The Hardy Bucks Movie

Synopsis: Eddie Durkan, the self-proclaimed leader of the 'Bucks is dreading spending another summer bored out of his skull. Ireland has qualified for the Euros in Poland, but with no money and apathetic mates, the task falls to Eddie to get them out of Castletown and onto the road in search of football and the craic.
 
IMDB:
5.7
PG
Year:
2013
89 min
312 Views


Robbie Keane with the chance.

Keane takes it and scores.

Poland and the Ukraine,

are you ready for us?

All right, lads. Come here, okay.

Salmon, refreshments.

There's men who need their hydration

here, Salmon, come on.

Come on, Salmon, hurry up.

What's going on with us?

It's nine all.

- Sure, we know that.

- We should have this in the bag.

In the bag? Sure, I saw The Viper

slip the ref a nodge of hash.

- The ref?

- At the car park.

Prick.

I bought that man 20 euros

worth of pints last night.

F***ing can't trust anyone any more.

- Come on, Salmon. Good man.

- All right-a-f***ing boy!

Salmon, you could have got

something a bit less alcoholic.

See, this is your problem,

Toastie, you've gone soft.

You won't take a drink and you

wonder why we don't play you.

You cannot have a sober man on the pitch.

It's not me who made up the rules.

If you're out there sober,

you're a danger.

Sure,

it's not safe for your team,

it's not safe for the other

wankers on the pitch.

He's only being sound.

Can you imagine if Barry Macey

was f***ing refereeing?

- Oh, don't even start that now.

- Oh.

You wouldn't kick a ball

if you passed the breathaliser.

How's it going?

Eddie Durkan here.

Well, this is Castletown, my home.

Look, it's pissing rain and that's June.

How depressing.

There's no women, there's no work,

and no craic.

Not like the craic

these boys are having.

See, the one bit of good

news is that Ireland

have qualified for the

Euros out in Poland.

And if I was any right man,

I'd be out there, too.

But A, my mates are f***ing useless.

And B, I'm skint.

Last time we qualified

was years ago

and my Uncle Mick was out there

and he said it was a great craic.

Look at him. He's like a cross between

Liam Neeson and Samuel Beckett.

Man's a f***ing legend.

This'll take me back 24 years.

Germany, '88.

Jaysus, we had the time

of our lives.

Sh*t, Germany wasn't

ready for us at all.

And they were never ready for the feckin'

eighty percent proof poitin, neither.

Seth and the boys brought over

a couple of gallons of poitin

and we were selling them off in

small little bottles to the Germans.

We were making a small fortune

until we got caught out.

Lucky enough I could see by

the old Sergeant Major's nose

that he was fond of

a drop himself.

I gave him a litre.

You know what he said?

"Fair play to you lads,"

gave me a tap on the back

and says, "Off you go. "

Hey, he's a good uncle,

isn't he?

Hep-a-shout-out and f***ing

little bad f***ing yeah

What's the craic.

Belleth door, press now.

Hello, what's the craic?

Is your brother in there?

He's committed himself to a

rehabilitation clinic in Galway.

- For?

- For addiction to hash.

Do I look like I came down

in the last shower?

- Addiction to hash?

- He kept having hallucinations.

That sounds like class craic, man.

Are you saying the

drugs don't work?

Who are you man, Neil Ashcroft?

Richard.

Whatever.

That means the gear is solid.

Mental gear solid,

and I'm solid shnake.

If the brother isn't around,

Shtevie,

then the family's gonna

have to pay top dollar.

So if you can go and get some

money for me, that'll be...

That'll be sound.

Beaten by a child.

Why didn't you crack

some shkull, man?

A bit f***ing harsh,

he's only twelve.

You're meant to be

the hired goons, boys.

I don't hire Blubberpuss and

Edward Leatherhands for nothing, man.

Top dollar I'm paying ye.

And there is the final

whistle. The final score in Poznan.

Bitter, bitter disappointment.

Ireland one, Croatia three.

Yeah, well, look at the craic

the boys were having out there,

see the lad sucking anyone's tit.

I want my team to win,

not lads sucking on tits.

You can suck on tits any

day of the week.

Only a few seconds in and we're a goal

down. We're absolutely shite, man.

- Buzz, is that you?

- Yeah, baby.

Thought the place had

been broken into.

Burglars.

It's just a bit of

riding there, will you relax.

All right, so.

- Good man.

- Lucky for some.

Lads, do you want a cup of tea?

- Nah, I'm good thanks, man.

- Cheers, Frenchie though, all right.

- Buzz?

- Yeah?

Do you want a cup of tea?

Yes, please.

And how about your mate there?

Please, one sugar.

Sound, whoever you are.

Moira.

Pleased to meet you.

Frenchtoast.

I'm The Boo, by the way.

Will you shut the f*** up, lad,

I'm trying to concentrate.

She's a nice voice

on her though, whoever she is.

Sprint!

If the boys in green played as

well as that lad in there now.

Bingo!

Yeehaw! Howdy, dick blowers.

Do you like the f***ing wheels, man?

Where are you going? Big romantic

three-way to Athlone, is it?

Very funny.

We'll be bypassing Athlone actually.

Bypassing it on the way to P

to the O to the L to the A to the D.

- Polad?

- Poland.

I meant to say Poland.

I missed out the N.

Going to watch the f***ing Euro

World Cup and the boys in green.

Yeah, you're such a big man going

out there and everything.

Yeah, I am a big man

in a big f***ing van.

How are you going to

get tickets out there?

F***, man.

I never thought about that.

Sh*t. What if I go all

the way out there?

You mean there's no tickets, like?

- There's no tickets left for people?

- No, there's no tickets left.

- F***.

- Yeah, exactly.

- Now you're not so smart, are you?

- You need a ticket.

I don't... I don't want to go

all the way out there and like,

not have any f***ing

tickets to the games.

Let's just say a game like

Ireland v. Poznan in Italy, yeah?

- You're a f***ing arsehole, man.

- Ha, I'm only messing.

Listen, I'm only here to rub it in.

Enjoy another f***ing summer trying to

master self-fellatio, you big gang bangers.

Gesundheit!

Woo! This is it, lads,

life on the open road.

Three thousand kilometre

round trip, just us.

What could be more fun, eh?

Well, I've compiled a list of about

forty, fifty "dos or don'ts" though.

I need you to adhere to them

while you're under my control, okay?

Number one. No shitting in the

on-board toilet. Nicht, nicht.

Number two. Shleeping. I'll have all the

best beds, you can have the sh*t ones.

If I'm on the job, which is hopefully

going to be every f***ing night,

I don't want you sleeping

in the same van.

Number four.

No f***ing nudity from either of ye.

Especially you, Stateside.

Don't want any f***ing nightmares.

Plus, you're meant to be hard lads.

If I see your cock and balls

in action then, you know,

it just breaks the

f***ing illusion.

Number seventeen. Shtateside,

you sing lullabies to me when I...

They're so beautiful.

So gentle.

So moist, aren't they, lads?

Ah, here, hey, this is f***ing depressing.

It's boring, that's what it is.

We should be out there

with the rest of them,

on the way to Poland now.

Sitting round here,

like a gang of wankers.

Clims and leabes.

More sh*t talk out of you,

Eddie, is it?

Yeah, sh*t talk, is it?

It's not sh*t talk, Boo.

Ah, it's f***ing pure muck.

- Is it?

- Yeah.

Then we're going Dublin, Ibiza, America,

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Mike Cockayne

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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