Beautiful Thing Page #2

Oh I suppose I should be glad

it's not techno...acidic...

housey housey...pop...trash.

Leah!!!

What's all the bloody noise?

It's her, she can't control her kids!

I've only got the one, you know!

Just as bloody well!

Rose, turn that bleeding racket down,

will ya?

D'you think I'm enjoying this?

Leah!

Oi! Mush!

Is that Trevor?

You only had to ask, Trevor.

You know I'd do anything for you.

Or..to you.

I wouldn't touch it with his.

See you later!

Thank you, Trevor.

Trevor! Trevor!

Your mum told me straight, you know.

Problems. Been there.

Walking cross the park, game going on,

my heart, you know, races.

Scared. Jamie.

Scared of the ball coming,

you know, near me.

Hey, we can fight this together.

Fancy a knockabout?

No, me neither. But some time, yeah?

It looks like fried shite.

Trevor, make us a sandwich.

-But...

-Trevor!

F***in'ell!

I can't eat all that.

Where d'you meet my mum?

Planet earth.

Where?

Oh, you know, out and about,

here and there.

What's a place?

It's somewhere where, you know,

sh*t happens.

Yeah, but where?

Gateways.

She turn you on?

Sure.

She's thirty-five!

What's age? Age is just...

a number. You know?

Mum said you was a painter.

I know why she chose you,

she needs the lounge done.

Only had it painted last year.

Like that, my mum,

goes off things fast.

She might go off you. Won't be laughing then, will you?

Is that a spliff?

Give us some.

-Hey.

-What?

Your mum's gonna be all right.

Dry Martini and lemonade please.

Pint o'Pilsner.

Lou? Ho served her?

I dunno.

You. Out! You're underage.

I'm only drinking Coke!

You'll be drinking blood

when I slap your face, now move it.

Oh, you're so hard.

Was that a threat?

Yeah, and here's another..

Get out before I call your childminder.

Oh, come on, Slasher. I can't be arsed.

Slasher? What d'you slash?

Crpe paper?

He's incontinent!

Sandra!!

Louise taking care of you, Mr. Barr?

Of course..A word.

Jamie, how old are you?

Old enough. How old are you?

Twenty-seven.

Not old enough to be your dad. Right?

What?

Sure...

What?

It's just..sh*t, innit?

What?

The whole..concept. Yeah.

Anyway, I think we should just like..

move towards getting away from all that.

Right?

Please, Trevor, I'm sorry.

You'll breeze it, princess. Unless

you really balls it up, the job's yours.

What sort of questions will they ask?

You're interviewing for a new barmaid.

You got three birds up for one job.

You say, 'If you find a fiver on the floor

at the end of the night, what d'you do with it?'

First bird goes, 'I'd hang onto it then ask

round the next night to see if anyone's lost it.'

Second bird goes, 'I'd out it in the till.'

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