The Firm Page #3

- F*** off before l've had enough of you.

What's the matter wi' you?

Listen, save this and you'll be a legend.

Miss it and l'll cut ya.

- There you go! Yeah!

- Quality, Dom.

Blinder! F***in' blinder.

Portsmouth meet's at Waterloo, Saturday.

Train leaves at 9:48, so make sure

you're all there by about half nine.

- You all sweet with that?

- Sweet, Bex. Yeah.

Listen, put the word out, and all. But

no time-wasters or passengers Saturday.

We need a good firm together for this mob.

So keep your nuts together. All of ya.

l'm off, Snow.

Meet with Trigger and the older lot.

- You comin', yeah?

- Yeah.

Should be a good buzz down there.

- Cheers, Bex.

- See you later, Bex.

Nice trainers, Dom.

Go on.

After you, Del.

Mm. Terry called round earlier,

see if you was comin' out.

What's the matter? You fallen out with him?

No, l'm just sick of doing

the same thing every day.

Could try comin' to work.

We're gonna eat all right

for the next week or so.

- Who was you playin' football with?

- Some mates.

- What mates?

- You don't know 'em, they're new mates.

Oooh, new mates!

Who are they, then?

- They're casuals.

- Casuals? What's that mean?

- They sit around doing f*** all all day?

- l know who they are.

They've all got wedge haircuts

and smoke black.

- Ngggh!

- Your f***ing face'll stay like that

if the wind changes.

Well, actually, they've all got good jobs.

Unlike Terry and that lot.

All right, boom. You've come home

from a hard day's work,

wander straight in here, the kitchen,

where you knock yourselves up

a nice a la carte supper

on your newly fitted Neff appliance.

- You do cook, l presume?

- Malcolm does the cooking.

Modern. Then you wander through here,

you're into the lounge.

This is where you kick back,

unwind, enjoy the panoramic views.

Flick the switch on the B&O

and drift off to the sounds of Clannad.

You are a music man, ain't ya, Malcolm?

- Er, Genesis.

- Prog rock. l like it.

Me and you could be friends

if l weren't selling you an 'ouse.

Justine, the plans, please.

Mrs Cardwell. Have a feel of that.

- Oh, it is nice.

- Nice?

All due respect, Mrs Cardwell,

that's top of the range.

You won't find any other new builds in

London with this level of attention to detail.

We're talking Bulthaup kitchen units,

peach melba Dolphin bathrooms

and the finest bit of Axminster carpet

in avocado you will ever find.

Justine, what do we call

a house like this in the trade?

- Ream.

- Ream. Exactly.

And you don't think there'll be

a slowdown in the London property market?

Never.

l'll leave you to have a look round

with Justine. Any questions, ask her.

l'll tell you, if these homes don't sell off-plan

within a week, l'll eat my hat.

'Scuse me.

So what l was thinking,

we could have green in the kitchen...

- What you doin'?

- Ah, don't matter.

- We sweet for tonight?

- Meetin' us somewhere off the plot.

Millwall's firm and Portsmouth's firm.

Top boys only.

Good. How'd they sound? Up for it?

More chance of gettin' sh*t

out of a rockin' horse

than runnin' a firm with that lot under ya.

Yeah, well. We'll see.

- This is us.

- Dump it over there, Trig.

- l'll do this on me own, all right?

- l'll be at the bar if you need me.

- Oh, here we go.

- What's the matter, you lost your flock?

- Oh, yeah. Well done.

- What happened to you lot the other day?

You bring the Old Bill with ya cos

you sh*t yourselves or were you just lost?

We wouldn't struggle to find you mob,

walking about like a load of pikeys

- in yer moody Kappa tracksuits.

- So you grassed yourselves up, then?

What are you two divs on about?

Bex and his West Ham firm sh*t 'emselves

so they brought the gawers with 'em

when we had a little meet planned.

Sure it weren't one of your young lot?

They didn't look like they wanted to have it.

My young lot'd open you up

like a village fete, you saucy c*nt.

Listen.

There's over 4,000 Germans

booked in for Europe this summer.

Unless our three firms go together,

they're gonna run us all over.

They might run you lot.

They'll come undone against us.

Shut up. l ain't finished yet.

Look, we wanna put on

a proper show out there,

- then we've gotta go together.

- Oh, let me think.

With you as top boy?

There you go, dinlow.

Even a farmer can work it out.

You've got no chance, shithead.

What makes you so special?

Er... Just the fact that

for the past two seasons

we've steamed both firms in this room.

Right, l'll tell you what.

We're all playing each other

in the next few weeks.

- Clever girl.

- Pipe down, cunty.

You come and take us out with

your top firm, then you can take us on tour.

But before you do that, you can come

down the coast and pay us a little visit.

You won't know what's hit ya.

You couldn't hit water

if you fell out of a boat.

All right. We'll see who's got the top firm.

You. Farmer. You'll get yours

when we land on your plot Saturday.

- And you.

- Yeah?

Yeti. l'm gonna put 150 stitches in your face.

- l'm shittin' meself, ain't l?

- Yeah, you look it.

See that door? Use it.

Yeah, this is the gaff, Dad.

All the gear's ream in 'ere.

- Comes to nothing, as well.

- Ream? What's ream?

Comes to nothing?

F*** me, mush, that's nearly 80 quid.

What you on about, Dad? lt's Ellesse.

- Elle what?

- lt's what all the chaps are wearing.

Oh, are they bollocks.

How about a nice waffle jumper?

'Ere, look at this one, Bob. Lovely, eh?

Oh, that's a blinder, Shel.

There you go, mush.

That's what you wanna be wearing

if you wanna stand out in the crowd.

Now that is a bit of you, eh?

Leave it out, Dad.

l'll get my 'ead kicked in for wearing that.

What? lt's lovely, babe.

You'll look the bee's knees in it.

Yeah, all right, Mum.

l'll look like a f***ing Slush Puppy.

Perfect. You can have the bottoms as well.

- No.

- What do you mean, no?

lt's a f***ing terrific bit of clobber.

- l mean, no, l'm not wearing it.

- Well, what else you gonna wear?

l'd rather walk about in the nude

than wear that.

Why can't you stop being so tight

and just buy me the Ellesse?

You know l'll work it off.

- Oh, go on.

- Yeah? You're working for this.

Oh, sh*t, it's J. Give me the readies,

yous two better shake out.

- What?

- Go on, make out you don't know me.

- Go on, chip.

- Chip?

- What's he on about?

- Mm?

All right, Dom?

Thought you was out grafting.

All right, J? Nah, just out

gettin' meself some new garms.

Straight? Who's your pals?

Just me mum and dad.

- Just?

- All right? l'm J.

- Hello, boy. l'm Shelley, this is Bob.

- All right?

We love our little boy,

so will you look after him for us?

- Yeah, yeah, course l will.

- All right. Come on, Bob. We're done here.

Bye, darling.

- His nuts are hanging out of them shorts.

- Trust you to notice.

Keep dogs. Just gonna

buzz a pair of Trimm-Trabs.

See you? l'll hit you so hard

that the next time you wake up

you'll have a chalk mark round ya.

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