London Town Page #2

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- Vivian.

- Suits you.

- Yeah, well, what's yours?

- Shay.

- Guevara. I like that.

The Clash.

- Huh?

- The band, it's The Clash.

- I've never heard of them.

- I can tell.

What are you up to?

- I'm picking up

some parts for my dad

and see me mum.

- I'm gonna go get tickets

for tomorrow's show.

The Clash are playing

with the Buzzcocks.

Now, it's sold out, but they're

doing a last-minute release.

You should go too

if you know what's good for you.

- Yeah?

- Yeah.

You gonna drink that?

[laughs]

[instrumental music]

Civilization. Thank God.

- This is nothing.

- That's them.

Beautiful-looking blokes,

ain't they?

- No, they're sexy.

- No wonder

I can't get a girlfriend.

I thought it was me spots.

[laughs]

- I've shagged them all.

Two at a time.

[laughs]

You're too easy.

- You know..

I should really go

if I'm gonna get to me mum's

and the music supply.

- What, you'd rather see

your mum and go shopping

than go to Camden Town?

What kind of a man are you?

- Wait. Wait, wait up.

- A decent working-class

British man

can't find a job

because of the immigrants.

That's the facts!

And the British working man

is tired and fed up

with having everything

laid out on a plate

for the Pakis and the Coons!

It's time to take care

of our own.

It's time to stop immigration

and start repatriation.

Stop immigration!

Start repatriation!

- Daft clowns.

Like they can get a job anyway.

- I thought you punks

supported them.

- Not me punks.

Not The Clash.

They're totally against it.

I mean, all you got to do

is listen to one

of Strummer's lyrics.

Like, um,

"White youth, black youth

"better find another solution.

"Why don't you phone up

Robin Hood

and ask him

for some wealth distribution?"

- So he's a rotten commie.

- It's about us getting along.

We're all in the same boat.

It's the rich

who are killing us.

- The rich?

Well, why didn't anyone tell me?

[laughs]

- Hey, Ronnie.

- Alright, Viv.

You're in luck, my friends.

Two tickets left.

- Oh, nice one.

- Of course.

Are you sure

you want to waste this on him?

- Now, now, Ronnie.

- Suit yourself.

Right, all out. I'm afraid

that's it, guys. Piss off.

- The little prat can barely

see over the table

and he's got

the last bleeding ticket?

- Yeah, and if you got

a problem with it

you can take it up with me.

- Hey.

- No, no, no. That's punk.

Start with this.

You know, you'd look good

with black hair

like Strummer.

He's a handsome-looking devil,

ain't he?

- Me with black hair?

If you say so.

- I do. Anyway, I've got to go.

My dad's gonna kill me.

- So that's it?

- What, you thought

I was gonna suck you off too?

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