The Football Factory Page #3

He's given me a couple of Es.

I've had them

with a bit more thingy,

and wound up copping for two slosh pots

out of Chigwell.

Smashed the granny out of the pair of 'em

in the Tower Hotel till eleven, Sunday morning.

Yeah, I was back home in time for a Sunday

roast, but I was completely f***in' anninilated.

Look, I've got to go, mate. My man's here.

Ta-da.

Good to see you, son.

- How are you? All right?

- Not bad.

Heard you Chelsea boys had a little turnout

at Tottenham at the weekend.

You ain't wrong. Heard you Millwall boys

had a little turnout down in Pompey.

We did. We should have had a meet.

Would have been fun.

You know where to find us.

Any time you like.

Your time'll come.

What have you got for me?

One thing I never understood

about Bright was,

although he was in the Chelsea firm,

he did business with the head of their rivals.

Millwall.

Get that.

Two men that work together,

then kick f*** out of each other

if ever they get the chance.

It's bang on. What you got round you?

Four K.

- Go on, then. I'll take the lot.

- Cash.

Hang on.

Hang on.

Slow down.

What? You're f***in' joking!

All right.

I'll go straight up the hospital.

Yeah ' see you there.

- Problem, Fred?

- It's my brother, Terry.

Someone's just done him round the canister

with a cricket bat.

You're f***in' joking?

Is he all right?

They don't know yet.

Look, I gotta go.

- I'll keep this lot on ice for you.

- I'll call you later.

Oi! What are you f***in' doing?

You're three hours late.

Don't start, mate. I've had a bit of ag.

What you got a sheet on for?

You don't wanna know.

You're right, I don't.

Get in and sort them dinlows out.

They're putting lilies

in with the chrysanths.

You got anything on under there?

What am I f***in'paying for?

Just get on with it

- What do you reckon, fat boy?

- You look like a vicar, mate.

Are you f***in' mad?

This is Prada, you c*nt.

It's iron's gear.

Get your f***in' skates on.

We gotta get there for the draw.

Horrible c*nt.

What about the draw?

How are we gonna find a telly to watch it?

Oh, there'll be tellies where we're going.

Oi, Zeb, try and make sure we've got

a decent house to rob this time, will you?

I don't want to watch

some piece of sh*t.

Slow down, will you, Davis, eh? What's

the matter with you? Are you a f***in' Hoover?

Whether we were thieving,

f***ing or fighting tonight,

we'd a be glued to a TV set

to see who Chelsea drew in the Cup.

See, the beauty of the Cup draw is,

it's a lucky dip,

a chance to meet one of the old rivals,

like Cardiff or West Ham,

or if you're really lucky,

Millwall.

And cos the draw

meant so much to Billy,

he decided to take his long-suffering wife

Barbara out for a quiet, romantic meal.

However,

they got their wires crossed,

cos Barbara thought he was taking her

up the West End for some tapas.

Let's see what's on the menu.

Oi, it's my sister!

Oh, what, your girfriend?

Oi.

Either turn that TV up, or tell that lot down there

to hold their noise down.

Calm down, Bill.

We don't want to cause a scene.

No. No, you're right.

- The old rubber glove!

- The old rubber glove, mate.

Oi!

Oi. Will you shut up?

I'm trying to watch the f***in' telly!

...against 52.

Southend United.

57.

Portsmouth.

Will pay number 38.

Middlesbrough.

Number 22.

Millwall.

Will pay 44.

Chelsea.

Yes! F***in' yes!

Another battle then.

Eh? Can't f***in' hear you.

Who is it, for f***'s sake?

Eh?

Yes!

- Who, who, who?

- It's f***in' Millwall!

Millwall-Chelsea.

Old enemies that always ends up in murders.

Literally in my case,

cos like a mug

I thought I'd get lucky in the same bar again.

And I see my new mate again

who, of course, turns out to be Millwall.

Maybe I should ask him if I f***ed his sister,

seeing as I can't remember.

If I'd listened to my instincts and laid low, none

of this mess would have happened but I didn't,

and I only had myself to blame.

And occasionally, and I do mean occasionally,

it would be nice to have Bright out with us.

It's typicla that tonight

he's taken his wife out for a quiet one.

See? He does have a gentle side.

Aaaarghh!

Zeb and Raff missed the draw

cos they were doing what they do best -

robbing houses,

something they'd later come to regret.

Me, I'm beginning to get the feeling

old Magic Johnson's lost his touch.

Drive, mate! F***in' drive.

I'm being chased!

Lost his touch?

Bollocks.

Hard to have a nice night

out in London, eh?

I blame all the blacks

and fun pubs, myself.

Shut up mate. You're boring.

Welcome back to BBC London Sport

with me, Danny Kelly.

Now, anyone who's listened to the Breakfast

Show will have heard Danny Baker going on

about his great excitement about the prospects

of Millwall and Chelsea here in London.

Our reporter, as always,

is Pete Stevens.

That's right, Danny. I'm sure

there's going to be a vast police presence

to keep the we-known hooligan elements apart

from these two teams.

I only hope I'm not given the job

of reporting live from South London.

I'd much rather be watching the game

from the comfort of my front room.

Well, come on, Albert, you old bastard!

We'll miss our flight.

All right, Bill? You look pissed off.

No, I'm not f***in' all right.

Some c*nt burgled my house last night.

Hold that.

Suddenly,

going to Millwall weren't so appealing,

now I knew my enemies were part of their firm

It's the one f***in' place on earth

I didn't want to be caught out./i

Anyway, Liverpool away, and a chance

to have a good sleep on the coach.

Good, this.

- What did they nick, Bill?

- TV, DVD...

Even took the f***in' kids' PlayStation

and my mobile.

- Your mobile?

- Yeah.

You know what to do?

Ring your number and see if they've still got it.

That'll freak 'em out.

Tell them you know where they live and that.

Good call, Rods.

I've got that Ride Of The Valkyries ring tone.

You know, the war cry.

That'll f***in' freak 'em out.

Hello?

You are f***in' dead meat.

I didn't know it was your house.

I didn't know it was your house!

Look, I've got all the gear.

I've got the PlayStation.

I'll shall f***in' open you up!

F***.

Where are you from, mate?

Just around.

Are you fookin' Chelsea?

Yeah.

You flash cockney bastards.

Do you know Stanley?

Run!

Go on, run, you pair of rats.

Drive on again mate. Drive on.

Hey! Stop the f***in' bus, you c*nt!

F***in' come on!

Where the f*** are you running now?

C*nts! F***in' c*nts!

Go on. F*** off!

Come here.

You didn't f***in' shine there, did you, son?

What?

I've got to go to work on him now,

stop him opening you up.

You silly bollocks.

What was all that about?

But we did 'em, didn't we, H?

Billy had a real punishmeht lined up

for Zeberdee.

He weren't the forgiving type, but as long

as Harris was around, he couldn't touch him.

And Harris and Billy

certainy didn't need another reason to fall out.

Right. No thieving.

No bringing attention to yourselves.

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