Written whilst mostly drunk on cheap wine back circa 1997 and updated around 2002, this is the desperately comedic story of two brothers from Manchester briefly fleeing their lives of unemployment misery and petty crime with a trip to North Wales to seek out their only known relative.
There’s crime, sex, violence and language that even shocks me now. Some of it may seem unnecessary and even wildy un-PC, but they’re basic character sketches of certain types of people who did (and still do) exist, so no punches were pulled…
GREENER VALLEYS ©Stuart Pritchard 1997
Music comes courtesy of The Animals
‘We Gotta Get Out Of This Place’
Manchester: Midday. The city centre traffic is in full
flow down Oxford Road. At the lights on the corner of Whitworth Street, outside
the Palace Theatre, an old woman has stalled her car and sits with her eyes
closed and her hands covering her ears as two black-cab drivers politely
instruct her to “move her fucking car out the way”.
Leaving the scene as a police car arrives, we carry on
down Oxford Road, the Cornerhouse cinema on the right-hand side, down past a
group of drunks stumbling out of the Central Station boozer and down further,
past various pizza and kebab shops until we reach an old cinema building
converted into a pub. The Frog And Nightgown.
Inside is the usual assorted rabble of students skipping
lectures, lecturers skipping lectures, and the hardcore unemployable who always
seem to have more money to spend in pubs than anyone else.
It is to these that our attention turns as the music lunges
for the chorus. More precisely, to two brothers sat in a miserable corner of
the establishment. One, CHRIS, reads the paper, while the other, HENRY, sits
with his head on the table staring at his pint, under his head is a newspaper.
CHRIS’s clothing is dishevelled but suggests that when
new, his shirt, suit jacket, and trousers would have made him look very smart.
But he’s obviously, over time, let himself go. His hair is thick and curly and
has clearly outgrown any style he may have once had. He also looks very tired
HENRY looks plain enough. His head has been shaved but
features a couple of week’s growth. He wears dirty jeans and an old brown
leather jacket over a faded T-shirt. He also has a black eye and bruised
The doorway can be seen over HENRY’s head as two
bouncers stop a man trying to leave with a pint pot, the man begins to make a
scene and receives a blow to the stomach for his troubles. HENRY’s head raises
slightly, half-interested in the scene, as the music enters the chorus, and the
man gets forcibly removed, smashing his glass as he goes.
HENRY’s head slowly returns to the table and the music
shifts from the disembodied to that of the pub jukebox.
Do you know, if
you stare at your pint long enough, I think you’ll eventually achieve a
complete and utter understanding of all things everywhere and their relative
positions in comparison with every other single thing on this planet.
(Still reading the paper)
Jesus, I’m just reading what it says here.
HENRY gestures to
the paper beneath his head.
out of a student paper and what do you get? ‘Tosser’. You want to try thinking
a bit more, then you’ll get…
What like you
did? Oh yeah, that Poly course did you the power of fucking good, didn’t it?
What was it again? Graphical Arse?
Graphical Art, as
well you know… Not my fault there’s no fucking jobs out there, is it?
angrily at the thought of this, knocking his pint flying and drawing murmured
comments of “Dickhead!” from the other patrons.
Now look what you
made me do, you wanker. That’s was it as well, that’s all our money gone, and
it’s only half one… Bastard!
Calm down, you’re
gonna get our heads kicked in. Look, we’ll swing by the Paki shop on the way
home and nick some Mad Dog.
HENRY gets to his
feet and eyes the floored pint pot with hatred and growing anger.
The cry is
followed by a kick and the glass shoots off and distributes itself against the
wall. The two huge-fuck bouncers make their violent way over
Gardens is in full swing, with its usual complement of nutters, tramps and
homosexuals, talking to themselves, swigging from cans of cheap lager, and
HENRY sits on the
ground with his back to a bench while CHRIS cleans the blood of his brother’s
face with his shirt cuffs.
You’ve got to
stop this, H. One day one of those big bastards is going to kill you.
But Henry isn’t listening.
Fuckers. If I
hadn’t been half-cut I could have taken the bastards… Argh! Careful you clumsy
(Still mopping up his brother’s blood)
Course you could.
I was particularly impressed by the way you kicked that shorter one in the
bollocks, and he still smashed your face in.
Hold still while
I fix your nose.
CHRIS settles in
front of HENRY, who clearly isn’t listening to a word and has merely become
bastard, with his big hands… all steroids, you know… I bet he’s got no fucking
bollocks left to kick… Do what with my nose? Jesus!
grotesquely loud click as CHRIS forces HENRY’s nose straight. HENRY lashes out
but CHRIS is prepared and ducks the blow. HENRY is not as quick and throws
himself off-balance, ending up sprawled on the floor in the middle of the path.
gentlemen make their way past, arm in arm. They view HENRY with distaste.
CHRIS looks at
them, then down at the wreckage of his brother. Chris backs away from Henry slightly and joins the two gents in
Only when the two
gentlemen have moved on does CHRIS attempt to help HENRY.
We better get you
CHRIS attempts to
guide HENRY by the shoulder, but HENRY pulls away angrily, cradling his nose in
his hands and shaking his finger menacingly at CHRIS.
You stay away
from me, you relentless cunt!
over-crowded to look authentic. The sound of a radio droning away somewhere in
the consumer jungle informs us that it’s 3:00pm.
attempting to buy cigarettes from an unwilling storekeeper. He’s a comfortable, if highly suspicious man in his
late 40s, and he clearly doesn’t enjoy Chris and Henry’s presence.
obviously trying to distract him, but the storekeeper is far more concerned with HENRY who stands, half
concealed, covered in blood, and grinning maniacally at a shelf displaying a
wide range of fortified wines whilst flicking his eyes from display to
Look, I’ve told
you two many times before, you are not welcome in my shop!
Look, I only want
a packet of fags, mate. Sells me my smokes and we’ll be on our way.
All right, ten
B&H, that’s £1.84.
counts out a lot of copper and eventually hands it all to the Storekeeper.
There you go,
The storekeeper spends just as long as Chris counting
the copper then, satisfied he hands over the cigarettes.
Thank you, Sir.
Now kindly… Fuck off!
Chris steps back
from the counter and pulls an offended face.
You done, H?
Yeah, coming… I
was just wondering about this range of wines here.
(Growing tiresome in his concern)
Which wines would
that be then? I can most heartily recommend the Blue Nun, the strawberry 20-20,
or just fucking off now!
CHRIS coughs and
the storekeeper is momentarily distracted from HENRY.
HENRY takes the opportunity to swipe a couple of bottles off the display and
stash them under his jacket.
peters out and the STOREKEEPER shoots an accusing look at HENRY.
give it a miss, if it’s all the same to you.
The storekeeper watches them, quietly satisfied, as
they both file silently towards the door. Unfortunately, however, the
unmistakable sound of bottle knocking against bottle fills the silence as
HENRY drunkenly attempts to shift the weight under his jacket.
Oy, you! Stop,
come here! I’ll call the fucking police! I’ll fuck you up!
The Storekeeper dashes from behind his counter, his
chins wobbling as he bounces after them shouting out Indian expletives.
The two flee the
shop, laughing as they run. One of the bottles falls from under HENRY’s coat
and smashes on the ground.
HENRY stops and stares at it as though it were a fallen
But this just
serves to cause more laughter, and the two continue running down the street,
further and further away, until, just before fading from sight, they round a
corner. Which is where we rejoin them.
A typical North-Manchester run of
terraced houses. Nothing remarkable about any of them other than their
similarity to each other
Both HENRY and
CHRIS sit collapsed with their backs against the wall, panting and laughing.
HENRY sits nearest
to the street corner, laughing maniacally and looking the other way, while
CHRIS calms and turns to look at his brother.
I’d felt for some
time that we needed to get away from Manchester. A holiday of sorts. With every
monotonous day that came Henry seemed to lose more and more interest in
everything other than fighting and petty crime. Worse still since Brazil
knocked us out of the World Cup.
It seemed to me
that, as the head of this family, it was down to me to break us out of the God-awful
reality we were stuck in.
Some people might
have thought jobs would be the answer, some meaningful employment. Fine, but
not in this town, even if there were any jobs who’d hire us? Besides, work is
the curse of the drinking classes – Who was it who said that? Some kind of
witty drunk I imagine, like Oliver Reed.
But a change was
definitely needed before Henry got dragged even further down into this wretched
spiral of theft and violence… and dragged me with him.
Yes, I knew
exactly what we needed, the only parts I hadn’t worked out were where we could
possibly go, where we would possibly be welcome, and what the fuck we’d do when
we got there… apart from ruin it for everyone else.
That was when I
CHRIS’s eyes are
drawn higher, over HENRY’s head and to an advertising billboard across the
road. There rests an enormous poster featuring Tom Jones’s head poking out of a
beach and the legend ‘It’s Not Unusual – there’s more to Wales than you think!’
As he reads the
words, CHRIS’s eyes widen in revelation and a broad smile crosses his lips and
he mouths the word…
All through this
lovely little scene-setter, HENRY remains laughing, oblivious of CHRIS’s
The room rears up
out of the gloom over the back of a beaten old sofa. The daylight that can
actually break through the cracks in the stained curtain does nothing to
enliven the scene, rather it merely serves to highlight some particularly nasty
points of this slum dwelling – crushed lager cans, broken bottles, fag ends,
the remains of ancient takeaways – all human crap is here in bulk.
In the corner
under the window a TV crackles away as CHRIS’s head appears above the sofa
back, blocking our view.
Didn’t Mum have a
cousin in Wales somewhere?
people have cousins in Wales. What of it?
Well, I was
thinking we should get away. You know, go and visit the family, have a break
randomly around the room in disgust.
Mum’s cousin. We’ll stay with her. It’ll be nice.
She hasn’t been
round here since the funeral. And she didn’t even speak to us then. What makes
you think she’d want anything to do with us now?
Well, you never
know… she might have changed.
Well, we could
still travel down and see… we have to get out of this town, H. Mum and Dad did
not intend for us to live like in this… what’s the word?
Yes, squalor. We
can’t carry on like this… something’s got to give.
It’s all very
well saying that, but how are we going to get anywhere, we haven’t even got the
tram fare to Bury, never mind Wales.
I’ve spoken to
Oddly’s. He’s going away to Spain with his bird this weekend, and he said I
could borrow his car.
What? That shitty
old Cortina? We wouldn’t even get down the street in that. Oddly Brown’s a
tosser anyway, he’ll never lend it to you.
he’ll be round tonight with it. He’s all right Oddly, I don’t know what you’ve
got against him.
His shitty arse
for a start. I hate going near him. He stinks all the time.
He can’t help it;
he’s got bad shitter disorder, or something… Colitis, that’s it, Colitis. It’s
not his fault he pen and inks.
street outside the splendid slum-dwelling
It’s still light,
but the sky has that purple hue that betrays dusk in the summer.
grotty house sits an equally grotty car. A Ford Cortina MK4, in white with
added grey filler and a red left wing. Beside it stands PAUL ‘ODDLY’ BROWN, a
big lad with a builder’s arse cleavage and a T-shirt that’s obviously too
tight for his gut, and CHRIS. They stand in silence, looking on at the auto.
You sure about
this, mate? I mean, I know how much you love her… especially after all the work
you’ve done on it.
Both look on at
the dilapidated car. Not even a hint of a smile from either.
(ODDLY’s got a
nasal whine to compliment his colitis)
Yeah, mate. Look,
you’re a good lad, I know you’ll look after her, and I don’t want to leave it
in my street, not with the wankers round there. Look, take the keys. She’s
yours for the week.
You’re a good
mate, Paul. I’ll sort you out for a pint when you get back.
Nice one. But, listen,
don’t let him near it.
brother of yours. He’s a retard. If he even looks at it, I’ll smash his face
He won’t, mate. I
The two pause
silently. CHRIS looks on at the car, a half-smile on his face. ODDLY, however,
has a growing expression of concern on his face.
continues until it becomes awkward.
Can I use your
we’ve got no paper.
The keys exchange
hands and ODDLY heads off down the road in a tense-buttocked half-jog of
desperation. CHRIS waves him goodbye. Then, once ODDLY’s out of sight, CHRIS
pats the roof of the rust-ridden car in a proprietary manner, before opening
the door and sticking his head in the driver’s side. Almost instantly, the
smile drops from his face and, with a sniff, is replaced with an expression of
repulsion and disgust.
Very little has
changed except that it’s now seen from the other side.
We can see HENRY
sat on the floor toying with the cold contents of a takeaway curry.
CHRIS enters looking downtrodden.
Told you that fat
wanker wouldn’t let you have it.
CHRIS looks up,
smiles and produces the keys, jingling them between his fingers.
Fucking hell! I
can’t believe you talked the smelly bastard into it!
Charm, my lad,
charm. Which reminds me, have we got any air freshener?
But HENRY’s not
(Taking the car keys)
So when are we
off then? To Wales I mean.
first! It’s Thursday today. We get our giros on Saturday morning, so that gives
us tomorrow to get packed… and air the car out.
Mind you, I
suppose we should find out where we’re going first.
Wales, you dozy
Know Wales well
do you? Eh? You dumb bastard, it’s bigger than Collyhurst, you know. We gotta
find out where Mum’s cousin lives. Go and get Mum’s address book.
bedroom. The house
A single lamp
provides the light, set upon a dressing table littered with small ornaments and
a picture frame containing a black and white picture of a man and woman sat at
a table. The table holds a birthday cake, and the man is proudly displaying a
pocket watch while the woman looks on smiling. The clothes betray the scene as the
sat at the table, hunting through the draws.
Where the fuck is
He pulls the
majority of the drawer’s contents out onto the floor, before coming across the
elusive address book. He takes it out and flicks through it until a smile
appears on his face.
HENRY reaches to
turn the lamp off, but the picture catches his eye. He stops in his tracks and
stares at the photo. Then, reaching into his pocket, he produces the same watch
as in the picture. Flipping the lid open, he stares at the inscription within.
Congratulations on your 21st” it reads.
HENRY sighs and
re-pockets the watch before turning the lamp off and leaving the room. As we
return to the photo. The bedroom door closes and the light disappears.
Livingroom. The house
CHRIS is busy
trying to force ODDLY’s car keys onto his own keyring, with great difficulty.
HENRY bursts into
the room and walks up to his brother looking smug.
Wales, eh? You
thick bastard. Great cousin Janice, or whatever she is, lives in… Lligwy Bay,
Anglesey, not Wales! You’d have us in the wrong country, you daft tart!
even look up from his monumental struggle.
Anglesey IS in
Wales, you… oh, forget it.
How the hell am I
supposed to know that? I’m not Welsh am I?
listening, but finally manages to fit the car keys to his own. There’s a
satisfying click and CHRIS looks up triumphantly.
A caption informs
us it’s Saturday.
CHRIS stands by
the boot of the dilapidated Cortina, arranging things in the boot. The car
doesn’t improve in the full daylight and looks for all the world like an
HENRY comes round
the corner and walks over.
One ready to go?
Yeah, think so.
We’ll have to get some petrol though. It’s lucky we got paid today. Did you
cash your giro?
Yep, all done.
And I got you a pressie!
CHRIS looks up as
HENRY tosses an Ordinance Survey map to him.
our kid. Where did you get this?
I nicked it from
WHSmiths while I was out cashing my giro. Got seen and all. I had this fat
security guard chasing me. I’m lucky I made it. He nearly had me at one point,
but the clumsy fuck fell over an old lady as she came out of Boots!
blankly at his brother for a moment, before turning his attention to the map.
After much turning, folding, re-folding and confused studying, he looks over at
Right, here’s the
HENRY sidles over
and pretends to follow his brother’s suggested route.
Write this down.
M62, M63, M56, M53, A55, A5, over the Menai Bridge, and on to the A5025… easy
enough, eh? What do you think?
HENRY pretends to
study the map, making thoughtful noises before concurring with his brother’s
Yeah, that, er,
that looks like the best way to go…
CHRIS is clearly
pleased with his new-found map reading abilities.
Good. Go and get
your shit, and we’ll get moving.
into the house, returning moments later carrying a large cardboard box. It’s a
fair sized one with the legend ‘Netto Toilet Tissue’ on the side.
CHRIS looks up in
confusion at the box.
What’s that shit?
It’s my shit.
What the hell have
you got it in there for? Haven’t you got a proper bag?
Well, I was gonna
use a couple of Tesco’s ones from under the sink, but they’ve all gone.
discreetly at the car.
Yeah, I had to
use all them to cover the seats in here. It looks like Oddly’s had a few, erm,
accidents in it.
He lifts a bag
off the seat and HENRY peers over to see the suspicious brown stain that lurks
Anyway, I thought
this might add a touch of class…
He raises the box
higher to display the sheer class of the corrugated item. CHRIS sighs as he
pushes the bag back down over the stains.
At least it seems
interior. The car has been ‘customised’ on the inside. There’s an old mono
stereo stuck on the back seat with the legend ‘In Car Entertainment System’ on
lined paper sellotaped to the front, the obligatory fluffy dice and deodoriser
trees hang from the rear-view mirror, and the whole dash is covered with
security system stickers that have obviously been nicked from other cars along
with a thick leopard-skin-effect fur trim.
fidgeting uncomfortably with the gear stick, causing the engine to moan as he
stirs through the gears. HENRY watches his struggle with interest and CHRIS,
becoming conscious of his brother’s scrutiny, panics and accidentally rips the
top of the gear knob off, revealing the comedy ‘ejector seat’ button Oddly’s
added beneath. The car stalls.
When was the last
time you drove?
CHRIS has begun
tapping the speedometer in an attempt to look like he knows what he’s doing.
I drove Dave’s
van back from that party in Hulme when he couldn’t walk and threw up over the
That was over a
year ago! Anyway, does that count? I mean you were hardly sober yourself.
I got us back
Yeah, but you ran
that dog over on the way.
It was his own
fault; he shouldn’t have got in the way.
What about the
He had time to
move… Shut up, anyway, I’m concentrating. You ready?
CHRIS turns the
ignition again and the car coughs and shudders its way to life. He begins to
over rev and the vibration is so bad that HENRY’s window drops down and an
unnerving rattle develops. Both brothers hear the rattling, but both opt not to
Anglesey here we
But the car won’t
Why won’t it go?
HENRY looks down
at the handbrake, which is clearly up. He wraps his fingers around it.
to do with this.
the handbrake and the car jumps forward, almost giving CHRIS a heart attack.
control, CHRIS pulls away from the kerb, displaying a rear bumper sticker
declaring ‘Passion Wagon’ as they bounce into the road. Some of the neighbours
have come out to see what the noise is, as the car begins to violently kangaroo
down the road. From the rear window the silhouette of HENRY can be made out
waving frantically to the neighbours.
Bye! Bye! We’ll
send you a postcard! Bye, you bastards!
The Stone Roses
enliven the action with their ‘She Bangs The Drum’.
From the interior
of the car we see a sign directing to ‘Rhodes straight ahead’ and ‘M66 left’.
The car trundles on and joins the traffic queue on the left, the loose window
has now been firmly gaffer-taped shut. HENRY and CHRIS sit looking out onto the
car in front of them.
Park! We haven’t been there in years. Why haven’t we been there?
You know why.
(Getting a little touchy)
I bloody don’t.
Why haven’t we been there?
Let’s not go into
Oh, fuck you…
fuck you. She looked over sixteen, and she led me on… you said you believed
She was eleven,
as well you know.
Little slag, she
told me she was older.
CAR INT. Day
The traffic moves
forward and the car stops again parallel to a brick wall, a graffited brick
wall that states loudly ‘Henry messes with kids’. Naturally, HENRY’s reaction
is not good.
Look at that…
Bastards! Fuckers… Cunts! I don’t believe it!
It’s probably not
Oh yeah! Who
There might be
another kiddie messer called Henry.
I am not a kiddie
messer! Why did you come this way anyway?
It was easier
until I get used to the car… less corners.
The car finally
makes it onto the M66. CHRIS looks like he’s about to drop his guts, but
HENRY’s loving it.
Faster! Faster!… Erm, I think you’d better stay on the left, we’re turning off
(Staring dead ahead)
Shut the fuck up.
Who’s driving this, eh? Bollocks, you’re right.
CHRIS throws the
car across into the left-hand lane, oblivious of the car that was already
there, and the angry horn-work that follows. Instead he stares straight ahead,
his teeth gritted and beads of sweat running down his brow.
Shut up! I can’t
concentrate with all this noise!
HENRY does as he
is bid and simply stares out of the window, looking vaguely fearful. The following
silence is intense, broken only by the strange rattling sound.
CHRIS begins to
realise that he’s made himself look stupid and turns to apologise.
Look, mate, I’m
sorry… I’m just a bit jumpy at…
lunges over and grabs the wheel, a look of sheer terror in his bulging eyes.
where you’re going!
There is more
horn-work and both HENRY and CHRIS sit in silence again, although panting quite
accepted. Now watch the fucking road.
The turn off for
the M62 looms into sight.
We follow the car
as it travels down the motorway. Music courtesy of The Primitives ‘Crash’.
The car is now on
the M56, the traffic is heavy. Past Wythenshaw, then the Altrincham turn off,
and on until the approach to the Lymm junction.
Music fades into
the background. HENRY is busying himself with The Sun and a bag of Opal Fruits, deftly placing all the green ones
back in the bag after removing all the others and stashing them under the
carrier bag on his seat.
The camera pans
from Henry to Chris’s right hand on the steering wheel, then down to his left which rests
unnervingly on the handbrake.
We’ve gotta stop.
Henry, we’ve gotta stop, mate.
We need petrol.
And food. Petrol and food. Christ, I’m starving!
Right. We’ll stop
at the next services, I can stretch my legs then.
You? You stretch
your legs? What about me, you selfish bastard? I’m the one doing all the
All right, Bro,
calm down. Have an Opal Fruit.
into the bag, keeping his eye on the road. He takes one and pushes it into his
mouth, wrapper and all.
Ugh, it’s a
fucking green one!
HENRY looks into
the bag sheepishly.
Luck of the draw that is.
(any will do)
The car stands
steaming in the chock-full car park and, in the background, HENRY and CHRIS can
be seen heading for the main building.
A typical Happy
Chef, Little Eater type affair – lots of miserable looking travellers pouring
over small plates of nothing much. In the background we see one tired man
looking with alarm at something on his plate as he sticks his fork into it.
CHRIS and HENRY
enter in the foreground, walking past a middle-aged man (MOANER) arguing with
Two pounds fifty
for a sausage sandwich? That’s highway robbery… you should be ashamed.
smiles as HENRY and CHRIS pass by, watching until they’re out of earshot.
Listen, you old
fart, either cough up or I’ll grab security and get them to give you a kicking
round the back.
The man is
What did you say?
I, I, I’ve never heard anything like it! Get me the manager, right now! I’ll
have you sacked!
Look, you dumb
old fuck, I am the manager, and if you don’t get your moth-eaten wallet out of
your pocket those two big lads over there will kick it out of you.
He gestures over
to the corner where two monstrous fucks in ill-fitting uniforms stand. The disgruntled
moaner looks them over. The MANAGER nods at
them and the sinister slow nod returns in the direction of the customer.
Our MOANER knows
when he’s beaten and reaches into his pocket for the two pounds fifty.
You little shit.
The same place.
Over against the window overlooking the car park sits a table, and at that sits
HENRY and CHRIS. CHRIS is studying the menu with concern. HENRY, however, has
made his choice.
chips, apple pie, and coffee.
I don’t think we
can afford that. Why not have toast?
chips, apple pie, and coffee.
Look, mate, we
really can’t afford all that. Just have the toast, like me.
No. Bollocks to
it. Cheeseburger, chips, apple pie, and coffee.
A waitress makes
her way over. A girl of about 20, shapely, with long blonde hair tied back,
large breasts and a plain face covered in acne.
Can I help you?
Henry has turned to face her at chest
height and become transfixed.
I’ll have two of
looks flattered and a blush crosses her cratered face as she looks down at her
has seen her face and stares, horrified, at his brother.
Ay, you cheeky
What would you do
The look on
CHRIS’s face paints a picture of horror.
(Still hypnotised by the chest)
What wouldn’t I
do with them!
I’ve got half an
hour for my lunch break in five…
CHRIS looks like
he’s going to be sick, and he decides that something must be done.
Erm, excuse me a
minute, er, Miss, I suppose. I need to speak to my brother.
The WAITRESS is
not too happy about the interruption, but backs away from the table.
CHRIS leans over
the table and holds a menu up to cover his conversation from the waitress.
What are you
doing, fuckwit? She’s a bloody dog! Have you seen that face? Only a mother could
love that… a blind mother at that… a blind mother that can’t read fucking
I know. Look, I’m
trying not to look at her face. Don’t blow this.
What the fuck are
you talking about? You want to fuck that? All right, I mean, she’s got good
tits, but, Christ, it’s not worth having to touch the rest of her. God knows,
those zits could be all over her body, you’d end up pumping away into a huge
puddle of pus and scabs.
That is truly
disgusting. Look, I don’t want to fuck her, but she looks desperate.
What? How long
have you been Charitable Chester, eh?
following this, are you. This is something I used to do at Poly.
No, I used to
give the girl from the local chippy a seeing to every lunchtime. Her dad owned
the place… and I never went hungry. You see?
realises what HENRY is trying to do.
cheeseburger, chips, apple pie, and coffee, and whatever you want. I’ll be back
by the time it gets here. She’ll be back by the time the bill arrives.
CHRIS nods slowly
at his brother and gives him a reassuring smile. HENRY stands and takes a deep
breath. Taken with the gesture from his brother, CHRIS stands and offers his
hand to HENRY. HENRY takes it and the brothers shake.
It is a far
uglier girl I do now, than I have ever done before.
With that, he has
left the table and approaches the waiting WAITRESS. They talk briefly, and she
writes on her pad. They cross the restaurant and she places the order on the
kitchen spike before disappearing with HENRY into a backroom.
CHRIS looks on at
the door, perhaps that’s a single tear in his eye, a look of deep respect on
You’re a braver
man than I, our kid, a braver man than I.
CHRIS sits at the
table on his own, looking from his watch to the backroom door into which his
approaches the table, her arms laden with food and drink.
She begins to
place her wares on the table as CHRIS looks up. She smiles at him and briefly
stops arranging the plates.
Er, I’m on my
lunch break in a few minutes, if you want to…
She nods towards
looks her up and down, considering the prospect of meaningless sex with a
stranger in the backroom of a fast-food dive.
continues to talk but we don’t hear her. Instead, switching POVs, we examine
different aspects of WAITRESS 2’s body from CHRIS’s POV and then CHRIS’s facial
expression in relation to each. Eventually a third element enters, CHRIS’s POV
of the food upon the table. Rapidly the views of WAITRESS 2’s form disappear
and are replaced solely with the food..
No, I’m sorry,
I’m really not in the mood…
looks heartbroken and about to burst into tears. CHRIS notices this and begins
to panic that he may have blown his brother’s sacrifice.
It’s not you, no,
really. It’s me, I’m, erm, I’m a crap lay, it’d be rubbish for you… premature
you know, I’d probably still have my pants on when I came.
seems partially satisfied with this, but CHRIS decides to make sure.
Oh, Christ, I
think it’s too late… oh, god, just thinking about sex with you has got me…
oh, oh ohhhhh!
The scene vaguely
resembles that from When Harry Met Sally.
Some of CHRIS’s neighbours start to turn round. But, the job is done, and
the waitress looks heartily sorry for CHRIS.
Oh, Jesus! I’m
sorry, I didn’t know! I’ve never had that effect on a man before! Would you
like some more tissues?
question is directed at CHRIS’s groin. CHRIS seems to be coming down from his
faked orgasm, and waves aside the offer.
Thank you, but
discreetly at his groin.
WAITRESS 2 bumbles off, taking care to steer her,
obviously over-attractive, body away from other men.
from the backroom.
(Addressing the food)
Good, it’s here.
I’m really fucking starving now.
Is it all sorted?
Well, I came, if
that’s what you mean.
No, what about
Yeah, she came
He pulls an
imaginary pube from his teeth as if to emphasise his sexual prowess.
Shut up, you
tool! Are we sorted for the food?
here’s our bill.
He hands over a
folded piece of paper. CHRIS takes it and opens it with a smile.
I guess she
really did come!
CAR INT. DAY.
The brothers are
busy laughing it up at the expense of the waitress.
You should have
heard it, mate. She made a sound like a bleeding train… Whoo! Whoo! I took her
from behind, so I wouldn’t have to kiss her but… trouble was, I saw her
reflection mid-stroke, and I thought I’d lose it… seriously, I didn’t think I
was ever going to get out of there!
You’re a bleeding
nutter, you are. That’s almost prostitution…
prostitution, with her it was damn near bestiality!
that was some nice work, H. Next time we stop, lunch is on me!
Both laugh, deep,
dirty laughs and as we watch the car continue its flight down the M56 we can
hear the continued ‘Whoo! Whoo!’s of HENRY.
EXT. DAY. Car
driving through drizzle
What was that?
CAR INT. DAY.
HENRY is looking
at his brother’s puzzled, almost worried, expression.
I don’t know… I
A large bang
follows and the steering wheel leaps out of CHRIS’s hands.
Shit! Blow out!
Shite! We’re going to die!
The world outside
the car seems to be spinning wildly, as CHRIS fights to regain control of the
(Tears in his
We are not going
The tears well up
even more as his eyes widen in fear.
But we may get
hurt quite a bit.
EXT. DAY Car on
The car skids
dramatically on the motorway, aided in its dance by the drizzly conditions.
Finally, CHRIS seems to regain some control and manages to throw it onto the
dipped and through the light-emphasised rain, CHRIS and HENRY can just be just
made out through the windscreen. Both are facing forward, and both have looks
of abject terror on their faces.
starts to cough, gag, and ultimately, his head disappears from the windscreen
as he vomits in the footwell. CHRIS continues to stare straight ahead,
oblivious of his brother’s vomiting.
CAR INT. DAY.
HENRY is coming
to the end of the contents of his stomach, as indicated by the sounds of dry
retching. CHRIS begins to come round and suddenly snaps back to reality as he
Shit! Henry? You all right?
Oh, thank God. I
thought there was something wrong with you.
Oh shit, man!
What am I gonna tell Oddly? You’ve puked all over his car… and it stinks…
HENRY manages to
look up from his prone position.
I think I know
how Oddly feels…
uncomfortably in his seat and it slowly dawns on CHRIS that, to accompany his
vomiting, HENRY has also shat himself.
Oh, Jesus… come
on… get out, get some air.
The smell in the
car has become overpowering and CHRIS starts to gag too.
buzzing of passing traffic.
The doors of the
car fly open and CHRIS and HENRY climb out, both finding difficulty in standing
up. HENRY falls over against the grass verge, shortly joined by CHRIS as he
stumbles his wobbly-legged way around the car.
Both lay back on
the wet grass as the rain continues to pour down on them, a fine rain that
soaks thoroughly. Within a few seconds both are practically saturated.
God, that feels
He starts to
tongue at the water on his face. CHRIS is staring straight up into space.
Sorry, our kid.
Sorry about what?
Sorry that I
brought you on this shit trip, in a shit car, with no shitting money and no
shitting… shitting… ah fuck!
CHRIS breaks down
and starts to sob.
over and punches him on the arm.
Don’t be soft!
I’m having the time of my life.
CHRIS starts to
laugh in response and punches his brother back.
I’ve got laid,
had the best meal in ages and I’m getting to see the world… just wish I had
time to get under the bleeding carrier bag before I shat myself!
He then punches
CHRIS on the arm again, this time harder. CHRIS looks over at him and delivers
one hell of a blow to HENRY’s arm.
Argh! That hurt,
you colossal cock!
With that Henry dives on top of CHRIS, flailing his arms around. Both
start to laugh, almost maniacally as they brawl and passing cars beep their
horns at the ridiculous sight on the verge.
The rain has
stopped. HENRY sits back in the car rubbing the top of his arm in pain. CHRIS
is stood further down by the window of an AA van talking with the driver
Thanks for that,
mate. I could have changed it myself if it hadn’t been for this damn football
He begins to
massage his shoulder to emphasise the point.
That’s all right,
Mr Brown, I just hope you catch up with the rest of your party. I often think
about doing some work for that Sunshine Variety thing as well. I’m sure that
mate of yours will have a great day.
Er, yeah, thanks
He makes to turn
away, but the driver stops him.
Look, I know
you’re probably used to it… but take some of these anyway.
He hands CHRIS a
fistful of car deodoriser trees.
You’re a good
With that he
pulls away, leaving CHRIS to trudge back to the car.
car int. day
Henry’s still rubbing his arm when CHRIS
climbs back in beside him. CHRIS tears open all the deodoriser packets and
throws them onto the back seat before finally looking at HENRY.
He was a nice
A very nice man.
CAR INT. DAY
Time and distance
have passed. HENRY is asleep, the rain has started again and is pouring in
through the wide-open windows of the car. The gaffer-tape formerly on HENRY’s
window flaps in the breeze, slapping him in the face. CHRIS wipes the spray
from his eyes and stares through the windscreen. His face becomes a picture of
joyful triumph. He turns excitedly to HENRY and begins to shake him.
wake up! We’ve made it!
HENRY wakes from
a very deep sleep and lazily fights off the attacking tape as he struggles in
(Overjoyed and pointing into the
only bloody Anglesey! We’ve done it!
Shit. I thought
it was all a nightmare.
No! No! We’re
here, this is the…
He rummages for
The Menai Bridge! This is it!
HENRY sits up
slowly and stares out of the window. He’s not impressed.
It’s a bit bloody
bleak isn’t it?
Ah! You should
have been awake earlier when we passed the mountains, the erm…
He glances at the
OS road map, then proudly…
Mountains! Magnificent! And you missed some top castles too.
discernible emotion – he obviously doesn’t share his brother’s enthusiasm)
Shit. I always
miss the mountains and castles…
carry on to Pentraeth, then we’ll stop and smarten ourselves up before heading
up to Great Auntie… cousin Janice. This is going to be great, I can feel it!
God, you’re even
beginning to sound Welsh.
Ah! How green is
Yeah, Yeah. Yaki
It would probably
be best to have Welsh male-voice choir music building here, perhaps building to
some kind of crescendo as we watch the car drive over the Menai Bridge.
EXT. DAY. The
town of Pentraeth.
CHRIS and HENRY
stand by Einon’s Three Leaps – ancient stones monument. CHRIS is looking with
interest and holding a Ynys Mon tourist guide, HENRY is smoking and looks
utterly fucking bored with the whole place. A miserable drizzle showers the
both of them.
(Resigned to his fate)
All right. What
the fuck is it then? I can see you’re itching to tell me, let’s have it.
This is Einon’s
It’s a bunch of
No. It says here
that Einon was a thirteenth century poet who won the hand of his lady in a
hop-skip and jump contest.
So, it’s a bunch
of fucking stones that commemorate a bloke getting his leg-over thanks to
primary school athletics. Well, that’s a fucking marvel that is, we should have
one back home called Henry’s Two Bollocks to commemorate how I won Yvonne Lewis
by showing her the size of my cock.
You’ve got no
bleeding soul, have you?
Let me see that.
He grabs the
tourist guide from CHRIS.
Here we go! A
popular tourist site for you.
What is it?
The Gunners Arms.
INT. day. The
CHRIS and HENRY
sit at the bar. HENRY’s staring with pleasure at a whisky, while CHRIS settles
for a coke. The two sit in silence while several of the locals bustle round
them. CHRIS nods cheerily to each in turn, receiving some frowns. HENRY sits
watching the barman with considerable interest.
(Quietly to CHRIS)
Eh, do you reckon
these Welsh bastards are any good in a scrap?
CHRIS rounds angrily
on his sibling.
start that crap in here, all right?
I was only
wondering if… you know, Zulu and
Shut it you
little shit. We’re guests here, ambassadors for England, don’t go showing the
fucking country up talking your drunken arse. Christ, you’ve only had one drink
and already you’ve turned into a tosser.
All right, mate,
I was only making conversation…
Just shut it.
HENRY turns away
looking somewhat hard done to. CHRIS goes back to smiling at the locals, and
the bar returns to pretty much the same scene as before.
notices his glass is empty.
(To the barman)
CHRIS, who was in
the middle of drinking, spits his drink out as he hears this. The barman rounds on HENRY and a large number of
the other patrons seem to turn quite nasty and begin to gather round.
What the fuck did
Sadly, HENRY has
noticed neither the barman’s anger nor the crowd around him and,
much to CHRIS’s horror, carries on.
I want a drink.
(In carefully measured calmness)
No, what did you
Finally, it dawns
on HENRY that things may have turned a little nasty, but still doesn’t seem to
I called you…
manages to break free from the spell of horror he was under and regains his
power of speech, speech he delivers quickly and, in his fear and rush to say
it, not too coherently to HENRY. There’s a look of wide-eyed fear on his face
and an odour of pure adrenaline wafting from his arse.
Shut up, you
complete and utter wanker you’re gonna get us killed!
(Then to BARMAN)
Look, I’m sorry,
mate, what can I tell you? He’s not right in the head, no really, he’s got problems,
it’s the drink, he should never drink after taking his medication, it messes
with his, er, his… We’ll go now…
He grabs HENRY by
the arm and starts to drag him urgently towards the door HENRY is indignant and
begins to protest, loudly, still at a loss to explain what caused this.
What did I do?
What did I fucking do? I only called him a fucking Taffy!
The pub is filled
with mocking shouts as HENRY is dragged through the door, really unpleasant
shouts concerning his mother.
EXT. DAY. The
carpark of The Gunners Arms
An incredulous CHRIS
throws the indignant HENRY against the wall, and pins him there violently,
seizing HENRY’s clothes in his fists.
What the fuck
were you doing, you mad bastard?!
I didn’t do
anything! He started it…
I don’t believe
you… I can’t believe… Just get in the car. We’re going straight to Auntie, erm,
Great… Cousin, whatever the hell she is, Janice’s now!
(Remarkably passive, and a little
I didn’t do
anything! I didn’t even…
(Getting increasingly violent)
Shut up and get
in the pissing car!
Lligwy Bay. The
car pulls to a halt at the bottom of a cul-de-sac on an unadopted road. The bungalows
that line the road are in something of a state of ill-repair, particularly the
one that interests CHRIS and HENRY. It stands alone on the very corner of the
road, its once yellow painted timbers now flaked to buggery, a layer of dust
and cobwebs cover the gate. The garden resembles a lost world and clearly
hasn’t been touched by human hand for some time. A small mongrel dog squats
shitting at the front.
CAR INT. DAY
Both sit staring
at the dilapidated cottage. HENRY’s coat and shirt is still bunched up in the
shape of CHRIS’s fists. The cheerful ‘Come Go With Me’ by The Del Vikings plays
on the car radio.
(Anticipating HENRY’s concerns)
probably have trouble getting decorators out here.
Yeah, I can see
that. And builders… plumbers… pest control…
He breaks off and
both continue to stare at the wreck in silence for a moment.
yourself up; it’s time to meet Great Auntie Cousin Janice.
HENRY looks down
and pulls the fist-shaped creases out of his clothes without thought, then
becomes curiously interested in them.
I think you
trapped my nipple before.
EXT. DAY. Great
Cousin/Auntie Janice’s home
continues as the two stand at the front door knocking endlessly, and growing
impatient. CHRIS starts into an epic sneezing fit.
Shit! Shit! Shit!
I’ve caught a bloody cold now. GOD I HATE WALES! WHERE THE FUCK IS SHE? THERE’S
NOWHERE ELSE TO GO!
All right, calm
down, you madman! Perhaps she’s gone to the shops, or something.
(Seemingly calmer and carefully
considering his brother’s words)
Yeah, I can see
that… I just started thinking that, with our luck, she’d chosen this week to
piss off on holiday.
something a little excitable about CHRIS’s behaviour, but HENRY has missed it
and starts to laugh.
That’s it, mate!
That’s the spirit!
He turns to head
back to the car, expecting CHRIS to follow him.
(Suddenly spinning back to the door
and beating his fists against it)
Open the door,
you old witch! Open the bloody door!
back up to CHRIS and drags him back to the car.
CAR INT. DAY
The rain is pouring heavier than ever. Clearly quite
some time has passed. Both brothers are asleep and the In Car Entertainment
System’s batteries are running low, as is demonstrated by the slow and strained
Doors’s ‘Don’t You Love Her Madly’.
As the rain
continues to flow down the windows, a shape can be made out coming towards the
car. The brothers, being asleep fail to notice this until they are awakened by
a persistent tapping on the window.
Wh? What the
fuck? Auntie? Cousin?
(Struggling to wind down the window)
Is that you,
Great Auntie, er, cousin…
But the drenched
face at the window is that of a middle-aged man.
Oh. Er, yeah?
All right lads.
Just thought I’d come and see if you were OK.
Erm, yeah, tar.
And I thought, if
you were wanting to rob that place, that you ought to know that there’s nothing
worth nicking, I’ve already looked.
We’re not fucking
casing the joint! We’re waiting for our Great Auntie… Cousin…
relatives of Janice’s, we’ve come to visit her.
Yeah! That’s her.
Are you a neighbour of hers?
I think you’d
better come to mine for a cuppa, lads.
The place is as tatty as Psycho John himself. The
brothers sit on an old orange sofa, complete with stains and burns. The carpet,
or what can be seen of the carpet under the moth-eaten rug and the three
scruffy terriers, is an unpleasant shade of brown.
PSYCHO JOHN sits in an aquamarine armchair facing HENRY
and CHRIS, all drinking from dirty mugs.
HENRY surveys the
room and we are given the impression that Psycho John is into amateur taxidermy,
judging by the multitude of badly stuffed critters that decorate his room.
(Gesturing towards some of the
assortment of dead beasts)
What’s all this
stuff in aid of?
Oh, it’s just
stuff we’ve caught.
Yeah, me and the
( He gestures to the dogs)
I’ve trained them
to catch stuff, they’re champion rabbiters!
I’ve taken up
stuffing the bastards, you can do fuck all else with them.
(Determined to change the subject)
I’m Chris, by the
way, and this is my brother Henry. We’ve come down from Manchester to visit
Grea… erm, Mrs Trevellian.
(Reaching to shake hands)
Nice to meet you,
lads. I’m John, the buggers round ‘ere call me Psycho John, because me and the
boys here are always out killing something… Look, lads, about Mrs Trevellian…
I knew it! She’s
off on holiday, ain’t she! Selfish witch!
Not quite. I’m
afraid you’re about two years too late to visit.
No, lad, she’s
drops into his hands at the news, while HENRY stares at PSYCHO JOHN in
disbelief, his mouth hanging open.
What? What? You
mean… we’ve come all this fucking way, through all this, and the old fucker’s
dead? All this way for nothing!
I’m sorry, lads.
She was old and tired.
What does that
mean, old and tired? What, did you take pity on her because she was old and
tired? Kill her did you? Kill her because she was old and tired, like Old Shep,
and then stuff her and stand her in your bedroom!
HENRY’s on his
feet and striding from one side of the room to the other. CHRIS still has his
head in his hands.
(Mumbling into his hands)
Oh God. This is
just fucking marvellous. I was relying on her as well… She was our last living
relative and, and we can’t afford the petrol to get home without her!
momentarily and stares at his brother with a look somewhere between pure rage,
pity and horror.
Then, suddenly lunging forward, he grabs the car keys of
a table and makes for the door.
Bollocks to this!
I’m not staying in this Third World!
With that, he’s out the front door, leaving it wide
open, into the rain, and in the car.
looks up to see what’s happening, and runs to chase HENRY, a little too late.
The car speeds away, up the road and out of sight.
Come back, you
bastard! You’re not allowed to drive that!
INT. NIGHT. Psycho
The room is the
same as before, only with more dirty mugs and less dogs. CHRIS and PSYCHO JOHN
sit watching the TV. CHRIS seems remarkably calm in comparison with before.
PSYCHO JOHN sits stuffing handfuls of something ghastly into what used to be a
large rodent of some description.
saunters into the room, soaking wet, but otherwise none the worse for wear.
PSYCHO JOHN doesn’t look up, but CHRIS glares at him like an impatient mother
awaiting an explanation.
(Still concentrating on his work)
You’d better dry
yourself off, lad.
HENRY looks down
at his saturated clothes and then, aware of the stare, slowly up at CHRIS.
Where the fucking
hell have you been?
uncomfortably and a somewhat sheepish look crosses his face.
I asked you:
where the fuck have you been?
HENRY stares at
his feet and shrugs his shoulders.
I needed to get
some air… you know… news like that…
The last comment
is directed at PSYCHO JOHN who, although still not looking up, acknowledges the
You had to be
told, I couldn’t keep you waiting here forever, could I now.
I told you
weren’t allowed to drive that car, which bit didn’t you understand?
Who are you? My
Where’s the car?
Is it all right?
Oddly’ll go fucking ape-shit if you’ve damaged it.
Oddly can go fuck
Where’s the car?
I told you, it’s
Right, I’m gonna
have a look at it, and if I find one scratch or dent that wasn’t there before…
CHRIS stands up
and makes for the door, but HENRY urgently pushes in front of him.
No! Erm, sit
down, it’s raining… and stuff…
CHRIS sees the
look of guilt in HENRY’s eyes and pushes him aside, rushing outside and
expecting the worst.
Outside Psycho John’s
The whole scene
lit by the porch light, emphasising the lashing rain.
outside in the rain only to find that the car is not there.
makes his way through the door.
Where the fuck is
Don’t play dumb
buggers, where’s the car?… And what’s that burning smell?
(Not really concentrating)
Yeah, the car,
where is it?
Do you smell
What? Do I smell
what? Oh my god!
rushes over to his brother and seizes him by the throat.
(Subdued, calm, measured)
Henry, take me to
the car now, or I swear I will tear out your throat and feed it to Psycho John!
All right. But
don’t get upset until I’ve explained. Follow me.
He leads his
brother down a passage between two of the houses and down onto a lane. Both jog
down the lane until they hit the start of a sand beach. HENRY gets there first
and calmly leans against a wall. CHRIS, however, turns the corner, stops,
stares in horror, feels his legs go, and finally collapses onto the sand.
Before him, about
fifty yards down the beach, stands the Cortina, heavily ablaze.
Wh? Wwhaa… What
have you done, Henry?! Henry what…
He turns to look
at his brother, while his arm lifts slowly and points unsteadily in the
direction of the car.
What have you done?
I had to, CHRIS.
It was for the best. There’s something else… I…
finishes there however, due to PSYCHO JOHN appearing at the scene.
He sees CHRIS on
the floor and rushes over to help him up.
Look what he’s
I see it. Look, I
don’t want to be the bearer of bad tidings twice in one day, particularly now,
but… you’d better come with me. Both of you.
The three enter,
PSYCHO JOHN in a hurry, HENRY nervously, and CHRIS unsteadily.
immediately heads straight to the TV and turns the volume up.
Quick, sit down.
HENRY slinks off
into the background, whilst CHRIS, walking dazed, clambers onto the sofa.
Silence falls across the room and, from the perspective of the TV we see PSYCHO
JOHN and CHRIS staring, HENRY, however, is concerning himself with his shoes.
Pentraeth post office.
The scene is
busy. A large number of locals stand in the background whilst in the foreground
a young, female reporter addresses the camera. There’s a flashing of blue
lights and lots of excited voices.
Police were today
called to Pentraeth Post Office following an armed robbery.
evening a lone gunman entered the Post Office and ordered terrified staff to
fill his cardboard box with cash.
post-masters, Mrs. Derby and Ms Hughes, claimed to have clearly seen the
outline of a gun in his pocket and, fearing for their lives, complied with his
demands. The gunman then forced the elderly ladies to lay face down on the
ground while he made his escape.
Inspector Travis of Anglesey CID is handling the case.
you any leads?
TRAVIS steps into
frame. A large man dressed in a long, flapping raincoat and wearing a trilby.
The face under the trilby has obviously been in many fights, and probably won
all of them.
(A deep, booming, strongly Welsh
Yes. I’ve talked
to quite a few of the locals and have a pretty accurate description of the
getaway car. I would ask residents to be on the lookout for a white Ford
Cortina, with distinctive body filler and a red wing.
And the gunman?
Well, we’ve been
given the description of a young, white male with an accent peculiar to the
North of England, possibly Liverpool.
here have also revealed that two men answering this description were observed
acting strangely in a local pub earlier.
Yes, one was of a
violent persuasion and made various inciting remarks, and the other unnerved
the other patrons, and is believed to be… erm, of homosexual persuasion…
Yes, we secured
the Menai Bridge and the Britannia Bridge with roadblocks almost immediately
after we were alerted, so are sure that these terrible men are still in the
area. Also, my team have been able to construct a photofit of the cardboard box
allegedly involved in the robbery.
We cut to a still
of a cardboard box with the legend ‘Netto Toilet Tissue’ written on the side.
Then back to the
So, you’re pretty
confident of catching these criminals before they commit further offences?
Although, at least one of these men is considered to be armed and dangerous,
and we would advise citizens to stay indoors, lock all the doors and answer to
nobody until we have our offender, or offenders, under lock and key.
CHRIS sits in
stunned silence, staring at the TV. PSYCHO JOHN moves to the window. And HENRY
watches his brother like a hawk.
car INT. NIGHT.
Police Ford Sierra
It’s dark outside
and the news crew can be seen packing up and climbing into a van. From inside
the squad car the huge bulk of TRAVIS can be seen heading over.
Inside the car sits
a much younger officer, DETECTIVE BARRIMORE (BAZZA), who looks on with some
trepidation as TRAVIS reaches the car and climbs into the back.
(To the driver)
Right then, young
Bazza, time for you to see some real action!
In his rear-view
mirror BAZZA sees TRAVIS produce an old revolver from his inside pocket and
begin to stroke the barrel lovingly.
Erm… are you
supposed to have that, Sir?
(Clearly affronted by the question)
circumstances! Special circumstances! Make no mistake, arrests will be made,
heroes will be born!
Oh. Erm, back to
the station then?
And wait until
the trail’s cold? Clearly you’re not used to real investigation! As that other
famous Welsh detective, Sherlock Holmes said, “The game is afoot!”
We head North
towards Amlwch, I’ve a feeling we’ll find what we want there… and get every
available body out, I want a house to house search from here to Holyhead and
And we’re going
to… Amlwch, are we?
I don’t expect
you to be able to follow my methods, boyo, just carry out my orders. Oh, and
stop off at Lligwy Bay on the way, we’ll see if we can borrow Psycho John’s
dogs, they can track anything!
INT. NIGHT. Psycho
HENRY is hiding
behind a table, cowering chronically as CHRIS flails his arms at him and
bellows at the top of his lungs. CHRIS’s face is bright red and the veins in
his neck and head look fit to burst. Broken stuffed animals lie around the floor
and HENRY is wielding a large rat for protection against the various missiles
hurled by CHRIS.
I’m gonna kill
you! I’m gonna cut off your prick and push it down your throat till you choke!
HENRY whines from
behind the table, a terrible, pitiful whine.
Calm down! Calm
down! See, I knew you’d get upset! Give me a chance to explain…
(Spittle flies from his mouth)
I’m more than
upset, upset doesn’t even come close. Come here you little shit!
CHRIS grabs round
the table and manages to catch HENRY’s sleeve, but suddenly his arm is jerked
away by Psycho John.
What the fuck?!
CHRIS spins round
and almost swings for PSYCHO JOHN, but the look on his face stops him
mid-flail. PSYCHO JOHN waits until he’s got his full attention, holding CHRIS’s
arm quite still and staring straight into his eyes.
You haven’t got
time for this. Listen to me, you haven’t got time for this!
Haven’t got time for what?
Listen to me. DI Travis knows me…
He waits a moment
for this to sink in.
And he’ll be
coming here to borrow the boys. You haven’t got time for this.
(He motions at the cowering HENRY)
No matter how
much the little turd deserves it!
With that he
releases CHRIS. CHRIS stands still considering his words before springing into
thoroughly indecisive action.
Henry, get up we’ve gotta go, we’ve gotta hide, we gotta… shit! What are we
CHRIS starts to
gag and ends up puking on the floor.
They’ll call out the coast guard at Moelfre, just round the corner from here,
and they’ll find that burning car of yours in no time. You’ve gotta get moving
HENRY has now
braved to come out from behind the table, but continues to keep his eyes fixed
firmly on CHRIS.
Erm, excuse me,
but why are you so keen to help us?
Let’s just say
that your Aunt and me were a little more than just neighbours and leave it at
INT. NIGHT. Cave
We find ourselves in almost total darkness but, as our
eyes begin to adjust, the shape of CHRIS sleeping on the floor, his coat acting
as a pillow, forms. There is, however, no sign of either HENRY or PSYCHO JOHN
in what now has become an obvious cave interior.
EXT. NIGHT. Dream
Outside that very cave, darkness looms again, but this
time broken by a torch beam and the high-pitched barking of dogs. As the
torchlight falls upon the cave entrance, INSPECTOR TRAVIS steps into view and
crouches down to fuss the dogs, Psycho John’s dogs.
Good work, boys.
We’ve got the muthafuckers now!
INT. NIGHT. Cave
Music: ‘Dream A Little Dream Of Me’ – Mama Cass.
CHRIS is still
fast asleep and the torch beams now dance inside the cave. A dog barks
somewhere outside, echoing around the cave, and CHRIS wakes up in horror.
He attempts to
scramble to his feet but, panic-stricken, fails in his bid and falls backwards.
Suddenly HENRY is
in the cave and he’s armed.
What ensues takes
place in slow motion and with no sound other than that of the music. CHRIS sees
HENRY and screams for him to stop. But, HENRY laughs maniacally and begins to
fire round after round towards the approaching torch beams.
CHRIS climbs to
his knees, just in time to see INSPECTOR TRAVIS and two policemen come into
view, they too are armed and begin to fire back.
forward, his arm outstretched, smiling like a lunatic. He hits one of the
officers four times in the chest and blood begins to spew from the man in long,
thick arcs. The officer staggers over to CHRIS, blood pouring from his mouth,
collapsing right next to him and showering CHRIS in his blood.
screams and let loose a volley, hitting HENRY square between the eyes with one
CHRIS watches in
horror as his brother’s head jerks violently backwards, blood ejaculating from
the new hole he’s acquired. Then, HENRY’s inert body drops to the ground,
sending up a cloud of dust. CHRIS claws at the floor, frantically trying to
reach his brother. Tears and blood soak his face as his nails dig into the
dusty floor. But then the screaming begins afresh.
Looking over at
the police, he sees a huge wound suddenly rip open on the front of the other
officer. The policeman stares down in horror as blood begins to piss from the
open hole, before his knees buckle and he too drops into the dirt, his hands
pawing helplessly at the gaping wound in an attempt to keep his guts in.
CHRIS rolls onto
his back and sees PSYCHO JOHN storming towards him clutching a sawn-off shotgun
in one hand and a revolver in the other.
JOHN stops dead in his tracks. For a moment CHRIS imagines it’s all over, but
then PSYCHO JOHN drops his guns limply, keels over backwards and CHRIS notices
a strange new dark spot on his forehead.
begins to spasm and he clambers for shelter along the floor. But suddenly
INSPECTOR TRAVIS is on top of him, standing astride him, gun aimed at between
Still in slow-mo but now with the
added bonus of dialogue.
Hasta la vista,
He fires the gun.
INT. NIGHT. cave
For a split second after the shot we
go to complete blackness before returning sharply with the sight of a horrified
CHRIS waking from his nightmare (in the same cave), screaming into the camera.
Next, HENRY and PSYCHO JOHN are on top
of him, pinning him to the ground and muffling his screams.
(A desperate whisper)
Jesus! Calm down!
Calm down! We’re safe!
Shut it, you mad
bastard, you’ll get us nicked.
CHRIS manages to
convince them of his relative tranquillity and they remove their hands from
Sorry… I just had
this awful nightmare…
Suddenly a dog
Shit! Not again!
PSYCHO JOHN and
HENRY both leap back on CHRIS, stopping him from crying out or escaping.
You hold him
here. I’ll go and scout it out. It sounds like one of my boys, so we’ll be all
What? I thought
they were champion hunting dogs or something.
Oh aye! Hunting
rabbit and other big vermin. They haven’t got a fucking clue about manhunts!
INSPECTOR TRAVIS and three officers are busy being
dragged through the surrounding bramble in an attempt to hold onto Psycho
John’s dogs. The progress is clearly painful to all four.
I think they’ve
got something definite this time. We’ve got the bastards!
The cave entrance
appears in the semi-lit gloom and dogs do indeed seem to be heading for it.
However, suddenly they break away and head off into another thickset clump of
bushes and through to a wooded copse.
(His face cut to ribbons from the
Here! We’ve got
The dogs begin
snarling aggressively and Travis bears down on
their prey, a look of smug triumph across his face.
beauties! I think you…
Have we got them,
A dead badger!
It’s a dead fucking badger!
holds the offending article in his hand and shakes it violently before throwing
it into the face of the young OFFICER. The OFFICER, unused to having dead
badgers in his face, lets out a squeal not unlike that of a young girl.
CHRIS is lying on
a bed in a large but otherwise featureless room. He’s relaxed, at ease. He
yawns and stares lazily at the ceiling and the ornate light that hangs from it.
He begins to turn
his head, but suddenly snaps back, concerned that he saw something. But the
ceiling is the same as before.
He relaxes again
and closes his eyes, letting out a deep sigh of satisfaction. Then he opens his
eyes again and frowns up at the ceiling. It’s still the same… but perhaps a
little closer… With a hideous jolt, he realises the ceiling’s moving down on
him. Then, with another hideous jolt, he realises he’s no longer on the bed,
but floating towards the ceiling.
He flails feebly
in the air, achieving nothing. The ceiling looms still closer.
to scream, his hands connect with the surface. He struggles to push himself
away, but the strength isn’t there. His nose presses again it, then the side of
his face. He struggles in terror to push himself away…
Early morning judging by the dew upon the grass and the
mist hanging in the air. It’s going to be a nice day. The birds are singing in
the trees and CHRIS is face down on the floor, fast asleep, sweating profusely
and struggling frantically to do push-ups.
The strains of ‘Morning Has Broken’ begin to flow
through he air as we pull further away to see PSYCHO JOHN and HENRY laying
nearby as CHRIS continues to attempt unconscious press-ups, finally collapsing with a low groan of
is being interviewed by the same REPORTER as earlier. He clearly isn’t too
happy about the interview, but manages to retain his air of pompous dignity.
how is the pursuit going?
in cases such as this, it’s more, erm, softly softly, catchy monkey. But we did
have a break-through last night.
Really, and this
new lead is?
Well, it’s not so
much a lead as, well…
A badger? A dead
badger, that’s what your officer told us.
Exactly. It is,
in my opinion, a discovery which should not be overlooked. After all, if you
take into account the violence with which the robbery was perpetrated, then I
think you’ll see that the merciless execution of a badger displays exactly the
kind of action that these two desperate criminals are capable of.
I see, and will
Please, I haven’t
finished. I would like to say that it is my belief that they won’t stop at mere
badgers, no. I’m afraid a local resident has also gone missing and the burnt
out getaway car was found nearby. We’re not ruling our foul play. But I would
like to assure the general public that we have the deceased badger in Police
custody and a full autopsy will be done to ascertain the exact reasons for his
current state, vis-à-vis, in layman’s terms, deceased.
We’ve also been
told by your office that you intend to retire this year and that this will
serve as your final investigation.
Yes, I’m afraid
it’s true. This will be my last bow. Once I’ve cleared up this problem and seen
these men safely behind bars, I shall be hanging up my hat and settling into a
more gentle life. But, worry not, for I have informed my superiors that I will
be every ready to answer the call of justice again, should the situation arise.
Now the game
truly is afoot!
With that, he
strides off, barking some orders at a gaggle of officers.
Police officers sit either side of a rather comfortable desk watching INSPECTOR
TRAVIS stride off their television screen as seen in the previous scene.
One of the
officers, JAMESON, is shaking his head slowly and the other, TONKINSON, sits
rubbing his temples before seizing the remote control and turning the TV off.
(Addressing his colleague)
This is a
mistake. The man is clearly unfit for this, he’s making us all look like
fools, parading about like some kind of English Cleauseau…
otherwise I agree with you entirely. But my hands are tied. You know the
(Running his hands through is hair)
to me again why we are letting this fool work the investigation. Just to
(With a heavy sigh)
Travis is the
nephew of old man Roberts at Scotland Yard. The old bastard has a soft spot for
Travis and, therefore, he’s been allowed for the past thirty years to do just
about anything he wants.
But my man
informs me he’s packing an old revolver and fully intends to used it… surely
under these circumstances…
No. Listen, Tom,
he’s coming up for retirement, after this is over we’ll be shot of him. Give
him whatever he thinks he needs to finish this and just cover up his mistakes
for him. It’ll all be over soon.
But what if he
shoots someone? You can’t possibly…
self-defence. Just leave him to finish this any way he can, then pack him off
to some cottage somewhere with his watch and pension.
But he’s running
it like some old Western sheriff… he won’t even involve any other department!
Please, Tom, no
more. I’m tired.
INT. DAY. Cave.
The unhappy party
are sitting around drinking coffee from a thermos. Very little is being said,
but looks are being exchanged.
HENRY takes a
mouthful of coffee and spits it out again in disgust.
Hmm, lovely and
He picks up the
thermos and examines it.
I thought these
things were supposed to keep it warm.
Oh, that bugger
hasn’t worked in years. Not since I dropped it anyway.
(To nobody in particular)
I’m going mad.
Why didn’t you
buy a new one?
I’ve never needed
it until now.
(Again, to nobody)
I think I’m going
It’s a funny thing,
but I never imagined that one day my humble flask would be called upon to serve
hot coffee to a couple of fugitives. Why, I don’t know.
All right, you’ve
made your point. Wanker.
(Under his breath)
(Suddenly looking up)
Er, excuse me. I
said I think I’m going mad.
No you’re not,
it’s the coffee.
No, I think I am.
I’m having some very strange dreams, for one, and, secondly there’s some kind
of stoat on that rock over there that’s being staring at me, not moving a
single muscle, for the past half hour.
They all turn to
look. We focus on a strangely lumpy and utterly inanimate creature perched atop
a small rock.
Don’t mind him, I
stuffed him about four years back.
Well, he’s my
favourite, so I had to bring him with me.
Right you are.
Wait a minute.
During our daring escape to this God-forbidden cave, you stopped to collect a
No. Chris was
right; it’s definitely a stoat.
I’m not having
I’m going mad.
Right, I’m off to
scout around, see what’s happening.
With that, he
strides out of the cave.
We need to think
of some plan to get you out of here and back to Manchester.
Don’t look at me,
I’m not sane anymore. Any plan I come up with will be a work of madness and not
Well, that’s as
maybe. But as soon as Sundance gets back, we’ll have to come up with something,
you can’t live in here forever.
Do you call this
living? Now you’ve gone mad.
JOHN and CHRIS stand in the middle of a wooded glade, looking the worse for
wear and not overly confident about the situation. PSYCHO JOHN is leading the
way while CHRIS and HENRY straggle behind, finding difficulty in pushing
through the twigs.
Where are we
going? Where did you say we were going?
To a pub I know.
Listen, I know
I’m mad and everything, but doesn’t that seem a little silly, what with the
police searching for us and everything?
No, it’s all
right, the landlord is an old mate of mine and he hates the police. You’ll be
able to bunk down there until we find a way to get you of the isle. It’s not
too far from here, so we should be able to get there without detection.
Did he say a pub?
My daughter works
behind the bar there and she should be able to come up with a plan.
She went to Bangor
Did he say a pub?
Did he? About bloody time. We’ve got all this money to spend and I have no
intentions of trying to buy the sexual favours of squirrels.
INT. DAY. pub
The Grey Fox
public house and all round den of iniquity.
There are few
people there and those all have the look of hunted men, either by the police or
their wives. The pub itself is a typical touristy affair – horse brasses,
comical cartoons framed on the wall, maps of the area and local legends made up
by the staff stand propped up at the bar. The only problem is there’s not a
tourist in sight and it’s not surprising, the whole place looks grim and
lifeless and the landlord looks like he’s been using his face to stop cars;
The only light in
this entire hovel is the bargirl. She stands behind the bar, looking as sullen
as any bargirl with a degree in marine-biology can look in such a place. She
toys loosely with her short, brown hair and continually brushes the fringe from
her pale face, leaving it to fall back into place so she can amuse herself with
the practice again.
The girl is
beautiful, pretty in the face and shapely in the body, a shape emphasised by
her figure hugging crop top and tight skirt.
Two old men sit
at the bar, one ogling her, the other unconscious, his snoring being the only
sign of life in the place.
wipes down part of the bar with a cloth that probably adds more dirt and germs
than it could ever possibly remove. That done, he turns, surveys the bar and
heads away towards a back room.
However, just as
he enters the room, a bell rings announcing action at the main door. The landlord,
Blake, is less than pleased.
What the fucking
hell is this now!
He turns his bulk
towards the door and something between a half-smile and a grimace crosses his
time you got your hand in your pocket and spent some fucking money here.
PSYCHO JOHN and
BLAKE shake hands and we see PSYCHO JOHN whisper something to BLAKE.
narrow and he nods, before gesturing for PSYCHO JOHN to step into the other
is ogling the bottles behind the bar, full-on child in sweet shop. CHRIS,
however, stands dumbly staring at the bargirl, Sarann. She smiles at him, a special, passing empty-welcome
smile that only very experienced barstaff can achieve, the kind of smile that
says, “Can I help you fuck off?!” without missing a beat.
Er, Miss! Four
double whiskeys, two pints of Lees and two vodkas please.
(Then to CHRIS)
Chris, do you
And how would Sir
like to pay for his beverages? Perhaps Sir favours manual labour? Or a beating?
Or perhaps Sir would like to chance his luck on climbing out of the toilet
Not unused to being
questioned thus, HENRY reaches inside his coat and produces a large wad of
No. Cash will be
Suddenly the pub
is awake, even the previously unconscious man at the bar bolts upright at the
mention of the ‘C’ word. All stare in HENRY’s direction and hands begin
slipping into pockets, boots and plain old-fashioned knife sheaths.
In horror SARANN grabs the money from HENRY and stuffs
it back inside his coat, pausing briefly to reach back in and take a couple of
Put that away,
you idiot, you’ll get us all killed in here!
With that, SarAnn reaches beneath the bar, produces a shotgun and turns
it threateningly on the entire pub.
None of you saw
anything! Is that clear? I said, is that clear!
The pub seems to
back down and, amidst disappointed mumbling, all hands make a reluctant retreat
away from their knives.
At that moment,
PSYCHO JOHN and BLAKE make their way out from the other room and approach HENRY
(In no way friendly)
Right. You two
can stay here until you can get off my island or I get sick of you. Is that
CHRIS and HENRY
nod cautiously at BLAKE, who then spits on the floor next to CHRIS’s foot
before walking off.
(Quietly to both brothers)
There’s one thing
I forgot to mention. Blake hates people, I mean all people. Don’t take it
personally… he just hates everyone. Just stay out of his way and, for the
love of God, and your own body, don’t piss him off.
This last comment
is directed at HENRY.
PSYCHO JOHN then
turns his attention to SARANN.
sweetheart. How’s business? These are a couple of friends of mine, Chris and
Henry… from Manchester.
briefly at each in turn, a smile that, even in its brevity, delights CHRIS.
This is… is this,
I mean, is SHE your daughter?
Aye. Well, my
adopted daughter. This is SarAnn.
What kind of a
name is SarAnn… that’s some kind of Paki sash isn’t it?
It’s short for
Sarah Ann, and you’re thinking of a sarong.
(Obviously fancying his chances)
Well, we’re from
a band called Oasis, I don’t know if you’ve heard of us out here yet, but we’re
CHRIS has lowered
his head to the bar in weary embarrassment and ceased to listen.
Oasis, eh? Yes, I
think there was somebody at university with me that had heard of you.
Yeah, well I’m
the charismatic lead singer, and this here…
He gestures to
guitarist/songwriter brother. I’ll sing you one of our songs if you like.
Yes, if you
would. That’d be nice.
(Still unaware of the fool he’s making
Right, erm, this
one’s called, er, Cigarettes And Alcohol.
He begins to sing
and it’s not a nice voice that comes out. Furthermore, it becomes obvious that,
past the first two lines, he hasn’t a clue what the words are.
mocking look on SARANN’s face)
we haven’t written all the words yet, because it’s going to be on the next
album. It sounds better with the guitar as well and, erm… I’ll have a couple of
SarAnn goes to
get the drinks and turns a CD player on under the bar Cigarettes And Alcohol
blares out. HENRY looks sufficiently stupid.
plagiarism, that is!
INT. NIGHT. grey
A corridor inside
the living quarters of the pub. CHRIS and HENRY stumble along drunkenly,
heading to their rooms, clearly carrying each other. The sounds of SARANN
bidding people a goodnight and locking the main door can be heard in the
HENRY and CHRIS
are slurring their way through ‘The Green Green Grass Of Home’.
Finally they draw
to a halt outside an open door.
suspiciously like my room!
CHRIS tries to enter the room, sending
the still attached HENRY smashing into the doorframe.
his mistake and starts to laugh, setting them both of in a round of ‘Shh’ ing.
across the hall and throws HENRY into the opposite room, before turning uncertainly
on his heels and falling back toward his own room.
The room is as
grotty as the rest of the pub and clearly hasn’t seen human activity in some
time, although the chances of recent animal habitation are high.
CHRIS has managed
to kick his shoes off but is struggling with his socks and lurching from one
side of the room to the other.
he sits down heavily on the bed and stares at his trousers, firstly focusing on
them, and then merely figuring out the best way to remove them. In the end he
goes for lying on his back and wriggling out of them. His mission a success he
throws them into the corner of the room, pulls off his shirt, crosses the room,
turns off the light and collides with every object conceivable on his way back
to the bed.
A small light at
the side of the bed clicks on and we see CHRIS’s bulk covered completely by the
bedsheets. SARANN sits down on the bed next to him, wearing a short nightie
designed for women who have no intention of sleeping, and gently shakes him.
Wake up. You’re
not that drunk.
starts into life with a grunt and throws the covers back as though he’s
expecting a fight.
As his eyes get
used to the light he sees SARANN and the intention behind her choice of
SarAnn, Liam’s in the other room.
smiles and lifts the bedsheets.
I don’t want the
gobby singer, I want a man who’s sure of his fingering techniques!
With that, she
climbs into the bed with him, turns the light off and then the music starts…
What else but ‘Laid’ by James.
privileged to see anything other than the occasional shadowy shot of an arse
caught in a moonbeam as they bounce around the very mobile bed.
around for quite a section of the song until, eventually, CHRIS’s head appears
from under the sheets, facing us, SARANN’s feet framing his head as a
contortion of delight sweeps across his features that makes him look retarded.
INT. DAY. Chris’s
The room looks
slightly better in the light. CHRIS’s clothes have been folded and placed on a
chair by the window. The curtains are tied back and there are fresh flowers in
a vase on the window ledge.
CHRIS is in bed,
on his back, sleeping peacefully. A stupid smile becomes apparent on his face
as we zoom in on it, and his features shuffle around in the manner of one who
is reliving a pleasant experience, which he clearly is.
Yes… that’s it…
just there. Mmm…
A shadow falls
across his face, causing the smile to fade into a frown and, ultimately, waking
HENRY stands over
him with a mug of coffee.
you’d wake up. You were saying some very strange things just then.
himself on his elbows, his eyes scanning the room, before fixing HENRY with an
overly defensive look.
I was having a
dream, thank you very much. I dreamt I’d spent all night… erm, well, never
his most quizzical face, reaches over and pulls a pair of knickers from the
side of CHRIS’s pillow, before holding them aloft and studying them intently.
Something to do
with these, perhaps?
CHRIS lunges for
the knickers, yanking them from his brother.
(In an urgent whisper)
You mention this
to Psycho John and you’re dead, do you understand?
(Sipping the coffee calmly)
knows anyway, couldn’t fail to with the noise you two were making last night.
Here, she made this for you.
He offers CHRIS
the coffee mug and walks out of the room. CHRIS raises the mug to his lips,
stops, looks in the mug and then turns it upside down to emphasis the utter
emptiness of the vessel.
INT. Day. The
lounge of The Grey Fox
BLAKE, SARANN and HENRY sit fully dressed, eating breakfast around a large pub
table. In the background, past them all, we can see the staircase that leads to
the living quarters, down which CHRIS now comes, buttoning his shirt as he
As he reaches the
bottom, he looks up and sees the party round the table all staring back at him.
His attention, however, fixes on the face of SARANN, something which causes his
own face to start turning acutely red.
He swiftly breaks eye contact with SARANN, and obviously
keen not to re-establish it with anybody else at the table, CHRIS attempts to
strike-up meaningless conversation, but merely ends up stumbling over his
Sorry I’m up, er down, a little, ahem, late. I just, well, that is to say… I…
what, what time is it anyway?
Blake dips a
toasted soldier into a huge puddle of grease he calls breakfast and fails to
even look back at CHRIS.
Late. I hate
people being late.
from his mouth and the veins in his neck begin to stand out.
That’s the trouble with the fucking
English, always fucking late, like their beds too much.
The words ‘too
much’ are delivered along with a hearty thump of the table.
BLAKE then goes
back to eating silently, while SARANN moves over to give CHRIS space next to
her. CHRIS takes his seat, giving her a somewhat sheepish smile, then proceeds
to study his empty plate in relation to everybody else’s.
So, er, what are
Yours was getting
cold, so I gave it to the dog.
PSYCHO JOHN leans
over the table and starts to scrape the contents of his plate onto CHRIS’s.
Here you go, lad,
have the rest of mine. You’ll probably need feeding up after the fury of last
night, eh! I’ll get you some juice too, I’m surprised there’s any moisture left
CHRIS stares down
at the table, then at his fingers whitening as they grip the sides of the plate
his food as CHRIS finally begins to eat and starts to clear the pots.
(To CHRIS between sips of coffee)
We’ve got a man
turning up in a minute who’s going to help us. His name’s Paddy, he’s an Irish
lad, with a boat.
There follows an
awkward pause before, just too late to be on cue, there’s a knock at the main
door. SARANN gets up and lets PADDY in.
PADDY is a fat,
pale man in an old, ill-fitting suit. His face wears an expression of constant
worry and his movements are twitchy and nervous. He stands before the table,
his eyes flitting from person to person, cracking his knuckles anxiously.
Paddy, these are
two friends of mine, the ones I told you about.
over and, wheezing, shakes CHRIS’s and HENRY’s hands.
(To CHRIS and HENRY)
Hello, you’re the
Yeah, this is
He gestures to HENRY.
And I’m Clyde.
SARANN giggles and puts her hand on CHRIS’s thigh,
causing him to cast a quick, panicky glance at PSYCHO JOHN and BLAKE who’s
wandered back in.
Right you are,
it’s probably better I don’t know your real names anyway.
To business then.
Paddy’s boat is moored up at Amlwch Port. Blake’s going to drive you up there
in his car. You’ll be in the boot.
In the fucking
boot? Why in the boot?
safer if he gets stopped… Plus, he insisted on it. Anyway, shut up and listen.
Blake’ll drive you up there as soon as it starts to get dark and drop you off
at the windmill there.
Windmill? Why at
Suddenly BLAKE is
holding a knife blade to HENRY’s throat.
Shut the fuck up
and listen. One more word out of you and your sex-pest brother will be going
CHRIS bristles at
the reference but opt to say nothing. HENRY too, wisely, remains silent.
inside the windmill until you’re sent for. The signal will be three knocks
followed by two knocks.
(To Psycho John)
Hang on. You mean
you aren’t coming with us?
I can’t. They’re
looking for me as well, they think you killed me, if I’m seen in the car they
definitely will stop us. I’m staying here until you’re on the boat, then I’ll
ring up the police screaming that I was kidnapped by a gang of Scotsmen, and
get them all rushing in the wrong direction. After that I can sell my story to
the paper and make enough cash to buy more gonadal injections.
Nice plan, this
is going to work I can feel it, I just… what? What was that last thing? What
PSYCHO JOHN sighs
and runs his hands through his hair. BLAKE laughs mockingly and walks over to
Haven’t you it
figured it out yet?
(Not up to speed,
but attempting to catch up)
Figured what out
referring to you, I never expected you to catch on.
This just adds to
HENRY’s confusion, as he now has to consider whether he’s being insulted or not
Remember when I
said your Aunt and I were more than just neighbours?
Well, we were, a
lot more. Look.
He reaches inside
his jacket and produces a photo, which he hands to CHRIS.
Look, there’s your Aunt right, with
CHRIS stares at
the picture and HENRY pushes over to have a look. The picture shows the two
brothers as children, their parents carrying Christmas presents and a
large-built lady standing at the back.
HENRY smiles at
(Eyes still fixed on the picture)
I remember that!
That was the Christmas we got our bikes, and Great Auntie… Cousin Janice stayed
(Then, thoughtfully, scrutinising the
Bloody hell, she
was a big woman, wasn’t she!
CHRIS leans in
closer to HENRY and joins him in scrutinising the picture.
Yeah, and look at
those hands, they’re like slabs of meat!
CHRIS looks up at
PSYCHO JOHN, a mocking smile on his face as he nods casually at the picture.
She looks more
like a bloke in a dress!
CHRIS looks down
at the photo again. HENRY’s gaze hasn’t shifted from it, and his smile is
I’m bloody glad we
didn’t find her, she’s terrifying!
He looks back up
at PSYCHO JOHN again. HENRY’s eyes are still glued to the photo, but he’s
started to frown.
She looks like
more of a man than any bloke in this room!
CHRIS looks back
down at the photo, his laughter beginning to subside. HENRY’s head slowly
begins to rise.
She looks more
CHRIS looks back
up at PSYCHO JOHN. HENRY’s now staring directly at PSYCHO JOHN.
CHRIS’s smile is
now all but gone, and a look of curious confusion has replaced it as he stares
back down. HENRY stares straight at PSYCHO JOHN.
She looks just
quizzically up again. HENRY holds his glare.
At this point,
realising this could go on, HENRY breaks his silence and, staring accusingly at
acknowledge his brother, but looks straight at PSYCHO JOHN, his eyebrows in a
deep frown of confusion. The words do not come easily, in fact they don’t come
at all, instead CHRIS’s jaw silently mouths a question.
There follows an
acknowledging silence as CHRIS and HENRY stare at PSYCHO JOHN. From around them
come embarrassed sniffing noises and the sounds of awkward fidgeting.
PSYCHO JOHN finally breaks the silence.
I wanted to tell
you, but there hasn’t really been a right moment. After all, when you’re on the
run from the police, you haven’t got time to sit someone down and say
‘Actually, I am your mum’s cousin, Janice, but I’m a bloke now’. It just
wouldn’t have helped things.
I feel funny.
SarAnn, get me a drink.
You can get it
yourself, this is a family run pub, and you’re family now!
CHRIS is clearly
struggling with the conversation, but picks up on something extra-disturbing in
(To Psycho John)
You mean you’re
related to Blake as well?
Well, of course!
The big fucker is my ex-husband.
And my Dad.
HENRY gets to his
feet and heads uncertainly for the bar.
(He laughs raucously)
concerned and turns his head alternately between SARANN and PSYCHO JOHN.
You’re my cousin?
So… last night… when we, erm, isn’t that like… Shit, er?
(Suddenly finding clarity in his
We’re going to Hell aren’t we? That’s
like spitting in the face
of God, or something…
PSYCHO JOHN’s faces are frozen for a moment then, looking at each other they
burst into hysterical laughter.
Of course not,
you dumb bastard. I was adopted remember.
The relief on
CHRIS’s face is very apparent.
Oh thank God!
He gets to his
feet and heads to join HENRY at the bar who has already prepared a very stiff
drink which he hands to his CHRIS without a word.
Auntie/ cousin Janice/ Psycho John, and Great Uncle/ cousin Blake, three knocks
followed by two, yes?
He downs the
large drink in one and stares at the assembled mass with an uncertain
(Relieved the talk is done with)
Er, yes, that’s
the code. Go outside to meet Paddy here.
He gestures to
the sweating Irish man who waves back foolishly.
He’ll lead you
down to the boat and phone me once you’re ready to leave. As soon as I get the
signal, I’ll call the police, give them the message and they’ll all belt up
here to try and catch you. Meanwhile, you’ll be on your happy way to Conwy Bay
on the mainland. Blake’s called in a favour from an old cellmate of his, so
there’ll be a car waiting for you there. After that, you’ll be back in
Manchester before you know it and the police will be searching for a gang of
I’ll get my shit together… after another drink.
This last line is
directed at the optics behind the bar.
INT. DAY. Chris’s
CHRIS stands pushing things into a plastic bag while
SARANN sits on the bed, looking a little nervous as she watches him pack.
Chris? Will you,
erm, do you think you would er…
CHRIS has been
preoccupied with his packing and doesn’t quite hear her.
Eh? Sorry, what?
I was just
wondering if, you know, you might call me when you’re back in Manchester?
CHRIS stops his
packing and turns to her.
Oh, thank God! I
didn’t think you were interested, I thought you just wanted, you know, one of
those, one-night, wham-bam, see-you -later things.
(A little offended)
No! Not at all,
I’m not like that…
No, shit, I
didn’t mean you were! I just thought, well, you didn’t… er? Oh, bollocks! Of
course I’ll call you, every night if you like. In fact, I don’t see any reason
why you couldn’t come up and stay with us… that is, if you wanted to.
SarAnn looks overjoyed, and a touch
overwhelmed, by the good news.
I’d… I’d love to!
She stands up and
flings her arms around him. CHRIS lifts her off the floor and twirls her round.
I think I… erm, I
think that I’m, you know… I really like you. Lots. You’re the only one round
here that hasn’t turned out to be, well, weird.
Don’t be like
that, Mum’s not weird, it’s just that…
calling him ‘Mum’.
(Stifling a giggle)
Look. It can get
pretty boring round here, and Mum just got more bored than most, to the extent
that she got bored with being a woman.
She just fancied
a change, so she changed sex and moved over the road. Nobody’s really
interested round here anyway.
There’s a tap at
the door and both turn to see BLAKE glaring in.
If I could just
break up this little love-in for a minute.
(Then to CHRIS)
My ex-wife would
like a word downstairs.
(The joy suddenly draining from his face)
Could you please
not call him that.
Blake walks off,
I’ll be back in a
few minutes. Could you try and get the knot out of my laces.
He hands her a
shoe with a hideously complex looking knot in the lace, then walks out of the
INT. DUSK. Police
station briefing room
There’s about a dozen
officers standing about, chatting and laughing. Two of them stand next to the
door, attempting to chat up the pretty WPC standing there. One of the officers
is BAZZA and he reaches over to stroke the blushing WPC’s cheek just as
INSPECTOR TRAVIS enters behind him.
(Almost on fire with excitement)
Right, my boys,
we’ve got them! They’ll be attempting their escape by boat from Amlwch Port,
but they’ll be in the windmill until their contact sends for them.
Just like I said at
the start, eh Bazza?
(Rounding on OFFICER 2)
Well, it’s bloody
well me now isn’t it! This case is almost closed, I can taste the victory!
With a grandiose
sweep and a wave of his revolver he ushers the officers outside.
This one’s for
Justice! I want every man available there!
As BAZZA makes
his way to leave, INSPECTOR TRAVIS blocks his way.
Not you, Bazza. I
remember you having doubts about my techniques, and it seems someone inside
this department has been snooping on me. Don’t look surprised! I noticed! Now,
I can’t really use officers who don’t have the faith, can I?
BAZZA makes to
speak but is cut off quickly by INSPECTOR TRAVIS.
No. No excuses,
Bazza. I’m afraid you’ll have to sit this particular triumph out, the price of
INSPECTOR TRAVIS’s out the door, closing it behind him, and leaving BAZZA
mouthing a word through the window of the door that looks suspiciously like
EXT. NIGHT. the
The outside of
the windmill at Amlwch. There’s about three dozen policemen there, some armed,
all in bullet proof vests, poised to pounce on the building at any given
approaches INSPECTOR TRAVIS who stands like some avenging angel in the middle
of the blue line, his coat flapping wildly. The windmill’s sails creek and turn
slightly in the wind.
number seven, Sir. Blake was seen driving back from this position and the
description of the car parked here earlier fits Blake’s perfectly.
They’re both in there! Trapped like rats! And I, Detective Inspector James
Sherlock Travis am the pest exterminator!
He brandishes his
gun in a way that alarms the young officer and he backs away a little.
Prepare for my
scurries off and rejoins the ranks.
EXT. NIGHT. the
seen from the POV of the windmill door, checks his gun again, prior to holding
it aloft. In the background the music ‘Bigmouth Strikes Again’ by The Smiths
begins to grow as both vision and dialogue switch to slow-motion.
Turning his back
on the assembled squad TRAVIS screams something unintelligible in Welsh and
begins charging towards us. The other officers shout and charge after him,
onwards towards the windmill, and we switch between the windmill POV and
various close-ups of the on-coming police masses.
The whole scene
is dragged out almost until it’s almost surreal with the TRAVIS-led police
covering seemingly endless distance, their long, drawn-out war cry carrying
Finally, as they
get closer we focus mainly on INSPECTOR TRAVIS’s contorted face, half-crazed
with his lust for justice. Then they reach the door…
INT. night. Windmill
The scene alters
and all sound disappears. From the dark interior of the windmill we can just
make out the outline of the door. All seems peaceful and still.
back in normal-time, the door comes crashing violently in. Simultaneously, all
sound reappears, only louder than before, and the police storm inside the
leads the way in, but trips as he enters and is trodden underfoot by several
screaming, over-enthusiastic officers.
As the music
begins to fade out the screaming diminishes, until it’s just a couple of men
screaming, then one, and then finally none.
climbs to his feet and dusts down his coat before standing bolt upright and
surveying the scene.
(Addressing the interior in general)
You have the
right to remain silent, you…
He’s stopped in
his tracks by the realisation of his sudden lack of prisoners.
Well, where the
fuck are they?
He seizes the
nearest police officer roughly and his voice becomes a high-pitched squeal.
Where are they?
What the fuck have you done with them?!
officer to one side, he begins to push past each policeman in turn, until he’s
walked the entire circumference of the windmill.
We look in
through the door to the windmill. INSPECTOR TRAVIS stands facing us, swaying
slightly from side to side, his revolver hanging limply in his hand.
Suddenly he drops
to his knees raises his hands to the sky and lets out a pitiful cry.
His head drops
onto his chest and he starts to fire his revolver up into the roof. The other
officers all dive on the floor as the shots ring out and dust and slate fall
down on them.
We pull away and
up from the windmill and head through the night sky, looking down as we cross
the land. ‘Mama Told Me Not to Come’ – Tom Jones and Stereophonics version –
begins as we head South East towards the Menai Bridge. Soon we pick up on a
lone car travelling rapidly in the direction of the bridge.
We zoom down upon
the car, and follow it’s progress, until…
CAR INT. NIGHT
CHRIS is driving and HENRY sits beside him, looking a
little confused, but happy to be leaving. The Manics tune draws to a close on
the car stereo and is replaced by the voice of a local DJ speaking Welsh.
this to me again.
(Turning the radio down)
Right, I know
this may sound complicated, but try and follow me.
Paddy, who we discussed the entire plan in front of, is a well-known police
grass. Psycho John and Blake had brought him in under the pretence of needing
his boat, knowing full well that he would immediately go squealing to the
police. All right so far?
By doing this we
pulled off a double bluff on the police. You see, they thought we’d been stupid
enough to tell our entire plan to their grass whereas, in reality, we’d done
nothing but fed them completely false information, sending their entire
department, bridge blockade and all, to the other end of the island, allowing
us to simply drive out!
What about John,
Blake and SarAnn? Won’t they be done for helping us?
abetting? No, seen to. They’ve all rehearsed the same cover-story so that, when
questioned, they claim we were armed, had beaten information out of them and
forced them to go along with the whole plan! Blake even headbutted the wall to
get that ‘freshly done-over’ effect!
I don’t know,
that sounds a bit easy.
Bollocks! So long
as nobody has a picture of us or anything, they’ll never get a proper
description and, therefore can’t catch us or link us to our newfound family!
But Paddy saw us,
he could talk to a police artist and…
What? Like the
police will ever trust his information again after this embarrassing cock-up?!
With a smile,
CHRIS turns the radio back up.
What was that
middle bit again?
But CHRIS isn’t
listening, the Stereophonic’s ‘The Bartender and the Thief’ is on the radio and
he feels like celebrating. Cranking the radio up, he opens the window and
begins to sing. HENRY looks at him in horror and quickly fumbles to turn the
What are you
doing, you mad bastard. Don’t attract any attention!
CHRIS laughs and
grabs his brother’s hair playfully.
Don’t be so
jumpy! There’s no police for miles, they’re all up at that windmill!
Don’t you see?
It’s all worked out for once, H! We’re going home to Manchester, we’ve got a
bag of stolen cash, no chance of being caught… and I’m in love!
(With a shrug of the shoulders)
Oh, fair dos,
HENRY turns the
radio up full and winds his own window down, leaning out and shouting into the
Bye! Bye! You
bunch of Taffy bastards!
(Spurred on by his HENRY’s calls)
Fuck you! You can
stick your greener valleys up your Taffy arses!
Wales for you!
EXT. NIGHT. a
road Near the Menai bridge
A police car sits
on a grass verge, concealed from the road by hedges. As we round on it we see
BAZZA sat in the car, looking utterly fucked off.
He reaches down
and picks up the radio set. We watch his expression turn from on eof deep
brooding to absolute joy and suddenly he’s sat bolt upright in the car. Next,
the lights are on and he’s speeding off down the road. Not far ahead of him we
can see the lights of the Menai Bridge.
CHRIS and HENRY
are taking turns to swig from a bottle of whiskey, a souvenir from The Grey Fox
and Auntie John.
On the radio the
DJ is talking and CHRIS and HENRY laugh happily, mimicking his accent. CHRIS takes
the bottle from HENRY and throws his head back as he drinks deeply.
Our POV switches
to the back seat, watching CHRIS’s face in the rear view mirror.
As he drinks his
eyes are drawn to it and his expression changes to that of horror. As his head
moves we are treated to a glimpse of flashing blue lights in the distance
behind them, then a faint siren can be heard. Just one car at first, then two,
then… God only knows how many. However, the cars are still sufficiently far
away to give a good chance of escape.
CHRIS & HENRY
(His voice exceedingly high-pitched)
Put yer fucking
does as instructed, as the car suddenly accelerates and they approach the
Anglesey side of The Menai Bridge.
Faster! We’ve got
to make it to the other side!
Suddenly, the car
judders and kangaroos violently. HENRY stares at CHRIS in horror as the engine
splutters and smoke begins to pour from under the bonnet and the car starts to
No! No! No!
EXT. NIGHT. car
From the side we
see the car kangaroo to an eventual stop. But, before the thing stops moving
both the brothers are out of the car and running.
Swinging round we
see the police convoy approaching the bridge behind them.
EXT. NIGHT. menai
the bridge walk a middle-aged couple, American tourists. The woman, SUZY, is
dressed in what she would consider to be evening attire and the man, FRANK, is
wearing a silver suit and carrying a camera. Both utterly oblivious of the
commotion heading their way.
This has been a
wonderful holiday, Frank. Just to think that, only three weeks ago, we’d never
even heard of Wales!
It sure has,
sweetie. And that meal tonight was as good as anything we’ve had back in the
FRANK puts his arm
around SUZY and both stop and survey the lights of Bangor over the Menai
Here, honey, take
a picture of me and get the lights in.
FRANK smiles and straightens his wife’s blouse before
stepping back and pointing the camera.
SUZY beams a
toothsome smile and FRANK clicks, just as two men hurtle past. CHRIS and HENRY
look at FRANK in abject horror as the camera flashes.
EXT. NIGHT. Menai
running and stares at the Americans. HENRY, absolutely terrified, reels round.
Run! Run, you
But CHRIS won’t
budge as HENRY tugs at his arm urgently.
(Pointing at FRANK)
He’s got a
picture of us! The bastard took a picture of us! If the police get it, they’ll
get us… And SarAnn!
FRANK and SUZY
watch CHRIS in terror as he screams at them and they begin to back away down
the bridge towards Anglesey.
snaps to his senses.
Get the camera!
FRANK and SUZY
turn to run.
She looks up to
see the sea of flashing blue lights at the end of the bridge as they flee from
CHRIS begins to
chase the couple down the bridge and back towards the oncoming police who are
now moving towards them on foot, riot shields and all.
No! Run you mad
bastard, run! This way!
wildly in the opposite direction.
But it’s no use,
CHRIS is after the camera. HENRY looks desperately from one side of the bridge
to the other, his bottom lip shaking and child like blubbing noises coming form
his lips. Then, he looks down the bridge at his brother.
coming, Bro! I’m coming!
And he takes off
EXT. NIGHT. menai
Music from the
Turtles ‘So Happy Together’.
We see the
majority of the action from close above in slow motion, taking in a succession
of different shots of all the people involved – CHRIS + HENRY, CHRIS + FRANK
and SUZY, and the police approach, occasionally cutting to close-ups individual
faces as all run.
The police move
steadily in from one side. The American tourists come running from the other.
CHRIS hurtles after the tourists and HENRY hurtles after him.
The parties draw
inexorably nearer each other, the only question is who’ll get to who first.
The answer is
CHRIS who, within yards of the police, manages to grab the camera. But FRANK
won’t give it up and by the time HENRY arrives to help, the police are on top
Our final glimpse
of CHRIS and HENRY is seeing them being pushed roughly to the ground by the
police and searched before being handcuffed and dragged, kicking and screaming
to a waiting police van.
INSPECTOR TRAVIS’s hat and flapping coat can be seen as the scene calms running
up to join the fray, a little too late for the victory he so desired.
With this we pull
back higher from the scene and watch the blue lights disappear one by one from
The song ‘Tellin’
Stories’ by The Charlatans begins to fade in.
Subtitles. Over a
continuation of ‘Tellin’ Stories’ and the relevant silent scenes as below.
Evidence in the
trial proved to be largely insubstantial and circumstantial. Aided by Paddy’s
testimony, which amounted to nothing when his evidence was found to have been
’embellished’ by the overzealous Irish man.
As such, no
conviction for armed robbery could be brought and Henry received six months for
assaulting a guard on his way to the stand.
We see HENRY being led to the stand in court, being
shoved slightly by the guard, headbutting the guard and kicking several
different shades of shit out of him on the ground.
After his release
he sold his tale of police harassment to the tabloids and set himself up in
business with Paul ‘Oddly’ Brown.
A year later,
following the collapse of his business due to ‘misappropriated funds’, he
started work as a graphic artist for the Post Office.
released without charge and eventually relocated to Anglesey where, with the
aid of a small business loan, he opened a diving school operating out of Amlwch
with his wife SarAnn.
We see CHRIS, in
a wet suit stood on a boat with a party of tourists. SARANN stands on the
jetty, heavily pregnant.
Psycho John did
indeed sell a version of events to the newspapers. The story was never run, but
he was still paid enough to have further treatment, and eventually went on to
come fourth in the annual Mr Red Wharf Bay Man of Steel tournament.
We see a line-up
of middle-aged men watching in awe as PSYCHO JOHN runs along the beach lifting
huge rocks as though they were little more than pebbles.
Inspector Travis disappeared mysteriously that evening on the Menai Bridge,
shortly after Detective Barrimore made his arrests. Equally mysterious was the
disappearance of evidence from the scene – In the main the complete lack of
stolen money-shaped evidence believed to have been in the getaway car.
whereabouts are, as yet, unknown to the authorities – although they are very
keen to speak with him. Very keen.
Images of BAZZA
on the Menai Bridge hunting desperately through CHRIS and HENRY’s getaway car,
before finally sitting, defeated, on the bonnet and looking utterly baffled.
A tropical beach
and a conga line full of scantily clad women and men waving bottles of rum as
they dance along the sand. Towards the end of the line, between two gorgeous
women, is INSPECTOR TRAVIS in a Hawaiian shirt, straw trilby and shorts,
carrying a huge cocktail and wearing an enormous, drunken grin.