Walk Like a Panther Page #5

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what's wrong with you?

No, their trepidation's completely

understandable, as is your dad's.

And, of course, your boundless

and infectious enthusiasm, Mark.

Speaking of which, I've got

something to show you.

Come on then. Here you are.

In you come. Come on.

Whoa. No, no, no,

wait a minute.

See, I told you this'd happen.

I can't be arsed.

- No, we can't have this.

- Go on, show them.

- You lot are viral.

- Not me, mate, I'm clean as a whistle.

No, you knob. It means, like,

massively popular on the Internet.

People are talking about you

all over the place.

POPSY:
Once, they called

you the Panthers.

A band of brawling brothers and

stalking sisters, championed by all.

Well, now, before you've even

set foot back in the ring,

they're championing you again.

Now I know you all think that I screwed

you over, but trust me when I tell you,

I had no control over the

fate of wrestling on TV.

You, out!

God, ignore him, Wayne.

- WAYNE:
I've got to go.

- No, you don't.

Look, no beef with you lot.

I've come for the twat.

- Come on.

- It's all right. We've got stuff to do.

(DAWN GROWLS)

- MARK:
There's your tea, then.

- Do this for Ginger.

Show him what

he meant to you.

Show the world what wrestling

meant to you.

Remind the world...

what wrestling meant to it.

Mark Bolton...

Son of Bulldog...

(POPSY GROWLS)

- What say you?

- We say yes!

(GASPS)

Then I shall tell the world

that the Ginger Storm

is brewing!

It's time to walk tall.

Stand proud.

Walk like the panthers

that you are!

- Yeah!

- Come on!

- (GIGGLING)

- Yeah. All right.

- I suppose so.

- (SIGHS)

(RHYTHMIC CLANGING)

- Hello, Mark.

- MARK:
All right, Paul.

- How are you, mate?

- I'm grand.

Better with a pint

of best in me hand.

Ta.

I always say you pull one of our

finest pints here in The Nelson.

You're doing Ginger proud.

MARK:

Thanks.

(SOFT ROCK MUSIC PLAYING)

Delicious.

(CHUCKLES)

(WHISPERS) Twat.

- Shame, really.

- What is?

That this is to be

my final pint in here.

Why, you moving on?

PAUL:

Trevor.

Dad.

Son.

I do hope I haven't

put my foot in it.

Put his foot in what?

Dad, what's

he talking about?

Oh, dear.

You do have a habit

of keeping things

from your son,

don't you, Trevor?

Dad?

PAUL:

I best leave you two...

to...

Night-night.

What is it you're keeping

from me, Dad?

How could you

do this? Hey?

- Look, Mark, please, I'm...

- Why didn't you tell me?

- I tried.

- You know what? I don't wanna know.

I don't wanna know.

Nobody is taking our pub!

And you... you're barred!

You're barred, Dad!

Do you hear me? You're barred!

RICKY:
And if you do a little flick

on a "R," like on a capital letter...

- WAYNE:
Yeah, too good.

- like a proper graffiti artist, you know what I mean?

WAYNE:
What does "R"

stand for, Ricky?

(PAINT CANS HISSING)

TREVOR:

Hey!

Get out of it!

RICKY:
This is art, mate.

Proper art.

Never seen art,

you little muppet.

WAYNE:

You wouldn't know art if...

You don't know

art at all.

- None of it.

- TREVOR:
What?

RICKY:
Hey, Trev, this

one's for you, mate.

"F***ed... up."

- TREVOR:
Get out of it, Rickson!

- RICKY:
Wa-hey, Mouldilocks.

(SHOUTING)

TREVOR:
Get out! I'll

kick your arse, Rickson!

RICKY:

Fanny.

(KICKING DOOR)

(ELECTRICITY BUZZES)

(HEAVY CLANG)

Look at that, Ginger.

See what they've done

to the place.

(BELL RINGING)

(CROWD CHEERING)

Why can't they leave it

where it lies?

GINGER:
Because it

doesn't belong there.

That so?

GINGER:

You know it doesn't.

If you live in the past,

you die every day.

GINGER:
What a load of bollocks.

You think those nutbags have got

a chance of proving me wrong?

That's exactly

what they've got.

They're gonna need you.

Your son is gonna

need you.

More now

than he ever did.

- If I was still around...

- But you're not still around!

It's just me.

I'm the one

they've turned to.

TREVOR:

Me!

So what's your problem?

I'm bleedin' terrified.

I'm scared for us all.

I'm scared for the pub.

Scared that Mark

will get hurt.

That was always my fear.

And you bloody knew that!

GINGER:
You're a fool if you don't

think they're as scared as you are.

But they are gonna grab it by the

scrote and try and save our pub.

They'll do it without you

if they have to, you know.

But they want you,

standing with them.

And I want you

standing with me.

You were

the people's champion.

You're Mark's champion.

You're my champion.

The Panthers can't be

the Panthers without you.

You're wrong, Trevor.

It's the only thing

they know how to be.

Panthers.

And I'm standing here,

right beside you, my friend.

So you pick yourself up,

you dust yourself off,

and you lead them.

And you take Mark

with you.

Bulldog Bolton, standing

side by side with his son.

And you let him know that you

were always watching.

That you always saw him.

That you always loved him.

(DOOR OPENS)

What you doing?

I'm...

I'm just...

How did my hero

turn into you? Eh?

Mark! Son!

It wasn't Popsy.

What wasn't Popsy?

He didn't stop you wrestling

all those years ago.

So who did?

It was me.

I told him not

to put you in the ring.

You weren't ready.

I didn't wanna

see you get hurt.

Well, I am.

And far worse than anyone could

have hurt me in the ring.

(SCOFFS)

DANNY:

No Mark yet?

Thought he'd have been

first one here.

- POPSY:
Don't worry, he'll be here.

- (WHISTLE BLOWS)

Right, we're gonna begin your

physical fitness assessment.

Right, Wilson,

line them up!

Line them...

They are lined up.

Surrender yourselves, please,

to Mr. Ziggy Barrow.

Ziggy?

What's Ziggy short for?

What are you short for,

you territorial dancer?

I am not your friend.

Do not try

and be my friend.

I don't like you,

and I don't even know you.

I am not your priest, your

confessor, or your confidante.

Huh?

You look like David Soul

if he'd been a crack addict.

Like a beige lonely sparrow.

You, what are you wearing?

A child's painting?

You, you've still got an imaginary

friend, don't you, huh?

And even he doesn't like you. Cause

look, he gave you that haircut.

You, I don't know what you've

come as, but you are fabulous.

I just love everything about you.

Just a toned thing of beauty.

- A well-oiled machine.

- (DAWN SHIVERS)

You, you giant-sized mutant.

Conceived

in Sellafield, huh?

Only need you if I want

somebody to punch a horse.

And you.

You spell your name

backwards in your head,

so you pretend

you're deep.

Your dog nibble your ears

every night, huh?

And you...

Kendo Nagasaka-shitty.

You look like

a pumped fart.

I was just a wee bit sick

in my mouth there.

That only ever happens

when I look

at fat athletes.

DANNY:

What's he on about?

Whoo! Whoo!

Tony, hi. We're here.

- Oh, for God's sake.

- What can I do?

You, pretty lady features!

GLORIA:

Hey, Haggis!

Don't you talk to my angel like that.

I am watching you.

(MOANS)

Her, I like.

MARK:

Popsy Wilson!

Wilson!

- I know it was you.

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