Billy Elliot Page #2

You only have five minutes left.

Hurry. This way.

You're going to ballet every week?

- Yeah, but don't tell.

- Why do you need to take lessons?

Why do you think?

To get better, you divvy.

- Do you get to wear a tutu?

- F*** off!

They're only meant for lasses.

I wear me shorts.

- You want to ask for a tutu.

- What for?

- To dance in.

- I'd look a right d*ckhead.

I think you'd look wicked.

Come on.

I don't know why you're looking at that.

You can't take that out on a junior ticket.

Come on!

See you, then.

Okay, Billy Elliot, he's the center.

Right, I want you to watch carefully, girls.

First, arabesque.

Drop your shoulders.

Look forward, beyond your fingertips.

There.

Right. Spin it, Mr. Braithwaite. Spin it.

Come on! Spin it!

Now, focus.

Look at yourselves! Look in the mirror!

Christ almighty! What was that?

- What's going on?

- Nothing.

Prepare one, and two. Strong position.

Weight on both legs.

Pirouette, and down.

Up you get.

Find a place on that bloody wall...

...and focus on that spot.

Then whip your head round

and come back to that spot.

Prepare!

- One, and two, and...

- F*** it.

Have you got the spot?

Prepare.

- Prepare!

- Prepare.

Go!

Go, Billy!

What have I told you about that arm?

Right. Back to the bar.

You look like a right wanker to me, son.

Listen, it was just 50 pence a session,

you know.

I can do without it.

I don't do it for the money.

- What are you talking about?

- The boxing.

I haven't seen

hide nor hair of Billy for months.

I was gonna say something,

but I thought it might be embarrassing.

First, I knew about it.

He's never got the gloves off.

Send him round to my house.

I'll knock some sense into him.

Scab! Scab!

Step, open and balanc.

Balanc.

Scab, scab, scab!

Right. Let's do it again.

Open and lift your chest.

Let's do it again.

Thank you, Mr. Braithwaite. Step...

Open your arms. Do it.

Pay attention.

Arms like this. All right?

Thank you, Mr. Braithwaite. Step really...

...open.

Powerful! Proud.

You're not concentrating.

- Yes, I am concentrating.

- You're not even trying.

Can we have a go at it, Miss?

Let's do it again.

Listen, have you noticed anything weird

about Billy lately?

What are you after, like, a list?

Got enough food there, scab?

What are you doing?

- Scabs eat well, eh?

- You're me best mate.

First rule of a union, Gary,

you never cross a picket line.

- We're all f***ed if you forget that!

- We're f***ed anyway.

In a speech to Tory MPs yesterday...

...Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher

referred to members...

...of the striking National Union

of Mine Workers...

...as the "enemy within."

The speech comes following

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes