Ill Manors Page #2

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Took an overdose of heroin and died

God rest her tortured soul

Now he's left to fend for himself

All by his own

It's 1995

Now that he's older

Stress weighs on his shoulders

Heavy as bolders

But he hides it from his olders

He's been living on the far side

Since he was a yoot

But the way he lives now is a far cry

From the way he did in the past

Cos he's made his way out

From sellin' ounces to bars of weed

Out in the streets

Where people do their nasty deeds

He sees they're making money

So he wants a larger piece...

(Shouts) You f***in' little c*nt!

What do you think you're doing? Hey?

That's our bread and butter,

that is!

Take that. Here you are.

Go on. F*** off!

It's all there.

And I've canned it an' all.

So, where was you last night?

I was groaning my f***in' tits off!

Hurry up. He's getting the gear.

(Shouting)

(Kirby) Get off me!

You're under arrest for the possession

of class-A drugs.

You do not have to say anything,

but it may...

Come on, Kirbs. Time to go.

Kirby!

(Reggae)

(Child sobs)

(Knocks on the door)

(Man 2) Who's that?

(Door squeaks)

He's in the back.

Let's sort it out.

- All right, Chris?

- What's goin', Kirbs?

- I've come for my stuff, bruv.

- Yeah. Cool, brother.

- You got it, yeah?

- Of course I've got it.

- You all right?

- Yeah, good. I always am, ain't I?

Always good.

- Just put it down on the table.

- No, take it, bruv. Count it!

I don't touch money no more.

Put it down on the table.

You're too big for money now?

All right. So, come on, man.

I've gotta go.

Turn my back for five minutes, innit?

Cheers.

Hey! Just... Cool.

Chris, what are you doin', man?

Don't f*** about with me. Give me my gear.

There it is! There it is! Oi!

Bruv, just give me my gear,

will ya?

- I thought you was in a rush, bruv-

- I am in a rush!

(Sighs)

Listen. Listen, my friend.

I've been away a little while

and before I went away,

carrying the can for everyone,

I had people like you running round

selling twigs and seeds for me.

Do you remember runnin' round

with little batty boy and them?

Think!

Right, when I had you

running around for me, right,

did I take the f***in' piss?

You might have been sellin' twigs

and seeds, but I still looked after you.

- Now give me the f***in'...

- You c*nt!

Kirby, just relax!

- Get the f***...

- Kirby, relax!

- Get the f*** off me!

- Relax yourself!

- Get off me! You f***ing little c*nt!

- Just relax yourself!

Listen! Give me my f***in' gear!

Let go of my f***in' head!

- Give me my gear! I've got sh*t to do!

- Relax yourself!

Get off me, you c*nt!

You're hurting my neck!

- Oh!

- F*** you! F*** you!

(Laughs) Here you are, Kirbs!

- My f***ing neck!

- Oh!

You f***ing wanker!

(Pants)

- Kirby...

- What's wrong with ya?

(Pants)

Hey?

(Laughs)

Funny, innit?

You'll be laughing the other side

of your f***in' ugly mush... soon enough.

Yeah?

(Sighs)

Look what you've done to my glasses,

you c*nt! I'm shaking like a f***in' leaf!

- (Laughs)

'Yea funny, innit (?)

(Sighs)

- Oh!

- You're a c*nt.

See ya later, Kirbs.

(Man 3) Marcel, come on, bruv...

Every f***in' time, man.

- Wait.

- Where's the dough, bruv?

- I don't know.

- Hurry up.

I'll sort it, bruv. I'll sort it.

Come on, man.

I'll sort it out for you next time.

Where's the dough?

Where's the money?

Why you makin' me beg

every time I want my sh*t, man? F***!

- Remember you owe me money, yeah?

- I'll sort it out for you next time.

(Shouts) You! Come!

F*** off, you! F*** off!

Get over there!

What have I f***ing told you?

What the f*** have I told you

about selling sh*t on my turf?

How many times have I got to tell ya?

Now get your f***in' clothes off.

Get 'em off!

I can't take my clothes off, man.

Get your f***ing clothes off!

What's wrong? Don't you understand

English or something? You little c*nt!

Now get 'em off!

Get the f***ing things off!

P*ssy Clark, you.

That's it.

Come on. Get your boxers off.

Get 'em off!

Do it, man!

I wanna see your knob!

Is that what you f***in' call it?

You c*nt!

Go on. F*** off! F*** OFF! Go!

What's wrong with you?

Wanker!

Go on!

Adios!

(Voice mail) 'The mobile number

you have called may be switched off.'

(Man 4) How long you gonna

keep me in here for?

Open the door!

Open the f***in' door!

You can't keep me in here this long!

(Man 5) Oi, mate, will you please shut up?

You haven't stopped all f***ing day!

(Man 4) Who the f*** are you, c*nt, eh?

I'll out your f***in' throat, man!

(Man 5) Ooooh!

(Man 4) What you don't believe me?

I'm out of Brixton.

I'm out of f***ing south-

(Man 5) Ooooh!

(Man 4) What, you making noises

now, yeah?

Is that all you can do? Make f***in' noises!

Make the noise again, c*nt! Go on!

Yeah, see. You f***ing won't, will ya?

You know the-

(Man 5) Oooooh!

(Man 4) All right, that's it.

See, when I get out-

I'm gonna wait for you, mate.

(Man 5) Didn't your mummy and daddy

love you when you was a kid?

(Man 4) Are you

some f***ing philosophiser, mate?

(Man 5) Siftin' here?

That's why you're so angry, mate!

(Man 4) Who are you talking to, mate?

Carry on, c*nt! Go on!

(Man 5) Your mother was a prostitute!

(Man 4) Listen to me! Oi, f***ing listen!

Open this f***ing door!

(Man 5) Hey!

That's why no one f***ing loves ya, mate.

(Man 4) Shut up! You f***ing c*nt!

I swear I'll get you.

(Man 5) Who do you send

the Father's Day card to?

You don't know him, do ya?

(indistinct shouting)

(Man 5) No one likes you!

No one loves you!

(Man 4) Open the door!

Open the f***ing door!

(Rapping)

Huh? Well, bell me when you

f***ing see him then, innit, bruv?

Can you put your phone down?

We need to speak to you.

Oh, f***'s sake!

- All right...

- Put your phone down, please.

What?

- Hands out of your pockets.

- Don't f***ing touch me!

Stop swearing and take your hands

out of your pockets.

I will tell you when we're done, OK?

- Hey, what's going on?

- Do you know this person?

- Yeah, I do. What's he done wrong?

- It's a routine check, OK?

- I ain't done nothing.

- Aaron, just shut up, all right?

And who are you exactly?

My name's Jo Lloyd.

I work in social care for the council.

And I used to be his social worker.

It looks like it's your lucky night.

Maybe your social worker

can teach you some manners.

Yeah... F***ing pigs!

- Oi! Can you just shut up?

- What?

I'm standing here, making a f***ing

phone call, minding my own business...

- They start harassing me for no reason.

- Yeah, all right. They've gone now.

What you doing here, anyway?

You were meant to be

meeting me today.

Oh, sh*t!

Some madness happened. I've been

sorting it. I've been stressed. Sorry.

Forget about it. That came for ya.

I don't want that.

You don't have to open it now, do you?

Just take it.

- I don't wanna open it ever.

- Please. Just take it.

One day you might feel differently.

Humour me. Take it.

Thank you.

Anyway, stay out of trouble, yeah?

Oh, and... take that hat off.

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