I.D. Page #2

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(JOHN):
Look at me!

Tell me what you see.

(EDDIE):
It's you, ain't it? John. A bloke.

- No.

- An ordinary everyday bloke.

- Now what do you see?

- Me.

- It's Eddie.

- It's Eddie, John.

- A geezer.

- You're looking, but not seeing.

Not a bloke, not a geezer, not one of the lads.

Know what I see? Bill.

- It's what we are.

- No, Trevor, it's not.

He's got a point, Sarge.

We are supposed to be Shadwell.

Then it's bobble hats and rattles

All round then, isn't it?

Who's this?

It's a dead ringer for Mr Magoo.

(JOHN):
Who scored the own goal

that ended our chances of promotion?

- (TREVOR):
Dempsey.

- (EDDIE):
A right corker.

He flights it back to the goalkeeper,

to Clark in goal, but he's in the sun.

Clark sees f*** all. The ball bounces

once over his head and into the goal.

Nolan sticks Dempsey

straight on the transfer list.

Bournemouth had him. No, Portsmouth. 50,000.

Good riddance to bad rubbish.

Next season we draw Portsmouth

in the Zenith Cup. No, Simod.

- And who scores against us?

- Bobby f***ing Dempsey!

Brilliant ruck with Pompey. They

jumped in the river rather than face us.

I've got one. What's the biggest

post-war attendance at The Kennel?

- Man U, League Cup quarterfinal. 27,000.

- No.

- It's a trick question, then.

- Rod Stewart, Now Year's Eve, 1980.

- More than 30,000 paying customers.

- Smart-arse!

- Anyone know where we're going?

- This is John's patch.

- Never said you were Shadwell.

- Was milked here.

My gran lived here.

If you visited her on Saturdays,

you could hear the Shadwell roar.

- Closest I've come.

- Here's one.

Which team knocked Arsenal out of

the FA Cup 1974-75?

- Having a laugh, ain't you?

- Bolger in goal.

- Tell him Trevor.

- Dobson, Boniface, Fisk, Hirst,

Austin, Stonebridge, Whitfield, Kurtz.

Hyde and Royston up front,

Matheson sub, unused.

- Is he right?

- How should I know?

Welcome to The Kennel, lads.

Come on, you Shadwell,

got those northern nonces.

(CROWD):
You're gonna got

your f***ing heads kicked in!

You're gonna got your f***ing heads kicked in!

You're gonna got your f***ing heads kicked in!

You're gonna got your f***ing heads kicked in!

Not a lot to show. Bit of blow on

the terraces, a few coins chucked.

- Are you finished John?

- What about the guy with the hip-flask?

Do us a favour!

Come on, John. It's a team effort.

- John?

- Do you know what we've got to do?

- We've got to got in at The Rock.

- Leave it out!

- The Rock's a minefield for Bill.

- Exactly.

It's a safe house for the top boys.

They won't be in the sweetshop.

- You saw what happened to the others.

- They ain't us.

- What about the landlord?

- We ease ourselves in.

Me and Trev can use our cover.

We're painter-decorators, right?

(JOHN):
We'll go there lunch-times at first,

say we're working in the area.

Get our faces known.

What can I do you for?

(JOHN):
Get on first-name terms

with the bar staff..

Give them some chat. Have them

Pour our drinks before we've ordered.

Soon it's John and Trev,

the painter-decorators.

"Pint of the usual, love,

and a steak and kidney.

"-A few more chips than yesterday.

- Cheeky so-and-so.

"Another round, lads?"

Once they know us,

we'll pop in early on a Friday night.

Just for a quick one.

The usual, lads?

Are you two Dogs, then?

(BOOING)

Edwards, you geriatric retard.

Where's your f***ing walking stick?

- You want to paint it white, you nonce!

- Help him out, for f***'s sake!

- Help him out the f***ing front gate!

- Make sure you lock it after!

Pick a decent side, Nolan. You

couldn't pick your own f***ing nose.

- Not even if it was in front of your face.

- Better than up the Chairman's arse!

- That's not where he keeps his money.

- Not where everyone could got at it!

The ball, Edwards! Kicking up

the pitch is the groundsman's work!

Best pass he's made.

Only trouble was it was a lump of turf.

We've had enough sods on the pitch

without his help.

You're playing on drugs,

and I don't mean speed!

- Tripped over his laces.

- Won us a free kick, though.

Only thing we'll win this season.

- Oh, no! Who lines up to take it?

- Gerry f***ing Edwards.

He couldn't score in a f***ing brothel!

YEAH!

(CROWD):
One Gerry Edwards1

There's only one Gerry Edwards!

One Gerry Edwards!

There's only one Gerry Edwards!

One Gerry Edwards!

There's only one Gerry Edwards!

One Gerry Edwards!

There's only one Gerry Edwards!

Shadwell, Shadwell!

Wankers! F*** off!

- Have I seen you before somewhere?

- The Rock's our local.

- Must be it, then?

- How long've you been going here?

- A couple of years. And you?

- Born and bred, since schooldays.

- Wouldn't put up with them otherwise.

- You f***ing Arsenal scum!

You go up for a pint

and end up with a load of Gooners.

Nick, mate. Duck...

(UNDISTINGUISHABLE SHOUTING)

- Gumbo, is it your round or what?

- It's my shout.

No, let Ponce-Bonce get them.

- It's alright, I got paid today.

- (NIK):
Yeah? Makes a f***ing change.

(MARTIN):
Mind the table, Gumbo.

Packing jars of gherkins into boxes.

He's f***ing useless.

Last year his old girl pops her clogs.

He falls apart.

Can't boil an egg, fries himself

changing a light bulb.

He's a silly runt. Every time he gets

into a ruck he loses another tooth.

We're running a book

as to when he loses his last one.

I'm down for September,

so I'm looking after him 'til then.

Gumbo!

- We f***ing love you, Gumbo.

- About f***ing time.

- That's it, you're nicked!

- You heard nothing, alright?

- What's the matter with you?

- Sorry, John.

(ALL):
# Shadwell never, never, never

shall lose face

# Though you hate us we couldn't give a toss

Shadwell always, always, always are the boss

(MARIE):
Are you alright, love?

I would be alright if there was something

f***ing edible left out for me to eat.

Don't you over, ever,

speak to me like that again.

I'm sorry. I'm being a prat.

- What do you look like?

- I had to have a drink.

- It's how you got in with them.

- I hope it was worth it.

It went like a dream. Flying I am, Marie.

I'm on Drugs or Vice after this, I tell you.

How does "DS Brandon" sound?

A lot better than "where's my effing tea!"

It's so bloody lovely to come home to you.

F***ing day it was...

- The usual, boys?

- Lynda.

What's been happening

in my own boozer? I'm a stranger.

Sorry, Bob. You don't know

John and Trev, do you?

- No, I don't.

- They do up houses.

- Bob's been on holiday.

- Bollocks, I've been inside.

What houses? Here they

knock them down, not do them up.

Down the docks. Being tarted up a treat.

Uncle Bob's a big softie

when you got to know him.

Uncle Bob? Stone me, Lynda,

there's not much family resemblance.

I'm heiress to a pub, mate. You watch yourself.

He's got a wobbler on.

First day out, he invests in

some chairs and tables for outside

and someone's had them off.

What's he like when it's something serious?

(MARIE):
There's nothing wrong with

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