Performance Page #3

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Harry Flowers.

Right again.

Me.

Me.

Me.

Me.

All right. At ease, gentlemen.

Anyone for a nightcap?

- We need a signed statement.

- What for?

Containing your allegations

against Mr. Flowers.

- Allegations?

- Allegations.

Found it outside. Clean it.

Lots of filth around.

Yeah, cheers, Steve. Listen...

I'm not making actual allegations.

I can't do that.

Well, I mean, I...

I got no proof, have I?

Looks like you've got a war

on your hands, Joey.

I'll give a grand...

...if I could get

that Mr. Harry-Pervert-Flowers...

...right here, right now.

I'll give a grand in readies.

Dirty degenerate.

Will I do?

What?

I'd have rung up first, Joey,

but your lines is always busy.

All five of them.

- Let's go.

- What do you mean?

Harry Flowers is waiting for you.

That geezer, that's the one, ain't he?

- Ain't he, Joey?

- You stay out of this.

Hold up, that was him that left with him.

Look at this Vietnam strife.

Down with red tape, eh?

No taxman around here, my son.

But, Harry, I'm still a bit worried

about my future.

Worried? That I will not allow, my son.

Anyone worries you, you tell me about it.

You're on the firm now, Joey.

One of me own.

United we stand, divided we're lumbered.

Took over? No, Joey.

The word is "merged."

You was merged, my son.

To old England.

Jack, tell Chas to come over

and have one with us.

- Yeah, sure, Harry.

- Harry, that shop...

- Exactly.

- Listen, no, it's my whole life, Harry.

Exactly, Joey. Mine too. Mine too.

Speaking of which, Dennis...

...l'm not at all happy

about the tactless manner...

...which Joey was brought here in.

Chas, I told you not to bother

Mr. Maddocks, didn't I?

A whiskey, please, Dave.

- Right away, Chas.

- Oh, was I tactless?

Making him say that thing

about his poor dead father? My God.

- Let's take this chat upstairs, shall we?

- Who do you think you are?

The Lone Ranger?

- I know who I am, Harry.

- Of course you do, son.

You're Jack the Lad.

I've known a few performers in my time.

But I tell you this, he's got the gift, boy.

- Right, Denny?

- He enjoys his work.

- That's the half of it.

- Do you think he does, Denny?

- Oh, I do. I get a load of kicks out of it.

- Which can be a good thing, Chas.

Putting a little stick about.

Putting the frighteners on flash little twerps.

But it can also be a tricky thing.

And I'll tell you why.

Because you can get to enjoy

your work too much, my son.

And it can slip your mind that...

...you're bloody working for me,

you berk!

And when I say me, I mean...

Tell him what I mean, Jack.

- You mean you, Harry.

- No.

- The business.

- The business.

- That's what he means.

- Correct him one.

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