I.D. Page #7

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The goal that made it all possible came

Inevitably, it was Gerry Edwards

who did the damage,

bundling home after good work

on the left by Walton.

Not a great game...

The boy's a bit backward. He's

pleading not guilty against my advice.

Perhaps a little token interrogation

Will change his mind.

I don't know anything about this case.

- I've been sent here as a cover.

- I know. CID thinks it's below them.

Oh, terrific(!) I'm cleaning the toilets out next.

I'm supposed to be a sergeant.

Five minutes, I'll see what I can do.

What's he done, anyhow?

He's stolen a jar of pickles

from the factory where he works.

Oh, f*** me! No!

Trev, what are you doing here?

Hello, Gumbo. How are you doing?

Trev, I don't get it. What's going on?

- I'm a policeman, Gumbo.

- No, you f***ing hate Old Bill.

- Gumbo, I am Old Bill.

- F*** me, no!

You wait 'til John hears about this.

He'll go f***ing spare.

(THUGS):
White, white, white is right

kick 'em out and fight, fight, fight

White, white, white is right

kick 'em out and fight, fight, fight

White, white, white is right

kick 'em out and fight, fight, fight

White, white, white is right

kick 'em out and fight, fight, fight

White, white, white is right

kick 'em out and fight, fight, fight

White, white, white is right

kick 'em out and fight, fight, fight

John, you arsehole!

What the f*** are you doing, John?!

You twat! You never learn. I'm on the job.

Now f*** off before you got me killed!

Sieg heil, sieg heil, sieg heil...

Sieg heil, sieg heil, sieg heil,

sieg heil, sieg heil, sieg heil,

sieg heil, sieg heil, sieg heil...

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