Cass Page #6

- Yeah?

- Quid says he gets f*** all.

You c*nts? Are you taking the piss? Yeah?

Are you taking the piss?

All right, lads, I got to shoot.

- And I'll have that, an' all.

- Good luck, Cass.

It's all right, I nicked it off him anyway.

- How's your mate?

- Who, Linda? Fine.

Her pride's hurt, more than anything else.

She'll be all right.

I'm surprised you never smacked

that geezer after what he said to you.

- Yeah, me, too.

- Are you the old-fashioned type, then?

"No-one hits a woman when I'm around. "

Yeah, must be.

I suppose I'm glad you never bashed

the National Front c*nt.

Even if he probably deserved it.

Yeah, he probably did.

- Have you guys decided yet?

- Yeah.

I'll have the mezes, please,

and the shish kebab.

- And can I have an ouzo, please?

- And for you, sir?

Yeah, I'll have that as well, please.

Would you like any side dishes

with the shish?

- Some taramasalata, please.

- For you, sir?

- Same, please.

- Thank you.

Do you like mezes, then?

- Yeah. You?

- Yeah.

I like the sheep's testicles best.

Do you?

Mmm, yeah.

You've never had mezes before,

have you, Cass?

No, I've never been outside the country,

let alone eat

a pair of Greek sheep's bollocks.

They ain't seriously going to bring out

a pair of lamb's nuts, are they?

I don't want to sound too keen or nothing.

But I got to tell you, Cass,

I can't get involved with you

if you're going to still be running around

at weekends fighting like a bunch of kids.

My mum and dad would kill me.

What are your old pair like?

Are they all right?

God knows

how I'm going to explain you to 'em.

What, cos of the football thing?

That as well, but...

Well, let's just say they're old-fashioned.

What? Ain't they met

a big, scary black man before?

Not really.

It's more ignorance than anything nasty.

Where the hell are our drinks?

Calm down. Give 'em a chance to pour 'em.

You having a good look, mate? Don't want

to take a f***ing photo or something?

Sorry, Cass.

Sorry, mate. I was telling the missus about

when we took the Holte End up in Villa.

Oh, sh*t. Sorry, mate,

I thought you were looking at us cos of...

No, no, not at all.

It's difficult to tell with some people

sometimes.

Not me.

When CCTVmoved into the stadiums,

the violence moved outside.

When you've built yourself a reputation

like we had,

every other wannabe mob wanted

to make a name for themselves against you.

Argh! Sh*t!

F***in' hell!

Prentice just took a right hiding

off some Gooners.

Gooners? Since when did they have

a f***ing mob?

- I'm telling you, Cass, he's bad, mate.

- How bad?

They cut him to ribbons.

He needed over a thousand stitches.

A thousand? What'd they do him with,

a f***ing chainsaw?

Poor c*nt looks like he's been

in some f***ing horror film or something.

- I'd better be off.

- Are you all right, Elaine?

- What the f*** are you playing at, Cass?

- You what?

I thought it was you that said

no slush on the firm.

She ain't that f***ing special anyway, mate.

You f***ing what?

F***'s sake!

When we got Arsenal next?

Forget it, mate. They'll be all over it.

It'll need to be away from football.

They'll never show up after this anyway.

What firm done him?

Some little mob out of Islington.

F***ing liberty taking c*nts!

They targeted him, Cass.

It's all getting personal, mate.

Just let the dust settle, right?

We'll pick our time carefully.

We got to do 'em, mate. We got to do 'em.

I know we got to do 'em.

Just take your f***ing time, all right?

Who'd have thought

you'd end up with some ex-convict?

When's the wedding?

I should get a new hat.

Well, what's wrong, mate?

Just this whole stupid West Ham thing.

- Oi, steady on!

- I just mean all the violence.

They're like bloody kids in the playground.

What do you expect him to do when one of

his closest mates gets his face opened up?

What would you do if it was me?

Yeah, but where's it gonna end up, Lind?

It's just going to keep going on

until someone gets f***ing killed.

You really do like him, don't you?

That's the whole bloody problem.

It's a one shot magazine, give it a spin...

Morning, gentlemen.

Remember me?

One in 36 is saying sorry through a bottle

Say it's yourjob to scrape a living up,

that's all it does

Well, thing it back over it,

hurts twice as much as living

Itchy finger, finger, trigger, trigger

Cass?

Come on! You f***ing...!

One shot, this is it, did you delay?

You call it a nightmare, now I call it a day

You hold yourself steady

at the edge of the bed

As you say finger, finger,

trigger, trigger...

We f***ing done 'em!

F***ing Gooner c*nts! Eh?

Come on!

One shot, this is it, did you delay?

F***ing wankers!

He's cut me knuckles with his teeth.

You want to get up the doctor's

with that, mate.

No, it's just a little scratch.

I never saw the f***ing c*nt coming.

He jumped up from underneath me.

He could have cut my f***ing balls off.

I wish he had cut your balls off, you bastard!

Elaine...

Sorry, mate. You're on your own. I'd rather

go with Millwall on me tod than face that.

Yeah. See you later, Cass.

- You all right?

- All right?

No, I ain't f***ing all right!

Look at the state of you!

You promised me. You promised

you'd finished with all that sh*t.

What?

What? What?

Don't f***ing what me, all right?

Can't you just give it up?

You're a grown man, Cass.

I'm not a f***ing junkie, Elaine. You're

talking to me like I'm a f***ing smackhead.

That's exactly what you are.

A f***ing violence addict.

F***ing bollocks, Elaine.

I'm not your f***ing mum, Cass.

I'm not there just to tend to your wounds

after every f***ing fight.

I love you, but I don't want to bring up

my kids with a dad who ain't there.

Aw, look, I ain't going back inside.

I done me time.

And who said anything about having kids?

I'm not talking about going to prison.

You keep going the way you are,

it won't be a cell they'll be locking you

away in, it'll be a f***ing wooden box.

And anyway,

too late about the kids thing, mate.

Eh?

Eh!

Eh!

I can't believe I'm having a baby

with a f***ing football thug.

F***ing hell.

Yeah, f***ing hell!

How're we going to survive on the dole

if I have to stop working?

You've got to at least try

and get some kind of a job, Cass.

How's a black, ex-con hooligan going to find

a job over the rest of Maggie's millions?

I don't bloody know. You're supposed

to be the one with all the big ideas.

You still running round

playing toy soldiers, then?

No, not really, Ray.

Trying to keep a low profile on that one.

They're talking long f***ing stretches

if you get done at the football.

Chelsea got done the other day, dawn raids.

It's only a matter of time before

they start on us. The Old Bill got his own...

What do you want, then, mate?

I got a proposition for you.

I'm listening.

Remember you said

you'd have a bit of work when...

Cut the bollocks, Cass. What do you want?

Let me run your doors for you.

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