Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels Page #2

Tom examines his midriff and adopts a confused expression.

TOM:

Please, both join me in my orifice.

INT. GROCER'S SHOP STORE ROOM - DAY

They work their way past a maze of boxes.

NICK:

(fingering and admiring one of the boxes)

How much did you say it was, Tom?

TOM:

You know how much it is, Nick.

NICK:

And that does include the amp?

TOM:

You know it doesn't include the amp.

INT. RESTAURANT KITCHEN -AFTERNOON

Tom and Ed make their way through a busy, well-equipped kitchen. This

is obviously a smart and serious establishment. They stop in front of

the man whose uniform is covered in blood; he appears to be the head

chef. Meet Soap.

TOM:

What have you come as?

SOAP:

Cupid stupid! That's the last time I am getting any more fruit off you

Tom. Call that fresh? There was more small hairy armoured things in

your fruit than there was fruit. You should open a butcher's, not a

grocer's.

TOM:

If you will order stuff that comes from Kat-Man-F***ing-Du don't be

surprised if your fruit picks up a few tourists en route. ~ Never mind

that, what about the money?

SOAP:

Get your fingers out of my soup!

SLOW MOTION:

Soap pulls out a bag from under where he is sitting.

TOM:

(voice-over)

Soap is called Soap because he likes to keep his hands clean of any

unlawful behaviour. He is proud of his job, and even more proud that

it's legal.

BACON:

(voice-over)

He's a stroppy sod but he's got more balls than a golfer, only he

doesn't know it. ' * Cut from completed film.

16

RELEASE SLOW MOTION]

Ed looks in bag.

EDDY:

Are you sure you can afford twenty-five?

SOAP:

Well that depends on how you look at it. I can afford it as long as I

see it again, if that's what you mean. You got the rest from the fat

man and Bacon?

Tom looks on with suspicion.

TOM:

Who's this fat man, then?

EDDY:

Bacon, the fat man and myself, and it's time to make a call to Harry.

INT. HATCHET HARRY'S OFFICE - DAY

A hard-looking man of about fifty is sat behind a large antique desk.

On this desk is a hatchet resting in a block of wood, poised like a

judge's hammer. Harry is obviously in the sex game. Cluttered up in a

hazardous way are a selection of d*ldos, spanking paddles, etc. A

cabinet of fine-looking shotguns is placed behind. We have a split

screen involving EDDY and his friends (listening in) and Hatchet with

one hand on the phone and the other on a shotgun.

HATCHET:

You got it all?

INT. KITCHEN - DAY.

EDDY:

A hundred grand.

FREEZE SHOT OF HATCHET

TOM:

(voice-over)

You see it's not easy to take a seat at this table; the money involved

has to be a hundred grand upwards and there is no shortage of punters.

EDDY:

(voice-over)

The man who decides if you can play is this man Harry, or Hatchet Harry

as some including himself like to call him.

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