Intermission Page #5

- Yeah.

- I'm sorry, I can't put you on to her.

- Why not?

You're the competition, aren't you?

You're the ex.

- Sam, who is it?

- It's for me, Deirdre.

What is it you want, anyway?

You wanna win her back?

She's not going back.

- So what's the problem?

- The problem is it'd make me uncomfortable.

I'm sure you're not the worst, okay?

But as far as Deirdre's concerned,

you're my enemy.

- Pal, you don't want me as your enemy.

- No?

I can make life hard, man. That's right.

Talk to me like you're talking,

I'll crack your baldy head, man.

And I know you're baldy.

I'll be the worst enemy...

You ever f***ing had! Do you hear me?

All right, John boy?

Sorry for your troubles, man.

What? A pint of Guinness, please, Seamus.

Heard about your break-up.

This is Lehiff, by the way.

Come here,

why don't you join us over here?

- We got some business...

- A proposition.

We got a proposition we wanna run by you.

- Potential of a few quid, man.

- Many a quid's potential.

Follow us over.

I need a bit of a lift at the moment, Oscar.

Bit of a pepping up.

Can you pep me up?

Good Jesus.

Look. Rough, man.

Bit of pain-slash-pleasure, you know?

Jesus, my cock's killing me,

my bones, my muscles...

but I'm energized.

- Good, because I've a proposition for you.

- A what?

Some business.

Come on, I'll tell you on the floor.

- It's my cock, John.

- Yeah, so you said.

I'm telling you. Pain-slash-pleasure.

F***ing aching me, it is.

Yeah, don't even ask about my balls.

So we hold the girlfriend hostage,

say we'll kill her if he doesn't do as we say.

Drive him to the bank, two of us,

the other stays with her...

he gets us the money, we let her go.

Wear masks, whatever, disguise our identity.

Thing is, though, and this is the sweet,

the poetic part, though, right.

The girlfriend is Deirdre.

You're joking? And the fella is...

Her fella. That's right, the baldy f***.

Are you on?

- I don't think so.

- What?

Why don't you just ring her?

Tell her you want her back.

F*** that. That's over now.

This is the new sh*t.

It's all a bit risky.

But vengeance, man,

it's not about the money.

- Well, it is, but the satisfaction...

- That's you, John.

That's your reward. I'm sorry.

- Come on.

- It's too big. No, man.

And I wouldn't recommend

you get involved, either.

I'm getting involved, all right,

I'm not passing this up.

- And if you were any kind of f***ing mate...

- What?

- F*** you!

- No, f*** you, man.

- If you were any use...

- I am use.

- Except for f***ing fogeys.

- She's no fogey.

She may be older, but she's sporty.

And I'm taking exception to that description.

Granny, she is.

May have to break your face for you,

you keep it up.

- You big cock, you.

- You're a cock!

No, you are. Big hairy prick, you.

Can't even get laid by a bird your own age.

Come here, feck me.

I've got you, man. Give up.

You got me on the wrassling.

See, when I start using my karate...

- Wrassling or karate...

- John! Oscar!

I'm sick of this now.

Come up to Mrs. Rooney's office.

Put a stop to this claptrap,

once and for all.

Henderson!

Good shot, man.

Nice one, John.

F***ing eejit.

I'm not going to the hospital, I told you.

Now Mr. Henderson has decided

he doesn't want to bring the police into this.

But you understand we're going to

have to terminate your employment, John.

Have you anything you'd like to say or...

Go f*** yourselves?

No, Tony, no, it's about what I expected.

I'm just so sorry it had to come

to all of this.

- And you go f*** yourself, too.

- Enough of that.

No, Tony, if he hasn't even got the grace...

...or the originality to...

- F*** youse.

- Hello.

- How you doing?

How are you?

Look at your woman's makeup.

F***. Take a chisel to get that off.

Hey. Youse off the telly?

- Yeah.

- Put me on.

- No.

- Go on, youse pricks. Put me on.

I'll do a dance for youse.

- What do you think? Riverdance.

- F***'s sake.

- Okay. You all set?

- Yeah.

Let's get the heroic angle.

The mythic shot.

There's something wrong

with the light here.

I don't see why

we can't just shoot this thing straight on.

There's some sort of a shadow there

that I can't seem to get rid of.

That's not, I don't think, shadow.

That's a moustache, Ben.

That's ruining it, isn't it, Charlie?

Sorry, Sally.

You hear this 'mythic shot' sh*t?

Could you step out of the shot for a minute?

Just for a minute.

Right, Maura.

What happened when the bus went over?

Who the hell...

- Christ! What the f***?

- What was that?

Actually, Maura,

can we put Sally in for this one, please?

Do what you can with the moustache.

Lose the low angle if you have to.

I told you, if we shot simply,

we'd be home by now.

F***ing mythic shot.

Sally, it'll be great.

Okay, let's go.

That's wanton, now.

Condolences, man.

Seriously.

- My stereo there?

- No.

- My sounds?

- No.

At least they had taste, the c*nts.

You gonna put this in your film, Jerry?

- Hello?

- Call yourself a maverick?

Yeah.

Then be one, Ben. Do me anyway.

What?

Do your own film.

You have access, don't you?

Cameras and all that? Sound sh*t?

Wanna do the underbelly, don't you?

You said you did.

- I know.

- You said you were a maverick.

Well, this is how mavericks create.

Outside the system.

Oh, yeah.

But if you're prepared for that,

let's do it.

- If not, well, okay, fine.

- No.

- Be a conformist.

- No, I'd like to, it's just...

Yea or nay, Ben?

Yea or nay?

Tonight on Little Big City...

an accident

could have become a catastrophe...

if it weren't for the intervention

of several brave passersby.

One of whom we have here with us.

We felt that a...

well, actually, I felt that

there were people...

whose lives were in danger.

So I jumped on top of the bus.

The bus was on its side, actually...

so it wasn't that high

to jump on top of the bus.

- Oh, my God.

- What?

It's horrible, Ma.

Not on the bus, but in the bus.

I saw it through the window.

And I was frightened

that there were people dead everywhere.

There weren't,

there was just a few cuts and bruises.

- Damn.

- You didn't miss much, it's only your sister.

- Was she good?

- Not really.

She was a bit inarticulate,

to tell you the truth.

- I was sh*t.

- No, you weren't.

My hair was sh*t. Yes, I was.

My moustache. I am like Burt Reynolds.

F***ing hell.

- Listen, do you mind if we stay in tonight?

- What?

- I'm knackered, do you mind?

- Sam!

Come on, Deirdre.

We don't have to go out every night, do we?

Every night?

I pay rent here.

I pay your rent on top of my own.

I give you money. I treat you well.

Is that not enough?

- It's not what I want, Sam.

- Well, what do you want?

- Come on, tickles.

- No. Put me down.

F***. What the f***?

Listen. F*** this.

- Oscar, I'm sorry, I...

- This is too much.

What's wrong with you? Jesus.

It was kinky at first, but my f***ing jaw.

- Don't go, Oscar, please stay.

- F*** that.

Look, you're better off

finding someone into that sh*t, Noeleen.

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