Tony

Synopsis: A thriller centered on a serial killer in a rundown London suburb.
Director(s): Gerard Johnson
Production: Revolver Entertainment
  1 win.
 
IMDB:
6.2
Rotten Tomatoes:
75%
UNRATED
Year:
2009
76 min
Website
48 Views


Hello. How are you, all right?

I haven't got a DVD player.

I've only got a video recorder, I'm afraid.

You should sell videos.

If you had any action films on video,

I'd buy them from you.

What do you think...

What do you think's better, karate or kung fu?

I'll see you, then.

Might see you tomorrow.

You know who you remind me of sitting there?

Your mum.

I wondered when she was gonna come into it.

Just a sec. Sorry.

You live in a f***ing dream world.

Here we go.

Don't you listen to anything I'm saying?

- I am f***ing listening.

- You watch my lips moving

- but don't take in what I'm saying.

- Don't f***ing talk patronising to me!

If you was a f***ing geezer,

I'd stick that right in your face.

That's all you can resort to, that's all you know.

You sound like your f***ing mum.

I knew it wouldn't be long

before she was dragged into it.

She's rumped everyone down the f***ing road.

This is about me and you, not my mother.

Its not just about me and you,

its about me, you and Little Davey,

and you wanna get this in your f***ing nut.

If I walk out, little Davey's coming with me.

- Oh, no, he's all right where he is.

- I don't f***ing think so.

Do you know that c*nt over there,

keeps staring?

- Who?

- Him, that noncey-faced c*nt there.

No, I don't know who he is.

Can you please concentrate on me?

This is my argument, Paul. You never

take in what I want or what I'm saying.

What is this bollocks about you need space?

I know what that means.

- I ain't f***ing stupid, you know.

- It means I want space.

- Time to sort myself out.

- I think it means you've got a geezer.

- Oh, here we go.

- I ain't f***ing stupid.

Tell me. You've got someone, ain't you?

- You're not listening to me.

- I f***ing am.

No, you're not listening to me!

- Here he goes again.

- What?

Do you f***ing know my old woman?

Do you f***ing know my old woman, c*nt?

- Leave him alone.

- What's all the f***ing staring about?

- Sorry.

- You noncey-faced c*nt!

Yeah, sorry? I'll f***ing sorry!

- Eh? Do you f***ing know her?

- Oi, oi, oi!

- Paul!

- F*** off!

Get your hands off me!

- Get that c*nt out of here.

- I will.

- Before I lose my temper.

- Calm down, I'll get him out.

- Calm down.

- Is that him?

Get out.

If I see you again, c*nt,

I'll break your f***ing neck.

/Oh, God!

Oi, Davey, you're coming in

in 20 minutes for your dinner.

What we having?

- Nuggets.

- Do we have to?

Yes, we do have to and don't be so cheeky!

Yes, we do have to and don't be so cheeky!

Do you hear me, Davey?

- Yes, OK.

- Good, now don't be long.

- Do you like football?

- Yeah.

- What team do you support?

- West Ham.

- West Ham?

- Yeah.

I like West Ham.

Hello, yeah, I'm looking at

your card in the telephone box.

Do you have the girl in the card?

No?

What girls do you have on this evening?

What are her sizes?

Has she had, like... are they real?

What's that?

She's a transsexual?

What does bubble bath consist of?

And waterworks, what... what happens?

We need to use the phone.

Sorry, mate.

You ain't got any f***ing change on you?

Our car's broken down up the road

and we ain't got no money for petrol.

Oh, blinding, mate. Thank you very much.

You gonna call the AA?

There's 40p on that. Can I have that, mate?

Yeah.

Sweet, lovely. You're a blinder.

You trying to buy drugs?

- What?

- You trying to buy drugs?

If you're buying drugs, I'd like some.

I do a bit of smack.

He wants to buy some. He wants to buy some.

What you got on ya?

Come on, cos we got a cockle on us.

- There's ten here.

- Want a bit of gear?

- Yeah, I'll have a bit of gear.

- Blinding.

We're live now, man, we're f***ing live.

Bloody live, mate. We're live.

Peck? What's happening, mate? It's Mackey.

Mate, you got anything? Yeah?

We'll have a little whirl, a deal from ya, yeah?

All right, I'll be about half hour.

What's happening? What's going on?

Tony. Yeah, I gave you some money.

Can I come, yeah?

- We're going, but where you from?

- Dalston.

Oh, f***ing hell, mate, it's meant to be, ain't it?

It's meant to be, mate.

Come round mine and I'll buy some beer.

Blinding! We fell on our feet.

What's your name, mate?

- Tony.

- I'm Mackey, mate, this is Smudge.

Hello. Tony.

Come on, what the f***ing hell are we doing?

He'll do a deal with us. I might be able to get

three for a score. I know the geezer, yeah?

- OK.

- I know the geezer.

All right, Tone?

F***ing hell, mate, are you all right?

Come on. He's f***ing gone over.

- Come on!

- Are you all right, mate?

Let's hurry up, then.

F***ing hell.

That's it, bang him up.

Bang the door. That's it.

- Check. It might be open,

- It is, it is.

That's it. Sweet, we're in, Tone.

Come on, son.

- Shall I wait here?

- No, come on. Come in, mate.

Hurry up.

I've got a bad leg, been on it all day.

What can I do?

What's happening, boys? What's happening?

- What do you want?

- Shut up you, you c*nt. Where's Pecker?

- He ain't f***ing here.

- Does it look like he's here?

What's happening?

Ain't we invited to your party?

Come on, share the love.

Share the f***ing love, man!

- Where is he, in there?

- I don't know.

F*** off.

He ain't here, is he? F*** off.

Come on, Mack.

We'll get some f***ing gear, won't we, Tone?

Come on, Tone. F*** them, Tone.

Bunch of c*nts.

Who's that flash c*nt in there?

All right?

- How you doing? You all right, mate?

- Sweet. Who's that?

Peck, this is Tony. Tony, Pecker.

- Hello.

- All right, mate?

Wanna do that thing for us?

Three for a score, is that all right?

Listen, I'll do it this time but next time it's a pony.

Sweet.

- That last gear was sh*t.

- You keep coming back for it, don't ya?

Listen, we only come to you,

we don't go nowhere else.

Good boy, well done.

Lovely, brother. Sweet. Come on, Tone.

What's that ugly f***ing monging git looking at?

Oh, f*** him, anyway.

- Come here, mate.

- No, no, he's all right. Whoa!

- He's all right, he's with me.

- Want to see her?

Like to see her? She's been bled, mate,

she's been f***ing bled.

Listen here.

What's wrong with those bleeders

who call themselves leaders,

Those sick, weak, perverted men and women,

And surely you and I shall always spot them,

I'll tell you why

For they are clothed with the spoils of war,

they're warmongers, paedophiles...

Hello?

Now f*** off,

you f***ing abandoned f***ing reprobates.

It's a poem. It's a poem, Tone.

Don't worry, mate, he's having a giggle with ya.

See ya later, Peck. Nice one, brother.

Make yourself at home.

It's the far room on the right.

F***ing hell, what's that smell, Tone?

You wanna open a couple of windows

or something.

F***ing hell. What a shithole this is, eh?

It's all right.

It's like an old people's gaff, like old dcor.

- Know what I mean?

- I'm not old.

I need some tin foil.

Give us that.

- Foil?

- Yeah, tin foil.

So, anyway, the Old Bill's

knocked on the door, yeah?

So Frankie's gone bosh, three storeys up,

landed on his legs,

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Gerard Johnson

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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