and

spat at him. -He'll get a red card.
-So he should, fucking

idiot. Did he learn that at home?
-Shut up!

-Mr Smith reaches for his
pocket and...yellow card!

-That's it Smithy,
I could kiss your dick!

-It's ok Kangaroo.
Come on.

-A yellow card forthat!
For spitting, a yellow card!

-Now I'm going to fuck him.
Get out! I'll fuck you bad.

-Mind the suit. -Ah, Baron,
freshly nicked, huh?

-No, honey,
I've got the label.

How you doing, you got some cash?
-Er, I don't know.

-Your size...
-We'll see, at the end.

-Honey, your size. It's an opportunity!

-Sorry, can I use your mobile?
To apologise to my mum.

-That would be fine, really.
-Mum, it's me. Sorry, please.

Bake me a pie... -Hold on,
why exactly didn't he want to

introduce me. -Thanks.

-I'm so stupid. -What now?
Why introduce me if he just

wants to sleep with me and dump me.
-She must be stiff from

sitting. -And I'm stiff.
Come on film!

-Oh come on!
-Sladjanaaaa!

-Sumpor? -Tell me mate.
-Move that foot, please.

-Why?
-It stinks, mate.

-You know why, because I'm
in my shoes all day, I work.

First I was in Zemun, then in Medak,
all day on the bus.

-Great, well done. Just move it,
I can't stand it. -Fuck you!

-Miroslav, you there? -He's here!
Your granddad's calling.

-Suck my dick. Ok, grandpa,
just fixing it now.

-Pass the joint!

Mate, why don't you fix
the aerial for your granddad?

Why you laughing? You too?
Why don't you two do something?

You're 26 years old, and you sit
there all day talking crap.

-Why can't you get it that I'm
at my most useful sitting here.

-Me too. -I've got no income,
and I've got no outgoings.

-Pass the joint. Right, let's call
some birds. -What birds?

-I don't know, some birds.
Let's call Branka.

-Branka got married, idiot.

-Ok, we won't call Branka.

-Sixty-first, sixty-second
minute of the game.

Manchester' attackers are lining up.

-Come on! Who's Zile?
-The greatest player...

-And? -The greatest lover -And?
-The greatest football expert.

-Hi Zivac. -What's up Mile?
190 over 100! You did well!

Next time I'll get you 300
over 200! Fucking Manchester.

-Roma-Atalanta finished.
-What did I tell you?

-And entering the game is
number 27 minutes! Sorry, my

mistake, 27 minutes to go.

-Mate, why you shitting yourself?
It'll be ok.

Attack, Eastwich, wherever
you play, we're there...

-Young Kangaroo brings down
the Flying Dutchman in the penalty

area! A careless challenge,
the price of inexperience! You

can't do that Kangaroo, not in Europe.
-He went for the ball.

-Europe's strict. And what's Mr Smith
given now? A penalty?

-Fuck you, and the electricity company.
-What's going on mate?

-Thank god, now the film.
It'll be fine. We'll hold hands.

She'll kiss me. She'll like the film.
It'll inspire to make

something similar. My life is
finally going somewhere.

-Come on, Mile, start it!
Why you stripping? -Fuck you!

-The harshest punishment, after all!
-Oh Kangaroo, I'll fuck

your species of kangaroo.
-Defend him, people!

-Defend my arse. -And the
ruthless Paul Scholes

approaches. Casually places the ball.
A hushed Mansfield Road.

Paul Scholes and Kangaroo,
head-to-head. Tensions rising.

-The skies open, Kangaroo saves.
Holy father and mother!

-One-one! -How come one-one
when he saved it? How come?

-Alas father, alas mother,
Kangaroo carried the ball

across the line.
Oh, the price of inexperience.

-Did anyone ever tell you that
you gave birth to an idiot?

-Oh, fuck you, kiss my arse.
-What inexperience!

-The film is cancelled, power cut.
Follow me.

-Let's go.

-Fuck you, fuck you all.

The first time I take a girl
to yourfucking cinema!

And everything fucks up!

-Braca, what's wrong?

-What's wrong? Does it bother
you that I've fallen in love?

Does it bother you that you've
screwed up the most beautiful

day of my life!
-Help!

-Here's your numbered seat,
go fuck him.

-Now I'm going to fuck you.
Did I miss Kangaroo just for you,

you little bastard.

Ouch, my eyes, my eyes.
I can't see! -He's killing him!

-The shame! Braca King of Shame!
Let the electricity come

back so this tram can hit me!

-We'll go to his place, and we'll screw.
On the first date?

Of course! Sex at first sight!
Because to us it's not the most

important thing. Wait! Does it hurt?
-No, I'll do it.

-I sprayed him with deodorant.
-I'm going to wash my face.

-You were a pussy at the cinema.
Come on, get the balls

to ask her to your place.
What did we say? Braca's got balls,

Braca's the man! I can't believe
what's happening to me.

I've got saggy breasts. No hair.
That's why I've got

moles. Thousands of bloody moles.
I can't sunbathe.

Haven't got any money for
the coast anyway. Nor will I have

anyone to go with when
beautiful Iris dumps me and

flies off with some beautiful
models. I've got a belly.

I'm 27. I don't work. I live with
my parents, and nothing

will change for 50 years.
Or maybe it will, for the worse.

-Where's your shirt?
-Pardon?

You know what, I don't care
about the shirt. I'm a useless

social parasite.
Fuck my shirt.

I'm a louse, heading into my own
lousy world, to live my own

lousy life, to die and be
buried in a lousy grave.

-You ok?
-No, I'm not ok.

-What a drama. -Mile, that stinks!
-What a tragedy.

-A Russian military generator!

-Hitchcock couldn't direct this.
Decline of the Gods!

-Five minutes left, plus injury time.
Remember when Leeds...

-Shut it, Burgija.
-Your brother's waiting outside.

-Watch my suit, please.
-Ljubica, pour me another.

-Manchester deserve more
than a draw. -Out for Eastwich...

-Fucking prick!
-Mate, don't worry, it's ok.

-What's ok, did you see it?
What a moron.

-Are you cold? -No.
-Why did I say I'm not cold?

-What a stupid question.
Of course he's cold. -Thousands of

plans. Thousands of beautiful plans,
and all ruined.

Fuck, I tried to pull Naomi Campbell.
I can't believe this.

The bum and Naomi. Good name
for a film. The bum and Naomi.

Scene One: 60-year-old Braca
lives with 100-year-old parents

Cut. They're eating through straws.
On the TV, Brad Pitt

getting on Oscar. Out runs crying Iris.
They kiss while I

break down. The Oscar in her hands.
Big. Cut to a chainsaw.

Cut. Braca advances on his
helpless parents with the

chainsaw. Music climaxes.
What am I saying? Thousands of

uncontrolled thoughts. Fuck,
I'm having a nervous breakdown.

-No more time, no more time for anything.
-Fuck me if I'm ever

going to a bookies again.
-It's futile. The midfield was

completely subdued, lacking in attack,
lacking in defence.

Fortune has turned her back.
Young Zoran Paunovic is the one

bright side.
-Hi Gangula!

-Hey people, what's up? Who's playing?
-Fuck off! -Ok, Zivac.

-...you can't do it like that
in the home of the ladybird,

underthe flag of Gordi Albion.
As the Brits say:

God Save Kangaroo, god save
the queen from this football.

-Hey shut the door, or I'll break
both your legs and arms.

-Dragan!
-Gangula, mate!

-How's it going, man?
-Good, Where's Cile?

-Don't know, mate, he was here.
-Where is he?

-Oh, come on Dragan.
-Where's Cile, my little ones?

-Mate, this is tight.

-Is anything ever going to happen?
-Go get some beer,

something might happen
to you on the way.

-Got any cash? -Banjaluka will
put it on the tab.

-Why me? He'll run a tab for
you too -Mate, I have to fix

the aerial. -�You're listening to B92...�
-Oh, yeah.

Hello? What's going on?
-This is seriously good weed.

-Let's get some beer,
this is making me thirsty.

-Braca's bird, guys! -Silence.
-Thanks.

-Gangula, mate. -Give me a juice.
-Coming up.

-Gangula, champ. We're watching
Kangaroo, the match, Gangula.

One minute to go. -Shut up.
You can see there's a crisis in the

Middle East. -Fuck you.
I have to go.

-Where are you going?
-To get some juice. -Not you.

Where's Cile? -I don't know,
Dragan, I swear.

-Gangula, please, just one minute.
-Are you nuts?

-Why don't you let us
watch the game. Do you hear me?

-Madam, leave the premises.
-Me leave the premises? No.

-Aunt Rada.
-Leave me alone.

-Gangula, mate, it's ok.
This is Kangaroo's mum.

-Somi, mate.
What is this?

-Come here. Don't make me
come after you, gypsy. Hear me?

-Somi, mate, two-one!
-The skies have opened.

Belgrade has erupted. This is crazy!
-How you doing, Cikotic!

-Gangula, kill me, fuck me,
do what you want.

-The end! Mr Smith blows
the final whistle. Moments to

savour on the most beautiful
pages of footballing history.

-Come on Gangula, hit me!

-Rejoice young Zoran Paunovic Kangaroo,
the new star of the

footballing firmament,
the new god between the posts.

The homegrown Serbian son,
Prince of the Danube and Sava.

-There's only one Mrs Rada!

-Fuck, this is for my late father,
my mum, and Ljubica!

-A lake and a crate, and a crate
and lake, and life is...

-So, it's eitherthe betting
slip orthe 500 euros.

And I took the cash.
-What have you done?

-A miracle. A miracle needs to
happen for me to pull her.

-Banjaluka doesn't work Sunday
evenings so we went to this guy

who never runs a tab.
-But he did tonight. What's up?

-I saw a flying saucer.
-Where is it? -It flew off.

-Cool. What a trip!
-Do you hear what I'm saying?

I saw a flying saucer!
-Is this weed working for you?

-Hey Avaks, how come you
always see everything? You saw when

Prasak was killed, when Mad Zeks
jumped out the window,

when Duje grabbed the
chemist teacher's arse, when

Banjaluka's Mercedes caught fire.
-When Mira gave Gangula a

blowjob in his car. -How come you
always see, and we don't?

-Mate, that's your problem.
-What did it look like?

-It was blue, and when it
turned it disappeared.

-No shit?
-Fuck you.

-Mate, do you know how big
Belgrade is? And only you saw a

flying saucer. Does that tell
you anything? -Yeah. -What?

-That I've seen a fucking
flying saucer.

-Why are you lying?
-You're bloody blind.

-Old man, did you see it too?
-Of course! -What did you see?

-A secret, a military secret.

-Old man, you want a beer, mate?
-Sure, a quick one.

-It's ok. Let it go.
-You're really not angry?

-No mate, it's ok.

-Look mate,
there's 500 euros.

-Get lost, you fucker!

-Mate, I know Avaks sees
everything, but he did see it.

We weren't smoking, mate.
We've got another witness. You don't

think he was smoking?

-What do you reckon,
was there an alien inside? -No idea.

The Russians put dogs in
the first rockets. -No shit.

-I swear. -Why dogs?
-If something happens, better

to fry a dog than a man.
-Think there's some cosmic dog inside?

-Maybe.
-Imagine the trip!

-Avaks, one more minute and
we're rich. -What do you mean?

-You saw a flying saucer, man.
You'll be famous. And when

you're famous, you're rich. It
all comes together.

-A strange night in town.
An earthquake, a power-cut,

interference. And now witnesses
to an unusual event in the sky.

-Yes, that's it. There it is.
-Sreten Zujkic, pensioner.

-Listeners, live on our
programme is a fellow citizen

who witnessed an unusual event
in the sky. Tell us exactly

what you saw. -It was a bluish mass,
magma, moving, and

then suddenly disappeared.
-Where? -I think it went in the

direction of Grocka. -That's great.
Was it a flying saucer?

-What's with 500 million
unregistered Chinese, huh?

Nothing! 500 million! They're
digging tunnels, holes, to

Moscow, Paris, London,
Washington. World globalisation

is waging war against
the entire planet.

-He looks like he's on hard drugs.
-And who brought down

the Berlin wall? Who privatised Slovakia,
and where's the

hand of Jesus. I invite all of
advanced mankind to understand

there is no Third World War,
there wasn't even a Second.

Mankind is sleeping. -Hello, Sir?
-Oh for fuck's sake!

-What's wrong? -What's wrong?
You're supposed just to confirm

you saw a flying saucer. -I did see it.
-So why didn't you say?

-I thought I did.
-Fuck you, idiot.

-You know what, go fuck yourself!
You deserve

globalisation and the hole
in the ozone layer. Go to sleep!

-Hello? Well of course they
cut us off. You idiot!

-It's no good. I don't have the
nerves for this. I've lost

three tonnes of nerves today...
Why am I tripping?

She's next to me, she likes me.
Everything's ok. Now we're

going to stop a cab, go to my place,
put on Marvin Gaye, and

that's that. Where's my money?
No! I gave it to that bald

bloke for bloody brandy.
Baldy's ruined my life.

-Do you need money?
-No. I don't sell out for money!

I'm an artist, I don't give a fuck
about money. And I don't

give a fuck about your fucking
fashion, your stylists, lifting

and peeling. I don't give a shit
about your diets, your

books or your looks, back-stagers!
I'm sick of fashion

and your shit about fashion.
And I'm sick of the bloody TV

programmes, stupid presenters
talking shit about fashion and

some projects all day. I'm sick of
those projects. I don't care

where you've been and where
you'll have your next show, I

don't care about who takes care
of your look. I'm not going to

suck up to some idiot for money.
You models can fuck

yourselves. Fu-ck your-selves!
I can't believe what I said.

Sorry, I don't know what to say.
-You don't need to say

anything else to me.

-Hey, Tarzan, you getting in?
-No, he's not. -Sladjanaaa!

-Thanks for coming. -No problem
I came because of work.

-I know. You know that 50 euros
I owe you, I'll have it by the

end of the week, in principle,
definitely, in principle.

-You're fucking me! Not only
am I working overtime, I'm

working in the middle of nowhere.

-Excuse me, are you from the centre?
-Get lost, Bighead.

Let's do the sound check.

-What's your problem?
Just three sentences, mate. Just

what you saw. You'll be the first
Serb to see a flying

saucer. You'll be celebrated!
-Viewers, here we are in...

-I don't want to be famous.
-How come?

-Sumpor, give me that
bird's number, please.

-Fine, I will. Go away.
Everyone wants to be famous!

-I don't. -Ok, you don't want to be
famous. But you want the

cash! -Yeah. -Well there's no cash
without fame. They come

together. -What about Banjaluka.
-Yes, but he

squeezes minced meat all day
and stinks of charcoal. Do you

want to stink of charcoal?
-I don't want that either.

Viewers, we're in a Vozdovac
tower block...

Sasa, is it ready?
-Just a minute, Makili.

-Excuse me, how big is this?
-Hey, Makili, get rid of

this thickhead, I'm going to punch him.
-Lad, please don't.

-Alright, what's yourfucking problem?
-Understand mate, I

won't... -What won't you, what?
-Embarrass myself.

-What embarrassment, mate? To earn
some cash, become popular.

-We'll earn fuck all! Someone,
I don't know who or why,

doesn't want it to be known
that flying saucers exist.

They tell the stupid people
that they're all flashes,

weather balloons, or some shit.
But they can't lie to me, I

know what I saw.
-You're bloody crazy!

-Mate, do they pay your social?
-Shall we, mate?

-We shall!
Mate, come here.

-Mate, are you going to give
a statement? -About what?

-About my dick!
About the flying saucer, fool.

-And Avaks? -Yes or no?
-I didn't see anything!

-The heat's a killer, huh?
-Killer, mate.

-Hey, Braca, did you get laid?

-Did you win any money?
-Kind of, mate, yes and no.

-We're fucked, mate, fucked.
You know that feeling when...

I'm going home. Mum's made some pie.
-What you doing later?

-Dunno, maybe hanging myself.
-Come to the roof later.

-That bird's really fucked him.

-What I'd give to be
fucked up by some bird.

-Viewers, here we are in a
Vozdovac tower block, with a

magnificent view over a
sun-drenched Belgrade, of course,

when it's not night. With us is
our young fellow citizen

Aleksandar Kovacevic.
-Sumpor, mate, Sumpor.

-Sasa, what exactly did you see?

-It's still difficult for me to...
It really was amazing.

This is a great day for mankind.
The physicists,

astronomers and philosophers
are wrong. There is life beyond

earth. I saw a
flying saucer.

We were sitting here
smoking dope, err..Dunhill.

-Where exactly? -I was sitting here.
At one moment I glanced

at the sky and saw a bluish light,
like some magma. It

turned around like this,
and suddenly disappeared.

-Hey bighead, don't stand on
my cables. -What, you pussy! You

came here to show off in my
neighbourhood! -Don't mate.

-He thinks he's some big shot
if he works on TV. If you don't

like it here, why did you come?
To show off?

-Why you fucking me, mate?
-Well fuck you too, Sumpor!

They're insulting our neighbourhood,
and you're

talking shit, patronizing.
I'll shit on your flying saucers.

-You know what, you can't work
with peasants. -Shall we?

-We shall. So, that shining bluish object,
shining in the

sky, like some lunar-park in the sky,
and weird sounds, like

some heavenly symphony.
-So they're intelligent beings.

-They're well ahead of us.
They were trying to tell us

something with those audio-visual
vibrations. -What?

-That we're here, and they're there,
so why not offer the

hand of friendship.
-Pack up the equipment. -Why?

I mean, I saw it, really.

-We interrupt the music for a news
flash. We're getting calls

from listeners around Kosmaj.
They say that an unidentified

flying object has appeared above
Sopot, but we can't

contact our reporter...
-Don't say we're going to

Kosmaj now.
Give me that cable.

-Hey, Sumpor, you promised me
that girl's number.

-You know what, that...

-Ciuvavaaaaaa
-Sladjanaaa

-Fuck me, is this Sladjana
ever going to respond?

-Get in touch Sladja!
-...the latest information.

The army has blocked the route
to Kosmaj. Our reporter Radovan

is at the scene, at the heart of
the Kosmaj mountain...

-I guess you didn't get
any money?

-We don't need much money.
All we need is beer and fags. To

take out a bird.
-You don't have a bird, fool.

-I don't have a bird, but my
blood pressure's normal.

120 over 80. I sit on the roof with
my mates and don't give a

fuck about anything!
-Cheers!

-Avaks saw a flying saucer.

-What did you see?
-A flying saucer.

-Are you shitting us? -No.
-When, mate, where?

-You guys actually pissed on
me today from up here.

-We got beer, but not fags.

-This is from my mum. Eat up,
what's wrong with you? Pie.

Fuck, I was thinking, mates from
the neighbourhood, we know

each other ourwhole lives, but what
do you know about me, huh?

-Chill out, mate. Have a beer.
-Sure, that'll do.

-Sladjanaaa! -There is no Sladjana!
So stop calling her!

-Did you escort yourfriends out?
-Fuck you!

-Did Makili say hi to me?
-Leave my pressure cuff alone!

What happened? Is it my fault?
Did I screw up?

-No, mate. I screwed up.
And it hurts.

-Hey, mate, Avaks saw a flying saucer.
-I mean, seriously.

-Sladjana!

-Iris!

-Try with this,
she'll hear you better.

-Hello.

How did you know it was me?

No, I'm not cold, I got dressed.
I wanted to ask, do

You want to go to the cinema
with me tonight? No, another...

-Good luck, mate.

-Branka!

-Ljubica!

-Marija!

-Tanja!

-Dusan!

-I knew you were queer?
-I'm not, why?

-Well, who's the Dusan guy?
-A friend from nursery.

I really liked him.
And then he moved away.

And we haven't seen
each other since.

-You idiot!
-Why mate?

-Doesn't matter. Here's to you.