I.D. Page #3

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large families, if that's what you want.

I'd like another two. We need

a bigger place, don't we, Eddie?

- It's not the time to look for houses.

- When is?

Either the house is too small

Or the mortgage is too big.

- I'm happy where I am.

- Yeah.

- Charlie's still paying for his ex's place.

- (STEF):
She's got her head screwed on.

- And her feet under the table.

- Don't sulk.

Trevor said he'd live in a tent

as long as I was with him.

(ALL):
Aaah!

I'm not thinking of kids until I got to Inspector.

- Eh?

- Charlie wishes he'd waited.

- Excuse me a moment.

- Are you checking it's still there?

Won't be long.

- Sorry.

- Contagious, is it?

Sorry.

- (CHARLIE):
Midchester tomorrow.

- (JOHN):
We'll stuff them.

(CHARLIE):
5-0 at least. Their goalie's crap.

(JOHN):
Come on, you Shadwell!

(ALL LAUGH)

(EDDIE):
Come on, you Dogs!

(TREVOR):
Murder them we will.

(ALL):
# We are Shadwell

The Kennel is our place

# Shadwell never, never, never

shall lose face

F***ing grow up, for f***'s sake!

Mind your backs, boys.

Bob says word is the Brummies

Want to take out a pub.

I hope they pick us. Here you are, Gumbo.

Trev's just been telling us about your kid, John.

Oh, has he?

- Never said you were a dad, John.

- It's not something you shout about.

- What's his name, then?

- Didn't Trev tell you?

James Wilson Hibbin Chatfield

Edwards Hutcheson Clark

Edmonds Ball Cox Cummins.

F***ing brilliant, naming your sprog after

the side that got promoted

to the Second Division.

You want to bring him down to The Kennel.

Yeah, bring him down here, John.

Your missus wouldn't mind.

(CAR HORN)

Brummie bastards!

- It ain't The Rock they're after.

- I'm finding out where they do go.

Hang on, John.

(POLICE SIRENS)

Bob says tonight you don't

Put your hand in your pocket.

- Cheers, Lynda.

- When are you going to ask me out?

Don't say nothing. Wait 'til you're sober.

Set up weeks ago this meet.

Good ruck before the game.

Only trouble, the Brummies

couldn't got off the coach.

Some prat leads a charge.

John, do you know who that might he?

I love you!

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

Oi!

You think you're the cream

on top of a bottle of piss,

but any more row and you're on report.

- Sorry, Sergeant.

- My lot in lockup are better behaved.

Sorry, Sergeant.

We've had a very stressful night.

Yeah. It won't happen again, Sarge.

You've got to draw the line somewhere.

This is no good, coming back

to the nick after a day's work.

- We need a proper office.

- And proper backup. We're winging it.

- F***ing right.

- (JOHN):
Down to you, Trev.

You're the sergeant.

- What's the word on the meet today?

- You've not seen Bob?

Half-one, Lumber's Arms, city centre.

I'd have thought

Bob would've put you in the picture.

Oi, Gumbo! Get your tools out.

Get your tools out.

# Get your tools out! Get your tools out!

# Get your tools out for the lads!

# Get your tools out for the lads!

Gumbo, you're f***ing nicked, my son!

Oi, look!

Football Intelligence?

DS Jones Shadwell District.

We've been done over.

Half of Midlands' Bill to greet us.

I've been grassed by some f***er.

He's dead when I sniff him.

It's a bloody shame.

I was looking forward to a good ruck.

Are you sure?

Another large one.

- Alright, Bob?

- F***ing no, we're talking.

Sorry, mate.

I'm sick of setting up meets

only for Old Bill to show.

And me! Bob, I swear on my mother's life

I wouldn't grass anyone.

Shut the f*** up!

- We know it ain't you, Gumbo.

- Some f***er, though, innit?

I thought we'd had off all the Bill here.

- (NIK):
They're like maggots.

- I'm sick of this.

Three mates were set up last time.

We'll crucify them in court, though.

Their evidence is bollocks, innit?

Geoff Marshall is getting married one Saturday.

They've got him involved in a knifing in Bristol.

He's got a video of the wedding!

Dave Armstrong was set up for a burglary.

He was in police custody at the time!

All the same,

there's Bill or grass or snouts here.

Our job is to smoke them out and snuff them.

- F***ing rip their faces off!

- Yeah, Bob!

(ALL):
# We are Shadwell

The Kennel is our place

#Shadwell never, never, never

shall lose face

# Though you hate us

we couldn't give a toss

#Shadwell always, always, always

are the boss

Alright, boys?

Alright? Alright?

Alright?

- Who scored the most goals last year?

- It wasn't you, was it?

Shadwell Army!

- He's got to sort it out.

- We're going down now, aren't we?

(NIK):
We need a new striker.

Reckon you're Shadwell? Name

every goalkeeper since World War I.

I can.

Alright, I'll give you something easier.

(TREVOR):
What Shadwell player has

the highest number of international caps?

Sorry. Sh*t-for-brains has had too

Much juice. Won't bother you again.

- What the f*** are you on?

- Alright, Trev?

- Getting a bit boozed up.

- Can't handle his juice.

Ow!

I'll f***ing kill him!

Yellow card, John!

I was in there. She fancies me,

Lynda. She's always looking over.

Get in the f***ing motor

before you do more damage!

- I'm doing my job!

- Well, don't!

You forget who's in charge.

It's me you take orders from.

Bollocks! You're incapable.

Try looking at yourself in a mirror!

You're a f***ing hooligan, John!

You don't scare me, John.

You're off the squad, if for no other

reason than your dangerous driving!

I'll have you in uniform by Monday!

Morning, Trevor.

What's the matter with you two?

(JOHN):
I'm fine. It's him.

He grasses on me,

throws his weight around in the pub,

blows our cred with Bob and tries

to act the caveman with Lynda!

- What's this about John leaving?

- He's not leaving, I'm sacking him!

- So help me, you...

- You can't do it, Trev.

I can do what I like! I'm the Sergeant!

You can't hack it. F*** off onto Traffic Control!

Well, that's that, then. It's out of my hands.

I think I'll take a holiday.

- Are you alright?

- How's Trev?

His glasses are broken. He'll live.

Better come out and face it, mate.

I'm sorry, Jonesy.

I'm sorry as well, John.

- I was out of order.

- So was I.

- I don't want you off the squad.

- I realise you have to carry the can.

Trev, you can't pull rank

when you're undercover.

- You're painter-decorators.

- Trevor and John, mates

Mates, like they say.

Right. That's that, then.

Back to civilisation. I need some kip.

- (TREVOR):
Tell you what, though, John.

- Trev?

If you hadn't run off,

I would've kicked your head in.

Right, who the f***ing hell are you?

- I'm John, and this is Trevor.

- John and Trevor, bollocks!

You're f***ing Old Bill, mate.

Say that again.

Gumbo let drop that when we

clumped them Gooners,

your mate gave it the old Starsky and Hutch.

- I said it was a joke.

- Shut up, Gumbo.

Gumbo's right, you nonce.

He was putting the wind up them.

And who's seen making phone calls

on the way to Westley?

Your mate Trevor.

And when we got there,

we got a reception from f***ing plod.

He was phoning his mum.

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