Northern Soul

Soz, it wasn't me. Lt were him.

Do you want that, then?

- I'll have it.

- Get lost!

Come on.

My mum locked us out

and I've had nothing all day.

Go on.

Why are you hopping?

I broke my leg. I got run over.

Jesus, all right.

Cheers!

Well, what's up?

Lt smells nice. Lt smells of pear drops.

You better open the window

or we'll both be on our bloody backs.

The careers officer was seeing

parents at school last week and...

Well, we've missed it.

That arrived this morning

asking where we were.

I've been down there this afternoon

and had a word with Mr Banks.

Are you refusing to get involved?

I was proper shown up at that school today.

Well, I've not encouraged any of it.

He's becoming a weirdo!

A recluse at his age.

Recluse is a bit of a

strong word, isn't it?

You stay out of this, Dad.

I want to hold my head up in this town.

What about that youth club?

Oh, Mum, I'm not going.

Your cousin Lee's not

scared of going there.

I'm not scared!

What's your problem, then?

Two steps.

Yeah, you're OK.

Grab the door frame.

- You all right?

- Yeah.

Bloody hell, what's this?

You do what you want with this.

I can't take that.

You take it.

They'll only bloody nick it off me in here.

They're not that bad, are they?

Gotta share with the bastards

on the night shift.

- OK.

- All right.

I'll see you Saturday morning, then.

OK.

- You'll be all right.

- Yeah.

So, with your curriculum vitae,

uh, that's Latin, by the way,

you don't need to know that...

But your CSEs, metalwork, maths,

science, if you pass them,

where do they go?

- You're late again, Clark!

- Been doctor's, sir.

You all right?

Wait a minute!

I'll not have sexual

molestation in my class.

And it'll only ever be molestation

with a face like yours, Clark!

Book out, mallet head.

And while you're about it,

do your top buttons up,

we don't want to see your wispy bum fluff!

You cretin!

You want to be a bit more like your cousin.

He's a bit docile, but he knows his place.

Clark! You bird brain.

Let's have it. Come on.

Come on. Let's get it over with.

What have we got here?

Oh, it's a poem.

"I've got the blues for you.

"I'll never get used to that feeling

that you're gone.

"I'll never get used to knowing

I'm not the one."

That's bobbins, that is, Clark.

Who's the unlucky girl?

Sir, he fancies a nurse on the bus!

Oh, yeah?

They're quite good in bed, nurses.

That's not what we are here to discuss.

It's not going to get you a job, is it?

All right, sit down.

I told your mother last week

you'd never amount to anything.

And that goes for rest of you,

you bunch of mallet heads!

Now, single file on the left!

Bruiser, I got it!

I got the queer notebook!

Hey! Give it me back!

Nice poems, you little poof.

What do you know about birds?

You don't even go out.

You want it, you little spaz?

Too busy wanking. Wanking over that nurse.

Come on, then.

Get him, get him. Go on, Bruise.

Have him, have him!

- F*** off!

- Hey! Hey!

- F*** off, you twat!

- Ponce!

F*** off!

I didn't know you were here, love.

Have you thought any more

about the youth club?

It'll be on tomorrow.

All right, I'll go once.

Good lad to you.

Well, I bet once you've been,

you'll want to go again.

- You little fez.

- Are you all right?

Yeah, not bad. I got a couple

of sixties things in my bag.

Maybe we could stick them on at the end.

What have I told you?

Look, no old stuff.

- What?

- Shite, I've gotta change the record!

Hey, look, it's up to you. You're the DJ.

Look, I'm not playing to

an empty dance floor.

It's all about the charts.

Do you still want to be a DJ?

Yeah, but I'll convert them.

Give me a go. One record.

I reckon it will fill the floor.

Just one.

I'll make sure Linda is out of the way.

Oh, for f***'s sake, not this shite again.

All right, kids,

that's it for tonight.

I'll see you all again in a month.

Ta-Ra!

Oi, knobhead! Fat twat!

F***ing have him! Go on, Bruiser!

Come on, then!

Get him down, Bruise. Come on.

F***ing have him! Wanker! Come on, then!

Come on, Bruiser.

F*** him up now, you twat!

Hey! Come on, then,

you f***ing wankers!

Oi, you're banned!

- Get out!

- Linda!

You little sod, get out! Go on.

I see you around here again,

I'll kick your f***ing teeth in!

Go on! Move! Move! Move!

Thanks for that, mate.

- What's your name?

- It's, uh, John.

I'm Matt.

Hey, are you into Northern Soul?

Uh...

Yeah.

I've got tons of Northern

records, me. I've got all the labels.

Lt were brilliant, that one.

I've never heard of any of it before.

I could tell.

You look like you're stuck in the '50s.

Oh, and that dancing you were doing,

it was like watching Bruce Lee.

Look. Step like me.

That's it.

Then I twist each foot.

Just like that.

That's it.

You're doing it.

That's the basic f***ing step.

Bruce bastard Lee, eh?

See that.

"Burnsworth is a shithole."

Whoever did that was absolutely spot-on.

- Every day I look at that and...

- I did that.

- You what?

- I did that.

What, you wrote that?

Yeah.

You're a f***ing terrorist, ain't you?

They knock about together.

Really? How do you know him?

I don't, really.

Oh, good.

Where's your mum and dad?

Dad's dead. Mum left us. Come on.

Hey, I'll tell you what,

you'll like that Edwin Starr.

Got a f***ing great record for you.

I got his tape, right.

Taped live at Blackpool.

It's our Paul's, but I can lend it to you,

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