44 Inch Chest Page #7
uou c*nt!
I'll rip your f***ing arsehole
out in a minute!
That we...
I love you.
I just need uou
to understand that, Liz, please.
Surely I deserve something.
I mean, 21 years is a long
a- a life...to dedicate.
Surely, Liz, please.
Something...
- Help me.
- What?
- Help me.
Help me.
Help.
Help me.
- Tell me his f***ing name!
Oh, Liz.
- Yeah, massive, it was.
Massive head.
The size of it,
it's like a melon,
like a pumpkin.
Grotesque.
Huge.
Well, it wasn't so much
his head.
It was his face.
It was sort of abnormally big,
an abnormality.
The bone structure
was out like that
rhinoceroussy
and had grown out of proportion
to the rest of him,
because his skull
the skull itself,
you know, the top of it
that was in actuality
quite small.
It's no bigger than
a coconut,
but it was all pointy and all.
Yeah, the coroner said
he'd never seen nothing like it.
He thought he'd found
the missing link.
- Sounds f***ing horrible.
- No, the women loved him.
I mean, I don't know
if he got any of that,
but he was seemingly
quite the thing,
supposedly a great laugh,
good sense of humor.
Well, you'd have to have one,
reallu, wouldn't ua?
- And he was a good dancer,
this chap?
- Yeah, ueah,
that's what they said, nifty,
right little Gene Kelly.
Sad, though, top yourself
like that, over a cat.
- Must have loved it.
- Yeah, well, animals
don't discriminate, do they?
To the cat, he was beautiful.
- Well, come on.
This won't get
the washing done.
- Yeah, he's had enough time,
ain't he?
- What's the pillock doing?
- Oh, my arse
has gone to sleep.
- The old numb bum?
- It's all
gone a bit quiet in there.
- So what do you reckon?
- Let's go in.
F*** it.
- Hope to Christ
he's done something.
- Don't hold your breath.
- What's been happening
then, Col?
- We any further forward?
- He's still with us, I see.
- Well, I'm gonna have a beer.
Who wants one?
- Yeah, I'll have one.
- Nothing's happened.
Why has nothing happened?
Don't uou want
your pound of flesh?
- Not looking like it.
- Lord love a duck.
I give up.
F*** this.
Streuth.
F***ing baby!
Milksop!
- Had any thoughts, Col?
- Col?
- Aye?
- Any thoughts?
- Thoughts?
- Yeah, thoughts.
- Oh, one or two.
- Oh, yeah?
Like what?
- I'm letting him go.
- Do what?
You ain't.
- That's my decision.
That's what I've decided.
- Cobblers.
- Maube.
- Poppucock!
- Oh, it's his call.
It's your call, Col.
Oh, "Call, Col,"
hark at me.
I'm tired.
- Lightweight.
- Well and truly
cream crackered.
- So what we saying?
He's walking?
- He's free to go.
- Free to go?
Free to go?
Whu don't uou give him
a kiss good night as well
while you're at it?
Let's have
a whip-round for the c*nt.
Oh, I can hear Brighton Billy
spinning in his f***ing grave!
Free to go!
- Oi, he's listening.
Look, his ears
are out on stalks.
He can't believe it.
- It's not too late
to change your mind, Col.
Think about it.
I'll do it for you if you like.
Freebie.
- And Liz, wherever she is,
what about her?
Is she free?
Well, that's it, then.
- He's a very lucky boy.
You're a very lucky boy.
He f***ing is very fortunate.
- Well, come on, then, Col.
Do the honors.
It's your party.
Some of us have got homes
to go to.
- I'm really upset about this.
- You're free to go, mate.
You're free to go, mate.
Go on.
- Attaboy.
- Is he finding his land legs?
In your own time.
- Here, you.
Look at me.
Don't you go blabbing off now,
will you?
Good boy.
Now get out of my sight,
uou piece of sh*t.
- Shut the door behind you.
- So, kittens, what we up to?
- Don't know.
What you doing?
- Peanut and me are going
down the Clayton, ain't we, Pop?
Yeah.
- You never know.
You might like it.
- Does it do grub?
Ready for me breakfast.
- Do what you want.
You coming?
- Yeah, why not?
Be an eye-opener, won't it?
- Right, we ready for the off?
You want dropping off?
- Yeah.
You stopping off for one?
- Yeah, if you like.
Col?
- I might catch you later.
- Well, so we're off now, yeah.
Cheerio.
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"44 Inch Chest" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 19 Dec. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/44_inch_chest_1725>.
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