Northern Soul Page #6

- You're off.

- We're a partnership.

Tell him.

Listen, you!

This is Northern Soul,

not Northern Arsehole!

John, you've got ten minutes to fix it.

And you, you've got ten seconds

to leave this building.

You gonna let him speak to us like that?

Us?

I'm the one that plays

tried and tested crap, remember.

You played Marvin f***ing Gaye!

Who f***ing cares?

They loved it

and they've never f***ing heard it before.

Them? They know f*** all.

I don't know whether you've noticed,

but we're f***ing playing for them!

We're not playing for you!

You'll never get anywhere crowd-pleasing,

you d*ckhead.

- What's he playing at?

- I don't know.

F***ing hell.

What a mess.

Sorry, mate, missed it.

Had to sit here for a bit.

Clear my head.

- Hey.

- Hey.

Yeah, I know the whole

thing were a disaster.

No!

No, I was just gonna say

I thought you were all right.

I was surprised.

- Really?

- Hmm.

Thanks.

I'm just going to go see Ray.

Get in there.

Oi, where do you think you're going?

Hi, I'm Matt.

Used to be your partner.

Yeah, used to be.

You got one big record

that someone else discovered.

You think you can get me out now?

At least I've got one!

What the f*** is that supposed to mean?

You're a sh*t DJ.

You've got a load of sh*t records!

Even if you did have a good one,

you wouldn't f***ing know it!

F***ing wanker!

Hey!

See that skinny twat, get him out of there!

- Come on, posh twat!

- Hey!

- You're nothing without me, John!

- Come on.

- F*** off!

- You're a f***ing a**hole!

- Come on, John!

- F***ing a**hole.

If I see you f***ing again,

I'll break your f***ing legs.

Now, f*** off!

Look at the state of that lot.

I'm worried about the rest of my records.

Gonna try and get back before him

and grab them.

Good plan. Come on.

Let's get the f*** out of here.

There's someone in there.

That's them! Come on, get after them!

If they find this lot,

we'll both get ten years!

A gun! What the f***!

Go on, get out! Just lie

low for a few days.

Just come with me, just leave it all here.

Leave everything.

No, mate, I wanna make

some money on this lot.

We'll be in the States before you know it.

- Are you sure?

- Yes, mate, now go while you can!

F***. F***ing drive!

Come on, move it!

I f***ing knew it.

Jesus, Sean...

F***.

Oh, Sean...

Come on.

Sean, come on!

Get up!

Sean. No, please...

Please don't die.

Please don't die.

Are you all right, mate?

Hey!

Where you going? Oi!

You're still in shock, youth.

Get that down your neck.

You all right, John?

I didn't see you over there.

This is horrible, isn't it?

I'll have a rum and pep.

A pint of bitter.

Here's your rum and pep.

I'll get these.

And there's your pint of bitter.

Is that it? A quid?

What do you want?

Well?

You know, it wasn't paranoia.

Coppers were all over him, thanks to you.

You just

couldn't stop bragging, could you?

Cos that's what killed him.

Your gob.

That was James Fountain's Seven Day Lover.

And as we lost our close friend,

this was Sean's favourite record.

Luther Ingram Orchestra and Exus Trek.

There he is. You all right, Matt?

You all right, mate?

Matt?

F***!

Do you want a lift somewhere?

Come on.

This is gonna be a great night, boys!

I want you to come back with me.

I'll just take you back, then, shall I?

Yeah.

- If you want...

- Yeah.

Are you all right?

Hey, wake up, gorgeous.

You all right?

I was dreaming that you

were still kissing me.

Lt was really nice.

- What?

- What?

Your hair smells, what is it?

It's nit shampoo.

I've been staying at Stee's.

His whole family got head lice.

- F***ing hundreds of them.

- Oh.

God, you scumball, get away.

- A few nits.

- No!

Get off!

Get off me.

You knobhead, get away.

Yeah, come in.

Come on.

I saw Matt yesterday

He started a new job working on roads.

You and him were best mates.

And when things were good,

you were dynamite together.

You should get him to go America with you.

America?

Lt was always the plan, wasn't it?

Just smelling your hair.

See if it still smelt of that nit shampoo.

Hey, Matt.

I'm busy.

I need to talk to you.

F*** off.

What a bastard night!

Lad, am I boring you again?

You've gone back to sleep?

No, Daz. It's not you, lad.

Hey.

Faster! Step on it.

Eh?

- Just f***ing step on it!

- What the f***'s got into you, lad?

Well, what you looking at there, mate?

You're bananas!

My own f***ing terrorist bastard!

Selfish bastard!

Oh, I can't believe it!

You're freaking me out, mate.

Come on, now, calm down.

There he is!

Just drop me here.

Bloody hell, what's Charlie gonna say?

I'm sorry, pal.

- There you go, lad.

- Sorry, Daz.

Do you know what you're doing, lad?

Yeah!

Bit risky in daylight.

Still a f***ing terrorist, then?

Could have picked a less

slushy record, couldn't you?

Thought the lyrics might

tempt you out of this shithole.

I was just getting used to it.

I got a new record,

if you wanna come check it out.

Come on, then.

What is it?

You have to wait and see, won't you?

Cheeky bastard.

You trying to do cover-ups on me?

I might be.

It's gotta be sh*t, then, if you

discovered it.

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