The Butcher Boy Page #4

Please, Francie, come on. Please. Plea...

That's a lesson, Joe.

Never trust that Phillip Nugent.

Oh, Jesus, what the hell

did you do that for?

What do you want?

You know, Mrs. Nugent,

I have ears, you know?

I said, what do you want?

You see, I just have to see Phillip.

Phillip is doing his lessons.

Tell him it's a very important matter,

Mrs. Nugent.

Phillip, amazing facts!

The moon, 90 million miles away.

And the Colorado beetle.

- Did you ever hear of him, Mrs. Nugent?

- No, I didn't.

Watch out for him, Mrs. Nugent.

He's a disaster.

Beware of the Colorado beetle, Phillip.

And you think pigs are bad?

There's damned hell wrong with pigs. At

least he wouldn't eat your house or you.

You see, Mrs. Nugent,

a pig just can't do it.

Cakes.

Phillip, just where have you been?

Your uncles gave me a right going-over.

Get out. Get out.

Well, I never seen such pushing

and shoving as went on that day.

They were about the worst pushers

I had ever seen.

Mrs. Nugent, I just don't know

what I'm gonna do with you.

It was the cakes that clinched it.

I didn't know Mrs. Nugent

was a bun woman too.

Mrs. Nugent, the most famous

bun woman of all time, I do believe.

Welcome to Nugent's, Mr. Francie Brady.

Thank you, sir. Thank you very much.

It gives me great pleasure

to be standing here...

on these black and white tiles

in the scullery of Mrs. Nugent.

Oh, not at all, Francie,

we're delighted to have you.

Now, you must meet everyone.

Sure, don't I know them all.

Your husband,

Mr. Ten-Ton-Hoppity-Bollocks...

and your son, Phillip!

God, I have to hand it to you,

Mrs. Nugent, when it come to polishing.

Flies? Not in your house, Mrs. Nooge.

Any cakes are under lock and key, where Mr.

Fly and his cronies can't get at them.

A submarine bomb exploded

in a harbor might affect a city.

The affected area

would be a poor picnic site.

Amazing facts.

But do you think those Nugents

would ever pay attention?

Amazing facts is wasted on that lot.

Good heavens, Phillip,

you're not listening.

Right, that's it. Write it out 20

times, now:
"Phillip is a pig."

Phillip is a pig. Phillip is a pig.

Phillip, Phillip, Phillip is a pig.

- Phillip is a pig.

- It's a bomb. Duck and cover.

Tony knows a bomb can explode

any time of the year, day or night.

Duck and cover.

We must be ready every day, all the time.

It's a bomb. Duck and cover.

Duck and cover. Attaboy...

Right, then. Enough about bombs.

Today we're going to do the farmyard.

Now, can anyone tell me what animals

we find in the farmyard?

Cows?

Cows, yes, indeed. We do find cows.

- Sheep?

- And what else?

- Pigs.

- Pigs. You are absolutely right, Phillip.

And what do pigs do, Phillip?

They run round the farmyard.

- Any takers at the back?

- They give us rashers?

That's true, but that's not the answer

I'm looking for.

Mrs. Nugent, I can tell it's coming.

- They do...

- No, Mrs. Nugent, out with it.

That's not good enough.

What do pigs do?

How many times do I have to go over it?

Now, Mrs. Nugent, don't be shy.

You can do it.

Five, four, three, two, one.

Come along.

Mrs. Nugent. Catch anything?

Well, that Mrs. Nugent.

How was I to run a proper pig school

with all these interruptions?

Disgusting boy!

Disgusting!

Thank Christ your poor mother

isn't here to see this.

No, she's in the lake,

and it was me who put her there.

Francie. It was just a mistake,

Francie, wasn't it?

You didn't touch Phillip Nugent, did you?

- Get in there, now.

- Joe, I'm innocent. I didn't mean any harm.

Just wanted a piece of cake.

Blood brothers, Francie,

until the end of time.

Until the end of time, Joe.

Joe! Joe!

Why'd you have to do it, son?

Why'd you have to do the likes of that?

Up she rose out of nowhere,

the house with a hundred windows.

Just like the one where Da and Alo

spent all those happy days.

And what's good enough for Da and Alo

must be good enough for Francie.

So this is the famous Francie Brady.

Aye, that's right, Father. That's me.

Speak when you're spoken to.

If you were one of mine,

I'd break every bone in your body.

It's all right, sergeant.

Have no worries about this fella.

I'll look after him. God bless, now.

- Right, Father.

- Bye. Look out for them robbers, now.

That's enough out of you.

Them robbers, you can't be up to them.

Well, what do you make

of your new home, Mr. Brady?

It's grand. Good enough for pigs.

You'll find no pigs here.

The incredible school for pigs.

Very well, then, I'll expect you

in chapel for prayers before tea.

We're here the longest in this school.

Right, boys?

- Right.

- Anyone gives you trouble, just tell us.

- Isn't that right?

- Right.

- Does that mean youse will protect me?

- Aye.

The great Al Capone

bogman protection racket.

- Who's Al Capone?

- AI who?

Who's Al Capone? Who's Al Capone?

- Hey, boys?

- What?

What does one flea say to another?

Don't know.

"Will we walk or take the dog?"

That's a great joke.

Where'd you learn that joke?

- What's your name?

- Algernon Carruthers.

We're pleased to meet you, Algernon.

- Anyone annoys you, tell us.

- Because we're the longest in this school.

- Isn't that right?

- That's right.

Well, if youse are gonna protect me,

youse better follow me.

Well, I never seen anything

like those bogmen.

Their bony arses cocked in the air...

like they're carrying an invisible

sack of spuds at the back.

Out with the backside, up with the nose.

And we'll knock seven different kinds

of shite out of anyone...

who lays a finger on Francie Brady.

Come on, boys.

Well, it was sure good

in that old school.

All in line like Apaches...

and Father Bubbles

with the big, red country face on him...

like a Beauty of Bath apple

from the walking...

and me giving the bogmen lessons

in how to talk like Al Capone.

Okay, bogmen, let's hear some

of that Al Capone lingo.

They ever come here again,

we'll kick their arses into their necks.

- Is that right, Francie?

- No, we'll rub them out, I told you.

Now, I told you, you bollocks.

- Shut your mouth.

- What would...?

What the bloody hell are you at?

I want to see the four of you

in my office after tea.

Will you stack them properly,

you fool, you?

That's great work, Francie.

You'd never be finished,

you know that, Father.

Oh, no?

As soon as the lights went out,

wheeze, wheeze, wheeze.

Sleep for them, but not

for Francie Brady.

A saint in every windowsill snoring

10 to the dozen too.

Quit breathing, youse bastards.

"Poor Francie Brady, " Jesus was saying.

"Isn't it a terrible pity?"

Isn't what a terrible pity?

"I'm only saying, " he says.

No, you didn't answer me.

Isn't what a terrible pity?

"Nothing. I didn't say anything.

Did you, Patrick?"

"It must have been Gabriel."

Hey, saints, f*** off, will youse!

Now, mind your language,

please, Francie.

You'd think they'd get their shoes dirty.

Oh, no.

Oh, no, no. Walking around in their

black skirts and their penguin collars.

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