Northern Soul Page #4

Don't be rude. That's Matt and John.

Well into the scene they are.

Be nice. Don't bite.

Frank...

Are you all right?

You all right?

Wait.

Hurry up...

What are they doing?

Speed. They're going in on a needle.

Come on.

Are you f***ing ready for this?

Are you f***ing ready?

Yeah!

Back up!

Get in!

What? What are you going to do?

Yes, yes. Calm down.

He's got tickets!

The crown of Detroit soul.

This is Mr Duke Browner.

What's up with him?

Don't know.

He's got a bonk-on over the records.

He's got a bit of a problem.

Sweet baby Jesus! Have you seen him?

Dances like a diva!

I need to go to the bogs for water.

Can you not wait?

Bloody hell, you're covered in sweat!

I'll be back. In a minute, I'll be back.

You look like a willing dance floor to me!

You've got me, Ray Henderson,

for the next hour!

Let's start as we mean to go on.

Gwen Owens, Wanted!

- Have you seen John?

- Yes, mate, f***ing brilliant!

Get off him!

John! You OK?

John!

You've got to help John, he's dying.

- What? Where is he?

- John's dying!

- Can you hear me?

- He had a few pills before.

How much? A lot?

I don't know. A few.

Go to entrance and get them to call

an ambulance! Now!

F***ing hell!

My friend's collapsed in the bogs.

- What?

- My friend's collapsed in the bogs.

All right, I'll sort it.

But I want him out.

What's going on? Where is he?

Relax, look over there.

He's dancing.

- John!

- What a f***ing night!

I thought you were dying.

I've never felt so f***ing alive!

This is the country's top sound right now!

So all you bootleggers can back off!

No prisoners tonight.

The cover-up!

This bloke is f***ing brilliant!

Bombers, green-and-clears, riccas.

Get on, you twat!

Come on, get it together,

if you want a lift.

We're going to the Stoke all-dayer!

Give us some of that gear

before it wears off!

Amphet, come on, anything.

Sean's got loads of it in the back.

Come on.

Will you keep your gob shut

about taking gear?

Sorry, pal. Lt were a joke.

We weren't thinking.

- See him?

- Who?

He's Old Bill.

He never buys gear, never dances,

never buys records.

His tattoo on his hand, see it?

Yeah.

I'm certain when Frank

sold him gear last week,

that Lancashire rose,

it was stronger-looking with thicker lines.

- Why did he sell him the gear?

- Well, he looked spot-on.

Then we all noticed he wasn't

in a hurry to neck his gear,

so now, I've been watching him ever since.

Hey, get in Frank, Phil.

Come on, knees up,

make room for two little-uns.

What are we waiting for?

Going to Stoke, aren't we?

You two again?

Hanging around full-time now?

Hey, I'd watch him.

F***!

How much will you give me for it?

Breaking my heart with this one. A pound.

Oi, lads!

Hey, I've got some stuff

right up your street.

Straight from the States, like.

Hey, hang on. Take that.

We're going to lose the girls.

Come on.

I've got plenty more where they came from,

and on that same label.

Well, I'm in the Navy, aren't I?

So I pick them up and stuff, you know.

The name's Tezza, this is my address.

If you want to come back and get some more,

you know where to find me, yeah?

Thanks.

Give us all of it. Sixty quid.

OK.

She's eying you up again, pal.

Go on.

Get in. The place is crawling

with plain-clothed coppers.

What's wrong?

It's that black girl, ain't it?

Nice old girl, I'd bang her one.

Just won the dance competition!

Dance competition?

Didn't know they even had them.

Listen, mate, I don't know

who you are, but do yourself a favour,

put that away, it's embarrassing.

Jesus! Who's organising

f***ing dance competitions?

His face.

We might as well go to f***ing Butlins!

Hey, look what Angela gave us.

Lt gives a description of every drug.

Bombers, green-and-clears...

It's written by doctors,

pharmacists, and that.

Why did she give you that?

I think it was meant for you.

So you don't go and take the wrong thing,

collapsing again.

What's up with you anyway?

Right, if you did a less f***ing pharmacy,

we might be able to get our club going.

I know you've been injecting as well.

What's it to you if I've been injecting?

It's no different having pills.

We're in at the Polish Club?

Hey, he's been down and done the deal.

Our Paul's out in a few weeks,

he's doing it with us.

What's that?

F***ing MIMS?

I told you to keep it quiet.

F***ing idiot!

Oh!

F***!

Jesus! Did you see that?

Well, yeah, you've pissed

him right off now.

We can't wait for Paul.

You've been stalling anyway.

Paul could be months.

We start in a f***ing week.

This is what we've been working towards.

It's our f***ing time!

What's the matter with you?

I've been sitting here an hour now,

with no visitor.

You're making me look like a f***ing mick!

What the f*** is that you're in?

- A coat.

- Yeah, I know it's a coat.

It's my f***ing coat.

Borrowed it.

Have you?

Well, you look after it.

Genuine Italian is that.

How's that mate of yours, anyway?

Eh?

- What's that supposed to be?

- Terror-wrist.

Terrorist. It's a f***ing joke.

F***ing hell...

- What are you "f***ing hell" for?

- I shouldn't have to explain it, should I?

Cheer up, will you?

Lt should be me that's pissed off, not you.

I hope you haven't been

getting in any trouble.

I can't help you in here, can I?

Where you been?

Just met with that sailor kid.

I bought everything he had for a fiver.

I'm probably going to

sell most of it, though.

You know what?

Take a couple.

Sell them and put them towards

your money for America.

- You sure, eh?

- Yeah, I'm nearly there now.

Thanks, pal.

F***ing hell.

How much have you got saved?

I don't know, it'll help, though.

Matt!

- Matt, come here!

- F***ing cover-up!

You got it, John! What's it called?

It's The Salvadors and Stick By Me, Baby

We've got it!

Yes, we've got it.

We got the f***ing cover-up!

Ray Henderson!

- We've caught you!

- We f***ing got it!

F***ing hell!

Roll up, come on. Polish Club!

Next Friday, ninth of October.

Ray Henderson's cover-up will be revealed.

Go on. In you get.

Doubles for you, sweetheart.

F***ing hell, Ange.

You're dropping them.

It's not my fault!

Sh*t! Just f***ing pick them up,

put your hand out...

Come on out, this is the management!

- Sh*t!

- Sh*t.

Sh*t, f***ing hell!

I knew this would happen.

How about a couple of them for me?

Oh, you f***ing dick!

I'll deal with you in a minute.

Angie, listen, I need to speak to you.

- You know my mate, John?

- Yeah.

- He's got a bit of a soft spot for you.

- Oh, Angie!

Hey, shut up, you.

This is serious.

He can't even dance when you're around.

Ever since you and that ugly bastard split,

he's been trying to work up

the courage up to talk to you.

Well, that "ugly bastard" and me

are still good friends,

so you better watch your mouth.

Yeah, you better watch

your f***ing mouth, curly top!

Lanky twat!

Your mate's quite cute

and he's an all right dancer.

But there's something

not quite right about him.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes