The Football Factory Page #5

you long streak of piss.

Well, stop punching your old woman about,

then, wanker.

What did you f***in' say, you mug?

You f***in' heard,

you fat f***in' Johnson c*nt.

F***in' mug! Look at you, you c*nt!

Get off me, you... Get off me, you c*nt!

F*** this.

If they can't be grown up, let's go.

I'll f***in' do you!

Just as I thought.

Rod's been plating the court clerk's Gary,

and now she wants

to meet his mates.

I told him I already met her in the dock,

but he insisted on a social one.

And why is it that when your best mate meets

a girl, he quickly changes into a f***in' melt,

and acts like

he's only known you for ten minutes?

So... what do you do, then, Thomas?

Thomas?

Kick people's f***in' heads in for a laugh.

And you shoud know, div.

You read the charges out.

Me?

I work long and hard.

Sounds like Rod!

Yeah?

Cor...

Jesus, he's really picked one here.

The worst sort of all.

Wannabe middle-class scum.

I'd like to kick the c*nt back to Penge.

Seems nice.

Yeah, yeah. Yeah, he's a top bloke.

Bill, it's Tom. Fancy a quiet drink?

I'm bored out of my skull.

Meet me at work

around seven in the morning.

Don't worry. I'll bring my tools.

- Fancy a sauna?

- Good call, Bill.

Johnson!

Johnson!

All right, Billy. What's it gonna be today?

A little lavender head massage?

No, forget that and just crack straight on

with the blow job, eh?

Stone me, she won't be working for a week.

What was that screaming about?

- What do you think?

- Good boy.

What do you think the screaming was about?

I'm having a f***in' breakdown.

With my back against the wall there was

only one thing for it: seek counsle from Bright.

Bill, can I talk to you for a minute?

Yeah, yeah, course you can, son.

It's just er... I keep...

I dunno. I just keep... You know?

Yeah, yeah, I know.

- Really?

- Yeah, I know.

F***! F*** it.

I thought it was just me.

No, listen.

It happens to me all the time.

No, don't worry about it. It's sweet.

Don't worry. I'm gonna sort you out.

Thank s, Bill.

You're a f***in' good man.

Listen. Don't mention it.

- Here you are.

- What?

Go on son. Crack on. Go on.

Enjoy!

Should have seen that one coming.

The last person on earth you want to talk to

when you're paranoid

Ask Bright for advice, and

you get f***in' Viagra.

And what a good mate he was

in my time of need.

F***in' fat little c*nt

lazing about with his Penge minge.

Wake up, sleepy.

That was my parents on the phone.

They're coming to London at the weekend

and want to take us out.

Well, as long as it ain't Saturday.

We got Millwall.

It is Saturday, Rod.

What about Sunday?

They're going to my brother's in Reading.

Don't tell me you'd rather go to football.

Well, I am male.

It's one game.

I am male.

But my parents only come round

once every few months.

Yeah, Millwall comes round

less than the eclipse, babe.

Well, don't just run out.

- I'm going to work.

- Let's talk about it, eh?

There's nothing to talk about.

You either meet my parents on Saturday

or you never meet them.

All right, boys?

Yeah. Sweet. Speak to you later.

F*** off.

- Are you serving?

- Yeah, what do you need? Whites or browns?

Hit him, hit him! Hit the c*nt.

Come here.

C*nt! C*nt! C*nt!

Grab the f***in' rock.

Come on. Let's go. Let's go. Let's go.

C*nt!

Come on!

- F***in' hell!

- Sh*t, that must have been Zeberdee.

Come, let's go.

My grandad's life

was disappearing in front of his eyes.

With Albert dead, he had no-one, apart from me,

so it was time to give him some family support,

and maybe even

some friendly advice.

You should come to Millwall at the weekend.

That'll liven you up a bit.

You all right for money, Bill?

Cos you know

you've only got to ask.

I'm earning a few quid

down the market now.

It ain't as if I got

a bird to spend it on.

Unlike Rod.

You sound over the moon about that.

Yeah, well...

Your chance'll come.

Don't you ever get the itch?

Yeah.

I can see myself on a sun lounger

in my back garden,

a couple of kids running about...

sipping my Pimm's quietly.

Kids, eh?

Yeah. Why not?

What's their names?

Dorian, after my mate.

Dorian?

Both of them?

Yeah, probably.

What if they're girls?

Dorian.

You're a good boy, Tom.

Keep your eye on my wallet, Bill.

I'm going to the toilet.

I tell you what, Fred.

This area beats

South London hands down.

Bollocks, does it.

I'll have Bermondsey any day.

It's full of spivs and skint

hoorays round here.

I just wanna find this f***in' Tommy Johnson

and get out of here.

Let's just cut him

and f*** off back over south.

You're not wrong.

Oi, you, skint boat, come here.

- Me?

- Yes, f***in' you. Come here.

Come on.

Ever heard of a geezer

called Tommy Johnson?

Johnson...

Johnson...

No, I've never heard of him, mate.

Yeah?

Yeah.

So, what's your name?

- What?

- I said, what's your f***in' name?

Dorian.

Poof!

Dorian? Sounds like a f***in' poof.

Yeah, I know.

Just a name, though, innit?

Prove it.

Prove what?

Stop f***in' stuttering,

and f***in' prove it.

Just show him some f***in' brief.

Er...

I ain't got my wallet on me, mate.

Go on, then. F*** off, you mug. Go on.

Hang on.

We'll see who the f*** you really are.

Give us your phone.

Who's this?

Hello. It's Rod. Is Dorian there?

You've had a f***in' touch. Little mug.

Come on. Let's go.

Do you reckon he's somewhere else?

We'll try the other gaff.

He's got to be here somewhere.

F***in' hell!

Did your arse drop, son?

You'd f***in' think so! I tell you.

The moment I seen them follow you in,

I knew you'd give them a dodgy name.

It's a little trick

we picked up in the army.

I'm definitely calling my kids Dorian now.

Dorian.

- Dorian.

- Dorian.

See you, Rodder, I f***in' love you

sometimes. Do you know that?

You ain't too bad yourself, Johnson.

I'm well up for it now.

The omens are good. Millwall who?

I'm gonna have a right

f***in' buzz down there.

Yeah.

Don't say it, Rod.

What?

You f***in' know.

Look, Tom, f***in'...

Her mum and dad are coming down.

Tom, you'll need these

where you're going.

How you doing, mister?

Nah. Not good. You?

Still dead.

Sorry about that. Am I?

No, you're still alive.

- Who are you, mate?

- Don't know mate.

Can't tell till I

take these bandages off.

What?

What do you mean, "what"?

What are you looking at me like that for?

You don't know?

What, Rod?

You don't remember what

you done last night?

I was f***in' lashed, wasn't I?

Last thing I remember was being in the boozer

with you and my grandad.

Jesus, Tom...

For f***'s sake, Rod, what's so bad?

You don't remember Barbara?

Barbara who?

You tried to get off

with Billy's wife.

F*** off.

And when she blanked you, you beat her up.

- What?

- You broke her f***in' jaw, Tom.

I know you're winding me up, Rod.

Please tell me you're winding me up, Rod.

I ain't, mate.

F*** off, King. I tell you what.

I'll ring Zeb. He'll f***in' know.

All right, Zeb?

F***in' hell, Tom.

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