Brassed Off Page #5

it went.

Four to one, Harry.

Still...

see a bit more of

each other now.

Dad?

Oh, Jesus Christ.

Will someone get

an ambuIance, quick!

Hurry, he can't breathe.

-Just back off, wiII you?

-Don't crowd him.

-Come on, breathe for me.

-Someone call for that ambuIance?

Come on,

I've got you. Phil's here.

Come on,

hurry up, wiII you?

How is he, Phil?

I don't know.

He hasn't woke up yet.

They just said there'd be more

news tomorrow.

Right. We're just having

a colIection for him.

You stilI here, love?

I reckon it's got to be ta-ra now,

don't you?

l'm on your side.

l always was.

Andy?

Andy.

Phil, Iad.

Not flowers, all right, Jim.

Not grapes.

Get him summat he wants, eh?

You sure about this, Andy mate?

What about t'finals?

What finaIs?

Andy, l don't

want to faII out, mate.

You're me main

source of income.

Don't worry, Simmo. l've lost more

this week than a bloody trumpet.

Sandra?

They came.

Took bloody lot.

-I warned you, Phil.

-Oh, Sand, no. I...

Look don't ...

Not now.

Seems as good a time as any. What

with there being nowhere to sit.

Dad's coIIapsed.

Aye, I heard.

l'm sorry, PhiI.

Oh, you f***ers.

-Sandra?

-Phil? Harry.

Are you set for one

finaI performance?

What on earth?

Nurse, go down there at once

and get rid of them.

Leave them be.

-Mr Ormondroyd, how are you feeling?

-Death's door.

-The bastards still take the piss.

-Yes, l am sorry about this racket.

-We'll stop it, don't worry.

-Stop this racket?

You'll wake up

in the next ward.

ls it going Iike

sh*t off a shoveI?

lf by that you mean fast,

yes it is, rather.

lt always does when they pIay

this one.

Message from

Mr Ormondroyd.

-He's awake?

-Yeah.

He says tenor

horn's too soft.

Phil Iad, I reckon it'd be best

coming from you.

About us packing in.

Not going to t'finals.

You shouIdn't have, you know, Iads.

ReaIIy. ShouId've brought me...

flowers or summat.

Grapes. I could murder a

bunch of grapes.

-BIoody hell.

-Right thank you. The concert's over.

lt's past eIeven

and Mr Ormondroyd...

must have some sleep. Thank you.

-See you, Danny.

And I'd prefer any future visits to

be made in visiting hours...

-preferably without trumpets.

-lt's a euphonium.

Hey lads,

sounded good, mind...

Out there. Keep playing Iike that and

we'lI murder them at bloody finals.

TelI him.

You in a bit of trouble, son?

-It's nowt, Dad.

-You seem a bit upset, Iike.

Of course I'm upset.

-Me old man's poorly.

-Aye, well...

we'll both get

over that, won't we?

Nice bit of brass.

Cheap, yeah?

Ta, son, anyway.

It matters, you know,

that trombone.

-To me, any road.

-Aye.

I'd best be off, eh? Let you

get some shut-eye.

Aye.

Say hello to Sandra and kids for me.

-Yeah, they said, getwell.

l were alongside Arthur Mullins every

day of his working life...

-When they cut him open...

-Dad, don't .

They say when they opened up his

Iungs, there were...

nowt in there but coal dust.

SIack. SIack everywhere.

-Took them a week to get t'slab clean.

-Dad...

You'll be all right.

Are you going to tell me lies

all bloody night?

No.

You're right, son.

You're right.

Go on, be off with you. I'll be out

of here in time for t'finaI.

One way or the other.

...different after recent events.

Just thought l'd bring you the

viabiIity study.

Ah, right. Yes.

Put it there. Thank you.

So, Frank, you're going down to

Stainly Tuesday and coming back...

-Will you be reading it?

-It wouId've been very valuabIe...

if the GrimIey miners had decided

to go to a review, but...

as you know, sadly...

You made them an offer they

couIdn't refuse.

None of this is simpIe.

I'lI tell you some facts as I see

them and you tell me if l'm wrong.

-Miss MuIIins.

-One:
I write reports...

that no-one will ever read. They

have to be seen to be written...

but they're not written to be

seen. Two..

Grimley is, was a profitabIe

pit, says so in here.

Three:
the decision to close it

wasn't made today...

-it was made weeks ago.

-Wrong.

2 years ago.

Coal, is history, Miss MulIins.

l'll catch you later, lads.

Look for years, bloody years, nowt

good's ever happened to me.

Only reason l'd get up was to see if

me Iuck'd changed, but it never has.

lt was just beginning to get worse,

with pit cIosing, losing me job...

and then what happens?

Gloria Mullins...

love of me bloody Iife,

walks into practice hall.

BIoody heII, l thought, maybe

Iife's not so bad.

But is it buggery. She's onIy

f***ing management.

And now that's what you've

been doing.

Yeah, well let's just call that

sIeeping with the enemy.

l'm not the enemy.

l'm like you.

UnempIoyed.

l told them to stuff it.

-You off back down south, then?

-WeII, hardly welcome here.

Reckon they aII know now,

you were only trying to heIp.

Thing is if heIp comes to summat then

you're a hero. lf it comes to nowt...

you're just

another meddIer.

And is that what you reckon?

l reckon your heart's in the right

place, but...

you never did owt

to prove it.

l'll say ta-ra, then.

Summat good'lI

happen soon, Andy.

Hope it's at Albert Hall.

Doubt it somehow.

We're not going.

-What?

-They worked it out.

lt'd cost three

grand or summat.

No, the band's dead.

lt died with everything else.

Harry.

-AII right, Ernie.

-Aye.

Jim.

AII right.

-AlI right, PhiI?

-AlI right, Andy Iad?

-Owt in?

-There's a machinist wanted.

-You any good at button stitching?

-l'll take anything.

WeII, thank Christ

l found you. Look.

How's your dad?

How'd he take

it about us packing in?

Phil, come on. You've got to

tell him you know.

-l mean, before t'final.

-l'm going to. I'm going to.

-There's a while yet, isn't there?

-Saturday.

I'm afraid

l've got some bad news.

Sandra and the kids? l heard about

that. Don't fret, they'II be back.

-Dad...

-Just one day. They won't let me out.

For one sodding day.

-Dad, look...

-Might as well give these to Harry.

Wish him good luck.

l was up alI night doing them.

Aye.

Right.

Harvest FestivaI.

To tell you the truth, l don't know

too much about Harvest Festival.

But l do know

a story about God.

So God was creating Man,

aIl right?

And his Iittle assistant came

up to him...

and he said:
"hey, we've got all

these bodies Ieft...

but we're right out of brains, we're

right out of hearts...

and we're right

out of vocal chords".

And God said "F*** it.

Sew 'em up anyway.

Smack smiles on their faces and make

them taIk out their arses" .

-And lo, God created the Tory party.

-Come on.

-May God forgive you.

-God?

Oh, aye. Now

there's a fella...

I mean, what's

he doing, eh?

He can take

John Lennon...

He can take those three young lads

down at Ainsley Pit.

He's even thinking of taking

my old man.

And Margaret bloody

Thatcher Iives?

l mean, what's he

sodding pIaying at?

You've been great.

My name's Coco the Scab.

Goodnight.

Grandad? What's grandad got

to do with it?

Dad said when people are as poorly

as grandad is...

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