London Boulevard Page #2
Friday, the patio. Saturday, party.
Sunday, go to church.
And pray, I pray you, for all of us entire.
Right.
Are you an actor?
Am.
I'm resting.
You are no longer employed, Mr Lee.
I thought I made that perfectly clear.
Lighten up, mate.
So I had a camera.
Did I use it?
- Did I?
- You have already been replaced.
I don't think so.
You see, I know too much, don't I? Eh?
Cup of tea, Jord.
Two sugars.
There's a good boy.
Get the f*** out of here,
you fat, f***ing c*nt!
And you go anywhere near the tabloids,
and I will chop you up in court
until there's nothing left
but a f***ing stain!
F*** off.
Thank you. No heroin today.
They'll take your photograph
until they realise you're nobody.
They're kind enough to think
we're all somebody, for a minute.
Is next Monday suitable?
Oi! You want a talking to.
He's got no idea, that posh c*nt!
No idea! No f***ing idea, mate!
You've got to ask yourself how
he became posh in the first place.
His grandfather probably did
your grandfather with a shovel.
You don't want to f*** with me!
I don't have to f*** with you,
you're already f***ed.
Out of a job, anyway.
Don't ever go there again.
Oh, we'll see about that.
Your manor now, is it, eh? Eh?
Maybe it's enough for you.
How's your brother?
- What's your name?
- Harry Mitchel.
Bullshit.
You want to see
my driver's license, Lee-Lee?
F*** off.
Detective Sergeant Bailey, Mr Mitchel.
Might I have a word?
Now, we get a daily bulletin about all
ex-prisoners returning to our manor.
And I recognise your name, of course,
but, hey,
there's no address.
Now why no address
when you so clearly have one.
I'm not on parole.
- I'm a free man.
- 'Course you are.
Where's the owner?
How about a nice cup of tea?
Two sugars.
Your friend Billy Norton
You'd be wise to avoid him.
And dodges like this flat.
Which, if I were to look into it...
Yeah, I got my eye on you, Mitchel.
You're in my manor.
What is it? What you want?
Consider it rent on the flat.
- I'll see myself out.
- Yeah, you will.
- F***ing c*nt.
- I heard that!
You're sailing close to the wind, Billy.
- Eh? What?
- Policeman told me.
You spoke to a f***ing copper
about me?
The same one
who got my address from you.
Oh, Bailey? Oh, f*** Bailey.
You don't worry about him.
Right. Hope the f***ing lift's working.
We start at the top,
we work our way down, right?
When you finish this gaff, mate,
you want to be near
the front f***ing door.
I sh*t you not.
Get your mum.
Your mum, yeah?
Go on, get...
What have you got for me?
Let's have a look then.
No, you're a bit short, love.
I had a difficult week.
I had to buy a plane ticket,
my father's got cancer.
Yeah? I could give a rat's f***ing arse
about your Hindu psychodramas.
You know, I'll tell you what,
I'll tell you what,
you can double up next week.
- All right?
- Yeah.
- All right?
- Yeah. Yeah.
Hello.
I'm Anthony Trent.
This is my house.
That is, it was my house
before it became your house.
And now you want what?
Funnily enough,
I thought I might collect some things.
They made me write prescriptions
apart from everything else.
I'm a doctor. I'm being investigated.
It's a sad story, Anthony,
but given the people involved,
I think it will get sadder
if you come here again.
I reckoned it was a mistake to come.
Nice night.
F*** yourself.
How's the eating? You eating?
You know I don't like to eat.
It makes me sick.
There's only so far
I can take care of you.
Mum went down helping you.
Didn't have a life until she had cancer
because of you.
I didn't come here for a lecture.
You came for a proper feed
of meat and vegetables
and you're going to f***ing well have it.
If I cook this,
and if you don't eat it, we're done.
- Want vodka.
- I don't have any f***ing vodka.
All right? Have a f***ing vegetable.
- Want a vodka.
- You can't have vodka with your meds.
I want a f***ing vodka.
You can't have f***ing vodka
with your meds!
Can't eat with that staring at me.
Join the f***ing club.
I already told you
he's not in any condition for visitors.
What is the problem, please?
He wants to see our Mr Anonymous.
- His name is Joe.
- What's his last name?
Matron, I'll deal with this.
As a relative.
A nephew perhaps?
- That's right, I'm his nephew.
- Please.
Joe is not in good shape.
I think he has 24 hours or less.
- What?
- I'm very sorry.
Do you wish to see him?
- Please.
- I'm Dr Raju.
Mitchel.
Mitchel.
Hello, Joe.
Who is the other guy, Joe?
It's important you tell me
who the other guy is.
It doesn't make a difference.
Yes, it makes a difference.
I don't want to die, Mitch.
I thought I wouldn't mind, but I do.
Well, that's the difference, Joe.
So you tell me who did this.
Kid from the estates.
About 16.
Footballer.
Real one.
Scouted.
This morphine is a rush, Mitch.
I lived as long as I could.
I tried.
Well done, son. Well done.
- I need a burial plot.
- What?
I don't want to start from the beginning
again and tell you I need a burial plot.
Now if you ask me f***ing why.
Just get it done.
It'll cost ya. Not just money.
I told ya, I need your help tomorrow.
- Right.
- None of the lads are...
Now it's one flat. One flat, that's all.
This is it.
You know who I am,
and you know what this is.
Look, just gimme something.
I got to have something.
I told you, I got nothing.
- Where is he?
- He's out.
- You'd better get out of here.
- Eh?
Why? Why's that then?
Why? Without what belongs to me.
Nothing belongs to you.
- What the f*** you say to me!
- My brother's coming over.
- Yeah, your brother is?
- What the f*** you doing?
F***ing get off me! F*** off!
What are you doing?
What are you doing, Billy?
Nothing broken. Ribs.
Nobody wants to pay compensations.
Bones and teeth, you pay for them.
Right.
We seem to be missing
your NHS number.
Taken care of, Matron. Thank you.
- Right. Thank you, Doctor.
Good man.
I'll fix you up with some pain killers.
I said that.
I said, if it gets moody, run.
I said that in the van.
No, you didn't.
So what's this... this other job you got?
I don't have a job.
Listen, I run into Lee
down the Feathers.
He says... He says you got his job.
He says he don't mind 'cause it's you.
But, car collection in the garage.
It's outrageous, Lee says.
Like '60s Silver Cloud.
And her,
Lee says she's out of her mind.
Yeah? Well, word's got around
and there's an interested party.
Yeah?
You put it all in a container, right?
Cars, paintings, jewellery, furniture.
Off to France.
What's your point, Billy?
Well, it'd be worth knocking it over.
You and me.
We'd have a grateful party.
Billy.
We got that car, them paintings.
Who do you think
the cops will pull first?
Well, there is that.
Put it out of your mind,
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"London Boulevard" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 23 Dec. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/london_boulevard_12758>.
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