Rise Of The Footsoldier Page #8

Synopsis: Rise of the Footsoldier follows the inexorable rise of Carlton Leach from one of the most feared generals of the football terraces to becoming a member of a notorious gang of criminals who rampaged their way through London and Essex in the late eighties and early nineties. It is three decades of his life following him from football hooliganism, through to his burgeoning career as a bouncer, his involvement in the criminal aspects of the early 'rave' scene and subsequently to his rise to power as one of the most feared and respected criminals in the country.
Director(s): Julian Gilbey
Production: Carnaby International
 
IMDB:
6.9
Rotten Tomatoes:
14%
R
Year:
2007
119 min
Website
2,038 Views


about you to anyone who'll listen.

He said your operation's a joke

and that you ripped him off.

He's a junkie.

He's a f***ing steroid freak.

And that don't worry you?

He's out of control.

He says he's gonna kill you.

He's all mouth.

He's a f***ing idiot.

I don't know, Mickey.

His threats seem pretty thorough to me.

Look at me.

I don't have a home to go to

and my child

is staying at my mom's.

What sort of a situation

is that, Mickey?

- Do you trust me, Kate?

- Of course I do.

Then listen to me.

I'm old school,

been around

the block a few times.

Mugs like Pat Tate come around

every once in a while.

But you know something?

What?

The loud ones never last, Kate.

He'll get what's coming to him.

# Move your body #

Yeah, can I have a 12", please?

What? What do you mean

you don't do four toppings?

- It's a pizza shop.

- Give me the phone.

What's your problem, mate?

Well, why can't we have

all four f***ing toppings?

Because it's not

on the menu, sir.

What are you talking about,

"on the menu"?

We're talking about cheese, you c*nt.

Listen. Deliver the f***ing

pizza she wants,

or I'll come down there

and f***ing open you up.

Sir, this phone delivery line

is actually only for people

over the age of 12.

Now if you'd like to calm down

and get your mommy

or dad to phone back,

I'll be happy

to send you a pizza.

- Who am I talking to?

- My name is Roger Spooner, sir.

- I'm the manager.

- Well, Rog,

you do yourself a favor, mate,

'cause this is your last chance

for a peaceful night.

Deliver the f***ing pizza

she wants

or your mom and dad will be down

at the morgue at 4:00 in the morning

identifying your body.

Do you got me, c*nt?

Where's Roger f***ing Spooner?

- Where is he?

- That's me. Can I help you?

F***ing mug me off down

the phone line, you c*nt?

If I asked you now

for four toppings,

you'd give them to me,

you c*nt, wouldn't you?

- Yeah yeah.

- You'd give them to me, wouldn't you?

- Yes!

- Okay.

Anyone got a f***ing problem

with what I just done? Eh?

You've got a f***ing problem?

Fat bollocks, you've got

a f***ing problem?

Eh?

Pat's continuing war

with the fast-food industry

resulted in the geezer giving

a detailed statement to the police.

Come morning,

he found out who Pat was

and suddenly pizza boy had

a bad case of amnesia.

Pat, Tony and Craig

were out of control.

They just did whatever

they f***ing liked.

They robbed who they wanted

and destroyed any c*nt

that got in their way.

While you're doing that,

I'm gonna take the vegetables.

I've peeled them

and I'm roughly chopping

the swede, the carrots

and the parsnips.

Of course everything's going to be

blended up in the mixer at the end.

If you prefer a chunky soup...

That will be your boyfriend.

...and then you can still

have the chunky vegetables

left in your soup.

It ain't for me.

- Hello?

- Carlton.

Sledge, what do you want?

Have you seen

the telly this morning?

Not much.

She's got some bollocks on here.

Well, try the news.

I'm serious, mate.

I think something might have

happened to Tony and the boys.

The bodies of three men

have been discovered

in a Range Rover

on a farm in Rettendon in Essex.

It's thought that these were victims

of a brutal gangland slaying.

The police are not divulging

much information at present,

but we do know that

all three men were gunned down

somewhere between 6:00 p.m.

and 12:
00 p.m. last night.

We hope to come back

to this later in the bulletin.

There were serious clashes

between the prime minister

and the leader of the opposition...

- Hello, Paul. It's Carl.

- Hello, Carl.

- Have you seen the news?

- No, not yet. Why?

Can you pop around Emma's?

I've been trying to get ahold

of them all morning.

No one's answering. It's just engaged.

- What's going on?

- Well, I don't know, mate.

Just do me a favor.

Just go around there and give me a call.

- On me way.

- All right, mate. Ta.

This is giving me

the f***ing creeps, this is.

Hello, mate.

It's me again.

Listen, mate, can you

give me a call back, please?

Well, I'm just getting

a bit worried.

So just give me a call back

as soon as you get this message.

All right, mate. Ta.

Hey.

- Are you all right?

- No, I'm no all right.

I can't get ahold of no c*nt.

Something's happened.

Babe, you're scaring me.

Back to the murders in Rettendon.

The police have announced

that there will be a news conference

later this evening,

when it's expected that the names

of those murdered will be released.

Carlton. Carl?

- Yeah, go on. What's happening?

- Emma's fine.

Tony didn't come back last night,

but she ain't worried.

- Hold on, mate.

- Paul?

F***ing hell,

the Old Bill's just turned up.

Emma!

- Paul, talk to me.

- Emma!

I'm gonna have to go.

I don't know what's going on down there.

Everything's fine

as far as I know, but not here.

I'm gonna have to go.

Laters, mate.

Police have tonight

released the names

of the three men murdered

in Rettendon

on the night

of the 6th of December.

The victims were

and 26-year-old Craig Rolfe.

It's believed that all three men had

gangland connections.

When the police informed

Tony's dad of his son's death,

he dropped dead

of a heart attack

right there in front of them.

After the tears

came the questions:

Who murdered Tony,

Pat and Craig that night?

- Evening, lads.

- Before you start, he wasn't speeding,

the car's not stolen, the f***ing

tax disc is in date, all right?

I've got some information

I'd like to share with you,

ask you a few questions...

very informal.

What, now? We're in kind of a hurry...

big family dinner.

This won't take long,

but it's dangerous

out on these main roads

with this weather. Follow the car.

Whoa whoa whoa.

We ain't got to do nothing for you.

No, you don't, but I could always

get a search warrant,

search the three of your houses tonight.

Really f*** your evenings up.

You'll be on your way

in 15 minutes.

- No, Office...

- Shut up, shithead. Lead the way.

Sorry about this, lads.

Thanks for the cooperation.

Yeah, blah blah, f***ing blah.

What's so important

that you had to speak to us tonight?

Trust me, you'll like this.

Why'd you have to f***ing bring us

all the way down here for?

The traffic... it's dangerous.

Oi. You on f***ing drugs?

You got any?

The way we saw it,

the police had

stronger motives than anyone.

The rumor was we were

all under observation,

so how the f*** could a hit

go down right under their nose?

It could have been revenge

for several high-profile Ecstasy deaths,

or it could've been

they were just getting rid

of three of the most dangerous

drug dealers from the southeast.

Either way, it was

a paranoid first few days.

for anyone who knew

the three was a suspect.

Over the next few days,

silence fell on gangland

as hundreds of people

were questioned.

One theory was gaining

in credibility.

Two names

just kept coming up.

- F***ing hell.

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Julian Gilbey

Julian Gilbey is a British film director, editor and screenwriter. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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