The Hardy Bucks Movie Page #8

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Lads, I think I've broken me cock.

When you stopped the van so fast,

it kind of cracked down there.

Man, you shouldn't be using

the Boo's merchandise.

It'll be all right,

just rinse it out.

Ah, a bit of washing up

liquid, it'll be all right.

Hey, Buzz. Sure you screw

the old sump at the bottom.

Get rid of the residue.

You're an awful gang

of dirty pricks.

How's the Boo supposed to sell that

now second hand?

- Toasheen, can you pull this off, please?

- No.

- Please, we're mates.

- No, no, no.

Ew!

F*** you. Some mates you are, boys.

Go back to your wanking

lair, good lad.

- Are we far from the Polish border?

- We're coming up to it now, man.

I just wish I didn't know about

the sh*t in the back.

- Look, we're in this together, right?

- Yeah.

- Just be cool and relax.

- I am, right?

Good. Because if we get caught

with that hash,

we're f***ed.

By police.

By Dutch gangsters.

- And worst of all, by the baboons.

- The baboons?

- You don't even want to know, man.

- What are you on about?

Look, go and summons Toastie, now.

We need him to be on his A game, right?

Yeah.

Frenchtoast! Frenchie!

- Get up here.

- Yeah?

- We want to talk to you.

- What do you want, man?

Are we nearly in Poland yet,

or what's the story?

What the f*** is that on your face?

- What are you on about?

- Oh, my God!

- Look in the mirror.

- What the hell are you doing, man?

- What the f*** is that, man?

- Oh, God.

Did you like the little doodle I did

on you while you were wet dreaming?

I'm going to f***ing kill you.

Ah, it's funny as f***, eh.

Funny as f***.

I hear Poland is very beautiful

this time of year.

Hmm. It's always very beautiful.

Ah...

Excuse me, can we enter your rather

fine country now, please?

- No.

- No?

We have to get on board

for contraband inspection.

Contraband? How do you mean?

Yes.

There are football fans

travelling here these days.

And unfortunately, many of them,

have been carrying things they

shouldn't have.

Sounds like a case of naughty boys

with naughty toys.

You're confusing us with

the wrong boys, man.

We're sound Catholic lads.

Like yourselves.

So?

Might have something on f***ing board that

you might be interested in, like. Hey.

I don't know what he's talking about.

Here we go.

What do you think of that lobo?

A gift from the gods.

Eh! I see you have a little bit

of the taste for the fine stuff.

Take the head off.

- Yes.

- Yeah.

I see you're a man

who likes the taste.

Although don't drink too much,

otherwise your head

will be f***ing coming off, too.

You like that, eh?

Some man for the f***ing sauce!

- Ah, good, good.

- Yeah, it's good all right.

If it's one thing the

Polish like, it's mass.

And drink.

Steeped in barley for two months,

that shite, man.

- Right, get lost.

- See you later, lads.

We'll see you at the

f***ing football, yeah?

I'm on the edge of a

breakdown with all this sh*t, Eddie.

That's the last border crossed.

Thank God.

I've got Salmon's phone, right?

All we need to do is just ring Roman,

discuss the drop-off point.

Then drop off the stuff, we're sound.

Have you got the contact details?

Yeah, yeah, I kept them in me

socks for safekeeping.

Good man, get them

out there, will you?

No, no, not these ones,

these are me spares.

The other ones, they were hanging

a bit so I threw them in the back.

All right, well go and get them then.

Time is of the essence, man.

Hey! Yeh!

F***ing d*ldos fell on me head, you dick.

I was trying to sleep.

- Have you seen my socks?

- What?

My socks, have you...

Have you seen my socks?

Aye, were they black, were they?

Yeah, black socks, yeah, yeah.

Aye, I f***ing burnt them

in the barbeque the last day.

You burnt me socks?

- I burnt them, set fire to them.

- Why would you burn my socks?

They shtank and I

needed kindling.

Along with a vest

and Salmon's crotchless briefs.

They weren't crotchless,

the gusset gave out.

F*** your gusset, Salmon.

Relax, I'll borrow you

a pair of socks, man.

I don't want your socks,

I want me own socks.

If I don't get them, the

whole trip is ruined.

You don't know what

was in them socks.

I should have never

came to Poland.

Look at the

sweat come out of you.

I should have never came to

Poland in the first place.

Whoo!

Let's get this f***ing

party started.

Bye-bye, Durkan. Bye-bye, d*ckheads.

Where are you now, Dragon and Stateside?

Huh? Nowheresville.

While I drive off into the f***ing

sunset with a sh*t ton of hash.

He hasn't stolen it.

He doesn't know about the hash.

- Unless somebody f***ing told him.

- Well, I didn't f***ing tell him.

Well, you told him.

You grassed me up.

- F*** you, you twat.

- Don't tell me to f*** off.

No, lads. Relax, relax, listen.

- Oh, big man.

- Oh, big man.

- Hey, off the drink. Err!

- Hey, the two of you f***ing talking.

Viper plus f***ing caravan, multiply by

hash, equals you'll never see him again.

F***ing hell.

Why do I feel guilty?

I got to stop smoking this f***ing weed.

You know, the lads are

f***ing sound and...

And you know, the hash like...

What do I do if I get caught

with the f***ing hash, Mary Jane.

Oh, them beds are very comfortable.

Where the f*** did you come out of,

you f***ing...

Ah, I was just having

a kip down the back.

What's the craic?

Thank God.

Where the hell have you been?

Where were you, you gobshite?

Ah, hey, I seen f***ing three bikini,

hey, clad women down there.

They just... They weren't there

when I got there, though.

Like some kind of sex mirage.

For the love of God,

let's just get going to Poznan.

Let's just do this.

Let's Poz it up.

This is our time, baby.

All aboard the Poznan ship.

I'm your captain, Captain Viper.

- Well, we made it anyway.

- Yep, the Windy Apple, boys.

Listen, we're here all right,

yeah, but we're not out of the woods yet.

Do you not remember any details of where

we're supposed to drop this sh*t off?

It was the name of a bar.

Frenchtoast, you were there as well.

Don't be putting this sh*t on me.

They said a f***ing pub in Poznan.

- Are you joking? A pub in Poznan?

- That's all I remember.

The f***ing place is

packed out with pubs.

Buzz, man. There was about fifty

b*obs shoved in my face that night.

If I can't remember one of them,

and believe me,

I'm trying to remember that sh*t...

It's not my fault.

How am I supposed to f***ing know the

name of a bar in the middle of Poland?

Pair of clowns, lads.

Do you know what I mean?

- Hey, lads, lads!

- What?

Just call our own f***ing mobiles.

Call Dominique.

She tells us where the drop

off point is, bam, bam, bam.

- That should work, actually, yeah.

- It will work.

Simple.

Know what, you're a

f***ing pair of geniuses.

Come here, give me

the phone, will you?

My phone?

- Please, for a second.

- What about roaming charges?

You, you tight bastard, man.

You peel an orange in your pocket!

- Give us two. Two quid.

- Just give him the phone.

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