The Butcher Boy Page #5

trying to tell them it was time for bed.

May the curse of Christ

light upon you, you b*tch!

The day I took you out of that

hole of a shop in Derry...

was a bitter one for me.

Sick of him! Sick of him!

I'm sick of him!

- Please tell me again, I want to hear this...

- Follow you...

Yes, I do believe

I shall be off on my travels.

"Excuse me, did you happen

to see Mr. Francis Brady, by any chance?"

"I'm sorry, old bean,

but I really wouldn't know.

I hope he's not gone traveling

through the wastes of space and time...

with Algernon Carruthers."

Don't you worry, kemosabe. I'll be back.

You haven't seen the last

of Francito Brady.

You understand me, Senor Joe?

Sure, them Communists

are taking Kennedy for a ride.

There's only one way to deal

with the likes of them boys.

You go in first.

One bomb is all it takes.

Wonder how many nuns

they'd interfere with then.

- That'll settle them, wouldn't it?

- Indeed, by Christ, it would.

I'd knock seven different kinds of shite

out of that Khrushchev bastard.

Go on, Khrushchev, you bastard.

Is this really Dublin?

Yeah, it is. Where'd you think it was,

for Jesus' sake?

"For Jesus' sake."

The way they're crossing that bridge,

you'd think someone said:

"Excuse me, but I'm gonna let off

an atomic bomb any minute now."

- There you go.

- Thanks, mum.

Thank you. There's damn all wrong

with the Communists.

- They're no worse than the rest of them.

- Now you said it, missus.

Two sons in England.

You'd think they'd send you

a couple of shillings.

Not if it was to save their own lives.

What's your name, son?

Algernon Carruthers.

I knew by the look of you

you had manners.

You'd send a couple of shillings.

You'd look after your mother.

Will you stop talking about mothers

and get me them chips?

I do not have time to talk to women

with beards about mothers...

if you don't mind.

That's one shilling, Algernon.

There you go.

- I'm off.

- Bye.

- Smoked cod and chips.

- All right, sir.

You people have small eyes.

You are unable to grasp the importance

of today's events...

There was one of them aliens.

He had a human body

he stole off a snotty-nosed doctor.

But you knew by the cut of him

that inside, he was Mrs. Nugent.

No, only joking.

Inside, he was a fat green blob with arms

like an octopus and his face all scales.

Steve!

Come on, youse alien bastards.

One bomb is all it takes.

It's 2 pound 10

for the Irish cottage, sonny.

The thing about running away from home

is you can't bring your mother with you.

It'd be grand if you could, but I'm sorry,

old bean, that's just not the way it is.

I hope your mother

likes the present, son.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes