Walk Like a Panther Page #3

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ON LAPTOP)

Oh, right.

Let's have a look at you.

Oh, come on.

Come on, bring me

the bastard son of Bieber.

(GENTLE MUSIC PLAYING)

Shh, shh.

(KISS)

Oh, I love you.

(STYROFOAM SQUEAKING)

(CAR SQUEAKING)

In close protection

we trust, my brother.

Too slow.

WOMAN (ON TV):

...big, bold and beautiful.

Available in all good

chemists near you.

MAN (ON TV):
And now, on

Yorkshire Television,

Clint Eastwood protects

the US President,

against assassin John

Malkovich, In the Line of Fire.

I'm telling you now.

Gloria Giles is going too far.

Parading that freakish

little muppet around,

claiming it was sired

by your aged loins.

I mean, what's she thinking?

When I left you

the last time,

I know how much of a shock

it must have been for you,

but, Jesus, man!

How drunk were you?

- I only...

- I don't wanna hear it!

You were broken, I get it.

You spent a few

desperate days with her,

I get that too.

What I don't get,

is how she thinks a man

in your condition,

could have impregnated her.

She's a bloody mentalist!

She's deluded!

(COUNTRY WESTERN MUSIC PLAYING)

Howdy, partner.

Do you fancy a rub?

No, Tony,

I do not fancy a rub.

You're home now, Ginger.

I promise that I'll keep

The Nelson safe for you.

For all of us.

I'm gonna miss you.

MARGARET:
Come on,

love, it's freezing.

(DOOR SLAMS)

You'll wake

the bloody neighbors.

(TREVOR SOBBING)

MARGARET:

Oh, love. Come here.

(TREVOR CRYING)

PAUL:

Big night?

You could say that.

Bet you gave him a proper send off.

He deserved that.

Stuck around long enough.

Tougher inside the ring than

out in the end though, eh?

Is there something

I can help you with, Paul?

Sorry, I...

You know, it's just...

Course you are.

There is something I need to talk

to you about. Bit sensitive.

Meet me over by the tanks in five,

after you've dropped your stuff off.

You might want to freshen

up a bit, as well.

Her ladyship's here.

Unexpected.

Couple of new additions

for the cull.

Winters?

She's here now?

Bloody hell.

Oh, you just missed her, mate.

She said she couldn't stay.

Looking bloody good,

by the way.

Hot b*tch brewery owner.

You know, I always wonder

how much of her own booze,

I'd need to ply her with

until she'd let me have a go.

Come up.

There's no way

to dress this up, Trevor.

We're going to close

The Half Nelson.

- You can't be serious?

- I'm sorry, Trevor.

Bollocks. You can't do this.

That place runs itself,

and some. Everybody...

Loves The Half Nelson. I know.

But so do Bowers.

They, and we here at Peverill, see

this as an undeniable opportunity.

An opportunity for what? Couple

of apartments? A coffee shop?

'Cause the bloody world needs

another one of them.

Most likely apartments.

Two really nice ones though.

Or maybe it'll just

be one big house.

But to be honest, I don't think

they'll make a final decision,

- until after it's all gone.

- Gone?

I mean, perhaps they'll keep

the facade for posterity,

but I can't speak for them.

Come on, Trevor.

Half the people in that village

will be dead and gone before long.

The kids can't wait to leave,

and those unlucky enough not to

will probably end up inside.

There's a whole

great big world

that continues to turn

outside your village, Trevor.

I suggest you step on to it.

- Listen, I know he's your son...

- It's not about my son.

It's about everyone. It's

always been about everyone.

You can't do this.

- I won't let you.

- Oh. Trevor.

You know more than anyone,

who I am and what I do.

So you should be well aware that I won't

let someone like you stand in my way.

Someone like me?

There's a whole community

of "someones like me"

who'll stand in your way.

I think you should toddle off

back to your little office,

and have a good think.

I don't need to think

about anything.

Oh yes, you do.

You need

to think about how

you're going to tell your son

that his pub's closing.

- (LAUGHTER, SCREAMS ON LAPTOP)

- Boring.

(CROWD GROANING,

YELLING ON LAPTOP)

Surely not.

What you doing? What you doing?

What you doing?

(CROWD CHEERING, GROANING)

TREVOR:
That's what we in the

business call a public warning.

Bam, bam, bam, and where was you, mate?

Where was your back-up?

But next time, mate, it's Full

Force Ricky Rickson, mate!

TREVOR:
Now get this

numpty out of our pub.

Ker-bloody-ching.

(CHUCKLES)

WAYNE:
Hey, they'll know not to

smash you around after this.

Oi, bell-end, no one

smashed me around, all right?

- What, so this ain't revenge?

- (AIR HISSING)

It's just a random act

of mischief?

Yeah.

RICKY:

All right, girls?

All right, tough guy.

- RICKY:
You've heard then?

- We've seen, not heard.

RICKY:

What you talking about?

GIRLS:

Full Force Ricky Rickson!

(GIRLS LAUGHING, CHOKING)

RICKY:
What does

that mean, then?

WAYNE:

No idea.

Bit weird that,

weren't it?

WAYNE:

It was rude.

RICKY:

Please hurry up, Wayne.

I'm desperate for me

morning poo-poo.

- Okay.

- I'm like clockwork.

(AIR HISSING)

(MAN SPEAKS

INDISTINCTLY ON TV)

What are you doing?

You're not welcome in here.

But this is

The Half Nelson.

I thought

everyone was welcome.

Well, you're making

me friends uncomfortable.

Can you leave, please?

I don't think you want me

to leave, Mark.

- I do.

- No. No, you don't.

Yeah, I do. We all do.

- Wha... What do you think you're doing?

- Mark.

Thanks to the TV execs,

your opportunity

was cruelly curtailed.

Yeah, I know that.

And I don't need

reminding of it.

Son of Bulldog.

Do you want

another chance?

Now, Mark...

is your time to shine.

Your long overdue debut

is imminent.

And I wanna

put you in the ring.

And I will stage the most spectacular

comeback for The Panthers.

All of them.

And in Ginger's honor.

- What do you want to drink?

- I'll have me usual.

- What's that?

- Campari and orange.

(TREVOR SIGHS)

They're gonna close

The Nelson.

- They can't.

- Believe you me, I've tried.

Peterson's got approval,

from Winters, from the board.

That greedy bloody snake.

Well, we can't allow this

to happen, Trevor.

Not to our Mark.

Not to Ginger.

And not to any of us.

Come here.

(PANTING)

The finest clothes

That you can find

Dressed in my coat

I'm feeling fine

I wanna shine

I'll shine so hard

I'll stand up high...

TERRY GRAHAM:

Is it your first day?

Is it your first day?

Yeah.

Doesn't make me better than

you if it is your first day.

It don't make you better than

me if it's not your first day.

- It is my first day.

- Mine's as well. Yes, my first day.

Right. Which one

of you is Terry?

- Terry's lad?

- Oh, no, not me.

Right.

According to your dad,

you need toughening up.

Well, he may be

an old mate,

and I might owe him

a favor or two,

but don't you be expecting me

to pull any punches.

I will not be

riding you easily.

- And you?

- Oh, yeah.

I... I booked "The Art of

Close Protection Experience"

on Groupon.

Oh!

- Are those beards real?

- Mine is, yeah.

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