Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels Page #4

DOG:

It's a dog eat dog world, lads, and I got bigger teeth than you.

We see an individual hanging upside down tied up with gaffer tape but

otherwise naked. An orange is stuck in the man's mouth. Dog is standing

on another man's chest who has a tee stuck between his teeth from where

Dog fires golf balls at the other unfortunate figure. The tied-up man

is Gordon. The other is Slick. Gordon nods his head erratically

implying that he has reached a decision.

(to Plank)

I think your man is trying to say something.

Pause.

Perhaps not; maybe I should have another swing just to make sure.

Agonised muffled screaming from Gordon. Slick (who has a tee in his

mouth) shuts his eyes in horror as the golf ball thumps into Gordon.

Yes, Gordon, is there something you would like to tell us?

The orange is removed from Gordon's mouth.

GORDON:

(rushing to get the words out)

In the kitchen, under the floor . . .

SLICK:

(interrupts)

Shut it, you idiot . . .

Dog swings the golf club round Slick's jaw, knocking him unconscious.

DOG:

You were saying?

GORDON:

It's in the karzi, pull the fishing wire under the seat. Jesus, for

god's sake let me down.

PLANK:

Oh, Dog! . . . I think you want to have a look at this!

Plank returns holding an assortment of drugs and cash. Gordon starts to

scream. Dog picks up a steel for sharpening knives and throws it across

the room. Thunk. Silence follows. Plank grimaces.

Oh, Dog!

EXT. ED AND BACON'S HOUSE - EVENING

Ed, Bacon, Soap and Tom park outside their house. As they get out they

pass Plank and John who have also just parked. They ignore each other,

and go to their separate doors.

INT. ED AND BACON'S HOUSE - NIGHT

BACON places a pile of money on a table. The rest are eating, Tom keeps

looking at his plate distastefully.

BACON:

Twenty-five from me, Tom, Soap and yourself; a hundred grand to the

pound. You don't need to count it.

EDDY:

I still will, if you don't mind.

TOM:

(eating)

So, a reasonable return should be in the region of one hundred and

twenty, for twenty-five grand invested. That's going on previous

experiences.

SOAP:

That's going on optimism.

TOM:

Whatever it's going on, it's still enough to send you on a cooking

course.

SOAP:

You're not funny Tom; you're fat and look as though you should be

funny, but you're not.

Tom is definitely not overweight, quite the opposite in fact. He

examines himself to see if something has developed.

TOM:

Fat? Who are you calling fat? What are all these fat jokes about?

The light switch above Tom's head lets out a few sparks causing him to

cower in a sharp defensive action.

Jesus! It's good in here, ain't it! Trains overhead, walls exploding .

. . Why the hell did you move in?

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