The Hooligan Factory Page #3

Synopsis: Danny wants something more. Expelled from school and living in his grandfathers flat, he longs to live up to the image of his estranged father Danny Senior. Sent to prison for force feeding a judge his own wig Danny Senior was a legend and Danny is looking for a way to emulate his father's achievements and rise to be "top boy". Meanwhile in Wormwood Scrubs prison legendary football hooligan Dex is about to be released. Dex is on a quest of his own, one of vengeance against his nemesis and rival firm leader Yeti. But when Danny and Dex's paths cross they embark on a journey as old as hooliganism itself. Dex, Danny and The Hooligan Factory travel the length of the country on a mission to re-establish their firm's glory days. However, the police are closing in and we get a sense that the Hooligan Factory's best days may be behind them, but with Danny on their side, and Dex finding his old form who knows where this may lead. After all... Its a funny old game.
Genre: Comedy
Director(s): Nick Nevern
Production: Think Big Studios
 
IMDB:
4.9
Rotten Tomatoes:
33%
Year:
2014
90 min
87 Views


A magician never reveals his secrets.

And by the way, you're one step away from

a free corn on the cob

at Papa Poulet's Chicken Palace.

That's a touch.

He's got my wallet, ain't he?

'Fraid so, son.

Weasel!

The thing about Weasel is

he didn't have the best start in life.

His mum had been having a fling

with a young boy called John,

but she had to break it off

when her fella got her pregnant.

To say young John took it badly,

would be a bit of an understatement.

Baby. Baby, baby, baby, relax.

Relax, baby. Relax, baby. Baby.

I did this to prove how much I love you.

I love you, baby. I did

this for both of us.

Poor bastard never stood a chance.

He was a crackhead before he was even born.

F***ing result.

You all right, Dexy, mate?

You look a bit down.

No, I'm sweet, son. Sweet.

Look, I'm glad I got you on your own

because I want to talk to you

about my missus.

Why? What you heard?

Well, you took care of her

and that while I was inside.

Oh.

Right. Think nothing of it, bruv.

I don't want to seem ungrateful, mate,

but, as you know, I was a long time gone.

Too long, mate.

F***ing right too long.

And while I was inside I had one thing

on my mind and one thing only.

- The Baron.

- Baron.

Now he needs to get what's coming to him.

Yeah.

When I left we were the most violent,

blood-thirsty bunch of c*nts in London.

Yeah.

Now tell me, Midnight, where do we stand?

Where do we stand?

When was the last time

we had a proper tear-up?

Funny thing is, mate, recently when we show

up for a ruck, we get a reception from plod.

- Yeah?

- Yeah.

How long's that been going on?

- Don't know. A couple of years.

- F***ing filth.

Well, I'm here now.

We'll take plod by surprise.

When's the rest of the boys coming down?

Erm...

Well, this is it, mate.

What do you mean this is it?

Where's the old guard?

- Where's Bobby Iron?

- He got ironed out.

- By who?

- West Ham.

- The Irons?

- Yeah.

- What about Tommy Gun?

- Gunned down.

- By who?

- Arsenal.

What, the Gunners?

Next thing you'll be telling me, Midnight,

is Barry the Hammer got beaten to death

with his own hammer

on the steps of Upton Park!

- So you read about it then?

- No, I didn't f***ing read about it, Midnight!

At least no one went down to Fulham, hey?

Cottaging.

You know, Fulham. Cottagers.

What do you know about the Cottagers, boy?

Erm...

Nothing.

It was just a joke, mate.

As you probably know by now

I weren't one for backing down,

but I weren't stupid either.

I knew who this was.

This was Bullet,

Dex's right-hand man and a total nutter.

First of all, I ain't

your f***ing mate, boy.

And second,

the Cottagers ain't no joke.

You don't know you're born, do you?

- You ever been down there?

- What? The Cottagers?

Yeah. The big boys.

'Cause I have. I've been there.

We all have. Ain't we, boys?

Yeah!

Balls deep in sh*t.

Hands grabbing at you from all angles.

Faces screaming.

People you've never even met before

coming right in your face.

That's when you find out

who your mates are.

They're the ones who are right behind you.

Packed in. Tight.

That's what separates

us real men from little poofs like you.

So come on then, Dex, who's the dry lunch?

Drop him out, Bullet. He's just a kid.

Welcome home, son.

- Who the f*** are you?

- This is Bill.

Allo, allo, allo.

Pleasure to meet you at last, Dex.

- What's the problem, Dex?

- What's the problem, Dex?

- You're amongst friends now, mate.

- Am I?

'Course you are. This geezer's Old Bill.

He's been inside too long.

He's getting paranoid.

Dex, he's sweet, mate. Old Bill's been

following us about for a while now.

- How long?

- Couple of years.

Sorry. Yeah. Can't be too careful.

You understand.

Roger that. So, what were we talking about?

Rucks, was it?

I've seen nothing like it before.

It was f***ing huge, mate.

Oh, f***, come on, Trumpet,

we're gonna be late for work.

- What do you do?

- Florists.

- What, all of you?

- Yeah.

Obviously. Except for Bill of course.

Why? What do you do, Bill?

Why are you so interested in

what we all do? You undercover?

What?

'Cause if you are, you have to tell us.

It's the law.

I don't think it is, Weasel, mate.

So you know all about it then, do you?

- Cozzer.

- Actually, he's quite right.

Section 4, Paragraph 2 of

the Metropolitan Police Code of Conduct

states that an officer only has to

identify himself at the point of arrest.

Apparently.

I don't know how he does it.

He's a fountain of knowledge, this geezer.

Where do you get it all from?

He's bailed you out there, son.

That's one you owe him.

That's enough.

No one's going to work today.

Go home, sort yourselves out,

and meet back at my house.

Lively.

- Dex, mate, I don't...

- You don't what?

Nothing.

That's right, nothing.

My house, couple of hours.

- Savvy?

- Sweet.

- I feel rough.

- Get cleaned up back at mine.

- Thanks, Dex.

- And don't worry about Bullet.

He just don't like outsiders, that's all.

- Well, he seems to like Bill enough.

- Yeah.

Something not quite right about that one.

Yeah, I thought that and all.

I mean, you don't think he's...

I don't miss a trick, boy.

The geezer's undercover.

Undercover journo.

- Sharon!

- Who's that?

It's your husband.

Now don't you start crying, princess.

Dexy. Why didn't you call?

I must look terrible.

No.

You look beautiful.

I've missed you so much.

We've f***ing missed you and all.

- Where is it?

- He's there.

Playing with his toys,

waiting to meet his daddy.

Well, go on then, come and say hello.

Go on, mate, it's all right.

Right.

My boy.

Apple didn't fall far from

the tree, did it, Dan?

Ah! It's like two peas in a pod, mate.

I know.

I used to sit and play with my

toys as well. All the time.

- Grab it for me, babe, I want to hold it.

- All right, babes.

You are his daddy.

His undisputed biological daddy.

Dex, you might as well

be looking in a mirror, mate.

Yeah, I know.

Two peas in a f***ing pod.

Dan, mate. You don't mind

holding my kid for me, do you?

Oh, no, of course not, mate.

I'm just gonna go get some things

for later, you know what I mean?

Come on, babe.

- Hey, what's his name?

- It's f***ing Curtis.

'Course it is.

Don't worry, babes.

Your room's just how you left it.

Baron.

Baron! Baron! Baron! Baron!

- Baron! Baron! Baron!

- Babe. Babe.

- Baron!

- Babe!

- Baron!

- Dexter!

What? What? What?

It's Sharon.

Right. Sorry, babe.

Sharon. Sharon.

Sharon.

Sharon.

That's my son.

That picture was taken of us

before I got sent down.

Oh, where is he, your son?

It was the mid '80s.

And we were in our prime.

No firm in London could touch us.

It was the last game of the season.

And we had one more firm to turn over.

Dexter!

- I'm calling you out.

- Well, here I am.

And we didn't think you'd show.

We've battered every firm in the country.

Why wouldn't we show up to school

a second-rate outfit like yours,

you two-bob shithead?

Well, you're in bandit country now!

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes

Michael Lindley

All Michael Lindley scripts | Michael Lindley Scripts

0 fans

Submitted on August 05, 2018

Discuss this script with the community:

0 Comments

    Translation

    Translate and read this script in other languages:

    Select another language:

    • - Select -
    • 简体中文 (Chinese - Simplified)
    • 繁體中文 (Chinese - Traditional)
    • Español (Spanish)
    • Esperanto (Esperanto)
    • 日本語 (Japanese)
    • Português (Portuguese)
    • Deutsch (German)
    • العربية (Arabic)
    • Français (French)
    • Русский (Russian)
    • ಕನ್ನಡ (Kannada)
    • 한국어 (Korean)
    • עברית (Hebrew)
    • Gaeilge (Irish)
    • Українська (Ukrainian)
    • اردو (Urdu)
    • Magyar (Hungarian)
    • मानक हिन्दी (Hindi)
    • Indonesia (Indonesian)
    • Italiano (Italian)
    • தமிழ் (Tamil)
    • Türkçe (Turkish)
    • తెలుగు (Telugu)
    • ภาษาไทย (Thai)
    • Tiếng Việt (Vietnamese)
    • Čeština (Czech)
    • Polski (Polish)
    • Bahasa Indonesia (Indonesian)
    • Românește (Romanian)
    • Nederlands (Dutch)
    • Ελληνικά (Greek)
    • Latinum (Latin)
    • Svenska (Swedish)
    • Dansk (Danish)
    • Suomi (Finnish)
    • فارسی (Persian)
    • ייִדיש (Yiddish)
    • հայերեն (Armenian)
    • Norsk (Norwegian)
    • English (English)

    Citation

    Use the citation below to add this screenplay to your bibliography:

    Style:MLAChicagoAPA

    "The Hooligan Factory" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 21 Nov. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/the_hooligan_factory_20452>.

    We need you!

    Help us build the largest writers community and scripts collection on the web!

    Watch the movie trailer

    The Hooligan Factory

    The Studio:

    ScreenWriting Tool

    Write your screenplay and focus on the story with many helpful features.


    Quiz

    Are you a screenwriting master?

    »
    In screenwriting, what does the term "spec script" mean?
    A A script that includes special effects
    B A script written specifically for television
    C A script based on a specific genre
    D A script written on speculation without a contract