Summer Page #3

That's very good.

Good. Good stuff.

Shaun? Are you OK?

- Do you want a hand?

- Yeah.

OK. Let's have a look.

Good. Not a bad start.

Now, why don't you try

the other kind of "would"?

Yeah?

- Half right, then?

- You'll get there.

Is that a promise?

- Shaun, are you online?

- No. Well, aye.

- You're meant to be learning.

- I know.

- It's not porn again, is it?

- No, that was an accident.

You were printing it out. In colour.

Well, it looks crap in black and white.

Two minutes

and I want that letter finished off.

Yes, miss.

- Stop it. You'll put the f***er out.

- I won't.

God, it's freezing.

- Get closer to the fire.

- Lend us your jumper.

Ta.

That's it now.

You two are gonna have to get married.

Shut up.

- Swot.

- Thicko.

- What are you smiling about?

- Nowt.

Oh.

Thanks.

Love you.

You're meant to say you love me.

Are you OK?

Aye, apart from

this f***ing bramble up my hole.

Don't!

Oi, Shaun.

Hey up, they've come up for air.

She doesn't look that happy about it.

Let's be serious,

it's hardly winning the jackpot,

mating in a bush with f***ing Daz.

Sh*t! F***ing hell, Shaun, leg it.

- Come on.

- Come on!

Come on!

What the hell are you doing?

Shaun, f***ing hurry up!

The f***ing bastard's got a gun.

Come on!

Oh, f***!

F***. Do you think

he was watching us? You know.

Dirty bastard.

Oh.

I'll be late.

- Oi. Any of you lot seen Tracy's pants?

- Her pants?

My mam'll kill me.

I only got them last week.

Daz'll go back for them.

Yeah, and get a shotgun up my arse.

Don't be stupid.

I'd go back for Katy's.

- Katy doesn't wear any.

- Daz!

F***ing hell!

Why didn't you f***ing tell me?

I'm still your dad, you know!

- It's no big deal.

- Why didn't you tell me?

- You don't f***ing care if I go!

- I do care!

- It's only a warning.

- Your f***ing last warning, it says.

- Where have you been?

- Hanging out.

Right. I'll have the f***ing bus fares

back, then.

- I've spent it.

- On f***ing drink, I'll bet.

- You want to lecture me on drink?

- You f***ing cheeky little bastard!

- I'll have you!

- Yeah, f*** you, Dad.

F*** you too, you little twat!

- F***ing bastard!

- What's the matter?

College has given the little bastard

a written warning.

- What for?

- I thought he'd been f***ing going.

So did I.

F***ing little sod.

He'd be better off with his f***ing mam!

Probably.

What's up with you?

Oh, nothing.

Weren't she pleased to see you?

- She's busy.

- Busy? Doing what?

Doing very well for herself.

- I f***ing told you, didn't I?

- F*** off, Daz.

What? For f***'s sake, what were you

expecting? A f***ing blow job?

F***ing hell.

What about me shower?

I said what about me shower?

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