Tormented Page #5

Now, how does this relate

to the representation

of the supernatural in the play?

One second, Helena. So, it works

on two levels. So, Heckerty...

Huh? Oh, you want me to take

the site down, do you?

OK. OK, Bradley, yeah, yeah.

No problems. I'll get right round to it.

Right round to it. After a... That!

Karate chop to your neck, huh?

What's that? You can't breathe? How

about a little slap around your cheeks?

Huh, f*** you, Bradley White,

you little b*tch, with your little willy.

Huh? I f***ing hate you.

I'm worth 100 Bradleys! That's right.

The Nas isn't scared of you.

Ugh!

We're very concerned

that bullying may be a contributory factor

in the incident with the Mullet boy.

That is why I am personally

overseeing the implementation

of a new anti-bullying initiative.

And as the cornerstone

of our new strategy, we are using these.

Visualisations of mission statements

arising from the ethos strand

of the school development programme.

Hey kid, go tell Swanny that

the Head wants to see Jason Banks.

Tell her yourself.

Oi, you cheeky little prick,

do as you're told.

- Kids these days! No f***ing respect.

- I blame the schools.

Hmm.

Listen everybody, there is a screw

missing from the guillotine guard,

so it is very, very dangerous.

- Miss.

- Yes?

- The Head wants to see Jason Banks.

- Right.

Well, well, well. If it isn't Jizzum Wanks.

Oh, God's f***ing bollocks.

Oh.

Oh. Huh?

Bradley.

Huh!

Hey, Bradley?

Hey, Bradley, that's not funny.

Bradley!

No, no.

Someone, help. Someone, help!

Someone help me!

Help me! Help me! Help me!

Someone!

No, no.

Help me!

We think that it is vital

that young people should have

an outlet for their creative energies.

Well, he certainly

seems to be enjoying his music.

Obviously, it's something

with a good beat.

Where is he?

Must have gone outside.

Tag. You're it.

F*** me, I'm out of breath.

Now, what I was trying to say was

how sorry I am

that Mullet decided to top himself.

Bit selfish of him, really,

leaving Mr Jizzy No-Mates here.

Not even one fat spaz to call a friend.

You bastard.

Ah, you're a plucky little f***er,

aren't you?

Ah! Now.

Mullet is dead.

Which means

he can't be sending me texts.

I don't think you get a signal up there.

I can't even get a signal in the bogs.

Exactly.

Now, pretending to be Shrek

risen from the dead ain't a bad gag.

Give me his phone

and, er... we'll call it quits.

- I haven't got his phone.

- Jason, Jason, Jason.

You're only hurting yourself, mate.

It's from Mullet.

- It can't be.

- Who's doing this, Brad?

"Who's doing this, Brad?"

How the f*** do I know who's doing it?

Brad, it wasn't him.

I don't give a f***.

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