RocknRolla Page #5

That's what art does to you, Pete.

It gets you.

You'd get a good few notes for that.

- You wouldn't understand.

- Why not?

Because you are street scum, Pete.

You're in need of a good education.

That's what you need.

But your dad

didn't give a sh*t about you, did he?

And that's why you're on the gear.

The gear is your surrogate father.

Leave off, John.

What, is this shrink time?

Come on, Pedro.

I'm your sponsor, doctor.

I'll be your dad if you feel

a bit of regression coming on.

But first, we need a drink in our hands.

My dad used to make me watch Bonanza

every Sunday after church.

Well, that's got

to have done some damage.

- All those guns, nuns and cowboys.

- You think?

It wasn't all bad.

He sometimes made me laugh too.

Well, now we're onto something.

Did he ever interfere with you?

You know, touch you inappropriate-like.

He tickled me, if that's what you mean.

In psychological circles,

there's a technical term for that scenario.

There is?

Monsteroustickalotis.

You what?

Your dad was a tickling monster.

Oi, that's my drink.

F*** you, sing-along.

You're no help,

and stop calling me Pedro.

Oi.

Come on then, boy.

I'll have you and your girlfriends.

I'll do the lot of youse.

Do I not look like a pothouse?

Six foot down the bar.

Go on, jog on, walk on,

goodbye, bon voyage, f*** off.

- Was I good or what, Pete?

- Yeah.

It's all in the eyes.

Junkies, I sh*t them.

Roman, Mickey.

I tried to stop them,

but they couldn't be stopped.

- I think they just wanted...

- Just wanted to have a chat.

I'm sorry, Mickey.

Yeah, don't worry about it, June.

Why don't you go have another lunch?

Come over here, babe.

We can have it together.

Yeah, sorry to intrude.

They call this a litchi, don't they?

Litchi.

Litchi, litchi.

Mm.

It's tasty and exotic.

A bit like your June.

Thanks.

Can we help you?

Yeah. You got an act

called the Quid Lickers.

We did, yeah.

And there's a singer called Johnny Quid.

There was.

Well, I'd like to see Mr. Quid.

I'd like to see him too,

but that's gonna be tricky.

According to the papers...

...the only songs Mr. Quid's

gonna be singing are hymns.

And I shed a tear.

I shed a tear for all those bone tops

that read the papers and believe that sh*t.

But did you see his body?

Did you see him smacked up

and cracked up...

...with his tongue on his chin

and his cock in his hand...

...swinging from the rafters

like a real RocknRolla?

No, you didn't, did you?

And nobody else

f***ing did either, did they?

Because he ain't dead.

He's alive, alive-o somewhere,

selling cockles and mussels...

...and a very important painting

that doesn't belong to him.

I'm sorry,

what does this have to do with us?

You have 12 licenses

within a jurisdiction which I control.

So if you wanna play on,

do what I tell you.

I can tell what you're thinking now.

Well, there's not much you can't do.

Slow down, Tinkerbell.

You'll never sing the same

If your teeth ain't your own

Wait, so you guys

are gonna take care of him?

What do you think we are, gangsters?

That's not my style.

So do us all a favor

before you catch a cold.

There he is.

You were missed in court this morning.

Not very compassionate, is it?

Not turning up to your amigo's funeral.

Yeah, everyone else was there,

except you.

And I got the feeling

that the only person...

...that Handsome

really wanted to see there was you.

All right, well,

what are you saying, Fred?

What the f*** are you getting at?

Come on, out with it.

Whoa, leave it.

We all know how much you loved Bob.

What exactly do you mean, loved Bob?

Guess who.

Prosecution lost the paperwork.

I'm offski.

Case is closed.

Five years.

You're supposed to be in f***ing...

One Two, phone for you.

Someone lose a bit of paperwork,

did they, One Two?

- Very clever.

- Yeah, well, next time, you remember.

That's exactly why you pay Lenny,

understood?

- All right.

- Good.

How did you get this number?

Oh, I can get any number.

I work with numbers, don't I?

One point for initiative,

and two to tell me what's on your mind.

My old man's having a party tonight,

and he needs some smarties.

It's a liberty,

but I thought you might know someone.

- Sorry, not my thing.

- And I've got a bit of work for you.

You can bring your friends.

Lots of interesting people there.

- Rich and famous, great and the good.

- All right.

Let me see what I can do.

Okay?

Yeah, a nice drop of whiskey.

That, I must say.

I suppose you're wondering

why you are here.

Well, I assume you just wanted to check

that everything was kosher my end.

I was surprised

when you didn't come through...

...at the appropriate time.

But then,

I reckon you must have your reasons.

I understand that.

And I wouldn't like things

to go wrong either...

...which brings me conveniently

to my next point.

Ever since the painting,

you know, my lucky painting...

...hasn't been hanging on my wall,

things have not been so lucky.

I know this is a rude request because

we have not concluded our business...

...but I feel as though I need it.

Yeah.

F***ing hell.

He's given you that bar tan again.

- You wanna lay off that vodka.

- Shut up, Arch.

Everything all right?

- No, it f***ing ain't all right.

He wants his painting back.

His lucky painting.

Painting?

- That is a bit of a problem.

- You should've seen his eyes.

I swear, they changed color.

They went f***ing red.

They don't care

whose soil they're on, this lot.

They could buy up half of London

without breaking a sweat.

You're small-time.

They click their fingers,

we'd be ether.

You speak to me like that again,

I'll cut your f***ing tongue out.

I run this town. You got that?

Me.

Anyone who thinks he's rude enough,

let him raise a finger...

...because I'll tear his f***ing arm off.

Do you understand that, Archy, do you?

Yeah, yeah, I understand that.

How about that?

Johnny Quid's daddy. Mm.

How did that go under the radar?

Why doesn't anybody know?

Would you want anyone to know

if that was your dad?

Would we have signed him

if we would've known?

I know what.

We better give

that man something, anything.

A bed that's been slept in,

a bone for his dog, some token of effort.

If you want to find Johnny,

you have to see Cookie.

Who are you?

My name's Cookie.

You must be with Stella.

No, we're the SWAT team.

Well, you better get swatting.

This is gonna be a scream.

Tallyho.

Fred, get them in.

Come here.

Why me?

- Because you look like one of them.

Take that chewing gum off your feet

before you start dancing.

Follow me, boys.

So who the man?

- Cookie, I think that's your cue.

Who's got the gear?

Think I'll have a little dance first.

- Fred, you fancy it?

Yeah, go on.

Look at the girls.

Excuse me, darling.

What the f*** are you doing here, Bob?

Well, all the boys were coming,

and I didn't have any plans.

I thought I was gonna be locked up.

So I thought I'd come and celebrate.

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