All language subtitles for krakra

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(Liam) D'you know what?

Every fuckin' story about
Belfast starts like this.

(series of explosions)

But not this one and don't be
acting the fuckin' balloon,

that's not the start.

This is the start.

With my best mate, Naoise,
when he was a wee baby,

and his ma, Dolores,
out in ma nature...

This wasn't his ma's idea at all.

Naoise's da, Arlo,

well, he wanted his firstborn
baptised here

at this secret Mass Rock.

It was a tribute to
the Irish Catholics who,

just a few generations ago,

gave the middle finger to
British rule by sneaking here

to practise their own religion
and speak their own language.

(helicopter blades whirring)

Except the peelers
went and thought

they'd uncovered themselves
an IRA training camp.

(helicopter grows louder)

So on the day wee baby Naoise
was supposed to be taken

by the light of Christ,

instead he got the full beams
of an RUC chopper.

(muffled shrieks)

Fuck off!!!

(music fades in)

(helicopter fading)

I mean, what fucking chance
did the wee boy have?

(techno music)

? Powerful ?

Me and Naoise,
we got our first taste for drugs

at Ireland's most infamous
criminal finishing school.

? Powerful ?

(sirens wailing)

Stop! Stop there!

? Powerful ?

? Powerful ?

(congregation coughing)

(coughing)

Next Sunday,
that congregation doubled.

? Powerful, powerful ?

That's drugs for you -
they bring you closer to God.

For Naoise and me,
they were our fucking calling.

And as Mass Rocks proved,

nothing gets between us Taigs
and our religion.

(dogs barking)

(sirens wailing)

You run! Go!

(loud bellow)

Didn't matter what community in
the north of Ireland you came from,

we could always find
common ground

in a love for throwin' shit
at the Peelers.

And as for Naoise,
he was off learning

that public transport
doesn't mix well...

with ketamine.

(eerie music)

As for myself,
tonight I learnt what it's like

getting bitten by a dog
wiped on MDMA.

It feels... (dog snarls)
...fucking mental.

(sirens wailing)

Okay.

Repeat after me.

'The man walked to market
with his sow.'

'The man walked to market
with his sow.'

'The girl cut turf in the rain.'

'The girl cut turf in the rain.'

How do you cut turf?

With misery and despair, I'd say.

(school bell)

(chairs scrape back)

Not used to seeing you up here.

I'm covering.

Everything okay?

I think you need new Irish textbooks.

(sighs)

They are the new textbooks.

I'm not sure shovelling shite

is going to inspire these kids
to learn Irish.

Turn it up.

(news) Northern Ireland's government
has in the last hour collapsed

over failure to agree on
an Irish Language Act

which would give the minority language
equal legal status to English.

Many republicans see
the language as an expression

of their political identity.

They say it's a matter
of civil rights.

(interviewee) The Irish language
is my heart and soul.

If it was the colour of my skin
and you could easily identify me

as being of a different colour,
and the DUP were saying,

'We can't give equal rights
to this guy',

I think the issue would be clearer.

Friends, what a momentous day.

So we'll be ramping up
our campaign,

and counting on your support
in the coming months.

We're only asking for the same
language rights as the Scots

and the Welsh.

A country without a language
is only half a nation.

(cheering and applause)

(phone buzzing)

Hello.

Yes, it is.

What, now?

That was the police.

The peelers?
What do they want?

An Irish translator.

I can't go, I was drinking.

It's translating,
not driving a HGV.

But I'd still have to drive there.

Then why did you say...?

No!

No.

There's an Irish speaker in need.

Bullshit! If they speak Irish
they speak English.

It's not the fucking Potato Famine.

Don't joke about the Famine.

Too soon?

With everything that happened today,

someone is probably taking
a principled stand

for their language rights.

We need to...

We must support them.

Nothing but a hood.

H double O D.

Lowlife scum.

Waste of fucking space.

Do I look like I want to read
fucking subtitles?

If you could read,

you wouldn't be a fucking peeler
now, would you?

Why don't you just speak
the Queen's English?

(Liam) This was a fair question,
though rudely asked.

For me to respond to this
sectarian prick in Irish,

I'd have to say something
along the lines of...

An chloch is íochtaraí san fharraige
go raibh sé ar bharr do cheann.

Which means:

'May the lowest stone in the sea
be on top of your head'.

You do get there
a lot quicker with...

(water splashing)

Again.

- Hear.
- Listen.

- Do.
- Get.

- See.
- Eat.

Give.

Again.

Stop that, they'll catch a cold!

I'm making Irish-speakers of them!

Irish-speakers...
Prison Irish, more like!

I'm proud to have learnt my irregular
verbs on a wall covered in shite!

- Aye, your own shite!
- Aye.

And you know what that shite
smelt like?

Freedom.

Not when I've been in
the toilet after you it doesn't.

What'll the next class be,
Grade 1 tunnelling?

Yoga actually, Ma.

Leave them be to get on
with their real homework.

Aye. Curriculum of the coloniser.

Catch yourself on!

Pity your ma, Naoise.
Born with Irish in her mouth, she was.

Now disowns her own
mother tongue...

Only one thing here getting disowned.

Quit your slabbering!

I'll show you some slabbering...

Get away to fuck!

Get you home or your mammy
will think we've kidnapped you.

A wee operation for youse.

I want you to sit down tonight

and watch an American Western
on the telly.

But here's the thing:

I want you to watch it from
the Indian's point of view, okay?

And remember:

Every word of Irish spoken...

...is a bullet fired for
Irish freedom.

(bluesy music)

(Liam) And then
Naoise's da was gone.

Like, gone gone.

Turns out since leaving jail,

Arlo had been having a full-blown affair
with blowing up anything British.

He blew this up.

And this.

And...

Well, alright, that one didn't go off.

Anyway, three years after
going on the run,

Arlo fell to his death
from a fishing boat.

(splash)

Or, if you believe
the peelers, he didn't.

With his dead body never found,

Arlo couldn't be proved dead,

and with his alive body
never found,

Arlo couldn't be proved alive.

The dead Arlo had his funeral.

And the alive Arlo
remained on the run.

And to this day,
just having met the man

was enough to have some lump
spitting in your beak about it.

I mean, Arlo was right
about one thing:

Cowboys... were proper cunts.

(door opens)

Move!

- This is Mr ó Dochartaigh.
- (door closes)

He is an Irish interpreter.

- I'm not...
- Do you speak Irish?

Aye.

That'll do.

Tell her.

I'm not talking to anyone
who works for the fucking peelers.

I don't work for them.

Look which side of the table
you're on.

It's where the chair is.

Aye.

And why do you think that's
where the chair was?

What's he saying?

Just discussing the furniture.

So, eh, what are we
doing here?

Resisting arrest, public nuisance,

and unless he can
somehow prove

he can't speak the language
of his home country,

then we can throw in
obstructing the police

in the execution of their duty.

Am I supposed
to translate that?

I think he understood just fine.

So why you doing this,
with the Irish?

(suspenseful music)

I hate the peelers.

So nothing to do with today's news?

What news?

Listen, I want out of here
just as much as you.

I doubt that.

(voices on TV, door closes)

Well?

Well.

How are you feeling?

Aye.

- Did you take...?
- I need a new prescription.

Why haven't you? It's two minutes...

You get it for me tomorrow,
okay, hen?

You need to get out...

Just this time.

You have to get out.
Outside.

Quit lecturing me
under my own roof!

You're never out from
under your own roof!

That's the problem.

Will I make you something?

Aye, roast lamb with
all the trimmings.

Fuck up!

(door slamming)

What's this mean?

Er... 'I got up this morning,

well, at the end of the day.

Before I leave the bed,
a spliff and a cup of tea.

Now I have a big night ahead
of me because of yesterday,

I spent all my DLA on MDMA.'

Tell her it flows a lot better in Irish.

- Poetry?
- Scribbles.

And I really need you
to stop turning...

I want you to look for any
reference to an Arlo...

...ó Cairealláin.

(tense music)

Time for you to decide

what side of the table you're on.

What's he saying?

(loud smack)

Er... She's asking you
to prove a negative.

What?

By asking you to prove you
can't speak English,

she's placing the burden
of proof onto you, not her.

That's what I just said, right?

Aye... Er... He says
he doesn't have to prove

that Irish is his only language because

absence of evidence
is not evidence of absence.

It's just a basic principle
of modern justice.

- He said that?
- Mm. Yeah.

And he says that, furthermore,

and notwithstanding
the aforementioned,

he sees no reason to prove
that he cannot speak English

because he's here asserting
his right to speak Irish.

(loud smack)
Hmm!

Here, have you got anything for...

...resisting arrest?

(suspenseful music)

(beat rising to crescendo)

Sit down!

(door opens)

(guttural cry)

(Liam grunts)

So...

are you going tomorrow?

Where?

Aye.

Will I say hello for you?

No, fuck.

Aye.

'Night.

'Night, love.

Go to bed.

I'm saving myself for the big sleep.

(voices on TV)

(reflective music)

(traffic sounds)

(rap beat)

(rustling)

(beat stops)

(electronic sounds)

(beat resumes)

(beat stops)

(loud rap beat)

(crackling)

(music fades)

(Liam) What d'you call a Provo
that's become a yoga instructor?

Bobby Sandals.

You bring a stolen car here?
Here?

It's not...

So you bought this, did you?

You're putting the whole
operation at risk...

What operation?

Every day I am not captured

is a psychological victory
against the occupiers,

that's the operation.

Speak Irish to me.

What's this?

Drugs?

It's a rollie. Speak Irish to me.

'Think I don't have eyes
in Belfast? I hear things.

You taught me Irish.

- I know where you'll end up.
- Fucking speak it!

You'll end up face down
in an alley.

You don't speak Irish.

You might know the words

but you don't understand
the language.

It is the light that guides us
towards our freedom.

Those who see it,
stand up for it.

You don't stand for fuck all.

(waves crashing)

Mam is getting worse.

She was asking about you.

No, she wasn't.

No. She wasn't.

I need you to do something for me.

What?

Arrange a memorial service.

For who?

For me. It's ten years
next month since, y'know...

These peelers won't let me
rest in peace.

I need something to remind
our community I'm dead,

make it harder for these
RUC bastards

to keep behaving
like I'm alive.

I thought maybe you'd be doing
something anyway, but...

Aye.

I'd love to organise a memorial

for the week I thought my da
was dead.

What did you expect me to do?

That's a long fucking list.

(sighs)

Happy Birthday.

If you got pulled over
and they found that...

Use your head, lad.

(door slams)

(sombre music)

(loud rap beat)

(Liam) They called our generation
the Ceasefire Babies

as if our only
defining feature was

we were not the shit
that came before us.

Maybe they were right.

Maybe we were only ever gonna
be the moment after the moment

just as fucked up
and miserable as the last

only with less chance of gettin'
blown up to escape it all.

(laughs)

But we still found ways
to escape it all.

(beat rises to crescendo)

You've heard of
intergenerational trauma, right?

- Right?
- Our history...

- Our history has become...
- Our biology.

It's like the trauma
our ancestors suffered

...has inserted itself...

...has actually inserted itself...

...into our genetic code.

Post-traumatic stress disorder.

- Psychological...
- Reverberations.

(echoing) Reverberations.

A.D.H.D.

O.D.D.

- The Troubles?
- The Troubles?

(loud explosions)

I've got fucking troubles.

(atmospheric electronic notes)

I just pray that this medicine

grants me some relief.

D'you not think I'd be better off
going straight in with 500mg?

(electronic beat)

Is there... something else?

I've got a bit of a problem...

...down south...

...with my mickey.

Okay.

It's political.

Your problem?

My mickey. See...

I've no problem pulling birds.
Like, I can do that no bother, anytime.

(seductive music)

(girl laughs)

This isn't the first bap
you've buttered.

Just can't get the wee man
to stand to attention...

Go on.

(moaning)

(woman squealing)

(bedsprings creaking)

Without a King Billy
loving Prod.

And there's this weird wee
Tourettes thing right before I...

Our day will come!

(groans)

(loud smacks, thud)

...until the other week
I met this wee ride, Georgia.

(gasping)

Say it again!

Again!

Don't you dare cum!

I wanna blow you like
a Brighton hotel.

(gasping)

(romantic soul music)

Have you thought about...

...seeing a priest?

(romantic soul music)

(music stops abruptly)

(someone playing scales on fife)

(tense silence)

(spaghetti western music)

(music speeds up)

Oi!

(clamouring)

(music: The Prodigy,
"Smack My Bitch Up")

(female Arabic singer vocalising)

(car radio) What you have here is
a community who live their lives

through the medium of Irish,
through the schooling,

through the youth clubs,
through their arts projects,

through the GAA clubs.

And for them, there's been
a very, very strong...

? Change my pitch up! ?

(triumphant yell)

Top man!

What the fuck...!

What are you doing here?

What am I doing in my own car?

Fuck!

Here!

Oh bollocks!

What was all that about?

Fuck all!

Cross-community running club.

(gaming arcade sounds)

Here, your lyrics...

They're great.

I've never read anything
like them in Irish.

What I'm saying is would you
be into making music?

People barely listen to Irish hip-hop,

let alone Irish hip-hop in Irish.

How d'you know when
there's no hip-hop in Irish?

No cunt who listens to hip-hop
speaks Irish.

Give them a reason to.

Why?

Why?

Because Irish,
it's like the last dodo.

Stuck behind glass in some zoo.

'Look, but don't touch.'

Someone needs to smash that glass

and set the dodo free so it can live.

What the fuck is a dodo?

Look, he says he's got a studio.

- Well...
- And some beats.

Sort of...

And he's a music teacher.

Oh, excuse me.

Wouldn't want to delay
your meeting with Dr. Dre!

I'm offering you a free spin
of the wheel.

And if half of what's
in those lyrics is true,

you need this more than I do.

(roller door opening)

Are we making music
or fitting exhausts?

Well...

It's not Abbey Road...

Abbey what?

(roller door closing)

(backing track plays)

Aye, I like that.

Give us a go.

- Fucking give us a go!
- Stop!

? Pissed off,
Sittin' around ?

? No money in our pockets
for going out ?

? We're sick and tired
of being skint ?

? But that's all gonna change... ?

What are you doing?

Relax. I'm just tweaking the EQ.

(sighs)

Now I just need something
to take the edge off.

We've got something for that.

(sparkle sound)

(sniffing)

(loud beat)

? Pissed off,
Sittin' around ?

? No money in our pockets
for going out ?

? We're sick and tired
of being skint ?

? But that's all gonna change tonight ?

? Me and Mo Chara,
We're making plans ?

? And there's gonna be a downpour,
Oh bam, bam, bam ?

? Soon we'll be drowning in cash ?

? Well-earned of course,
young renegade ?

? Run around, trying to grab
what I can ?

? Look, Mo Chara,
there's a security van ?

? Now, look, man, don't wanna
do you no harm ?

? Just listen carefully
and I'm sure it'll be grand ?

? 'Cause my friend, Mo Chara,
he's a bit of a psycho ?

? The type of fella loses
the head at a typo ?

? So whatever you do ?

? Do whatever he says ?

? Mo Chara, tell him
what goes down if he says no ?

? 'Móglaí, get the noose,
I'll proper introduce myself ?

? I'm Mo Chara,
and I'm not well ?

? Are yiz ready for abuse? ?

? But first, I'm sure you're thinking,
Aw look ?

? I seem decent and clever ?

? Don't I feel bad
for this ever? ?

? Guilty conscience, no thanks ?

? I meditate and have
plenty of wanks ?

? I never spare a second
thought for cunts in suits ?

? When the revolution comes
I'm first out to loot, yeah! ?

? New guds (new guds),
happy days (happy days) ?

? So much comfort when
you don't have to pay ?

? And when I'm happily tripped
in designer gear ?

? Then all of you cunts are
getting one behind the ear ?

(fades)

(silence)

- (exhales)
- Something like that?

? Guilty conscience, no thanks
(no thanks) ?

? I meditate and have
plenty of wanks ?

? I never spare a second
thought for cunts in suits ?

? When the revolution comes
I'm first out to loot, yeah! ?

? New guds, (new guds),
Happy days, (happy days) ?

? So much comfort
when you don't have to pay ?

? And when I'm happily tripped
in designer gear ?

? Then all of you cunts are
getting one behind the ear, yeah! ?

? Yeah, yeah ?

(laughing)

(music ends)

(discordant acoustic music)

(rising cacophony)

(school bell rings)

(indistinct chatter)

Well...

What's up?

Lads. What are you doing here?

Wha...?

Listen, it's not a good time.

You said meet here to fucking
go work on the tracks.

Did I?

I think that's what you said.

(screeching)

Like I said, it's not a good time.

- Tomorrow?
- I don't know.

Fucking weekend, then?

I can't, I...

I've paving slabs to lay.

Paving slabs!

What happened to smashing up
the Irish language dodo?

No, smashing the glass
to set the dodo free...

Whatever.

I'll be in touch!

What the fuck...?

- Who was that?
- Who?

The two smicks you were
fist bumping.

Oh, them?

Just ex-pupils.

- You coming to the meeting?
- Meeting?

Are you fucking kidding me?
The meeting.

The Language Act Protest
Committee.

I know.

I'd love to. I'd LOVE to...

...but...

What? You've a puddle of piss
to mop up?

(roller door opening)

(music on repeat)

Aye, there's that.

They want me to lead the campaign.

Of course they do. You're brilliant.

I just don't know if it's me.

Listen.

No one is anyone until they are.

Are you still fucking high?

Aye, a little bit.

(gasping)

Don't you touch me,
you filthy Taig!

You've interned my dick!

Now for the hard interrogation...

- (groaning)
- That's right - confess, confess...

Never!

Spill your secrets inside me,
you Fenian cunt!

(gasping)

Northern Ireland!

- North of Ireland!
- Northern Ireland!

North of Ireland!

Northern Ireland!

The North of Ireland!

Oh!

Celtic... are... fucking... shite!

You leave Celtic out of this!

Wait till I get onto the Pope.

(exhales)

(sighs)

(soft music)

Right. I suppose I may go here

before your fucking Black and
Tan da walks through the door.

I live with my aunt.

Well, go on then.

I'm going.

This can never work.

Suits me.

Maybe.

Or maybe you're scared.

Scared of you?

Of not me.

Of being with someone who
might just ditch you for you -

not just what foot
you dig with.

Bollocks.

Okay then,
tell me something about you.

Something you've never told
anyone else.

I'm a rapper.

(snorts) Stop spoofing.

I'm a rapper - Irish hip-hop.

What the fuck is that?

Hip-hop - in Irish.

- Why Irish?
- Why not?

When's your next gig?

Soon.

Let us listen to
something then.

Maybe next time.

What makes you think
there'll be a next time?

Here, what's your rap
group called?

(heavy beat)

Kneecap?

What's Belfast famous for?

Bombings...

George Best... baps...

Kneecappings.

By that logic,

we might as well call ourselves
The Titanics.

Well, Kneecap's our name...

because I've already booked us
a gig under it.

A gig?!

We haven't even got
a finished track!

That's not my fault!

Blame him.

(muffled digging)

Why are two fellas digging up
our garden?

(suspenseful beat)

What are you doing?

- (whistles)
- 'Morning!

Where are these fucking
paving slabs, then?

We'll do the garden,
you finish the track.

Deal?

- No, no, I'll do it.
- Sit down.

I'll do it.
Let me do it.

? R-I-G-H-T-S ?

It's not fucking Dancehall!

- What?
- Come in on the chorus.

No, fuck that. I'm the lead.

? R-I-G-H-T-S ?

? I don't give a fuck
about any Garda ?

Straight in, right?

So it's one, two, three...

? Fuck me, I never saw
the bastards comin'... ?

Ready?

(Liam) When I said I'd booked us
a gig what I meant was,

my Uncle Peadar said
we could play in his bar

if I sorted some old folk
smoke for his gout.

JJ only agreed to DJ

if he could set up his decks
in the store cupboard,

just in case he was spotted
by any pupils.

His paranoia was not helped

by his new love affair
with the 'schniff'.

(rap beat)

(English accent) Young man, we
caught you damaging public property.

And you are coming to the station
so we can talk properly.

(music ends)

(feedback from mic)

(moody music)

(upbeat vibe)

(Liam) You know, in West Belfast,

the only thing worse than
getting arrested and charged

is getting arrested
and not charged.

(music stops)

This yours?

(exhales)

Game over! (stupid laugh)

Well, well, well, well,
well, well, well, well...

Look who it is here, look,
Bone Thugs and No Harmony!

(men laughing)

I hear you got scooped.

- What they charge you with?
- Fuck all.

They just gave me a hiding.

Or maybe you're just
a dirty ten pound tout.

Sorry. Who would I be touting
on exactly?

Us.

Who the fuck are 'Us'?

Us is us. We are us.

The Radical Republicans
Against Drugs.

That's right.

How the fuck do you
pronounce that?

- R-RAD.
- R-RAD. R-RAD

Aye, that's right. R-RAD.

What, like you've all got
a fucking s-s-stutter?

Fuck up you, tout.

What have you ever done
to tout about?

We've done plenty, actually.

We're an active fucking unit.

Not like the Republican
Volunteers Against Drugs.

Or New Republicans
Against Drugs.

- Or the New Republicans Against Drugs.
- Or them.

All they ever did was
fucking slabber.

Don't think I don't know
what youse two are up to.

Runnin' around the woods
sellin' gear like a couple of druggie...

fuckin'... eh... wombles. Huh?

Your da will be turning
in his grave.

Peelers say he ain't dead -
it was in the papers.

Word is he ain't dead.

NEVER MIND THE WORDS!

BRITS DON'T GET TO DECIDE

WHEN IRISH PATRIOTS
ARE DEAD!

WE'LL DECIDE WHEN
WE'RE DEAD!

God rest his soul.

Right, tell me
who's supplying you.

(scoffs)

(Liam) The truth was, the biggest
drug supplier in West Belfast

was called The Postman.

That wasn't some cool
underworld nickname.

That was his job.

52 fuckin' years.

(heavy beat)

(whistles)

Some people say the Worldwide Web

is the greatest invention
of the 21st century.

Those people have never been
on the Dark Web.

We bought MDMA from Holland,
Ketamine from India,

and Mephedrone from Vietnam.

They arrived disguised
as bath salts, flower seeds,

DVDs, kids toys...

Here, spaceman!
I'm talking to you!

When you gonna get my ball?

When you gonna give me a go
on your fucking hurl?

Go ahead then.

(groans)

I'll just skip through the bit where
we get our bollocks knocked in.

(loud kick)

(gasping)

(Irish traditional rallying song)

? O-ro, we welcome your return ?

? O-ro, we welcome your return ?

? O-ro, we welcome your return ?

? Now that summer is coming ?

? O-ro, we welcome your return ?

? O-ro, we welcome your return ?

? O-ro, we welcome your return ?

? Now that summer is coming ?

(singing continues)

(faint music from earphones)

(singing peters out)

(muffled Kneecap song)

? Drink all night
with Rônán Mac An Rí ?

? Because fuck the rules of RTÉ ?

(louder)
? R.I. G.H. T.S. ?

? Don't give a fuck
about any Garda ?

? R.I. G.H. T.S. ?

? Don't give a fuck
about any Garda ?

? A joint lit,
I'm way too quick ?

? Won't be standing
around too long ?

(men singing)

(faint singing from bar)

(clamouring)

Lads...

- Where the fuck have you been?
- At work.

Our music is...

We know!

Oh, fuck's sake!

Have you seen the crowd?

I can't go out on that stage.

Someone will see me.

I'm pretty sure that's
the fucking point!

Fuck's sake!

- Fuck!
- Here, here.

Here, take that.

I look like a fucking Próvaí!

Aye, DJ fucking Próvaí!

DJ Próvaí!

- I can't...
- C'mon!

DJ Próvaí!

DJ fucking Próvaí!

(snorting)

(coughing)

You said that was coke, right?

That's not coke.

Ketamine... that's fucking Ket!

- Did you know?
- Wrong pocket!

Great fucking drug dealer you are!

- Fuck!
- We'll be fucking sweet.

It's not like we never had
a line of ket before, is it?

(distorted voice) It'll be 20 minutes
before it kicks in properly.

(voice of Gerry Adams) And by then
we'll be halfway done. No need to panic.

What are youse flippin'
staring at?

(stoned music)

(Gerry Adams)
No need to panic!

(echoes)
No need to panic!

No, no, no... No need to panic.

? Round and round ?

? Big skins,
down at the mini-mart ?

? Few loose Capri-suns
and a Mars bar ?

? Big dirty joint and
I'm all set, round and round ?

? Like my grinder, yeah,
Busy wee man when I'm on tour ?

? No top, moshpit,
sweaty balls, encore ?

? Another day, same shit ?

? Pass the stuff,
I'll put one together ?

? Môglaí the builder ?

? Welcome to the latest,
green branch of Volunteers ?

? 24hours,
morning until night ?

? Fuck all else to do
round here ?

? Back to the shop to get
a pack of raws ?

? Caught in a loop
Like I'm tryna read a book ?

? Same page over and over
and over and over... ?

? Ah fuck, let's watch a movie! ?

? Caught in a loop ?

? Nothing to do ?

? It's been too long ?

? I need an encore
and sweaty balls too ?

(English accent) So Móglaí,
what are we gonna do tonight?

Same thing we do every night.

- Try to take...
- Drugs.

(crowd cheering)

(music stops)

(door opens)

How many times
I gotta tell you?

He's either dead or dead to me.
Same difference!

Can I come in?

Got a warrant?

You look like shit.

Always did think you'd make
a good Avon lady.

You've no shoes on the rack.

Why have you no shoes
on the rack?

What does that got to do
with anything?

Not much. Only I've been in
this game long enough to know

you can still be a victim
of men like Arlo

without a crime
to match it to.

Consider this as the knock at the
door before the knock at the door.

Maybe it's their door you
should be knocking on.

Oh, so you want the police's
help now?

Just an observation.

(Detective Ellis) Well, whilst
we're making observations,

him and his wee pals' music,

it's drawing attention from
all the wrong places,

and I count myself
among those places.

Bloody kids, eh?

(Detective Ellis) And when it all
falls down, and it will...

I'm going to be knocking
at your door

with one choice
to dig him out of the rubble.

I won't enjoy it, but don't
doubt for a second I'll do it.

Remind me, how d'you take
your tea again?

In a cup or straight in the face?

(heavy beat)

(Liam) Arlo's was a strange sort
of memorial service,

given a third of the people
thought he was dead...

He was taken too soon.

...a third of them thought
he was alive...

It's as if he's never gone.

...and the other third
were undercover peelers.

You don't know me but I'm
an old, old friend of Arlo.

Can I buy you a drink?

(camera clicks)

(clears throat)

(clears throat loudly)

We, the Radical Republicans
Against Drugs,

have gathered here today to honour
the memory of Arlo Ó Cairealláin.

When I was a wee boy,
the actions of Arlo ó Cairealláin

against the imperialist state

were a lesson to me
to follow my dreams,

especially because my dreams
were about killing the Brits.

(voice breaks) He was like
a da to me, so he was.

(threatening tone)
In recent months, we have seen a rise

in anti-social behaviour
and drugs.

Now we will not tolerate
these parasites

SUCKING THE LIFE
out of this community

with their hedonistic
and toxic lifestyle.

Let us be clear now, okay?

Anybody found to be involved
in the illegal trade of drugs

or encouraging their use
through their actions,

are to be considered
legitimate targets.

And it's what Arlo Ó Cairealláin
would have wanted.

(mutters)
Where's the...?

You were meant to give me that
in the car on the way up.

(gun cocking)

(menacing whooshing)

(grunts)

(beat quickens)

(child's voice) Hear.

Listen.

- Get.
- Eat.

(loud shot)

(shot)

What?

Nothing.

What?

Nothing! Just that thing
you do with your mouth.

What thing?

- It's a twitch.
- A twitch?

(laughs)

I don't do that!

Not any more.

But you used to.

Back when you used to be...

...happy.

- (siren wails)
- Fuck! The cops.

(car door slams)

Is everything okay, officer?

Would you mind stepping out of
the vehicle for a breathalyser, sir?

- He isn't driving.
- (sarcastically) Isn't he?

It's okay.

Really?

She doesn't know, does she?

Know what?

What about your school?

Do the students call you
Mr DJ Próvaí, or...?

Harder!

At the station, is that
where it started?

(machine beeps)

I feel like I discovered
The Beatles.

If The Beatles were shit.

What is it, some sort of early
onset midlife crisis?

Some men buy a Porsche, you
join a Republican rap group?

- Why are you doing this?
- (machine beeps)

Pass.

You have a life, a career,
a future...

Remember, I can take it all
away from you like that!

Message from on high:

what those hoods have to say

this city doesn't need to be
hearing, d'you understand?

(defiant beat)

C'mon.

Thanks for your time,
drive carefully.

There's a lot of lowlife scum around.

(bass note)

? I'm a H double-O D ?

? Lowlife scum, that's what
they say about me ?

? A dog with a job,
what the fuck is that? ?

? When our poor Micky's
just sitting in the flat? ?

? Sippin' on his cans
and smokin' rollies ?

? 'Cause all the best jobs
are taken by the dolies ?

? Squidgy black, yeah craic,
and my spliff every day ?

? Get the facts, not assess,
Get that note off my car ?

? But now, hit the stash,
but the Peelers are about ?

? But first, a few lines
before this gets weird ?

? It's gonna be a bloodbath ?

? It's gonna be a bloodbath ?

? It's gonna be a bloodbath,
(It's gonna be a bloodbath) ?

? Throw a hook, a jab,
and a boot ?

? I sneak a quick toot,
Then I fire another boot ?

? For callin' me a fruit ?

? For tryna take the loot ?

? But Billy won't be bothering
any more hoods ?

? 'Now for some questions: ?

? Do you want it in your chest,
or your knees or your head ?

? DJ Próvaí has the lead ?

? You can beg, you can plead,
You can tell us what we need ?

? You can change your name
but they're all the fucking same! ?

(Liam) Turns out
a leafleting campaign

about how your band
gives out free drugs

really drives ticket sales.

No more pay-to-play-with-hash,
people were paying us cash.

? Fuckin' kicked out again! ?

? Too many pints,
too much schniff ?

? Equals a cocktail brave
for unleashing the beast ?

? Big night out
right now at least ?

? Another fight,
he's beating some fella ?

? The RUC are here ?

? Fucked in to the back of
the jeep ?

? He falls asleep,
He does it every week ?

? Our day will come ?

? Get the Brits out now! ?

? A one-way ticket, please,
I've lost my bus pass! ?

? I'm a H double-O D ?

? Lowlife scum, that's what
they say about me ?

? I'm a H double-O D ?

? Lowlife scum, that's what
they say about me ?

? I'm a H double-O D ?

? Lowlife scum, that's what
they say about me ?

? I'm a H double-O D ?

? Lowlife scum, that's what
they say about me ?

(song ends)

- What the fuck was that?
- What the fuck was that?

Brits Out?!

I've said far worse things
than that to you!

That's different!

I'm sorry, hold on, you're giving me
more stick for telling youse

to leave than what youse got for
coming here in the first fucking place!

You don't tell me to leave,
I was fucking born here!

I don't mean you, Georgia.

'Brits Out'
as in British state, MI5...

Then why didn't you say
that then?

Because it's the chorus
of a fucking song,

not the 1916 Proclamation!

The wha'?

Don't give me that look because
I don't know some Taig shite!

Who the fuck
are you calling a Taig?

You! Or do you want me to get up
on stage and say it to the whole world?

You seemed just fucking fine
in that wee crowd.

Oh, aye! Well, what do you care?

Oh, I don't fucking care.

I never wanna see you again.

I never wanna see you again.

What's happenin', Georgia?

Fuck up.

(man on TV) We have bigger issues
to tackle in our society...

than fawning over a language spoken
by less people in Northern Ireland...

than Polish.

(Caitlin) But you say that as if
it's something to be proud of.

That the native language
of this island

has been driven to near-extinction.

Type the name Kneecap
into the internet.

So-called Irish language
rappers promoting drug use,

anti-social behaviour
and violence.

One even wears a balaclava

and calls himself DJ Próvaí.

This is the true face of
the Irish language.

You kept my chair.

I wouldn't read too much into that.

Thanks for going to my memorial.

Well, if you can't be
bothered to go...

I'm only saying, it doesn't look
very convincing

if my own wife doesn't even show.

Widow.

Widow.

Still denying your native tongue?

I deny the ears that are hearing it.

Oh, aye, that lovely
Detective Ellis dropped it round.

Why?

Why do you think?

I'll take care of it.

You'll do nothing of the sort.

Doing nothing has allowed
our son to be dealing drugs.

That's unacceptable.

This operation will not fail...

'Operation?'

There is no operation!

Jesus, you're like one of
those Japanese soldiers,

still stumbling around some jungle
50 years after the war has ended.

I sacrificed my life
for the cause.

You sacrificed?

You left us in a prison cell

so you wouldn't have
to go to one.

That lad is becoming something
despite you.

And if you've turned up here
with a mind to get in his way,

I'll show you a woman
going to war.

Aye.

So long as you don't have
to leave this house to do it.

(door opens and closes)

(footsteps, door opening)

(tense music)

(creaking)

(beat quickens)

(rises towards crescendo)

(Liam) Aye, so...

...turns out me and Georgia did
want to see each other again.

Auntie!

How can that be
your fuckin' auntie?

I know, she's a peeler.

I know she's a fuckin' peeler.

She's gonna shoot me dead
in your fuckin' hallway!

(laughs) No, she won't.

Unless I tell her
you broke in and...

(whispers)
That's not even fuckin' funny!

(laughs)

Right. (exhales)

Take it off.

(tense music)

(quick footsteps)

(door slamming)

- He's using you.
- Maybe I'm using him.

He's trying to get at me.

(scoffs) Don't flatter yourself.
He didn't even know.

And you believe that?

- Who is he to you?
- Nobody.

Then what's the problem?

The same one there's always
been here.

You mix green and orange
you get brown.

- Nobody likes brown.
- Some people like brown.

I LIKE BROWN!

Will you take some more soup?

No. I found it a bit tasteless.

A Belfast band has been criticised

for chanting anti-British slogans
at a city centre bar

where Prince William had
spoken 24 hours previously.'

(reporter) The band involved
are called Kneecap.

The incident is making headlines,

and they've been condemned
by the DUP.

(players shouting)

Isn't that the Kneecappers?

Don't think so.

It's them.

It is them...

It's definitely them.

C'mon.

Lads.

How are you?

Can we talk to you?

About your music?

This is a big joke to you, isn't it?

Well, I'm not laughing.

Lads, you have to stop.

It's not helping.

Helping what?

You know well.

The legislation -
the Irish Language Act.

It's a politically sensitive time.

We have to consider

who are the best ambassadors
for the language.

The only reason why the Irish
language still fucking exists

is because people refused
to not speak it.

No one's telling you
not to speak it.

Once upon a time, a man told us

that the Irish language was
like the last dodo,

stuck behind glass
in some museum.

And to help it to survive,

we had to break the glass
and set the dodo free.

That sounds like a terrible analogy.

(laughs)

(upbeat music)

(Liam) There are 80,000 native
Irish speakers in Ireland.

Only 6,000 of them live in
the north of Ireland.

Three of us have become rappers.

I don't know if we've become
popular by talent

or if it was just our turn.

It's a weird thing
suddenly being seen

when you come from a place that never
even wanted you to fucking exist.

I guess sometimes, change
happens on the down low.

Too little to notice until
one day, you can't not notice

and by then everything's changed.

Including you.

And sometimes change hits
like a filthy bass line.

A boulder being pushed
over a cliff.

You can't control what it's
gonna hit on the way down,

but you can be sure as fuck,
it's gonna wreck something.

Hello.

(faint dance beat)

(knocking)

(door opening and closing)

Hi, guys.

My name's Lorna,
I'm a radio plugger.

That gig was deadly.

I'm meeting one of my contacts
at RTÉ tomorrow.

I'd love to take them a copy
of your music.

Maybe get you
a Track of the Week.

So whaddya think?

Could you get me
something by then?

You mixed up that coke
and ket again, didn't you?

So I'm just gonna
leave this here...

(whispers)
...and I'm gonna go.

Fuck...

Radio?

Imagine how rich we'll be...

How much do they pay?

Must be at least 10k a play.

The woeful pay-per-play rates
of streaming platforms

mean that artists need millions
of plays to make any profit,

so without radio money,

musicians' only revenue stream
would be perpetual tours,

forcing multiple artists out of
the industry every year

due to the associated mental
and physical strain.

We'd better get to the studio.

(Liam)
And off to the studio we went...

...or at least, what was left of it.

(sirens wailing)

Those R.RAD bastards!

Our music is backed up on
the cloud though, right?

We have to do something.

Do we fuck.

- Not you!
- Not me?

It was my fucking garage.

I'm with Naoise.

Aye, go start a war
with a paramilitary group.

The British Empire
couldn't win that one

but I'm sure you'll do
fucking fine! Fuck's sake!

If you two have a death wish,
go ahead,

but don't drag me down with you!

Drag you down?

We've been dragging
you along.

This is just a little hobby for you.

It's all we've got!

And they've destroyed everything!

Have they?

Because the only one
who can do that is you,

if you do something
fucking stupid.

Now we need a mastered track
for tomorrow

starting from scratch
with no fucking equipment.

That's not going to
fucking happen.

(loud beat)

(door being forced)

Fucking yes!

Look at this, boys!

The Roland 808.

What '80s shite is that?

1980 to 1983 to be precise.

Complete commercial flop,

but it got into the hands of enough
people who mattered

to change the face
of hip-hop music forever.

This is what we're meant
to record the tracks on.

It's fucking fate.

Snare here and snare there.

Yeah.

To kick.

Two kicks I think.

Bom.

Ba-bom, bom.

(beat plays)

We'll bring one in here too.

That works. That works.

Right then, go ahead.
He'll do the chorus.

? I've got a point to be
proven to myself ?

? Sitting too long
getting mouldy on the shelf ?

? 'Cos I'm too far gone... ?
- No, no.

? Rather be sick in the head
With a little bit of wealth ?

? Sick of taking strangers' advice ?

? 'Cos the decisions people
make for me are dangerous ?

? I'm not gonna listen
from now on ?

? They're doin' it to you
constantly ?

? An individual is really
what you want to be ?

? You gonna stand out?
Live your fantasy ?

? Before they eat you up,
they put you out to laugh at you ?

? Don't be pushed back,
Bought for a sucker ?

? I've got a point to be
proven to myself ?

? Sitting too long getting
mouldy on the shelf ?

? Because I'm too far gone
when it comes to mental health ?

? Rather be sick in the head
with a little bit of wealth ?

? I said to the devil,
Let me be rich instead ?

? He said; You'll no longer be
skint, but sick in the head ?

? You'll never be in the streets
But you will have issues ?

? Do you want this for extra
zeros when you're paid? ?

- Yes.
- ? You're a mad cunt, Mo Chara ?

? I'll be back for
a fat loan tomorrow ?

? Never gettin' dressed,
depressed, and now I'm para ?

? Throwing tantrums in my
mansion, am I embarrassed? ?

Nah!

? Every chance
I'm a little bit crazy ?

? There's no doubt about
me and Mo Chara ?

? Now we smoke until it's
all gone, no half measures ?

? Until it's aw naw! ?

? But we're making up
our own laws ?

? Never getting worried
'bout our own flaws ?

? Kneecap, 3CAG,
We're our own law ?

(music stops)

(groans)

Fuck off.

I'm done, boys.

(yawns)
Oh, happy days!

I'm out.

I can't do this anymore.

It feels like I'm fucking skiing

and both skis are getting
further apart.

I feel like I'm gonna tear
my bollocks open!

I never wanted to ski!

I just wanted to be a musician,
you know?

What do we do with this?

You'll work it out.

(door slams)

Oh shit!

C'mon, let's go,
let's go to fuck.

(tense music)

Special delivery.

(phone beeps)

You sell drugs.

You sell them for the Radical
Republicans Against Drugs.

A bit off-brand, is it not?

No, it's not actually
and here's why. Listen.

The Radical Republicans Against
Drugs are Radical Republicans

before they are Against Drugs.

It's right there in the name.

We're certainly not Radical
Republicans Against Making Money

because being radical,
as your da was... (voice breaks)

...it costs a pretty penny.

The price of Semtex has gone
through the roof, I'll tell ya, mostly.

Some fuckers
are making a killing.

Maybe you shouldn't go about
blowing up garages, then.

What are you talking about,
blowing up garages?

We haven't blown up
any garages, have we?

- No.
- What the fuck you talking about?

Look at me, right?

No more music.

Your hear me?

HEY! Youse are drug dealers.

That's all you'll be.

No more music. Alright?

(woman singing slow folk song in Irish)

(singing ends)

(door closes)

(muffled children's voices)

Breaking onto school property

outside school hours.

Contested or admitted?

Admitted.

Snorting a white substance on stage.

Admitted.

Indecently exposing your buttocks

to reveal the words
'Brits' and 'Out'.

(snorts)

Admitted.

ADMITTED!!

ADMITTED!!!

Admitted.

Membership of the music group,

Kneecap.

(funky music)

I...

I know.

You know?

My suspicions were aroused when
the lads started digging up our garden

but it was your lovely arse all over
the news that sealed it.

I do have a lovely arse.

Why didn't you say something?

That twitch with your mouth...

You do it when you're happy.

I wanted to keep seeing it.

I quit.

Work?

No, fuck!

I was sacked from that.

Don't say I'm breaking up with you

for being in a band
you're not even fucking in.

You're breaking up with me?

You found what you were
looking for.

That's great.

But I also need to do my thing.

You know?

They're different directions.

They don't work together.

What part of unemployed musician
doesn't work for you?

No one is anyone until they are...

You are.

(whimsical music)

(radio DJ)
...and with talks to get Stormont

back up and running
still at a deadlock,

today's 'The Red Day'
Irish language rights march,

will further amp up
the pressure on politicians

to find a resolution to
the long-running dispute.

And now, it's time for
Track of the Week.

And I'm so excited to play you
this song for the very first time

on the airwaves...

(bland pop song)

- (crowd chanting) Irish Language Act...
- Now!

What the fuck's this shit?

? Caught my eye ?

- Irish Language Act...
- Now!

That was that radio plugger.

'Concerns were raised around
some sex and drug references'.

(door slams)

(sombre music)

Oh fuck!

(music builds)

Fuck!

Fuck!

(more urgently) Fuck! Fuck!
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

(Liam) There are some things in life
you just don't cross;

motorways, picket lines,
and West Belfast ma's.

Stick the kettle on.

I need your help.

News of RTÉ2's decision
was soon flying down The Falls

quicker than a joyrider
in a Mitsubishi Evo.

And with each telling, the snub
got more and more heinous.

And they were promised
to be Track of the Week.

But when they heard
they were from West Belfast,

they wouldn't play it on the air.

Fuck the fuck off!

This Dublin music executive
tore the record contract up

and called them all
'bin bombers'!

(Liam) Hunger strikes.
Dirty Protests.

When it comes to a good
ould campaign,

us Fenians do it better
than anyone.

- Is that RTÉ?
- I'm making an official complaint.

- ...discrimination...
- ...censorship...

Don't make me come down there.

(Liam) West Belfast protested our
persecution by purchasing our tickets.

Thanks to Naoise's ma,
we'd sold out quicker

than Michael Fucking Collins,
but we'll not go there.

There aren't many things
that unite the Irish media,

peelers and dissident Republicans,

but trying to stop our music
had gone and done it.

Sure, fuck it,

at least we had DJ Prôvaí
back behind the decks

where he belongs.

(rap) ? Gets further away
Every time I try to grab it ?

? Underneath all the
chattering there's heaven ?

? Got a little peek one day
made me feel like I was seven ?

? I know it exists but I can't
stop getting pissed ?

? One more thing
I'll be adding to the lyric ?

No better publicity than getting
banned from something, eh, lads?

It's gonna be bunged
out there tonight, so it is.

Anyway, you're late -
so chop-chop.

And good luck.

You speak Irish?

No, but I'm learning.

Because of youse.

(crowd)
Kneecap! Kneecap! Kneecap!

(crowd roaring in background)

(hip-hop beat)

(wild cheering)

(muffled singing)

? Out tonight,
cannot fuckin' wait ?

? Micí Dainín is on the way ?

? 24 Carlsberg, gin and tonic ?

? That's the way I leave ?

? Big bag of weed
to end the night ?

? For the comedown ?

? Gum in your mouth ?

? Stop your jaw
getting destroyed ?

? Shower and a shite ?

? Music in the background,
up full whack ?

? Shaven my balls,
that's my sack ?

? Now I've an STI,
didn't do a check ?

? Knock on the door.
It's Postman Ket ?

? Three consonants and a vowel
And we don't pay VAT?

? We don't cut the gear
'cos that's pure cat ?

? We take out a strap
Because we're Kneecap! ?

? Woke up this morning,
Well, at the end of the day ?

? Before I leave bed,
spliff and a cup of tea ?

? Big night ahead of me
after yesterday ?

? Spent all my DLA
on MDMA ?

? Get on the phone
to Môglaí Bap ?

? 'What's the craic?
How'd you get the clap? ?

- Fucking animals.
- ? Never mind, We're going out tonight ?

? Ten kilos of coke
on Móglaí Bap ?

? Almost at the party,
I'm already buzzin' ?

? Me I love double-dropping
bad boys ?

? Make sure there's MD
in your bag ?

? And heed the following
instructions: ?

? Finger in your bag,
buzz on your lips ?

? Knock back a few bombs,
And if there's nothing left? ?

? Get a bump from Mo Chara,
Steal 20 from yer da ?

? Sure what's the harm? ?

? Finger in your bag,
Buzz on your lips ?

? Knock back a few bombs,
And if there's nothing left? ?

? Get a bump from Mo Chara ?

? Sure what's the harm? ?

(crowd roaring)

(loud background track)

? Finger in your bag,
buzz on your lips ?

? Knock back a few bombs ?

? And if there's nothing left?
Get a bump off Mo Chara ?

? Steal 20 from yer da,
Sure what's the harm? ?

(song continues)

(loud dance beat)

(cheering)

(music cuts out)

(crowd cheering)

Listen, youse cunts.

The Irish language and hip-hop
go hand in hand.

I don't give a fuck what anyone says.

(wild cheering)

It gave a voice to the black people
of America.

And now, it's giving a voice...

to fucking Irish speakers!

But Móglaí,

they say we're politicising
the language.

It was them who politicised it

when they fucking banned it.

But it's obvious they failed

when you see all the Fenian cunts
here tonight!

We're getting whacked out of it.

Speaking in our own tongue!

Giving shit to the peelers,

the politicians, the dissies,

or any other cunt!

(crowd)
Kneecap! Kneecap! Kneecap!

(voice of Doyle on PA)
You sell drugs.

You sell them for the Radical
Republicans Against Drugs.

Radical Republicans Against
Drugs are Radical Republicans

- before they're Against Drugs...
- Is that me?

- Is that me?
- That is fuckin' you.

We're not Radical Republicans
Against Money

because being radical costs
a pretty penny.

And one other thing, right?
No more music.

You're drug dealers.
That's all you'll be.

(gunshot, crowd screaming)

(indistinct shouting)

(truncheons beating shields)

You go, lads.

I've got this.

(truncheons beating shields)

(roaring)

(Liam) In this moment JJ showed
he had truly come to embrace

his inner lowlife scumbag

by doing something
impulsive, violent...

...and utterly fuckin' pointless!

(blows, groans)

(music stops)

(music continues)

(music stops)

(panting)

(slow orchestral music)

Wait, wait.

Who's there?

If my son's blood is to be spilt,

then it should be his own
blood pulling the trigger.

(sobs)

(banging inside car)

(cell door opening)

(cell door slamming)

Leave. Georgia. Alone.

(coughing)

That's not gonna happen.

Speak English.

Speak Irish.

You think a garage is the
only thing I can burn down?

(groans)

(groaning in pain)

(soul music)

? Don't you wanna?

? Don't you wanna fall
in love again? ?

Our day...

...will come...

And it was at this moment
I realised something about Georgia.

I fuckin' love her!

(cell door opening)

(officer) Oh, fuck...

Leave him, Ma'am.
He's had enough.

(exhales)

(cell door slamming)

(distant dog barking)

Give it to him.

(footsteps approaching)

(gun cocking)

Da?

(rapid gunfire)

(men groaning)

Who the fuck brings one gun
to a kneecapping?

What if it jams?

What if the person holding the gun
decides to fucking shoot you instead?

- (gunshot)
- Like that!

Amateur hour.
Take your hoods off.

(gasping)

- That one there's an MI5 tout.
- (gunshot)

He's in the pay
of the Special Branch.

- (gunshot)
- (man shrieks)

You can't be a serious dissie
with judgement like this.

Now, last of youse to the end of
the alley gets one behind the ear.

(all groaning)

(moaning and crying)

I said you'd end up
down an alley, didn't I?

What did I also tell you?

Every word of Irish spoken...

...is a bullet fired for Irish freedom.

What you're doing,

you're that bullet, son.

(sirens approaching)

You better go.

(sombre music)

(sirens grow louder)

(slow Irish air)

(woman singing traditional
Irish folk song in Irish)

(Liam) Every word spoken
is a bullet...

I reckon everyone's fired
enough bullets by now

without the need to be
shooting metaphorical ones.

Maybe not firing the bullet
should be the bullet.

Ah, fuck it, I dunno...

I mean, we didn't set out
to be bullets, or guns,

but when do bullets
ever set out to be bullets?

Theyjust are.

Waiting, hoping to be
unleashed into the world,

to find their velocity.

We'd found our velocity.

(traditional folk song)

(Liam) Stories are built
from language.

Nations are built from stories.

This is our story.

The Irish for 'The End'
is 'An Deireadh'.

- Ah, fuck it - encore!
- (wolf whistle)

(music: "H.O.O.D" by Kneecap)

(music: "It's Been Ages" by Kneecap)