England Is Mine

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1

Life.

In this humdrum sense, is worth

avoiding.

It's the factory for the father

and the kitchen for mother.

It's arguments at the dinner table,

missing children on the news.

And through it all, a sense that

things are slowly falling apart.

Is it better to choose another

record and flip the lid on the pills,

and wait for something to happen?

Is it better to turn out the lights

climb under the covers

until sleep invites you to a

world you've always wanted.

Is it better than the one

that's in front of us?

Stop being a mad ass.

Two beers, please.

If you spent as much

time looking for a band

as you do slagging them off,

it could be you up there.

There's a reason...

Oh, come on, Steven, I was

only pulling your pisser.

Should we go to town on Saturday night?

We could go to that new club.

Not been yet.

Yeah but we'll just sit

there, like it's a funeral.

Yeah, we could pretend it's

yours, you'll like that.

I just think that there's

more to life than being...

Right, keep walking.

Pardon?

Keep walking, or you'll get taunted.

Just try and act normal for ten seconds.

You're dickheads.

Have you found a job yet?

No.

Well, you're not going to find

one sitting around on your arse.

There's nothing suitable.

What does that mean?

Something suitable.

Leave him alone.

He's gonna have to find a job some day.

He wants to write.

Write? He can't even write his bloody name.

Why do you always do that?

You are right.

I can't find Roxy.

No, I meant...

They've been like that for years, Angie.

Is it serious?

Do you want to talk about it?

There's no use bottling things up.

Life is too short.

For cliches.

Forget it.

You ever think it could have been awesome.

Buried in the dirt.

Dear enemy,

Manchester is a lovely place.

If you happen to be a

bed-ridden deaf mute.

The local music scene is the

sole preserve of troglodytes

whose regard for

subtlety and variation

is comparable to a pig's

passion for the slaughterhouse.

The performance was

the musical equivalent

of a prolonged bowel movement

followed by an unexpected

absence of toilet paper.

In case I haven't made myself clear,

it wasn't very good.

What about this?

I don't think so.

No it's a good job if you're not fussy.

Here's one.

Girl group seeks moaning minnie.

Now you could do that.

Not funny.

I don't know what I'm meant

to be looking for, do I?

There's no point in dragging me here

every week, just to play the cunt.

Holly-fucking-luya.

Yeah.

Yeah, all right.

Yeah, we will meet you tomorrow.

Great. Okay. Bye.

Got you a date.

Hey, he's quite fit.

Do you think that's him?

Leather jacket, check, red hair, check.

I don't like his shoes.

Just look him in the

eye and don't cock it up.

Just give me a minute.

You're not meeting the fucking Pope.

Should we get out there or what?

We?

I could be your agent.

- Oh my goodness.

- Shall I count to ten?

Ten, nine, eight,

- seven, six, five...

- Fine!

Are you gonna sulk all day?

I'm not sulking.

What are you doing then?

I'm sulking.

You're the one who wouldn't talk to him.

The world is not just gonna come to you.

It might do.

You're ridiculous.

You may as well get a job in ASDA.

What, like you?

Oh, f*ck off!

Mommy's boy.

You know, some of us live in the real

world with proper shit to deal with.

I don't need this.

Call me when you've grown a pair.

Look after your mother.

Merry Christmas, hey.

Who's gonna carve your turkey?

Dickhead.

Are you a DJ?

What's with the record, then?

Hey, Lerch, she's talking to you.

What have you done now?

Have you got any plans for lunch, Steven?

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