Billy Elliot

Grandma.

Your eggs.

It's Billy.

Come on.

F***.

- You been playing my records, you twat?

- I never played naught.

Knobhead.

If Dad knew you smoked that stuff,

he'd go mental.

F*** off, will ya!

Little twat.

Here we go, Dad. Come on, man.

Dad!

Hurry up, Dad, man. We'll be late.

I'm telling you, the whole world

will be on that picket line this morning.

Have you tidied our room? Dad!

There's not much coal left.

That's fine.

We'll be digging it up again next month.

Don't kid yourself.

I'm not waiting for you.

Tony!

See you down the picket line, Dad.

Leave it, Billy.

Mom would have let us.

Your 50 pence is on the fridge.

Scab, scab, scab!

- Are you sure you're not going to come?

- Am I f***.

- It's a right load of old bollocks.

- It's not.

It's a load of shite, kicking people in.

I don't know why you bother.

- I'm good at it.

- Are you shite.

- Look at them gloves. They're outdated.

- They're me dad's, these.

Exactly.

Right, lads. Listen up here.

Hold it. Right.

Here.

Now, because they're using downstairs...

...as a soup kitchen

for the striking miners...

...I'm gonna let Mrs. Wilkinson...

...use the bottom end of the boxing hall

for her ballet lessons.

So, no hanky-panky, understood?

Yes.

Elliot, you're late.

Get changed and get in here.

Right then, lads.

Give it all you got. Round one.

Don't just stand there, Elliot.

Not again. This is man-to-man combat,

not a bloody tea dance.

What are you doing, man? Hit him!

He's just pissing about.

Get stuck in and give him a belt.

He's like a fanny in a fit.

Billy, hit him!

Jesus Christ, Billy Elliot!

You're a disgrace to them gloves...

...your father,

and the traditions of this boxing hall.

You owe us 50 pence.

Ho! Liberace!

Will you give it a rest?

Billy, punch bag.

You're not going until you do it properly.

Sh*t.

Give these to Mrs. Wilkinson and her class

when you're done. I'll see you next week.

Okay, girls. Left hand on the bar.

Thank you, Mr. Braithwaite.

Pretty arms.

Bottoms in.

Where are you looking, Susan?

Lift. Feel the music. Feel it.

In time, Debbie, please.

And one, and two, and three, and four...

...and five, six, seven, eight.

And one, and two, and three, and four...

...five.

And hold.

Hold it.

Support yourselves.

Don't look at me. Look ahead.

Where's your confidence? Come on.

And down.

Connie.

Oh, God.

And Debbie, eyes front.

And five, and six, and seven, and stop.

For God's sake.

Thank you, Mr. Braithwaite.

Right, into the center, girls, please.

Miss?

- Miss, the keys.

- Not now.

Right, Mr. Braithwaite.

The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow.

Fat chance.

Ready, and...

Port de bras forward...

...and up.

Port de bras forward...

...and up.

Why don't you join in?

Port de bras forward...

...and up...

...and hold.

And three, and four,

and Debbie, straight leg...

...seven and eight.

And one, and two, and three, and four...

...and five... Boots off!

Seven and eight. What size are you?

- Miss, what about the keys?

- Into the center.

Go on, I dare you.

Prepare.

And one, and two, and three, and four...

...and five, and six, and...

And eight, and hold.

Hold it.

What have we got here, then?

Heel out.

Drop your hip.

Nice...

...straight leg.

Good arch.

Turn that leg out.

Right. Class dismissed.

Hometime.

Debbie, get the 50 pences.

- You owe me 50 pence.

- No, I don't!

You do.

Why don't you bring it along next week?

I can't. I'm going to boxing.

- But you're crap at boxing.

- No, I'm not!

Shut up.

I thought you enjoyed it.

Please yourself, darling.

"Dancing in my tails"

He was your mom's favorite,

was Fred Astaire.

We used to watch him

at the Palace Picture House...

...and then dance around the front room

like lunatics.

Marvelous!

Mind, they used to say

I could have been a professional.

Come on, Grandma. Not now.

Grandma!

It's this one here!

Grandma!

It's over here!

Tony?

- Do you ever think about death?

- F*** off!

Night-night, then.

Plenty of boys do ballet, you know.

Do they now? What boys do ballet?

Nobody around here, but plenty of men do.

Poofs.

Not necessarily poofs.

Who, like?

What about that Wayne Sleep?

He's not a poof.

He's as fit as an athlete.

- Bet he couldn't beat Daley Thompson.

- Maybe not in a race, but in stamina.

- Come tomorrow. You can just watch.

- I can't.

Gotta go to boxing, haven't I?

Please yourself, then.

See you around.

Aye. See ya.

Right, lads. Look sharp. Everybody out.

Turn, turn and stop.

One, two, three. One, two, three.

Arms are in fifth.

One, two, three.

Turn, turn and stop.

One, two, three. Where are those arms?

- I don't know what to do.

- Follow the others.

Shut up, Debbie. One, two, three.

Nice pretty arms. And stop.

See? I told you it takes loads of practice.

- Debbie.

- What, Mom?

- What do you call me?

- Miss.

Shove off!

So, do we get the pleasure

of your company next week?

It's just...

...I feel like a right sissy.

Well, don't act like one.

Fifty pence, please.

If you're not coming again,

give us your shoes.

- You're all right.

- Right.

What are you doing,

going around like creeping Jesus?

Naught.

They found your nanna in the Spar stores.

Where have you been?

Boxing. Where do you think?

What are you doing?

- I forgot me gloves.

- They were my dad's gloves.

You better take better care of them, okay?

Copy down that diagram.

You only have five minutes left.

Hurry. This way.

You're going to ballet every week?

- Yeah, but don't tell.

- Why do you need to take lessons?

Why do you think?

To get better, you divvy.

- Do you get to wear a tutu?

- F*** off!

They're only meant for lasses.

I wear me shorts.

- You want to ask for a tutu.

- What for?

- To dance in.

- I'd look a right d*ckhead.

I think you'd look wicked.

Come on.

I don't know why you're looking at that.

You can't take that out on a junior ticket.

Come on!

See you, then.

Okay, Billy Elliot, he's the center.

Right, I want you to watch carefully, girls.

First, arabesque.

Drop your shoulders.

Look forward, beyond your fingertips.

There.

Right. Spin it, Mr. Braithwaite. Spin it.

Come on! Spin it!

Now, focus.

Look at yourselves! Look in the mirror!

Christ almighty! What was that?

- What's going on?

- Nothing.

Prepare one, and two. Strong position.

Weight on both legs.

Pirouette, and down.

Up you get.

Find a place on that bloody wall...

...and focus on that spot.

Then whip your head round

and come back to that spot.

Prepare!

- One, and two, and...

- F*** it.

Have you got the spot?

Prepare.

- Prepare!

- Prepare.

Go!

Go, Billy!

What have I told you about that arm?

Right. Back to the bar.

You look like a right wanker to me, son.

Listen, it was just 50 pence a session,

you know.

I can do without it.

I don't do it for the money.

- What are you talking about?

- The boxing.

I haven't seen

hide nor hair of Billy for months.

I was gonna say something,

but I thought it might be embarrassing.

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