Twin Town Page #2

the crowd knows

they're on f***ing telly.

Innit?

'Cause the square flags is like a telly.

Then the crowd can tell if

the f***ing game's on telly.

You don't f***ing know do you!

You haven't got a f***ing clue!

- Go on then!

- It's because...

if you've won the FA cup...

that means you can have triangular

flags on your f***ing pitch...

because you've won the f***ing cup.

And that is f***ing right.

That's why Cardiff has got triangles

and Swansea has got f***ing squares.

So if Swansea wins the cup...

we gets triangular flags.

- F*** off!

- It's in the book.

Come on.

Ten f***ing seconds!

Nice bit of sheep dip,

by the way.

Here, you got a Versace

down here, Taff.

- No.

- Kwik-Fit.

Right. Better catch a Choo-choo

back to civilization.

Be lucky. And if you

can't be lucky, top yourself.

And if all else fails...

try Wales.

F*** me!

Two World Wars

and one World Cup they won.

You'd never f***ing believe it.

- Prick.

- Give us a look.

- Come on man.

- Wait.

- Come on.

- F***ing murder you are, Terry.

Steady on, Terry.

- That is a cheeky bit of Charlie.

- Hang on. There's more than two.

There's loads of them!

There's half a f***ing ton of it!

Don't shush me!

- There's eight packets of stuff!

- I know.

How much cash did you just give

to that f***ing idiot?

- 40 grand.

- 40 f***ing grand!

Shut the f*** up.

"Chances are

we won't be gettingsnow."

"But even if the sun shines

from now till Christmas day."

"As far as I can say..."

"I know it's gonna be a cold,

cold Christmas..."

"without you."

Come here boy!

F*** off!

F*** off you prick!

Jones in the middle.

Catch the ball!

Yeah. Poetry

in bloody motion, that is.

Who needs to go to the ballet

when you got that at your doorstep.

Any one of these boys could

play for Wales one day.

What?

Darts?

Listen, if my heart was as big

a f***ing rugby ball...

I wouldn't be sinking pennies

into this slag heap.

But I can't help it, Dewi.

I built this club from nothing.

And I f***ing loves it!

I knows it, Bryn.

I know you do man.

Williams, you're a wanker!

Say after me:
"I'm a wanker!"

I'm a wanker!

Greyo it's alright.

It's f***ing sorted

Sorted with who?

I don't want to shift a whole

F***ing kilo of this stuff.

This isn't f***ing Miami, Terry.

It's Swansea.

We're in the third f***ing division.

What the f*** are we supposed

to do with all that you jock twat?

I got someone else shifting

bigger batches, that's all.

- Keep your f***ing hair on.

- Don't want to shift bigger batches.

I'm happy with little batches.

What's wrong with the scam we got?

I want to move on a bit,

that's all.

I don't want to do a little gram

here, a little gram there.

Shifting a few microwaves and

a bent old bollocks till I'm 45.

I'm just moving to

a bigger operation, that's all.

Who the f*** gave you

40 grand Terry?

I got someone with proper money.

Be careful, Terry.

You can come in with me if you want.

I just didn't think you'd want

in to shifting larger lumps.

- I don't want to know.

- Ex-f***ing-actly.

You're getting out of your depth.

Al Pa-f***ing-cino!

You're pushing it Terry.

Bollocks.

Fatty, We down for a new

guttering on this or what?

Never mind about

the f***ing guttering.

Get the kettle on, Chip.

And get some hobnobs

- Where do you think you're going?

- When?

- What do you mean 'when'? Now!

- What?

- You pillock, where are you going?

- When?

- Now, you f***ing moron!

- Fatty said get Hobnobs, Bryn.

F*** Fatty. Get back on the ladder.

Get on the f***ing job man!

And don't Bryn me.

It's Mr. Cartwright, alright?

Mr. Cartwright, right.

Hey Bryn?

- Are we down for the whole macogny?

- What's the schlamonga like?

Not looking to clever.

They could be tacked up.

Well f***ing tack it up then.

Oy Bryn.

You put this old schlamonga up here...

I'm not putting my name

to this job. Right?

- I can't be seen...

- Oy Fatty...

your name's got bog all to do

with this job, right?

Just keep those boards up...

take the 30 nicker I'm bunging you

and try to remember...

you're working for Cartwright

roofing not the Salvation Army.

Now get on with it!

And you two plonkers can

look lively and all!

Couple of f***ing slugs,

the pair of you!

- F***ing Cowboy!

- F***ing starving me.

Shut up and pass me

a piece of two and a half.

- That's dodgy as f***, Fatty.

- I know it is. Come and hold it.

- I'm busy man.

- Where's that two and a half?

No, you got to

get it over here man.

- I can't come closer, can I?

- Of course you f***ing can.

- I can't man.

- What's happening?

Help!

I'm going!

Hang on.

You f***ing twat!

- Bollocks!

- For f***'s sake.

Come on!

What the f*** are you looking at!

You little c*nt, move on.

F*** off you wanker!

Right then.

- F*** off!

- You f*** off!

- Leave him alone.

- F*** about with me, you prick?

- Hey leave him alone!

- Get the f***.

Detective Terry Walsh.

Swansea West.

Get this f***ing lot off the road

before I book you for obstruction.

Now!

Move it!

That prick is lucky I'm not getting

him for assault on an officer.

- You f***ing bully!

- F***ing move it you Welsh bastards!

Get back in the f***ing car!

For God's sake.

- You're a twat, Terry.

- He hit me.

That was f***ing childish!

And f***ing stupid.

He couldn't be more than ten.

- He was about 14.

- Jesus Christ.

- Chopsey little shite.

- He was a f***ing kid.

- Alright, alright. Don't go on.

- Twat.

Remember you're a f***ing cop

now and again, Terry.

- What are we doing?

- F***ing Lewis twins.

Hurry up, we got to go up the club.

"In the summer time,

when the weather is hot..."

"you can reach right up

and touch the sky."

"When the weather's nice

you got women on your mind."

"Have a drink, have a drive.

Go out and see what you can find."

"If her daddy's rich,

take her out for a meal."

"If her daddy's poor,

just do what you feel."

Oy Dai!

Fatty forgot his f***ing hotdogs.

- What the f*** is that?

- It's a f***ing Cobra!

He's down at the hospital.

Aye, he come off the ladder.

They took him to the hospital

in the ambulance. A lark man!

- F***ing leg, looks like.

- What the f*** are you doing?

Get this car off my

f***ing club now.

Or you'll be joining

your father in the hospital.

Look at the f***ing pitch.

- In the hospital?

- Aye.

With his leg!

Pass us that f***ing piratha,

will you?

Do they have little hospitals

in aircraft carriers, Dad?

- Sick bay, they have.

- Whereabouts?

Right there, just below the galleys,

in front of midships.

What happens if you

pop your clogs on a ship?

They helicopters you out if you're

dead, or they freezes you like ice?

Well it depends where you are.

Sometimes you're buried at sea.

No choice if you're at war.

Carrier or a sub. No time.

Push. Over the side.

A quick f***ing prayer

by the chaplain, a singsong...

and you're in with the jelly fish.

- Good night, f***ing Irene.

- In a coffin?

If you're lucky.

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