Fever Pitch

How's your chicken?

Good.

How's your fish?

Good.

How's school?

OK.

Paul?

OK.

Good.

How's your ice-cream?

Good.

Let's do something different

next time I'm over.

Like what?

Um... go swimming?

Go and see a film?

I'll think of something.

# There she goes

# There she goes again

# Racing through my brain

# And I just can't contain

# This feeling that remains

# There she goes

# There she goes again

# Rushing through my veins

# And I just can't contain

# This feeling that remains

# There she goes

# There she goes

# There she goes #

I'm Ms Hughes.

It's not Miss, it's not Mrs.

Ms, OK?

Practise? Say it after me.

Ms Hughes.

Come on.

Ms Hughes.

Fine.

Don't forget.

Right, I'm gonna start off today

by telling you

a few things I like

and a few things I DON'T like.

Yeah, all right. All right.

All right,

that's enough football.

Now, "Of Mice and Men".

How many of you managed to, uh,

get all the way through it?

Steven, you've got

your hand in the air.

You've not read it?

Yes, sir.

What happens in the end?

He shoots him, sir.

Who shoots who?

The little bloke

shoots the big bloke.

He's right, sir.

I'm leaving because

there's no point carrying on.

If I've got Steven Downing

to read a book,

there's no challenges left.

My career can only go downhill.

Better be about

the book, Robert.

No, sir. It's about Alan Smith.

Yeah, well, later.

What about him?

Mr Ashworth, have you

got a moment?

Sorry, but the noise from here

makes it impossible to

concentrate next door.

You'll get used to it.

I don't want to get used to it.

I want to do some work,

not listen to moronic

football chanting.

QUIET!

Out! Out!

Hold your hands up

in the air!

Offside! Linesman!

YOU'RE the linesman!

My God!

Right, clap.

Show he's done the right thing.

We don't have linesmen, sir.

Applaud the referee, then.

Jesus, doesn't matter.

That'll do for today.

Right. See you tomorrow, Sarah.

All right.

I was the naive,

stupid new teacher,

you were the cynical old hand?

What?

The snorting when

I asked a question.

I was reading

the football reports.

I never listen

at staff meetings.

This has got to be a pose,

this football stuff.

You pretend to be a yob

for a bit of street cred?

Is this 'cause my kids

were enjoying their lesson?

Well, all kids enjoy a riot.

Actually teaching them

something is a lot harder!

I've seen this film.

You end up shagging

on the carpet.

If we end up shagging

on the carpet,

I will buy you a new carpet.

Yeah, right.

But I tell you...

I knew it!

No. No carpets.

He is an English teacher.

Oh, God, not all this again.

I mean, what about

Patrick Swayze?

No-one cares whether

he read Byron or not.

And you know, he is

the full Axminster.

I'd want a brain as well.

Eventually.

I'm gonna measure up.

I'm off to Habitat first thing.

If we end up shagging,

you can carpet the whole house.

The walls, the ceiling,

the garden...

Well, what's she like?

One of those women -

if you like football,

you must be a yob.

Bollocks.

Is she fit?

Not that you'd prove

her point or anything.

What?

What have I done?

It's a perfectly reasonable,

straightforward question.

She's not unattractive,

but so what?

A) She hates me,

B) I hate her,

and C) what's the point

of all that?

Waste of f***ing time.

Ooh, sounds promising, then.

It must be terrible

being that miserable.

Pretending you only care

about football results

because the world's

a terrible place

and what's the point of it all?

What IS the point?

Maybe it IS football results.

Don't worry. He's a sad,

lonely bastard.

Who cares what

made him that way?

Where's your brother?

Eh?

He's over there.

Oi, number nine!

You're a donkey!

Didn't he have a trial

with someone once?

Yeah. Orient.

They offered him

a contract, as well.

What happened?

Turned it down.

Stupid sod.

Said it was too risky.

What's he doing now?

Er, runs his own business.

Computer something.

He's on about

fifty grand a year.

I'd swap fifty grand a year

- for a contract with Orient.

- So would I.

- Don't even like Orient.

- Neither do I.

He gets it both ways.

Gets fifty grand a year,

gets to play at a place

with floodlights.

Floodlights and a tea bar.

I'd love to play at a place

with a tea bar.

Yeah, well...

Bit late now, eh?

Dunno.

Stanley Matthews played

First Division football

till he was fifty.

Bet you any money you like

YOU'RE not playing

First Division football

- when you're fifty.

- It's the smoking.

It's not the smoking, Steve,

it's the crapness.

Pass the ball!

Penalty!

Yes!

Hold that.

I've always wanted to do this.

# La la la la la la-la

# La la LA la

# La la la la la la-la

# La la LA la... #

Anthropologists have always

had a hard time with football.

The trouble is,

you can only see

what's on the outside.

But there IS an inside,

believe it or not.

We all have our reasons

for loving things the way we do.

Hey!

He's here!

Thanks for being so helpful.

Ready?

He's been ready for hours.

No, I haven't.

Yes, you have.

What time will you be back?

Er, six. Six thirty.

Fine.

See you later, then.

OK?

Have a nice time.

See you later, sunshine.

We'll do something

special next time, huh?

You looking forward to it?

What?

The match.

Yeah.

Sounds like it.

I'm not really a football fan.

No.

One day we'll find something

you DO wanna do.

Your mum seems in good form.

Yeah.

She OK?

Not really.

The last home game, last season?

What about it?

They were f***ing rubbish.

F***ing rubbish last year

and the year before.

They'll be f***ing

rubbish this year, too.

And next year.

And the year after that.

I don't know

why you come, Frank.

You live in hope.

What d'you reckon?

Think they're bad as Frank says?

This is his first time.

Hope he knows what he's

lettin' himself in for.

Have a look at the number eight.

Jon Sammels.

Remember his face

and if you happen

to bump into him,

tell him to sod off to Spurs!

Programmes!

Programmes!

Go on, give it a shove.

Someone hasn't been

eating their greens.

Wey-hey!

We're in "Y", OK?

Yeah.

What d'you reckon?

When's the next game?

Week after next, probably.

Let's have a look.

Yeah, Sunderland.

They're away at Leeds next week.

Can we come to the

Sunderland game, Dad?

You might wanna go

somewhere different.

If you're gonna be

a football fan,

think carefully about

who you're gonna follow.

Look.

For f***'s sake, Arsenal!

Get it!

Sammels, you're a f***ing idiot!

Sort yourself out!

That was a brilliant goal,

wasn't it, Dad?

It was pretty good, yeah.

What happened?

It was a penalty,

the goalie saved it

then the man

who missed the penalty

had another go and scored.

- Terry Neill?

- That's right.

- He's good, isn't he?

- Fantastic.

I'm off, then.

See you next week.

Let's go.

Come on.

Why do we have to leave?

Beat the traffic.

Long walk back to the car,

we'll be stuck for hours.

But they might score again.

There's a remote possibility.

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