The Selfish Giant Page #3

Look at me.

Is an inbred retard, yeah?

And your family's gonna be

in debt

for the rest

of their f***ing lives.

- Oy, his psycho mate's coming.

- Go on, Swifty, hit him!

Go on, Swifty!

Don't let 'em bully you!

F***ing hit him!

- Fight! Fight! Fight!

Fight! Fight! Fight!

- F*** off me!

- Fenton, Swift,

Headmaster's office now.

- F*** off.

- Oh, yeah, big boy.

Go on.

- D*ckhead.

- Go on!

- His team leader

administered his medication.

- Why do you use

this stupid language?

To make me feel intimidated?

Well, I'll tell you something.

I don't feel intimidated by you.

I've had two kids

through this school,

and you've failed both of 'em.

- You have to look at

the bigger picture.

- Where's he gonna go now

now you've kicked him out?

'Cause nobody else

is gonna take him, are they?

- Mrs. Fenton, if we both speak

at the same time,

neither of us will hear

what each other is saying.

- Well, I've heard enough

from you.

- I don't think

mainstream school's

the right place for him.

I'm sorry.

Is there anything I can-

- No.

You've been excluded

permanently.

- Sick.

- Arbor!

- He's been excluded

for 10 days.

Lad's got concussion.

He had to go to hospital.

That's what he said.

You need to get an education.

- It's all right, Mum.

- Our Arbor were protecting him.

Arbor stood up for him.

- Didn't mean for him

to get into trouble, Mrs. Swift.

- I'm sorry, love.

- Brilliant, eh?

Don't have to go to school.

I can go out scrapping

and make some money.

You coming or what?

Guess what.

- Are you joking?

- No.

- We're like f***ing right divs

with that.

- We got to start somewhere.

Come on.

- Oh, my God.

- Come on, then.

- Smell you from round

the corner, Swifty.

- Go f*** off, you.

- F***ing stink, you.

- Oh, there's a pan there.

Watch that lot

so it don't get nicked.

- Oy, Swift.

Did you lose that baby

or did your dad sell it?

- They'll be worth something,

won't they, Swifty?

- Take that.

- Yeah.

- Leave these.

- Yeah, yeah, ain't it.

- Take these bits as well.

- Oy, what the f***

are you doing?

- What does it look like?

We're scrapping 'em.

- You're f***ing not

scrapping 'em.

I'm fixing 'em up

and selling 'em.

- Seriously,

you're fixing them up?

Don't f***ing think so.

- Who the f***ing hell

do you think you are, eh?

Coming round here

and thieving my f***ing stuff.

- Get away. He's me mate.

- Hey!

Now f*** off out me sight,

the pair of you.

- Shut the f*** up.

- Go on and take your f***ing

shitty pram with you.

You f***ing get in now.

- Fenton, you thieving bastard!

I'll break your f***ing legs!

It's your brother. Look.

- We look like f***ing

smackheads.

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