Ill Manors Page #3

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He's in the back.

Let's sort it out.

- All right, Chris?

- What's goin', Kirbs?

- I've come for my stuff, bruv.

- Yeah. Cool, brother.

- You got it, yeah?

- Of course I've got it.

- You all right?

- Yeah, good. I always am, ain't I?

Always good.

- Just put it down on the table.

- No, take it, bruv. Count it!

I don't touch money no more.

Put it down on the table.

You're too big for money now?

All right. So, come on, man.

I've gotta go.

Turn my back for five minutes, innit?

Cheers.

Hey! Just... Cool.

Chris, what are you doin', man?

Don't f*** about with me. Give me my gear.

There it is! There it is! Oi!

Bruv, just give me my gear,

will ya?

- I thought you was in a rush, bruv-

- I am in a rush!

(Sighs)

Listen. Listen, my friend.

I've been away a little while

and before I went away,

carrying the can for everyone,

I had people like you running round

selling twigs and seeds for me.

Do you remember runnin' round

with little batty boy and them?

Think!

Right, when I had you

running around for me, right,

did I take the f***in' piss?

You might have been sellin' twigs

and seeds, but I still looked after you.

- Now give me the f***in'...

- You c*nt!

Kirby, just relax!

- Get the f***...

- Kirby, relax!

- Get the f*** off me!

- Relax yourself!

- Get off me! You f***ing little c*nt!

- Just relax yourself!

Listen! Give me my f***in' gear!

Let go of my f***in' head!

- Give me my gear! I've got sh*t to do!

- Relax yourself!

Get off me, you c*nt!

You're hurting my neck!

- Oh!

- F*** you! F*** you!

(Laughs) Here you are, Kirbs!

- My f***ing neck!

- Oh!

You f***ing wanker!

(Pants)

- Kirby...

- What's wrong with ya?

(Pants)

Hey?

(Laughs)

Funny, innit?

You'll be laughing the other side

of your f***in' ugly mush... soon enough.

Yeah?

(Sighs)

Look what you've done to my glasses,

you c*nt! I'm shaking like a f***in' leaf!

- (Laughs)

'Yea funny, innit (?)

(Sighs)

- Oh!

- You're a c*nt.

See ya later, Kirbs.

(Man 3) Marcel, come on, bruv...

Every f***in' time, man.

- Wait.

- Where's the dough, bruv?

- I don't know.

- Hurry up.

I'll sort it, bruv. I'll sort it.

Come on, man.

I'll sort it out for you next time.

Where's the dough?

Where's the money?

Why you makin' me beg

every time I want my sh*t, man? F***!

- Remember you owe me money, yeah?

- I'll sort it out for you next time.

(Shouts) You! Come!

F*** off, you! F*** off!

Get over there!

What have I f***ing told you?

What the f*** have I told you

about selling sh*t on my turf?

How many times have I got to tell ya?

Now get your f***in' clothes off.

Get 'em off!

I can't take my clothes off, man.

Get your f***ing clothes off!

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