Scum Page #4

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Leave it out, striper.

I weren't hurting you.

- Gonk! You're in my bleeding way.

- Oi!

It's all right, Ben.

What's up with you, weirdo?

You want striping, do you?

You might get left alone here,

but I'll cut you to bleeding ribbons

if I get any of your poxy lip.

Back, grass!

I said, get back, shithead!

Yeah, well, carry on.

Right, Banks,

you bastard.

I'm the daddy now.

Next time I'll f***ing kill you!

Who was it, Richards? Who was it?

- Carlin? The coons?

- I slipped, sir.

I'll give you f***ing slipped!

All right. On your feet!

- Who did this?

- What, sir?

- Come on, who did it?

- What, sir?

- Where's Banks?

- Haven't seen him, sir.

Dozy bastard, Banks!

You let him do you over, you twat!

I slipped, sir.

Don't come that with me.

Who do you think you're talking to?

Carlin! I want you to name Carlin!

I slipped, sir.

Carlin!

Carlin!

Sir?

Okay, Carlin.

You're really for it this time.

Banks and Richards have both named you.

You'll get three years for this, scum!

I don't know what

you're talking about, sir.

You f***ing well will, toerag.

I run this wing.

I'm not having it disrupted by a dirty

little backstreet villain like you.

You'll sign a statement downstairs.

I've got nothing to say, sir.

I'd like to see the housemaster.

Oh, you will, Carlin. You will.

And the governor, sir.

I've got a witness.

Sh*t witness!

I'm having you, lad.

You banged that officer at Rowley.

You must be thinking you've walked

quietly away from that one.

But he's here. He's me.

He's every f***ing screw

in this borstal, every one of us.

Now, come on. How do you fancy

taking a poke at me, eh?

- Come on, big man!

- I didn't bang no screw. I retaliated.

There was two of'em

kicking the sh*t out of me.

Well, retaliate here!

Come on!

I'll have you!

Where's Carlin?

- Carlin.

- What?

Baldy, the tinted daddy man

from B Wing.

- He wants to meet you.

- Well, I don't talk to sh*t.

He wants to meet, Carlin.

We know what for.

He's a right hard nut.

When's it going to be?

I'll find him.

You tell him, Dougan.

He's a black bastard. Right?

He knows.

- Rather warm old chap, don't you think?

- Yeah!

Won't be in this bleeding sweatbox for

much longer. All right for the coons,

keeps them warm in winter,

but it's no f***ing good to me.

All this for nicking

thirty bob's worth of junk!

- You're joking!

- Thirty bob's worth of f***ing scrap!

Well, my brother had a bit of form,

so they stuck it on me.

- My mother went bleeding potty.

- Jesus, that's one for the book!

- What did you do? A bank, or what?

- No, Carlin. No.

I was merely trying to further

a respectable career

in the employ of a timber merchant.

Clerk.

Yeah, my old lady was sick.

You know, all the time, fragile.

Then there was all this stick

about giving her a bad time.

Then her wanting to see a son who's

secure, respectable... all that sh*t!

So I was sticking it out in this office.

The only thing was,

I got too ambitious, didn't I?

Yeah. I wasn't satisfied with dipping my

fingers into the petty cash for stamps.

No. Started working on the cash sales.

Making 40, 50 quid

on the side most weeks.

Going to work in a cab.

Yeah, till some hard-faced mare

comes back for a swap when I'm out,

and, uh, here I am.

- What, was it your first offense?

- Well, you know my mouth.

Gave the judge a bit of lip.

Didn't know the ropes, did I?

She sat there fart-faced, under her wig

and packs me off to borstal.

Forty pence a quid, that's it.

I can't go with that, Carlin.

They'll cut my f***ing throat!

Well, that's the way things are

from now on, mate.

Forty P, that or nothing.

If you're gonna come that, Carlin,

the whole bleeding nick'll be onto you.

- Right behind Baldy!

- F*** 'em!

But don't you see?

If Banks paid 50,

I've got to give them less.

That's psychology.

If I want to keep hold of them,

I've got to be harder than him.

Or you'll have

some mug here paying 60.

- Do you see what I mean?

- Yeah. Forty's way under, Carlin.

It won't be worth the risk

getting money in.

Okay.

Okay, 45.

They get 45.

But I want it made clear,

Dougan, it's a favor.

- You had to bleeding well beg me, right?

- Okay.

- You had to plead with me, right?

- Right.

- Carlin!

- Sir?

- Mr. Goodyear's office.

- Yes, sir.

- Dougan, association.

- Yes, sir.

I don't want you

hanging around in here.

It's one of the most

rewarding aspects of this job,

encouraging ability

and individuality.

And a consequence of this

is that natural leaders will emerge,

as they have throughout history.

But, Carlin,

as I am sure you are aware,

the gift of leadership

entails responsibilities,

like setting a good example

and keeping order.

Leadership means order.

- Do you understand that?

- Yes, sir.

Good. Now then,

you came here

with a bad reputation.

But I am prepared

to take you as I find you.

You'll have every chance to prove

yourself on this wing, Carlin,

and even to win back some

of the time you've lost

through your more

unfortunate escapades.

As housemaster, I run this wing.

I want that firmly understood.

Nobody rocks my boat.

Do we understand each other?

- Yes, sir.

- Very well, then.

Just one thing, sir.

Yes?

I would like a single cell.

I think we can arrange that,

Mr. Greaves?

- Yes, sir.

- Anything else?

- No, sir.

- About turn!

Move!

In you go, Woods.

Name and number to the housemaster.

Carlin!

All right, Carlin.

But don't push it.

If there's any bother,

we'll have your bleeding guts.

Right?

I said, right?

Yes, sir.

On your way.

Three she had, three puppies.

Well, me mum says she doesn't know

whether they can afford them.

You know, sir,

feeding them and all that.

Well, I want to find

homes for them, sir.

And if they can't wait

for me to get out,

I was wondering if you'd like one, sir.

It wouldn't cost you anything.

- Woods.

- Yes, sir?

You were not brought here

to discuss your dog.

- No, sir, but you see...

- Quiet, Woods!

- Speak when you're spoken to.

- I've had you brought here

to inform you that

you aren't up to scratch, Woods.

Your room is dirty.

Your clothing disheveled.

The reports from your classes

are appalling!

The list grows.

And I am warning you

that unless there is

a marked improvement in your

overall bearing in the near future,

you will be in serious trouble.

- I do my best, sir.

- It's not good enough, Woods.

- I always seem to be behind, sir.

- Then do as you're told, lad.

You don't have to think

for yourself here. It's all laid on.

Now.

Forget all this juvenile puppy

business and get down to it.

I don't want to see you

on report again. Right?

Yes, sir.

No, no. Come on.

Come on.

This isn't racial. It's a game.

Right! A Wing, this end.

B Wing, that end.

Move!

Rules!

No punching in the face.

No kicking in the goolies.

And no biting.

Kill that bloody little bastard!

Get out of my way,

you black bastard.

Hit him in the bollocks!

Come on, boys.

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