Breakfast on Pluto Page #4

now they can see what they've done?

What the f*** are you talking about?

It had nothing to do with Republicans.

What the f*** would they bomb

a southern town for, huh?

You hear me, Charlie?

And if you want out, just say so.

Open the door.

-I can't, go away. Come back in the morning.

-Open it, b*tch! This is serious!

-Open the f***ing door!

-Okay, okay, okay, okay, okay. I'm coming.

-Where did he put them?

-I'm afraid I don't understand.

The guns, nancy boy.

Where did he put the guns?

Oh, yes, the guns.

Oh, Billy buried them outside

just to be safe.

Go.

There's no f***ing guns down here.

-I think they might just be...

-The little c*nt!

-He's taking the hand out of us.

-...over here.

I'll nut him! I swear to God I'll nut him!

Say goodbye to my friends, will you?

Charlie lives in Sunbeam Heights

and Irwin's up The Backs.

Irwin who?

Why, Irwin Kerr, of course.

-The big-time Volunteer.

-How do you know Irwin Kerr?

Oh, nothing. Never mind.

Well, come on then.

Just do it. I've nothing left to live for

in this stupid, serious world.

Oh, f*** him.

Leave him be. He's not worth the bullet,

the mental nancy boy.

Oh, what is it with nancy boys

that you can't be bothered killing them?

-You kill everyone else.

-Look, I'm f***ing warning you.

Do you know what you're doing here?

Are you on dope or what?

Wish that I was, Mr. Killing Man.

Why, do you have any?

You're way out of your league, sunshine.

Not that again.

"Out of your league, out of your league."

"Oh, you're in over your head.

You're in over your head."

Oh, for heaven's sake!

Surely you've one bullet to spare

between yous.

Bollocks!

-Where are we going?

-You hit us, we hit you.

-It's simple.

-Right.

The bomb was made up here

and driven across the border.

Wee Bobby Anderson.

Likes killing Catholics.

It'll be the last f***ing bomb he'll make.

Turn the lights off. Keep it running.

Oh, Lord.

Get us the f*** out of here, will you?

-What's the smell?

-He shat himself.

You not toilet trained?

What do you think you are, Kerr?

What the f*** do you think this is?

Tell me you're not serious.

You see, there is that word again.

It's everywhere.

But you don't know a soul

in London, Paddy.

There's only one soul I need, Charlie.

You really think you'll find her?

How many Eily Bergins can there be?

Maybe she's changed her name.

She won't have changed her eyes, Irwin.

How will you get by?

Saint Anthony will guide me.

The thing is, you come to the city

that never sleeps...

and you think it's open all the time,

but it does sleep.

Excuse me?

Of course it does.

I'm looking for my mother, please.

Eily Bergin. Phantom Lady.

I've just got two Bergins for 1956.

Bergin, Ellen,

and Bergin with a simple initial E.

Well, that's her.

I mean, it has to be one of them.

One's from Aldgate

and the other's from East London.

Will you be going back home

after you've found her?

Oh, yes, of course.

Maybe she'll come with me.

-And, son, will you promise me something?

-Yes.

-Take care of yourself.

-Oh, I will, Mrs. Henderson.

Thank you.

No, mate,

they knocked those houses down years ago.

I'm....

The man himself.

About time, too.

Are you here for the job, kid?

What job?

This is showbiz, kid.

You gotta be on the ball.

You try that with Stephenson,

now, you've no f***ing chance.

Who's Stephenson?

He thinks he's in charge.

RAF, my bollocks! I'll give him RAF.

-You're Irish, you are.

-Tyreelin, County Cavan.

Well then, County Cavan...

give us a song and you're home and dry.

Underground, overground, wombling free

The Wombles of Wimbledon Common are we

Good man, you have it.

Now the dance, okay? Okay?

I'm going in.

Right. Hop, one. Hop, two.

Hop, one, two, three.

Flap, flap, flap. Okay?

Go, go on.

Hop, hop one, hop two, hop one, two, three.

Flap, flap, flap. Right, ready?

Right, hop one, hop two.

For f***'s sake, will you hop right?

One, two, three.

Hop one, hop two. Hop, one, two, three.

Flap, flap. Flap it out, flap it out.

Sell it to me.

Overground, underground, wombling free

The Wombles of Wimbledon Common are we

Give him the drill, Bulgaria.

Enough already.

You take the croquet. Capisce?

-Capisce.

-I gotta wheel.

Every morning, 9:00, be there.

Bulgaria?

I told you before,

these are your responsibility.

You're head Womble here.

-Well, that's this.... F***!

-F***!

I'll give you RAF.

I broke no f***ing mallet!

-I broke no f***ing mallet!

-Keep away from me.

Put that down!

I'll break it across your back, you bollocks!

I'll bust it....

"You broke the mallet," he says.

"I'll have to dock it from your pay."

I broke no f***ing mallet.

You f***ed me one last time.

RAF, my bollocks! That's the end of the line!

Enough of that, John Joe.

Back off, motherf***er.

You don't know

what you're dealing with here!

Back in the can,

you wanna know what they used to say?

"Stay away, man.

He's out where the buses don't run!"

-You're out of your league here, friend.

-Oh, not that again.

You have to show them where you stand.

They f*** with you, you f*** with them.

You f*** them so bad

you make them wish they'd never been born.

-You want another shot?

-I'd love a Babycham.

You got it, kemo sabe.

Tommy, one Babycham, one Powers.

Please.

Two weeks' severance, in the paw.

You f*** with John Joe Kenny,

that's one time you f*** too many.

He's from Cavan.

So, where's Cavan?

Next to Monaghan.

I'm going for a womble.

If you want to come, give us a shout, right?

Really, Uncle Bulgaria.

Underground, overground, wombling free

The Wombles of Wimbledon Common are we

Underground, overground, wombling free

I was a Womble one time.

Did you know that?

Hey, you can't sleep here, love.

Have you got a home to go to?

You can get a cab outside.

Oh, I do believe I have a small, elfin

dwelling on Wimbledon Common.

Oi!

You doing business,

do it somewhere else, love.

This pavement's got my name on it.

What, pray, is your name? Concrete?

My name is Scratch Your Eyes Out,

Bite Your Bleeding Nose Off...

which is what I'll do

if you don't get off my patch.

All right, lover?

She giving you trouble, son?

Oh, no trouble at all.

We were just exchanging names.

Go on, you f***ing nancy boy!

Don't f***ing come back!

And her name is Scratch Your Eyes Out

and Bite Your Bleeding Nose Off.

And my name is Patricia Kitten Braden.

Pleased to meet you, Patricia Kitten Braden.

Just what were you doing back there?

I was looking for the Phantom Lady.

You found the right street, then.

Why, what's it called? Phantom Lady Street?

You could call it that.

And just who is this Phantom Lady?

Well, it's my mother, really. I call her that.

To pretend it's a story

that's happening to someone else, you see.

And why do you pretend that?

Because otherwise I might cry

and never stop.

If you cried, I'd make you stop.

Oh, you would?

Oh, how kind, kind sir.

Yes, I'd definitely make you stop.

And just what is it you do, then?

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