London Boulevard Page #3

you're already f***ed.

Out of a job, anyway.

Don't ever go there again.

Oh, we'll see about that.

Your manor now, is it, eh? Eh?

Maybe it's enough for you.

How's your brother?

- What's your name?

- Harry Mitchel.

Bullshit.

You want to see

my driver's license, Lee-Lee?

F*** off.

Detective Sergeant Bailey, Mr Mitchel.

Might I have a word?

Now, we get a daily bulletin about all

ex-prisoners returning to our manor.

And I recognise your name, of course,

but, hey,

there's no address.

Now why no address

when you so clearly have one.

I'm not on parole.

- I'm a free man.

- 'Course you are.

Where's the owner?

How about a nice cup of tea?

Two sugars.

Your friend Billy Norton

is sailing close to the wind.

You'd be wise to avoid him.

And dodges like this flat.

Which, if I were to look into it...

Yeah, I got my eye on you, Mitchel.

You're in my manor.

What is it? What you want?

Consider it rent on the flat.

- I'll see myself out.

- Yeah, you will.

- F***ing c*nt.

- I heard that!

You ready to clock in?

You're sailing close to the wind, Billy.

- Eh? What?

- Policeman told me.

You spoke to a f***ing copper

about me?

The same one

who got my address from you.

Oh, Bailey? Oh, f*** Bailey.

You don't worry about him.

Right. Hope the f***ing lift's working.

We start at the top,

we work our way down, right?

When you finish this gaff, mate,

you want to be near

the front f***ing door.

I sh*t you not.

Get your mum.

Your mum, yeah?

Go on, get...

What have you got for me?

Let's have a look then.

No, you're a bit short, love.

I had a difficult week.

I had to buy a plane ticket,

my father's got cancer.

Yeah? I could give a rat's f***ing arse

about your Hindu psychodramas.

You know, I'll tell you what,

I'll tell you what,

you can double up next week.

- All right?

- Yeah.

- All right?

- Yeah. Yeah.

Hello.

I'm Anthony Trent.

This is my house.

That is, it was my house

before it became your house.

And now you want what?

Funnily enough,

I thought I might collect some things.

They made me write prescriptions

apart from everything else.

I'm a doctor. I'm being investigated.

It's a sad story, Anthony,

but given the people involved,

I think it will get sadder

if you come here again.

I reckoned it was a mistake to come.

Nice night.

F*** yourself.

How's the eating? You eating?

You know I don't like to eat.

It makes me sick.

There's only so far

I can take care of you.

Mum went down helping you.

Didn't have a life until she had cancer

because of you.

I didn't come here for a lecture.

You came for a proper feed

of meat and vegetables

and you're going to f***ing well have it.

If I cook this,

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