Billy Elliot the Musical Live Page #2

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I think Grandma must have moved 'em.

Mum?

Mum?

Come on, get them knees up,

you lazy little buggers.

This is a boxing club, not Butlins.

Right, drop down there and give us 20.

Bloody hell!

Oh, no!

What bloody time do you call this,

for Christ's sake?

Go on, get changed now.

Do I have to?

Of course you bloody have to.

You haven't done any boxing yet.

But it's nearly finished.

- Get changed or I'll knock your block off!

- Ow!

Jesus!

Jesus!

Jesus!

Do you call them press-ups,

you lazy little twat?

I've seen more life in

Maggie Thatcher's knickers.

Right, yous lot, piss off.

- Oi!

- Ow!

Where do you think you're going?

I'm pissing off.

You're pissing me off.

You can bloody well stay where you are

and fight Joe Bugner there.

I think you've knocked a tooth out.

Serves you right. Over here now!

Oi, Michael!

But I need the toilet, sir.

It's not my fault I'm late.

I had to see to me Nana.

I'll see to your bleeding Nana in a minute.

Do you think I do these classes

for the good of me health?

It's half 11:
00, for Christ's sake.

Anyone would think you didn't like boxing.

- I don't.

- 50p.

You, bonny lad, are getting your 50p's

worth whether you like it or not.

But look, everybody else is going home.

Aye.

That's because they've done their boxing.

See you, George.

See you, sunshine.

Wanker!

Oi, Michael, where you going now?

I need the gents'. I give up!

Jesus Christ! Right!

In this alternative universe

that we have created for ourselves,

you are Muhammad Ali

and you are Cassius Clay.

Right. Hit him.

Do I have to?

Well, of course you have to hit him.

It's boxing, not flippin' macram!

What, man?

Please, sir, can I have a word?

Aye, you can have two.

- Bugger and off!

- Ow!

His dad doesn't even like him coming.

You can shut your cake hole,

or else I'll clip you myself.

All right, smart aleck. You hit him.

Ding, ding, ding! Seconds out. Round one.

Come on. Let's do a bit of boxing.

That's what we're here to do.

Howay, son! Put a bit of beef into it.

Whoa, whoa, whoa!

Whoa!

Shirley Bassey, what the

hell are you doing?

I'm just trying to put him off.

Put him off? It's not a

bloody tea dance, man.

- Hit him in the head.

- Are you sure?

Of course I'm sure. Twat

the little bastard!

Well, get up.

Sorry, Billy.

"Sorry, Billy"?

"Sorry, Billy."

"Sorry, Billy"?

What do mean, "Sorry, Billy"?

He's supposed to hit you,

you're supposed to hit him.

It's boxing!

- Jesus Christ!

- Are you all right?

Well, of course he's all right,

you stupid fat fanny.

Howay, Michael, come on.

Let's show him how it's done.

Give us a left.

And a right.

And a left. You see...

You little bastard!

- Sorry, George.

- Piss off.

You can stay where you are.

- But...

- No buts about it.

You're a disgrace to your father,

to them gloves,

and to the fine traditions

- of this boxing hall.

- ...of this boxing hall.

I'm off to the picket line.

You can stay here and practise

with the punch bag by yourself.

Aye, and make sure Mrs Wilkinson

gets these keys before you leave.

Who?

She's coming.

Chairs!

Oi, Rocky, bugger off.

And arms!

Alison Summers, get that coat off!

Full pli.

Get rid of the pie, Tracey Atkinson. Up.

I'm telling you, Tracey,

you will end up like your mother.

And second!

Miss, the keys!

- Who the hell are you?

- Billy. Billy Elliot.

Oh, pleased to meet you. I'm Margot.

Margot flippin' Fonteyn.

It was a rhetorical question.

Now piss off up there.

Keeley Gibson,

how many times have I got to tell you?

But miss, my mum...

I don't care if your mother

has got cerebral palsy.

You have to bring your shoes.

Try to keep your arm in line

Come on, at least pretend you're doing fine

Don't forget the golden rule, girls.

Never hide your light under a bushel.

No matter how big the bushel,

Tracey Atkinson.

You can wow them every time

Even you, Susan Parkes!

All you have to do is shine

Jets!

That's it, girls, so our tawdry little lives

can be transformed by the power of art.

Forget about content

Oi, you!

Focus on style

Steal an inch on 'em

And they'll give you a mile

Chair!

Everybody ready for the big number.

And smile, smile,

smile, smile!

Right.

We've only got another

seven and a half months to rehearse this.

So, for Christ's sake, concentrate!

It doesn't matter if you're large or small

Trapezoid, short or tall

Even if you can't dance at all

All you really have to do is shine

It doesn't matter if your life's a mess

The whole process will coalesce

Girls, just try to effervesce

All you really have to do is shine

Give 'em the old razzle dazzle

Turn on the old pizzazz

Miss, the keys!

There won't be time to shilly shally

Give it backbone, give it welly

Bowl 'em over, knock 'em out

Show what life is all about

Give 'em the old razzle dazzle and shine

Oi, you, join in or bugger off!

It doesn't matter if you're unemployed

Only partially humanoid

An octopoid whose mind's a void

All you really have to do is shine

Come on, Debbie, it's your big moment!

It doesn't matter if you're special needs

Maimed or lame, or born in Leeds

They love to see a heart that bleeds

All you really have to do is shine

Give 'em the old razzle dazzle

Turn on the old pizzazz

There won't be time to shilly shally

Give it backbone, give it welly

Bowl 'em over, knock 'em out

Show 'em what life is all about

Give 'em the old razzle dazzle

And shine!

Oi.

Where the bloody hell

do you think you're going?

I'm going home.

Oh, no, you're not.

You haven't done any dancing yet.

What do you mean, dancing?

You wanna stay.

Be in the show.

Oh, no. It's gonna be rubbish.

I couldn't give a monkey's cuss

I couldn't give a fig

Come on, son, get over it

It's all part of the gig

Smoke, Mr Braithwaite, please.

That's it, girls, hide behind those fans.

No faces now, just tiny smurfs!

Give 'em the old rinkle tinkle

Out, in!

Show 'em the old kabam

Line!

Knock 'em sideways

Blow their minds out

There's no time for half-arsed frolics

Grab the buggers by the bollocks

Show 'em what class is all about

Give 'em the old razzle dazzle

And shine

Lights!

It doesn't matter if you're short or squat

Cerebrally challenged, completely shot

You might have it or might not

All you really have to do is

Shine

Give 'em the old razzle dazzle

And shine

Give 'em the old razzle dazzle

And shine

And shine

And shine

50p's.

Oi, you owe me 50p.

- No, I don't.

- Yes, you do.

- What for?

- Your lesson.

You don't think I do this for

the good of me health, do you?

What you on about? That wasn't a lesson.

Of course it was a bloody lesson.

It nearly killed me.

Margaret Gormley!

Admittedly, your fan work wasn't so hot,

but you have quite a nice turnout.

- A what?

- 50p, stop pissing about.

I haven't got 50p. I spent it on boxing.

Well, you can bring it next week.

What do you mean "next week"?

Well, you're coming back, aren't you?

You've got to be joking. To this crap?

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