Original subtitles

Mr. Shahnawaz saw Trevor throw a brick through his lounge window.

Mr. Shahnawaz was treated by his doctor for a cut he received,

but was later able to identify Trevor

when he was apprehended and arrested by the police.

Trevor was charged at Ratman Street Police Station at 9:45 p.m.

When asked if he'd anything to say, he made no reply.

Do you have any questions on the facts, Mr. Wyman?

No questions.

Thank you.

Were you aware that Mr. Shahnawaz

had to be treated for a wound you inflicted upon him?

Yeah.

Stand up.

You do not invite leniency, do you?

No.

You were a constant truant at school.

A failure, it seems.

You've been before the court on numerous occasions for non-attendance.

You have been convicted of taking and driving away,

shoplifting, violent behaviour

and in spite of your undertakings to the court,

you have made no attempt to secure yourself a job.

And now you've been accused of stealing once again.

And you've attacked a member of the immigrant community

and caused damage to his property.

It's a long, depressing list.

Are you not ashamed of yourself?

No.

You are currently under way

to the Hooper Street Residential Assessment Center.

Residential means a place where you reside/live.

You will reside/live at Hooper Street

for a period of six weeks,

which means you'll probably end up in there for about six months

while a team of experts, psychiatrists and psychologists,

team leaders, key workers

decide what they think should be done with you.

That is called assessment.

Then you go back in front of his nibs for nicking the cassettes from Harrods.

He reads the experts' reports and then sentences you to be hanged.

You got that?

What'd I get for the cassettes?

You don't listen, do you? You're all the bloody same.

Today was the brick through the Paki's window.

They made a balls-up.

You gotta go back for the cassettes from Harrods.

That's when he'll decide what to do with ya.

You in a bad mood, Harry?

- Did you think you'd get away with it? - What?

"What?" Nicking from Harrods.

Why not?

Was it full of skinheads the day you went?

It was full of wogs.

How many other skinheads did you see doing their weekly shop?

It was full of wogs. Why not me?

Wankers!

You heard what he said. No more chances.

Go back in front of him, and he'll put you away.

Bollocks. I'll kick the door down.

It's not worth it, Trevor. They'll lock you up.

They can't lock me up for not getting a job.

Try 'em and see.

You still gonna be my social worker, Harry?

Yeah, I'm afraid so.

I'm off for the next two weeks, so behave yourself.

- Off what? - Work.

- You going on holiday, Harry? - That's right.

- Where? - Corfu.

- Where's that? - Just stay straight till I get back.

Put me in your filing cabinet, Harry.

I could spend the next two weeks reading all the cobblers you write about me.

- Peter, this is Trevor. - Hello, Trevor, Harry.

What can I do for you, Harry?

- I've brought Trevor. - You mean this Trevor?

That's right.

His case notes will be round later in a lorry.

Slight confusion, Harry. Have you brought Trevor for admission?

- We've just come from the court. - I know nothing about this.

- It's a telephone referral. - When?

Four, five days ago.

Well, yes.

Wait there.

How'd you know I was coming four or five days ago?

- I didn't. - I only went to court this morning.

- It's common procedure. - Come through, Harry.

You too, Trevor. See if we can't sort this out.

Come on, bald brain.

I'll find you a place even if I have to pay for it.

Harry, Trevor is a telephone referral, isn't he?

Right.

Hello. Peter Clive.

Hello. Peter Clive.

Terry. Yeah, yeah.

She's still here. No, nothing's planned.

Can you hold on two ticks, Terry? Good.

Harry, your message isn't recorded in the log.

- Terry's not expected. - Trevor.

That makes things very difficult for us to sort out.

Impossible, I'd say, Peter.

Don't let it get to you. I left the care order at the court.

I can't admit him without a care order.

- When can I get to the job center? - Pardon?

- Where is it anyway? - Just a tick.

- Terry, can I call you back? - What brought this on?

This place is full of wankers, Harry. I'd rather work than be here.

Can't we do something with Trevor,

like send him off to get hanged and then you and me can have a sort out?

All right.

I'll take you through and pass you on to someone else, if that's okay.

You don't need me to hold your hand.

I want to get down to the job center as soon as possible.

Trevor, come through.

Back in two ticks, Harry.

- Watch your step, smart-ass. - Bollocks.

What's this about the job center?

Magistrate told me to get a bleedin' job.

I'm Peter Clive, one of two deputy superintendents.

I'll link you up with your key worker or house parent.

If we can find them. You'll see a lot of them.

They'll fill in your entry form with you, organize a room.

We've got things going here like bike workshops, if you're interested,

evening groups, Red Rover days.

We'll need to have a little conference with you about your contract.

I don't like that bed. It's too near the window.

I want that one.

- I'm in this bed. - I know you are.

- You got a swastika on your head. - I know I have.

I'll sell it to you.

What's all this bollocks about a contract?

That's Pete Clive. He makes you do it.

- They make you sign a contract. - He's a wanker.

He's a prick. You have to promise to behave.

Get to school on time and that sort of thing.

Do it in your own writing and sign it.

- What school? - I still go to my proper school.

I been suspended, so I'm back.

- So why aren't you there today? - I got an infection in my ear.

My case conference comes up next week.

- Then I might get out of here. - They're all wankers.

- Who? - This lot here.

What's that?

- Don't you know? - No.

Here, you can have this bed if you want.

No, thanks.

I'll stay over here.

- That's just for the bus. - That's right.

- What about pocket money? - You've only just got here.

It's not been fixed yet. I don't know how much you're supposed to get.

- The same as everybody else. - You have damages to pay, don't you?

For the broken window?

- I need some pocket money. - What for?

If you're just going down to the job center and back

you won't need any pocket money.

You go straight there and back again.

- What if I don't make it back for lunch? - It won't take that long.

If it was up to me, you wouldn't be going at all.

They might send me for a job.

Here's an extra pound against your pocket money.

Where we going?

Get in.

Remember this?

Evo-Stik.

Stay here.

I feel sick.

Oi, what's this say?

"Supermarket. 23.55 per week."

That's 50 p an hour.

Bollocks.

Yeah.

You ain't supposed to take the cards.

You a carpenter?

- What about this one, Jo? - I was looking at this one.

"Dental practice. Four O levels.

Required to train for three years as dental nurse.

Should have knowledge of French and Spanish, but not essential."

Who'd you have to suck off to get that one?

Right.

Here y'are. What's this one say?

"M/F. 9:30, 5:30. Young person for general warehouse duties.

Must be able to speak fluent Punjabi and Urdu."

- You speak Urdu? - No.

Fucks your chances then, doesn't it?

Here y'are.

"Wood veneer wall coverings.

Candidate must read, be of good character,

living at home with parents in home environment.

No criminal records. School records will be checked."

Do I get a job from you?

Yes, but you'll have to wait. There's a queue.

- You get me a job, right? - Yes, but you can't jump the queue.

And you're supposed not to take the cards from the display.

- Do you think you could put them back? - Tacky-jobs, ain't they?

If you wait, perhaps we can sort something out.

Have you got something useful I can do while I'm waiting for a job?

I got 10 O levels, seven A levels, I speak fluent Punjabi and Chappati.

You'll have to wait.

I'll come back tomorrow.

- See ya. - I doubt it.

What's this place?

Where did you get all them?

Down the scrapyard.

- What's this? - Center punch. Automatic.

- You never seen one? - No.

- T-bar. - What's that for?

I'll show you.

Take these. Get them in the center. Hide 'em.

Stick 'em up your ass. Don't lose 'em. We get nicked, chuck 'em.

All the new cars, they got locks... proper locks.

How you gonna do it if you ain't got the right size keys?

Which one do you want?

That one.

See, it's locked.

Bollocks.

- You want the keys? - No.

That's sweet.

- That's sweet, man. - Now get out.

- What? - Get out.

- What for? - I've been down the job center on the bus.

We get back together, they'll suss us, and they'll get my keys, so you walk.

I'm going to see some mates.

Take it back.

- What? - The car, Trevor. Take it back.

- I don't know what you're talking about. - I'm not bloody stupid.

I saw you. You've nicked that bloody car, so take it back.

I ain't nicked no car.

I saw you get out of it.

Now, I'm not blind or stupid.

Now take it back. Get rid of it.

I'll get rid of it, but I ain't taking it back.

Fine.

But do just that.

You've known about it for two weeks.

I haven't known till now. I been on a boat before.

Let's get some stuff loaded. Come on.

- Won't you at least have a look at it? - What do I want to look at a boat for?

Been on a hovercraft. So I ain't scared of a barge, am I?

- I know you ain't. - He said I was bloody scared.

I did not. I said if you were nervous you should come down and have a look.

That's all.

It's two, three days.

Come through, will you?

Go, and bloody good luck to ya.

Where is it? Where'd you put it?

- What? - The bloody car, Trevor.

I gave it to Oxfam. They're using it to ship wogs back to Zululand.

Where is it?

Police parking lot, Broadway Lane. Where's lunch?

- Why'd you take it? - To get back to lunch.

- You were given money for a bus. - I bought a car instead.

You're not being clever, you know.

When do I get lunch?

You don't. You've missed lunch.

- It's too late. - You what?

Next time I'll have you at the courtroom so fast you won't know what happened.

- Great. - It's your last chance.

Get out.

You had your lunch?

Yeah.

I ain't.

Oi.

Oi. I want my lunch.

I want my lunch!

Do you mind?

There's no lunch.

You know there's no lunch.

We don't serve lunch at 3:00 in the afternoon.

He's got his in there. He's got it.

The dining room's closed.

You bastard! I'll have you!

Let me through. I have the key.

Okay. All right.

Get rid of this, shall we?

Heavy mob?

Thank you, Peter.

At least you can spell.

Harry Parker, your social worker... I know Harry very well.

He says you're bright, worth a bit of bother.

- Wouldn't take the time if I were you. - Don't be clever. Don't be smart.

We've no time to waste. Plenty of other kids we could be dealing with.

If you want to behave like a moron, we'll put you with the other morons

under lock and key at Hatchmere House.

I can do that. I'll have you transferred.

We'll do your assessment from there.

If you're gonna stay here, let's make it clear.

You're gonna have to step into line... Just a sec.

You're gonna have to step into line, and you're gonna have to cooperate.

That shouldn't be too difficult. We're a reasonable lot.

- I'm not signing any contract. - Let's look at that, shall we?

Let's give your intelligence the benefit of the doubt.

Mr. Parker says you're a bright lad, and I respect his opinion.

So I have a particular interest in you.

Personal. Between the two of us.

I want you to prove to me you're worth all the time and effort

that we're prepared to put into you.

Your big break, this.

'Cause I'll not give you a second chance.

All right?

All right.

Good.

Let's take a look at what life's got in store for you.

Go back a few steps, see how clever you've been so far.

For a kick-off, you've just been to court. When was it?

Thursday. Yesterday.

Just yesterday? You've been to court before, haven't you?

Right?

Right.

Still being clever, still being smart.

What were the most important things that happened to you before you went to court?

Can you remember that far back?

You started off here, at home.

H-O-M-E spells home.

There's your mum, your dad, all the rest of 'em.

Just like any other mum and dad, all they ask you to do...

all you have to do is go to school.

That's not too much to ask, is it?

You're clever, bright.

Everybody wants you to succeed. Nobody wants a failure on their hands.

Get the right qualifications, make your way in the world.

But you didn't want to go to school, did you?

You knew best. So you started bunkin' off.

Out the gate, over the fence.

And your teachers are concerned, 'cause they're there to help.

They don't want to see you get behind.

- So they go see your mum and dad. - My teacher's never been to my house.

No matter. They talked to your mum and dad.

They told you to get your ass back into school. They know you have to go.

But you still didn't listen. Out the gate, over the fence.

Before you know where you are,

your mum and dad get a visit from the Education Welfare Officer.

- You got a visit from him, didn't you? - Yeah.

That's right.

The EWO's there to make sure you go to school.

If you don't, he gives the nod to the appropriate authority, and that spells trouble.

At this point a lot of kids get a bit of sense.

They get themselves together. They get back to school.

They listen. But you didn't listen, did ya?

The Education Welfare Officer visits

four, five, six... even seven times.

Tries to help, discover the problem.

A lot of time and expense all because you don't want to go to school.

The EWO reaches his limit.

So he sends your parents a letter threatening to take you to court for non-attendance,

but that does nothing, absolutely nothing.

So there's a summons.

And you go for the very first time to court.

Your debut.

First appearance, send him home for a test attendance,

for whatever good that'll do.

You're supposed to go to school for 21 days straight,

but you foul up after the third or fourth day and back you go again.

So, one, two, three, four, five.

Six breaks.

Six chances to get yourself straight and get your ass back into school.

And one, two, three, four, five.

Six times you've blown it.

Now, am I not right?

Yeah.

But you weren't just bunking off, were you?

You had to do something with all that free time.

So you did a bit of thieving.

First two or three times you get caught, you get taken down the nick

and some policeman tells you off, shouts at you.

Next time you get a caution.

This time a sergeant in full uniform shouts at ya.

It doesn't make a damn bit of difference because you're deaf to reason.

You go on nicking and making a general bloody nuisance of yourself

when you should be here learning something useful.

But it's burglary, shoplifting, TDA...

touching the dog's ass, taking and driving away.

And back you go to court.

They're getting to know you now, so you get fined

or sent to the local police attendance center.

Kept off the streets all day Saturday, made to scrub floors

by another loud policeman when you could be watching West Ham lose at home.

The magistrates don't know what to do with you.

They're all greengrocers and shopkeepers.

So they send you here to us

for assessment.

So what we gonna do with ya?

- We could recommend you go home. - What home?

But they won't have ya.

So how we gonna get rid of ya?

Foster parents? Never.

Children's home? A joke.

CHE, detention center, borstal.

A pity about CHE... community home with education.

Appealing both to your intellectual brilliance

and your public spirit.

What used to be called an approved school, a CHE.

You could have been king of the Mafia.

Lots of lick-me-ass power trips for ambitious young 15 year olds.

And you've just turned 16. Bad luck.

Not much left to bring you in line, is there?

A short, sharp, shock at the local detention center or borstal.

Two simple lessons you're gonna have to learn... DC or borstal...

One: Discipline. Two: Respect for authority.

You're gonna have to learn it. You might as well learn it now.

This is an open invitation to you to cooperate, Trevor,

for your own good.

DC... seven out of 10 coming out of detention centers,

eight out of 10 leaving borstals re-offend...

commit crimes, that is, within two years.

So, here you are, fresh out of borstal.

What's the first thing you're gonna need?

A job.

A job. Peter, how many unemployed do we have at the moment?

- Millions. - Exactly.

What chance have you got, with your spots and your record, of getting a job

against a lad with O and A levels and a decent haircut?

About nil?

Optimistic.

So, no job.

What do you do? Sign on. The dole.

How much is that worth to ya?

A place to live, food in your gut, a bit of fun. It's gone... broke.

No job, no prospects, no cash.

So what do you do?

And you're back here.

All because you were too damn stupid when you were here

nicking sweets from the local tuck shop.

They've tried all this.

They know this didn't work. Not with you.

So what's left?

And you're on the bandwagon, boy, and you won't get off.

Prison... locked up like an animal.

A job... no prospects.

Dole... no cash.

Thieving... no more chances.

Prison... an animal.

Round and round you go.

Well, those are your options.

And you've created them.

You've brought it all upon yourself.

Before you kick another door down...

Before you kick another chef in the bollocks...

Before you do anything

think.

You may not get another chance.

Settle down. We'll have another little chat on Monday.

Sounds great. When do I start?

It doesn't have to be like that, Trevor.

There are alternatives. There are brighter prospects.

You lot are all the same. It's all first names with you.

"How do you feel about that, Trevor?"

- You make out like you know me. - I know some things about you, Trevor.

I know you're intelligent. It's in your reports.

- You could do well. - You say that like you're giving me a present.

I'm not trying to be patronizing.

What do you expect me to be?

Thick in the head, the way you want me?

You found your tongue now the superintendent's gone.

Bollocks.

- You can walk out of this room now. - Where to?

But you must behave responsibly.

- Grow up. - No more violence, right?

You start using some of the intelligence you're supposed to have.

- That's right. - Bollocks!

Piss off! I hate ya, the fuckin' pair of ya.

I don't really know you, Trevor. You don't know me.

- How can you hate me? - For putting me in here.

- You put yourself in here. - Trevor, look.

You go kicking doors down, breaking the place up...

I'm British.

So?

- Do you know what that means? - I think so, yes.

- Are you proud to be British? - What do you mean, Trevor?

Don't you know? I'm proud.

I don't really think about it like that, Trevor.

That's 'cause you spend too much time locked up in here with all these niggers.

Oh, I see.

British bulldog. One, two, three.

I'm more British than you are, fuckface.

You hate the blacks as much as I do, only you don't admit it.

You hate the blacks more than I do, 'cause they frighten you.

- That's why you lock 'em up. - Watch your tongue.

You lock up anything that frightens you.

The only thing that frightens me, Trevor,

are the people who put sick ideas like that into children's heads.

Trevor, you're not in prison. This is not a prison.

In here, it's just the same as school.

Do what we tell ya. Think what we tell ya.

Say what we tell ya. Squawk. Be a fuckin' parrot.

I hate you for putting me in here.

You're bullshitters.

You swallow your own bollocks, you expect me to swallow it too.

Blacks in here as thick as shit with no brains. You know it.

Admit it.

I had to sit in school and watch these wankers add up on their fingers.

I was held back. All the white kids were.

I see. And that's why you spend your time attacking canteen managers.

It's all the fault of the blacks.

- Pakis don't even speak fuckin' English. - Send them back.

- Come on. - That's not cruel. It would be kind.

That why you threw a brick through Mr. whatever-his-name-is' window?

Every Paki's gonna get a brick through his window.

And shit. And piss and petrol. Wait till it starts.

You're proud of all this?

I don't spend my life watching my p's and q's

'cause some mingy fucker like you is gonna write it down on a piece of paper.

"Your case conference is coming up. Watch your step."

Bollocks.

I'll say what I want. You got decisions to make about my life, get on with it.

It's got bugger all to do with me.

I hate you for putting me in here.

- One day you'll fuckin' pay for it. - Trevor, we didn't put you in here.

You did that. You put yourself in here.

- We're trying to get you out. - Out where?

Out of this room, out of this place. Back into the world.

It's your fuckin' world, not mine. Stick it up your ass. I don't want it.

Peter, let's have a drink.

What's the matter? Can't take a bit of honesty?

Well, now, I wouldn't have said that honesty

was one of your finer points.

Just a minute. Can I say something?

Just a minute. That's all. Let's just cool it, shall we?

This is a bad start, but there's no need for it to go on like this.

No reason at all.

What you have to remember is this is just a temporary situation.

You could be out of here in no time. You're here for assessment. That's all.

What that means is we would like to help you to help yourself.

It needn't be like that. There are alternatives.

If it goes well, you could be out of here in... three or four weeks.

There are youth projects, you could travel,

apprentice boarding schools, choose a trade.

You can still study loads of things. It needn't be like that.

While you're here, there's pocket money.

You want new clothes, you can have new clothes.

The trip's planned. Christ. It's not as bad as you make it sound.

But there has to be some kind of understanding between us.

- What are you looking at your watch for? - I wasn't.

What were you doing? Counting the hairs on your arms?

There's a lot you can enjoy, Trevor.

Horse riding, motorbike scrambling, canoeing.

A lot better than sitting in this bloody room.

- What about fucking? - Yes, we do have a man.

He comes round every Thursday to fuck some sense into selected individuals.

- You on that one, are ya? - Peter, please.

Trevor, let's concentrate on getting you out of here, out of this room.

- We can sort out the world tomorrow. - I'm not signing any contract.

Forget about the contract. Forget about it.

All it means is cooperation, and that's what's important.

We must cooperate, 'cause I'll tell you,

if we don't sort out something, and soon, all that...

all that bloody awful mess up there will be the only options left.

- There'll be no more help from us. - Great.

You'll be a total bloody failure at 16. And it's such a bloody waste.

- I'm a success, mate. I'm a fuckin' star. - Then why are you in here, Trevor?

There are those among us who'd like to know the answer to that.

From where I'm standing, it's not looking too good.

I'm in exactly the right place at the right time.

The fact that you're too fuckin' thick

or stupid to see that, that marks you down.

You'll be put up against a bus, covered in petrol and shot.

- Fantastic. - All of ya. It's you that's fuckin' failed.

I'm not your bleedin' problem or anyone's bleedin' problem.

Bollocks to you and your report.

Write it, lock me up. Who gives a fuck?

I don't know, Trevor. I really don't know.

- What are we gonna do? - About what?

- About you. - No, about you!

What the fuck are we gonna do about you?

If you had any balls,

you'd stick a knife in the bastards who write that bollocks.

They're wankers!

They're just like teachers at school. They're all fuckin' wankers!

You learn anything at school, did you?

Yeah. Be the best, otherwise forget it.

- That it? - Everything they teach you is useless.

- Everything? - It's rubbish in your head.

Bugger all to do with me and my life.

That's what you learned at school.

Work hard,

do well, get a job, otherwise you're no good, you're a vandal.

That's what I learned. It's a lot of bollocks. Lies.

We're all fucking great.

You ain't taking bugger all from us.

We hate you.

You can lock me in here, but you can't take away the hate.

I can still hate you in my head. Don't like that, do ya?

You can't take a bit of truth, can ya?

I don't think you're particularly truthful.

Or honest.

You'd lie with the best of them.

You go out thieving. That's not particularly honest.

Perhaps school would be a better place

if people like you were more honest, set an example.

You believe all that not nicking from school, not nicking from the Paki sweet shop bit.

- That's being honest, isn't it? - Yes, it is.

- You don't really want me to be honest. - Yes, I do.

Well, then.

Honestly speaking, I don't think I can honestly keep the peace

while I'm incarcerated in this shit-house.

Or any other shit-house. Contract or no contract.

So there's no point in saying I will, is there?

- How's that for honesty? - But where's it getting us, Trevor?

It's not getting us out of this bloody room.

See, you can't take it, can ya?

It was the same at school. I said when I was bored,

when I didn't want to do a lesson, when I wanted a fag,

when I wanted to tell a teacher to fuck off for being a wanker

or kick him in the teeth.

But they couldn't take it. They didn't want me to be honest in that way.

That's why you don't have lessons in honesty. 9:00 till 10:30, Honesty

They don't want kids to say what they're really thinking inside their heads.

If they had lessons like that, they'd lose control.

Wouldn't be able to smack you round the head when they feel like it.

You just want me to be honest when you take me down the nick.

It's a fair cop, guv.

Or when I fill out a form.

"Be honest. Don't cheat. Don't carry a knife.

Bend over, let me search you, make notes about you, keep files on you."

If I'm honest, I got nothing to worry about, have I?

You're protecting me from the dishonest buggers, ain't ya?

But I can't look at the files.

What's read out by the magistrate,

what those fuckers said about me at school, what's on the police computer.

It's all a lot of bollocks!

We're not talking about honesty. We're talking about sticking to the rules.

All those honest people out there are just sticking to the rules,

but they lie and they fucking cheat all the way.

They think they're being honest 'cause they swallowed the bollocks they've been handed.

They've been conned.

But I've not been conned.

That's why you can stick your hairy contract up your hairy ass.

It's a dishonest con.

Want to put me in line?

Well, do it.

Try it.

Don't fucking lie about it.

Kick me in the bollocks if that's what you feel like.

'Cause I'll do the same to you.

- So, good night, and fuck off to ya. - Good night to you too.

- That's it, Peter. I'm going. - Just a sec.

Just a minute, Barry.

Forget it. He's a sod. He's psychotic.

Have him transferred to a secure unit and let someone else deal with it.

Harry Parker dropped this on us. Let's chuck it back at him.

He said he has no intention of keeping the peace.

- Let's have him locked up. - Give Parker a call.

Do you really think it's worth it?

This one opens my office.

The small one's to the top drawer. You'll find my address book.

- Parker, under P. - It's a waste of time.

Yeah.

- Want to go to the toilet? - No, I'll piss on the wall.

We're gonna have to send you to Hatchmere House.

Secure unit, under lock and key.

- Great. - Is that what you want?

It's where I'm going anyway.

Anything you care about?

If I told you, you'd confiscate it.

Same every night.

Late tomorrow.

No one cares about your little protest, Trevor.

No one gives a damn. It's totally insignificant.

Just you and this horrible room.

Yeah.

Right.

Barry Giller and I may not be much.

We're all there is.

No one else gives a sod.

Going banger racing tomorrow night.

Why don't you drag yourself along? You're into cars.

Take the social services for all they've got, eh?

Better than sitting around in this hole.

Who wants to watch a bunch of wankers smashing up cars?

Me, for one. I quite enjoy it.

Got one of our lads entered.

It's part of a project.

Leroy. He's...

- He's a good driver. - And a nigger.

I'll go if I can drive.

Yeah, well,

a cut above cruising in a Ford Granada.

Accessory.

I'll go if I can drive.

Keep the peace?

If I can drive.

It's not that easy. It takes weeks.

Just a minute. Think, think.

If I can get him to...

Yeah, why not?

It's possible.

Okay, I'll fix it.

But you stay away from Ford Granadas. That's the deal for everyone.

No touching the dog's ass and keep your boot out of the chef's bollocks. All right?

- He's out. - It doesn't matter.

We're all going to bed, aren't we, Trevor? Come on. Let's go.

Wankers United.

- What happened? - I'll tell you.

I don't have to do this, Trevor.

I don't have to do it.

You let me down, and I'll...

I'll kill you. With help, that is.

I'll get the chef and some of the biggest lads I can find.

And Wankers United will bring you down here and, together,

collectively,

we'll duff you up.

All right?

Great.

Shit! Shitty car!

Shit!

Fuck it.

You were up against professionals, you know.

Nearly all those other chaps, those other drivers, they're professionals.

Men twice your age. Isn't that right, Leroy?

Yeah, yeah.

That last race, like the M1 in a fog.

Look at the time.

Lie in tomorrow. Do you want some fish and chips, Leroy?

No, thanks. I had a couple of dogs at the track.

If you want to join the project, Trevor, I'll fix it.

Bloody try, anyway.

- You're in now, aren't you, Leroy? - Yeah.

You could race on a regular basis. Can't be bad, can it?

Join a team.

You wouldn't have to nick cars anymore. You'd get 'em for free.

I know they're free when you nick 'em, but that's not the point.

The police donate the cars to the project.

Stolen cars.

They're not ones they've stolen.

Unclaimed vehicles.

Do you want any fish and chips, Trevor?

That's funny. Can't find me keys.

Not there. Lost 'em, dropped 'em.

Don't...

Too late.

Damn. Now we'll have Hope or Hopkins on our necks.

Heap of fucking tin, that motor. It just died on me.

I've got a set of dupes somewhere.

It's always best with keys.

Here we go.

- Hello, Ray. - What's going on?

Trevor and Leroy have been on a project, Ray. Sorry to disturb you.

- I don't know about this. - Go in, Trevor, Leroy.

- Nobody tells me a thing. - It's in the register. You should look.

As far as I'm concerned, this door's locked at 10:30 p.m.

I'm well aware of that.

Oi.

Oi.

Your case conference coming up, is it, eh?

Watch your lip. Watch your fuckin' step.

Get your hands off your cock.

"This one's got a little bit too much to say for himself, little fucker."

Look what I got.

Shut it.

Shut it.

What's your name?

- Errol. - Other one, prat.

Duprey.

"Du" what?

D-U-P-R-E-Y.

All these keys. Who needs them, eh?

- How'd you get 'em? - Clive, the wanker, he dropped 'em.

- Where? - On the floor.

They got you here, you little wanker.

It's your file... everything these fuckers have ever said about ya.

- For my case conference? - Your fucking execution, mate.

That's your school. Look.

"Educational Welfare Officer's report."

"Confidential report to juvenile court.

Subject: Errol Duprey."

"End-of-term clinic report."

"Head of Year report."

"Record of school offenses:

Arguing with a teacher. Disrupting assembly.

Kicked football into staff face from close range."

- He kicked me. - "Racist remarks."

Fuckin' hell.

"Damaged calculator by taking it to pieces."

"Confidential referral form for admission to special unit."

I don't know nothing about no special unit.

"My contract, by Errol Duprey." Is this your writing?

- Yeah, it's the contract. - What you write with? A hammer?

A pen.

"I have to behave myself at Hooper Street at all times.

I must obey the staff and teachers at Hooper Street

and if I do go home, I must behave myself and listen to my mum."

Obey the teachers, listen to your mum.

"I have to be up at 8:00 every morning

and wash and get dressed

and have my breakfast and get ready for school

and reach there at five to 9:00 every morning."

Did you write this cobblers?

They make you do it.

"Signed by yours sincerely, Errol Duprey."

"Assessment Report on Errol Duprey." Your case conference coming up, is it, eh?

- Can't you read? - Not very well, no.

You fuckin' baboon.

"Psychiatric report:

The most striking feature about Errol at interview was his nine-inch cock."

What?

"The future.

It seems unlikely for this child to return home,

his mother having rejected him for her own lifestyle.

Bearing this in mind, future care seems to be the alternative.

We would recommend a care order be made

in order to be able to continue our assessment of his needs."

You're in here for life, mate.

What'll I do?

Piss on it.

Fucking chuck it. Chuck the fuckin' lot of them.

- Where's yours? - Who gives a fuck?

Bottom drawer.

Piss on it.

- Shit on it? - Fucking shit on it.

Fuckin' hell. What a stink!

Hey, put it on.

- I can't see to wipe me ass. - Come on.

Wait a minute.

Shut it and come on.

Come on, man. They'll catch us.

Easy.

Not that one.

Not that one.

Where the fuck is it?

Here it is. Mr. Shanawankers.

Fuckin' Paki bastards!

You Paki bastards!

- Go fucking home, you dogs! - Bastards!

Animals! Fucking Paki bastards!

We don't want you here! Get that! Britain is white!

- Black nigger bastards. - Fucking white!

Fucking go home, you bastards!

Fucking Paki bastards!

Fucking ghetto!

Go back to the Punjab!

You baboons, get back to the jungle!

Great.

Hey, you! Come back!

You hear? Come back!

- Come on. - Come back!

- They saw us, man. - Bollocks.

They saw us. Look, I don't want no trouble.

My case conference is coming up. Let's go back.

You little black bastard.

Out!

Out!

Move!

Bollocks!

Wanker!

Wanker!

Fucking wanker!

- Hello. Who is it? - Hello?

All right, all right. 2nd Floor. Come up.

You up early, missus?

What you looking at?

Just a minute.

- Hey, excuse me. - Get in and shut it.

- Sorry about that Mr. Driver. - What's going on?

Sorry, John. I thought it was the taxi for the airport.

I'm sorry.

You nerd.

- You going away, Harry? - In there. Keep your voice down.

You going on holiday, Harry?

What do you want, Trevor? What's going on?

I'm turning myself in.

What do you mean?

Wait there, and don't make a noise.

Oi.

- Up the Yids. - Out.

You wake him up, and I'm gonna boot your ass.

I didn't get to bed till 1:00. I'm up at 6:00.

I've had bugger all sleep. So watch it. Now, what's going on?

I had a bust-up with those wankers you put me with.

Where you put yourself, Trevor, not me. I kept you out of there for bloody months.

You're pissing off on your holidays.

If you can't keep straight for two weeks in a year, you're not worth a toss.

- When did you bunk off? - About 1:00.

- Tonight? - Yeah.

Right. Then take my advice and bunk back in before it's too late.

I bust the job center window.

What?

- When? - Friday.

- I only took you there Thursday. - They don't know I did it.

The assessment center?

Yeah.

But you're telling me.

Yeah.

- Great. - Is it time yet, Dad?

No, not yet, Terry. I'll tell you when it's time to go.

Hello, Tel.

I nicked the transit from the center.

- When? - Tonight.

What else?

Me and Errol chucked bricks through Mr. Shanawanker's window.

Mum.

- Shit. - Mum.

Mum, Annie wants to go to the toilet.

- Viv. - All right.

Mr. who? Whose windows?

That Paki bastard who had me put away.

- What about Harrods' windows. - I didn't think of that.

Who's...

- Who's Errol? - A nig-nog from the center.

I dumped him in the transit at the police station. I turned him in.

- Is that all? - Yeah.

Oh. No.

I pissed on my files in the center.

Errol shit on his.

I'm turning myself in to you, Harry, as you're my mate.

You can collect the reward.

Where did you leave Errol and the transit?

What police station?

One near Bradley Street School.

Crapping on your own doorstep.

We'll let them deal with it.

They'll stand on me. They don't like me there.

I've been there before.

They'll roll me in a mattress, and they'll boot me.

What's that to a brick shit-house like you?

I smashed a police car with the transit.

Send me to another nick.

Your shit, you roll in it.

You're an asshole, Trevor.

You're not worth a piss.

Right.

Like my file.

Take your finger off that bleeding buzzer.

- What do you want? - Can you flush the toilet?

I've done a crap.

I told you to keep your hand off that buzzer.

I'm a juvenile offender.

You can't keep me in a cell.

I know you.

Do ya?

I've been charged. You can't keep me in a cell.

You gotta send me back to the assessment center.

Shut your mouth, will ya? Just shut it.

You gotta look after me.

Give me something to eat.

You see this?

Sit down and shut your fuckin' rabbit.

P.C. Anson.

Shut it.

You're straight into court Monday.

And you ain't going back to no assessment center.

You're going straight to a detention center... or borstal.

And when you come out, we are gonna be waiting outside the gate for you,

and we're gonna put you in a car

and we're gonna bring you straight back down here.

And we're gonna take your fingerprints.

We can't do that now,

juvenile offender,

but once you've been to a DC or borstal,

we can screw you, and we will.

We got ya now.

Once we've got your fingerprints, we're gonna do you

for every unsolved taking and driving away in this district,

stretching back over months, and that's a lot of cars, I can tell ya.

You'll go down, and you'll stay down for years.

We'll see to that.

Sounds great.

You think you're hard, don't ya?

A lot of verbals.

There's two things you're going to learn.

At home, at school,

at work, in the street,

you will respect authority

and you will obey the rules,

just like everybody else.

That's discipline.

Most kids know that by the time they reach your age.

Shut it

and keep it shut.