Cass Page #7

Go on.

- How many clubs you got now?

- Enough.

Well, say I supply all enough clubs

with the best doormen in London,

and you only have to deal with me,

saves you f***ing about

with all the different firms you got.

Cuts out all that sh*t.

One contact, one invoice, one firm. Eh?

So who're you going on about, then?

Your five hundred football squaddies?

Some of them, yeah. But not just them,

all different kinds of c*nts.

It's courses for horses, that kind of thing.

And it's not just a numbers game, mate.

You got to pick the right heads

for the right clubs. Eh?

OK. I'll think about it and let you know.

All right. I'll leave it with you.

- Three more, please, Joe.

- OK, Cass.

Only thing is, you got to wear a suit.

A f***ing suit?

"A f***ing suit?" Yes, a f***ing suit.

I ain't got a suit.

Oh, come on,

you must have some kind of suit.

- I've got my court suit, but...

- There you go. It ain't a fashion show, mate.

F***ing suit!

And a bow tie.

F***ing c*nt!

Look, just look f***ing smart, all right?

You bastard. I'm always f***ing smart.

Him, f***ing smart? He's a joke, ain't he?

- Cheers, Joe.

- OK, lads.

Cheers, mate.

Having a good night, so far?

It wasn't the same buzz

as running with the Inter City Firm,

but none of us could take the risk any more.

The courts were promising ten years

for football-related violence,

and the police said they'd infiltrated every

mob in London with undercover Old Bill.

We're leaving Downing Street

for the last time,

after eleven and a half wonderful years...

As the 1980s were on their way out,

so was Mrs Thatcher.

The old girl got her wish, though,

and football hooliganism as we'd known it

had become a thing of the past,

thanks to her,

but more probably due to the Ecstasy era.

Who wanted to fight each other

with an E inside 'em, anyway?

You were more likely to get

a hug than a club at a football match.

Ray wanted the biggest, blackest,

baddest geezers on his roughest doors.

- Back of the queue, mate.

- Come on, mate.

- What?

- All right, f*** off!

It was a psychology move,

more than anything,

but it always worked, and kept Ray happy.

More importantly, I was making plenty

of clean dough and keeping Elaine happy.

Life had become quiet for me in the year

since I started running Ray's door empire.

Doll and Cecil were getting old and frail,

so it was Christmas at ours for the first time.

Where'd you get them crackers, dear?

Lovely!

Here, look at that, Cecil.

- I only picked 'em up cheap.

- Marks and Sparks, eh? Ooh!

That's quality, that is.

I'll be all embarrassed

when you come round to ours next year.

We only get ours out of the catalogue.

Ah, Cass!

Would you look at them!

What an 'andsome pair!

Look at the clobber on him, Cecil.

- So, work going well, is it, son?

- All right, Dad, yeah.

- Are you keeping out of trouble, though?

- I've always been a good boy, Mum.

He's doing really well, Doll.

You should be very proud of him.

He's a manager now, you know.

Manager, eh? Ooh.

If he can afford them crackers,

he must be doing something right.

A nice house, a beautiful wife,

a five-year-old son

and a daughter on the way.

I couldn't have been any happier.

Bloody hell! Who else?

You should've got a bigger turkey, love.

All right, it's me.

Yeah, Happy Christmas to you, an' all.

Who are we playing?

I'll probably watch it down the pub.

Listen...

Oi, listen.

You'll never guess

who I clocked on the door

at this shithole club

in south London last night.

That big black bastard.

No. Oi, you're not listening.

"That" big black bastard.

Are you going to be late again?

If I'm not back, tape Match Of The Day

for us, would you, Elaine?

Martin, tape the football for your daddy,

please.

Your mum don't know how to use the video.

Right, you. Bed.

Cheers, mate. Keep the change, yeah?

All right, lads? Full house again, yeah?

It was a full house

till he slung half of them out.

- Ray's looking for you.

- Eh?

Well, it better be

cos he wants to f***ing up my wages.

You black West Ham c*nt!

Look, mate...

F***ing hell!

Come on. You killed the n*gger.

I done me best, yeah.

I got the wife, I got the kids,

I got the house and I got the f***ing job.

It was everything

that Doll had ever wanted for me.

But sometimes, no matter how far

you try and run away from your past,

it always catches up with you

and bites you hard.

Where are the kids?

They're in bed. They're all right.

Let's sit down.

Well?

Doctor says he's very lucky to still be alive.

They reckon it's too early to say about

any permanent damage he may have.

Thank you.

We found him, you know.

Just give me the nod and it's done.

Look, I know it must be difficult,

what you're going through,

but just give it a bit of thought, let me know,

and I'll take care of it, all right?

How are you doing, then?

All right, Dad.

Where's Mum?

How are you doing?

Not bad.

Where's Mum?

I've got some bad news for you, son.

Delivery for Mr Pennant.

- Sorry for your loss.

- Thanks.

Let us pray.

Our Father, which art in heaven,

hallowed be thy name.

Thy kingdom come,

thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.

Give us this day our daily bread,

and forgive us our trespasses,

as we forgive them that trespass against us.

Lead us not into temptation,

but deliver us from evil.

For thine is the kingdom,

the power and the glory,

for ever and ever, Amen.

It's at this point

that I should like to invite any family member

who wishes to say a few words

to please come forward.

I'm dreadfully sorry,

but it really is only family members

who we permit to speak

at this point in the service.

But I'm her son.

Please.

Dear Mum,

I never, ever thanked you

after all that you did for me.

I never once told you that I loved you,

after all the love you gave me.

I never even said goodbye

when I knew it was near the end.

You need to hear this, Mum.

Thank you.

Going for a drink, then?

No, I'd best be off.

I'm going to miss her, son.

You must open those letters now, Cass.

I threw them away.

You look after yourself, right?

Don't go doing nothing stupid, do you hear?

You all right, mate?

We're going to get that c*nt.

You know that, don't you?

This one's down to me.

I'll be in touch, all right?

Hello?

Hello.

Hello.

- Hello!

- Hello, Carol.

Did you like the flowers, Carol?

F***ing bastards! You f***ing bastard!

F***ing...!

Go on, Cass. Do him, Cass.

Elaine, would you get the door?

Elaine!

I'm coming!

It's the police again.

Do you want me to stay?

Go upstairs.

- Are you sure?

- Go upstairs!

How many times have I got to repeat it?

I told you already,

I got no idea who the c*nt is.

With all due respect, sir,

we've got an attempted murder suspect

out there, running around with a firearm.

He must know half of East London

visited you in hospital,

so who's he going to fear most?

You suit yourself, Sherlock, but this

is all coming from you, not me, all right?

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