The Football Factory

Synopsis: The Football Factory is more than just a study of the English obsession with football violence; it's about men looking for armies to join, wars to fight and places to belong. A forgotten culture of Anglo-Saxon males fed up with being told they're not good enough and using their fists as a drug they describe as being more potent than sex and drugs put together. Shot in documentery style with the energy and vibrancy of handheld, The Football Factory is frighteningly real yet full of painful humour as the four characters' extreme thoughts and actions unfold before us.
Genre: Crime, Drama, Sport
Director(s): Nick Love
Production: Image Entertainment
  1 win & 1 nomination.
Rotten Tomatoes:
91 min

These were the scenes

everyone feared.

Running battles

between English and Turkish fans...

...some here have been

seriously injured.'s very violent indeed.

Earlier, there was mayhem

on the main square...

Getting beaten up by football hooligans is like

having VD:
the f***in' pain goes on forever.

But that's

what makes it so exciting.

So this is me, Tommy Johnson

three weeks from now, nearly dead.

And do you know what the funniest thing is?

I could see it coming.

Anyway, it's almost over now

and all that matters is this: was it worth it?

There's nothing different about me.

I'm just ahother bored male approaching 30,

in a dead-end job who lives for the weekend.

Casual sex, watered-down lager,

heavily cut drugs.

And occasionally kicking

f*** out of someone.

Zeberdee, it's Bill.

What? How am I?

What do you mean, "how am I"?

I'm f***in' buzzin'!

We've gone right through the slit.

Keep your f***in' nut down.

He's a right f***in' stringer, this kid.

- What's he say?

- Nothing.

- What do you mean, "nothing"?

- He f***in' hung up.

Raff, call Tommy.

Find out where he is.

There's a pub on the corner called

the Ship and Billet. Head for that.

I'll have to bell you back,

Harris is trying to get through.

Just spotted their little firm

going to a pub in Denbigh Street.

They won't know what's f***in' hit 'em.

There you are.

Here, come here!

- Sweet, Bill?

- Yeah.

- Where's the others?

- On their way.

- Harris said there's about 25 of the others.

- There won't be when we've finished with 'em.

Wait round the corner!

What for?

Cos it's all going to be on top,

us all standin' here, you si.

- Jog on.

- Jog on!

Bill, it's Harris.

Hello, son. Yeah?

All right. See you there.

What happened to you last night?

Thought you was coming out for a drink?

Johnson had me on some nutty skunk.

Ended up down the petrol garage

at two o'clock in the morning.

What you driving for?

You're on a ban, you lunatic.

Ban? What am I gonna do, walk?

Here he is.

Right, there's someone

outside the pub.

- How old is he?

- He's only a kid.

Go on, crack him.

Keep the noise down.

Keep the noise down.

- Excuse me, mate, you got a light?

- Don't f*** about, ping him.

Let's go!

It's going good anyway.

Let's settle it.

- Come on, let's...

- Keep it down, keep it down.

- Keep it down.

- F***in' hell, come on, boys.

Keep it down, keep it down.

- Come on. F***in' hell.

- Keep it down.

Don't f*** this up.

F***in' clowns won't stop us.

You're f***in' animals!

You give this f***in' country

a bad f***in' name!

You ain't no football supporters!

You're f***in' muggy little c*nts!

What else are you gonna

do on a Saturday?

Sit in your f***in' armchair wankin' off

to Pop Idols?

Then try and avoid your wife's gaze

as you struggle to come to terms

with your sexless marriage?

Then go and spunk your wages on kebabs

fruit machines and brasses?

F*** that for a laugh!

I know what I'd rather do.

Tottenham away.

Love it!

How f***in' perfect was that?

Soppy bollocks here even managed to get

the canister inside the f***in' pub this time.

Do you remember that time at Upton...

That time at Upton Park,

he let it off on the tube!

Mind you, premature ejaculation,

that's right up your f***in' street!

Anyway, he's virtually throwing 'em

out of the f***in' pub at me, right?

He's throwing 'em out of the f***in'

pub at me. Crunch! Crunch!

I hit this geezer so f***in' hard,

his legs went like a f***in' baby giraffe.

State of that. I done me knuckles.

So hit people in the mouth,

not the back of the f***in' head.

Rate this script:(2.50 / 2 votes)

John King


All John King scripts | John King Scripts

FAVORITE (0 fans)

Submitted on August 05, 2018

Discuss this script with the community:



    Translate and read this script in other languages:

    Select another language:

    • - Select -
    • 简体中文 (Chinese - Simplified)
    • 繁體中文 (Chinese - Traditional)
    • Español (Spanish)
    • Esperanto (Esperanto)
    • 日本語 (Japanese)
    • Português (Portuguese)
    • Deutsch (German)
    • العربية (Arabic)
    • Français (French)
    • Русский (Russian)
    • ಕನ್ನಡ (Kannada)
    • 한국어 (Korean)
    • עברית (Hebrew)
    • Gaeilge (Irish)
    • Українська (Ukrainian)
    • اردو (Urdu)
    • Magyar (Hungarian)
    • मानक हिन्दी (Hindi)
    • Indonesia (Indonesian)
    • Italiano (Italian)
    • தமிழ் (Tamil)
    • Türkçe (Turkish)
    • తెలుగు (Telugu)
    • ภาษาไทย (Thai)
    • Tiếng Việt (Vietnamese)
    • Čeština (Czech)
    • Polski (Polish)
    • Bahasa Indonesia (Indonesian)
    • Românește (Romanian)
    • Nederlands (Dutch)
    • Ελληνικά (Greek)
    • Latinum (Latin)
    • Svenska (Swedish)
    • Dansk (Danish)
    • Suomi (Finnish)
    • فارسی (Persian)
    • ייִדיש (Yiddish)
    • հայերեն (Armenian)
    • Norsk (Norwegian)
    • English (English)


    Use the citation below to add this screenplay to your bibliography:


    "The Football Factory" STANDS4 LLC, 2022. Web. 21 Jan. 2022. <>.

    We need you!

    Help us build the largest writers community and scripts collection on the web!

    Watch the movie trailer

    The Football Factory

    The Marketplace:

    Sell your Script !

    Get listed in the most prominent screenplays collection on the web!


    The Studio:

    ScreenWriting Tool

    Write your screenplay and focus on the story with many helpful features.