Cass Page #5

Anyway, who said anything

about it being criminal?

We're businessmen.

Right, go on. You better f*** off now.

I'll think about it, yeah?

In the shovel, there's a prison governor

and there's someone

who really runs the nick.

It was my good fortune that in the Scrubs

it was Uncle Raymondo,

so pens, paper and privileges

were never in short supply.

It was just a pipe dream, really,

but I'd always wanted to write a book

about the darker side of football culture.

They'd written about the punks,

the Teds, the Mods and the Skins,

so why not about the Casuals?

It was on the terraces where most working

class fashion influences came from.

This book was going to be my passport

to a new life outside the Firm.

This lot can't be all f***ing true, Cass.

F*** off, mate. Every f***ing word.

It ain't half bad, you know.

Where was your family from?

Both from somewhere in London.

Not quite sure exactly where, though.

No, mate. Your real family.

They are my real family.

The only ones that ever wanted me.

- You never try and find the others?

- I ain't interested, mate.

What good would that do me?

Listen, don't take the wrong way, right?

But I think that's where your real problem is.

Don't take this the wrong way either, mate,

but f*** off.

Look, if you don't know who your father was,

and you don't know

who your grandfather was,

how are you supposed to know

where your roots are, who you are?

Who the f*** are you? Mother Teresa?

What the f*** would a petty criminal like you

know anything about stuff like that, anyway?

If you had any brains,

you certainly wouldn't be in here.

You might be right there, you know, mate.

But the one thing about being in here,

it gives you plenty of time to think.

During my sentence, the Tories

had smashed the f*** out of the miners,

with the biggest group of uniformed

hooligans the country had ever seen.

And after the Heysel Stadium disaster,

even the IRA was higher in the popularity

polls than the average football fan.

Thatcher's firm was seriously mobbed up

against anyone who mixed their football

with their violence.

Pennant.

Whoa, whoa. What's that?

- Just things I've been scribbling down.

- Give it here.

Prison rule 12.786

states that no inmate

is permitted to be discharged

with any possession

that he did not enter the prison with.

- Oh, come on, mate.

- I certainly am not your mate.

I've been writing that for ages.

That's my life.

What does that say, sonny?

- Her Majesty's Prison.

- Exactly.

Property of Her Majesty.

Not... Carol Pennant.

Come on, then. Let's see if we can find out

if you fight like a girl as well, Carol.

Cos if we do, then you'll be heading

straight back down that f***ing corridor,

back into the cosy little cave

you've just crawled out of.

That's my future you just slung away.

Future?

Tell me, what f***ing future is there,

exactly,

for a two-bit schwartze football hooligan

like you?

Hope to see you back here soon...

Carol.

I don't know why I ever agreed to come here.

My dad would kill me if he knew

I was coming to some football thug's party.

Sorry, Linda. I ain't waiting here all day

just to cheer on some released convict.

- Come on, Elaine, he's West Ham!

- What?

You think I give a sh*t

about your crappy little football team?

It's too late, anyway.

- Here he is.

- Hello.

- Welcome back, son.

- Good to have you back, son.

Is that him? That cocky-looking geezer?

- Go on, then.

- Speech! Speech!

Hey, hey, come on!

- Speech!

- Come on, Cass.

- Dunno what to say, really.

- That's a f***ing first, then.

Glad to see you ain't lost it, mate.

Can't lose it if you never had it.

I'd just like to say thanks to everybody

for coming down here tonight,

and for everybody

who came to visit me inside.

When you're in there, even a stupid thing

like a postcard can help keep you going.

So, to all of youse that wrote,

and I know most of you can't...

I won't forget it.

That's about it, really.

Who've we got, Saturday, then?

- All right, sexy?

- All right.

You on your own, then, darling?

Yeah, you know how it is, I'm sure.

You want to come for a toot?

Sorry, I don't use that stuff.

I already have a personality, thank you.

You off, then, darling?

Yeah. You got me all flushed, darling.

I need a little breather.

- You dirty little c*nt!

- What's wrong?

Cheeky bastard tried to stick his hands

down my knickers.

- Wanker.

- Calm down. I was only mucking about.

- Anyway, she looked like she was up for it.

- You f***ing prick!

You f***ing little slag! Shut your mouth!

F***ing c*nts!

I think you'd better f*** off home, mate.

Home? F*** off home?

This is my f***ing home, mate. Where

exactly would you say yours was, eh?

All right, mate. No problem.

I don't want no f***ing trouble, all right?

Yeah, walk on.

Ain't you going to do him? I thought you was

supposed to be this big f***ing hard man.

- Look, he ain't worth it.

- That's f***ing out of order.

Listen, are you all right?

- No.

- Listen, love, do you want a drink?

White wine.

I'm Cass.

Are you?

Come on.

Now remember, Doll. You promised.

What's for dinner, then, Mum?

Done me favourite, have you?

Hello, son.

Welcome home.

It's two weeks, that's all.

Didn't they feed you in there, then?

You want to get a job now,

keep your head down.

Give us a break. I only got out yesterday.

Well, I just hope you've learnt your lesson.

Learnt my lesson?

What are you talking about now, then?

Well, don't try and pretend

you was an angel, son.

It was only a matter of time before

you got put away for something or other.

Do you ever give it a rest?

They're saying they're going to make

a real example of you football louts,

now that them poor Italians got killed.

It's time you told him, Doll.

Told me what, Mum?

You've got to tell him, Doll.

What?

Well...

Trying to contact you.

Who?

Them that give you away.

They've been writing you letters.

Through Doctor Barnado's.

F*** them!

Oi, language, son.

Not in front of your mother.

Don't you want to open them, then?

No, I don't want nothing to do with them.

You two are my family.

Are you sure?

You heard him, Cecil.

He don't want to know.

We're his family. Not them.

You need to settle down,

meet a nice girl, have a family of your own.

Well, I have met this one girl.

Oh?

See?

That's what you need,

love of a good woman!

You're better than

all this football nonsense, son.

You could really be somebody.

You're not stupid, Cass.

I hope she is, though.

Just you behave yourself.

- Look at the state of him.

- Yeah, I know.

- You all right, mate?

- Yeah.

So what does this bird do, then?

F*** knows. Travel agent or something.

Oh, right.

Do you think she could get us a cheap deal?

Steady on, mate.

It's my first night, for f***'s sake.

Remember, Cass,

you can't trust none of them, mate.

You got to use the three Fs rule

with any Renee.

- What's that, then?

- Find em, f*** 'em, forget 'em.

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