Bugsy Malone

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Someone once said if

it was raining brains...

Roxy Robinson

wouldn't even get wet.

Roxy spent his life making

two and two into five.

He could smell trouble

like others smelled gas.

But believe you me...

he shouldn't have taken that

alley by Parito's bakery.

Your name Robinson?

Roxy Robinson?

You work for Fat Sam?

Whatever game it was,

sure as eggs...

is eggs, Roxy the Weasel

had been scrambled.

I should be filling you in.

This guy's the hero of our story.

Name of Bugsy Malone.

A nice guy, a little too

popular with the broads.

Italian mother, Irish

father. Grown up confused.

Kinda mixed up. By the

way, my name's Sam.

Fat Sam, because of my physique.

I ain't no dumb-bell.

And this ain't no bookshop.

This is my place.

Fat Sam's Grand Slam.

Best joint in town.

- Hi, Jelly.

- Hi, Bugsy.

We interrupt this program

to bring you a news flash.

We have reports of an incident

on the Lower East side...

involving the man known

as Roxy the Weasel.

Believed to be a member

of the gang of mobster king...

Fat Sam Stacette.

Robinson was the victim of a...

sensational event.

We go over to our

reporter on the spot...

So tell me.

How'd you allow this to happen?

Roxy was one of my best!

What have you got to say...

you bunch of dummies?

Call yourselves hoodlums?

You're a disgrace to the

profession. You hear me?

And most of all, a

disgrace to me. Fat Sam.

And we all know

who's behind this.

Sure do, boss.

Don't need a hatful of brains...

- do you?

- Certainly not, boss.

So who is it, dummies?

Tell me! Who?

- Dandy...

- Dan.

Don't mention that

name in this office!

Take it easy, boss, sit down.

Come in.

I'm Blousey Brown. I'm a

singer, for the audition.

A singer. A singer!

I don't need a singer.

Come back tomorrow.

How about my audition?

You said okay last week.

Am I going mad? Are my

ears playing tricks on me?

Will you get out of here!

Dancers, dancers, surrounded

by namby-pamby dancers...

singers, piano players

and banjo players...

when I need brains.

Brains and muscles.

You've got us, boss.

You? You hunk of lard!

You got muscles where

you should have brains.

My canary's got more

brains than you! Dumb salami.

What's funny?

Don't worry, I've been trying

to see him for months.

- You have?

- Of course.

- What do you do?

- I'm the greatest tap dancer.

- You are?

- Of course I are. Cross my heart.

But all he says is

come back tomorrow.

How many times can

I come back tomorrow?

Anybody who is anybody...

will soon walk through that door.

At Fat Sam's Grand Slam speakeasy.

Always able to find you a table...

there's room for just one more

at Fat Sam's Grand Slam...

speakeasy.

Once you get here,

feel the cheer...

like they say in the poem...

Fat Sam ain't humble...

but it's your home sweet home.

Plans are made here...

games are played here...

I could write a book.

Each night astounds you,

rumors are buzzin'...

stories by the dozen.

Look around you, cousin...

at the news we're making here.

Anybody who is anybody will

soon walk through the door...

at Fat Sam's Grand Slam...

speakeasy.

There's a politician

sitting by the kitchen...

said he caught his fingers

in the one he was wishin'.

Once you get here,

feel the cheer...

like they say in the poem...

Fat Sam ain't humble...

but it's your home sweet home.

Plans are made here,

games are played here...

I could write a book.

Each night astounds you...

rumors are buzzin'...

stories by the dozen.

Look around you, cousin,

at the news we're making here.

Anybody who is anybody will

soon walk through the door...

at Fat Sam's...

Grand Slam...

speakeasy.

There's a politician...

sitting by the kitchen,

said he caught his fingers...

in the one he was wishin'.

Once you get here,

feel the cheer...

Hey, Mac, special on the rocks.

Each night astounds you...

rumors are buzzin',

stories by the dozen...

look around you, cousin,

at the news we're making here.

Anybody who is anybody will

soon walk through the door...

at Fat Sam's Grand Slam...

speakeasy.

You know something?

You look like you put your

face on backwards this morning.

- You got too much mouth.

- I'll tell my dentist.

- Watch where you're going.

- Sorry. It's your fault.

What's that, a

hockey stick?

No, a baseball bat.

You're a baseball player?

No, a dancer. My mother

made me pack it.

- You a sports nut?

- It's for protection.

- You take it everywhere?

- No, I came about a job.

- You get it?

- They said come back tomorrow.

- What's your name?

- Brown.

Sounds like a loaf of bread.

Blousey Brown.

Blousey Brown?

A stale loaf of bread.

Very funny. Terrific.

Pleased to meet you.

I'm Bugsy Malone.

Don't call us.

We'll call you.

It's okay, everybody.

Just a little excitement.

Razzmatazz, music. I wanna see

everyone enjoying themselves.

Can't say Fat Sam's place ain't

the liveliest joint in town.

Knuckles, this means trouble.

- You know what to do?

- Sure, boss.

Step on it, Jackson.

What is this?

Irving.

Get me out of here.

- Located the gun yet?

- I can't answer that.

- Not at liberty to say?

- No. I don't know the answer.

Where do the guns come from?

I'm not at liberty to say.

Ask Captain Smolsky.

O'Dreary, break up the crowd.

- Have you found the gun?

- No comment.

- And the source of the guns?

- No comment.

Is it true that only

one gang uses the gun?

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