I.D. Page #6

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Tell me when I've touched the bone.

There were video cameras at Tyneburn Market.

- Who's seen them?

- Trev drove up on Sunday night.

Flashed a false warrant, greased a few palms.

Who's seen them?

Some little runt.

Didn't know what he was looking at.

- And us.

- Give.

- Trashed it.

- No.

You wouldn't without me seeing it first.

You can live without it.

I can't remember anything. I swear.

I'm still a f***ing human being.

Thanks, Trev.

That's alright, John. You've helped me

out of a few scrapes.

Can't you look at me?

Alright, John, how are you doing?

- John.

- Hey, Mart.

Alright, Trev?

Listen, mate. Word's gone round.

We're top f***ing boys, mate.

Oi, Wynton wants a word with you.

Just a few sweeties. Don't mean sh*t.

Anything you ever want, I'm the man you ask.

This football lark,

the wallop has dropped out of it.

It's never been my scene, really.

England likes a bit of anarchy,

give it a good kick up the arse.

And no one's having any fun any more.

It's all over, all over.

The bootboys'll go back to lurking in

the sh*t and slime with the BNP.

Everyone else will get fat and bald,

bring their kiddies to the match.

You, though. There's a career for you.

I've got a career.

I don't mean pay the mortgage and die.

Some place where you can use your talents.

You've got something to offer.

I've been watching you a while.

You really want to be a had boy, don't you?

People I know have been

hearing your name, asking about you.

What do you say we go and meet my friends?

I don't see why not.

(TREVOR):
No!

So some other crew's f***ed up.

Why have we got to carry the can?

Yes, I bloody am!

What's that got to do with us?

What do you expect?

The Wapping squad's been blown out of court.

The Yard want to look at our evidence.

They can't!

I just spent a night in a room with

five of the country's most wanted!

Same as the last Shadwell squad.

They made the whole thing up.

The football's nothing. Don't you see?

Same as Southsea, Mid City...

I'm getting Armalites in one ear

and crack in the other.

F***ing wankers.

We've been blind. Rucks are just

a sideshow. There's no conspiracy.

They're handing everything over

to the Police Complaints Authority.

- That's f***ing private!

- If it's in here, they own it.

- Can't help you, John.

- This ain't the Rock crowd, it's villains!

The criminals

the taxpayers are paying us to catch!

Speaking of the taxpayers, you've got

to hand in your expenses today.

Then everything's null and void.

Be f***ing careful!

What's wrong with this?

We'll soon be back in business.

- Everything we've written is kosher!

- (TREVOR):
Yeah.

And half of what we've written

is against the Bill.

It'll go down a treat in the current climate.

Have you got your expenses?

The Police Complaints Authority have

sifted your evidence with a toothcomb,

and don't have a single serious query

about your work.

You are all to be commended.

Whether the work achieves

its original goals is another question.

A question which

some have raised rather loudly.

The operation is being terminated forthwith.

No arrests or charges will be made.

I've got tickets for the Oldham game.

If we win, we'll get promoted.

You are never to set foot

in Shadwell Town Football Club again.

You are not to frequent the pubs

you've been using,

and you will not make contact

with your targets for any purpose.

You will receive two weeks' paid leave.

When you report back for duty, you

Will each do a stint of community beat

in your respective divisions.

But, sir. Mine and John's division is Shadwell.

If any of our targets see us in uniform,

we're f***ing dead. Sir.

I know. This is a terrible shock for you,

but I expect you to behave like policemen.

If we did that, we'd be booting in

Your f***ing head by now.

Bollocks! F***ing arsehole!

What are you looking at?

- How are you doing, Charlie?

- Have you got a month?

Your evidence went down a treat with our fellas.

What's the Licensing Department

doing with our evidence?

We've been after The Rock for years.

Late hours, illegal gaming,

dangerous weapons, drugs,..

Lovely work, lads.

No more Rock!

(JOHN):
No more Bob.

No more Nik and Martin.

No more Gumbo.

F***ing love you, Gumbo.

No more Shadwell.

That's it, mate. Gone.

(CHARLIE):
It might be gone,

but at least we had it.

The Dogs,

- (EDDIE):
The Dogs,

- (TREVOR):
The Dogs,

Come on, John. Help us see the office off.

That tape of me at Tyneburn. What happened?

John, this is history. You've got to let it go.

I was a top boy, Charlie.

I am f***ing sick of this.

John, you're not a top boy.

You're f***ing Bill, that's all. You're nothing.

Don't look at me like that. I know that look.

It's how you look

when you're about to deck some runt.

- Come on, then.

- Don't be silly, Trev.

No. F***ing come on.

I've had enough of this sulky runt.

Do you want to slap me? So, f***ing hit me.

There. Go on.

Just there.

Learn something, did you?

(CHARLIE):
Come on, you tosser!

(JOHN):
I don't know none of you.

Darling, it's so good to see you.

You f***er! Bastard! You f***ing bastard!

You f***er! You bastard!

What have I done?

You know what you've done!

You closed down The Rock!

- I don't got it!

- You f***ing arsehole plod.

I should turn you over to Bob.

I didn't know you smoked.

- How long have you known?

- You fig tosser!

I clocked you the first time

you walked through the door.

Does Bob know?

He can't see further than the end of his nose.

It's me that gives him the nod

when you lot are around.

I nearly did when Trevor was mauling me.

Bob would have killed him.

What now? With us?

You're joking. Look at the state of you.

You're not much of a catch.

I got off on the danger. Can't you see that?

Crystal.

Now do me a favour and f*** off out of my life.

Don't slam the door after.

- You've got to be joking!

- Is she in?

- Go before you got hurt.

- I just want to talk to her!

- I'm counting to three.

- (MARIE):
Dad?

It's alright, darling. Leave it to us.

(JOHN):
Marie! Marie!

You've been warned. I'm getting the dogs.

- I just want to talk to you!

- John, you're making it worse.

You transferred without telling me.

What am I supposed to do?

Please don't do this to me, John.

(JOHN):
F*** off, then!

See if I give a f***.

Your f***ing house... F*** it!

You know what you are, don't you?

The worst f***ing f*** I ever had.

Find some posh f*** who can't got it up!

Marry him and have dopey f***ing kids!

Here's a promise. When I have kids,

I'll teach them to hate you.

All of you!

My kids will f***ing come round here

and eat yours!

I do love you, though.

Honest.

(RADIO):
Shadwell Town are promoted

to the First Division for the first time.

The players are engulfed in

emotional scenes that six weeks ago

hardly seemed possible.

Everyone at the club is stunned by

that fatal stabbing at Tyneburn,

but that's all forgotten now on

a historic day for the East London club.

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