Six Shooter Page #2

You remember your man off of Bronski Beat?

He looks like him.

- No wonder you banged it on something.

- He was a cot death!

That's what all you mams say.

Everyone knows if you're lumped

with an ugly baby who'll disgrace you.

Well, don't blame that on me.

Hey, missus, your fella's back that way!

Was that a bit much now?

I think you might have gone

a bit overboard there, fella.

- Did you see where my wife went to?

- I did, aye.

She flung herself off the train five minute back,

dashed her brains to muck against a wall there.

He is retarded.

I'm going to look for my wife.

Sure, just look out along the train.

She's dripping down the half of it.

Don't look at me.

I told you that five minutes ago.

I mean, she was acting like an oddball

from as soon as she sat down, like.

All crying all over the place

like a mad thing, she was.

Wasn't she all crying

all over the place like a mad thing, fella?

- Her son had just died.

- He had, aye.

Write that down 'cause that might've

had something to do with it.

That's him.

Brutal-looking baby.

He looks like your man off of Bronski Beat.

- Your man off of where?

- Your man off of Bronski Beat.

The gay man?

Aye, the gay man, the gay man, the gay man.

Aye, the gay man.

- Can I keep this?

- Work away, aye.

Put it in your dead baby Bronski Beat

lookalike file.

- Do I know you from somewhere?

- Me? No.

Okay, what were you and Mrs Dooley

talking about before she left the carriage?

I was telling her me story

about this cow with trapped wind.

Aw, jeez, that wouldn't have sent her

over the edge, would it, mister?

Ah, no, I'm sure it was just some

sad things going on in her own mind.

Thanks for your time, lads.

And me thinking Freud had died long since.

Get that train stopped!

And tell the boys to get their guns out!

Jeez, you're so f***ing maudlin.

You didn't even know the woman.

- Have you no respect for the dead, no?

- I haven't, no.

A black fella stole mine.

Admit it, fella, she was getting on your nerves,

too, with her bawling.

Sure, my mam got murdered last night,

but you don't see me off wailing like a spa.

You're codding me?

Oh, aye. I'm forever codding people

me mam's just been murdered.

Oh, a great source of amusement to me, it is.

You don't seem upset about it.

Well, she wasn't the most pleasant of women,

and sure, life goes on.

- My wife died last night.

- Did she?

- Did she get murdered, too?

- No, no.

Thank f***. I thought we had

a f***ing serial killer on the loose.

Ah, now, don't cry, old fella.

She's up with God now.

She's up with God now.

- I don't believe in God. Not no more.

- Eh? Of course you believe in God.

- You're an old fella.

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