|3x10 - Finale
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|Author:||bunniefuu [ 02/07/14 11:09 ]|
|Post subject:||3x10 - Finale|
EFFY: Morning, slugger.
COOK: Where are we?
EFFY: Thought you were the man with the plan.
COOK: I am. I am.
EFFY: It's been weeks, Cook. One small shitty town after another.
COOK: Oh, Eff, it's not about the destination. It's about the journey. '09 Bonnie and Clyde. Outlaw tour of Britain.
EFFY: I'm serious, Cook. Where are we going?
COOK: We're here. This is it.
COOK: Here. This town.
COOK: Because this is where my dad lives. Aren't you coming with me?
EFFY: Not yet.
COOK: But I want you to meet him. I brought you here to meet him.
EFFY: I will. But I think you need to meet him first. Don't be a pussy.
EFFY: Be careful.
[In the pub.]
COOK SR: Ladies and germs, the fucking Milky Bars are on me. Drinks all round, yeah? Ah, Jesus. Everyone, the fruit of my looms. My fucking son. And this is his very lovely ladyfriend. Pints and shots over here, monsieur, and make it snappy, my mouth's as dry as a nun's. Have a view at the only copper for 40 miles. Eh? Do what you like. Smoke inside. Ash on the fucking floor, see if anyone bats an eyelid. In fact...piss on it. There's a couple of old boys would pay top dollar to see that. This ain't Kansas any more, Toto. Out here you are free as fuck.
COOK SR: Right, here we go.
DONALD: You get one round on account of your lad being here.
COOK SR: Donald, how am I meant to clear my tab, eh? Your wife's away so much I hardly get a chance to see to her.
DONALD: That's 345 pounds...23 pence.
COOK SR: "That's 345 pounds...23 pence." Dick. The only thing that matters to shitheads like him is money.
COOK: It's a fucking disgrace, Dad.
COOK SR: I mean, there's got to be more to life than that, am I right?
EFFY: Like what?
COOK SR: Shagging. 'Ey! Ah-ha-ha! Great minds, Son. Great minds. Everyone knows the best things in life are free.
COOK: Never a truer word, Dad.
COOK SR: Can't believe it. This. Mm? Feels all right, don't it? Me and you, back together. At last. I'm like a dog with two dicks! There's nothing more important than blood. Eh? Isn't that right, princess?
[Freddie & JJ are working.]
JJ: I can't find item 47758 anywhere. Someone's made a very inconvenient error. If we have to go through all the 477s I'm going to be piqued, not to mention vexed. Especially if someone's...
FREDDIE: You all right?
JJ: Yep, don't worry. My back and skull cushioned the fall. Here's item 47758.
FREDDIE: I told you to be more careful on the step ladder, J.
JJ: Stupid old useless, mental me.
FREDDIE: You're not useless...just... Who loses a toilet seat on a bus?
JJ: The 477s are all from trains.
FREDDIE: Have you got, like, some kind of problem with me?
JJ: I just wish you wouldn't smoke so much weed while we're working.
FREDDIE: Why? They don't care.
JJ: It's just a bit...boring sometimes.
FREDDIE: Are you saying I'm boring? Right, so what's next on the list?
JJ: Look, Fred, sorry.
FREDDIE: It's fine.
JJ: Please, I'm sorry, Fred.
JJ: For flip's sake! Stop saying it's fine! It's not fine! Nothing's fine! It's all...smegged, OK?
FREDDIE: You're really getting the hang of this swearing stuff, J!
JJ: OK, how about this, then? I mother-fucking, fanny-farting, cock-munching resign!
FREDDIE: What do you mean you're quitting? You can't quit.
JJ: I can. I learned from the best.
FREDDIE: You've still got the toilet seat.
ANTHEA: Are you... Effy's friend?
JJ: I... I think so. Are you her mum?
ANTHEA: Can I...sit? JJ, right? The magician.
JJ: Oh...I used to do magic. Not any more, though.
ANTHEA: I used to be married. Not any more, though.
JJ: Pick a card, any card.
ANTHEA: I thought you gave up.
JJ: Some things are quite hard to let go of.
ANTHEA: Effy likes magic.
JJ: Are you sure ?
ANTHEA: Well, yeah, not the... you know, stupid abracadabra sort. I... I'm so sorry.
JJ: It's OK. I've come to terms with the facts.
ANTHEA: You know... she was four years old the first time she beat me at hide and seek. Four. I was looking for her for hours. When I finally found her... she just smiled. You know that Effy smile? That means..."You don't know me at all." "And you never will." See, that's a kind of magic. She's so good at concealing things and...hiding, avoiding.
ANTHEA: But I do know her. And I know that she has got so much love in her heart... that the thought of...letting it out, showing her cards... it scares her to death. I never knew it would be possible to miss someone this much.
[In the pub.]
COOK: Go on, Dad! Come on, all the way! All the way, Dad! Go on, Dad! COOK SR: Excellent. Piece of piss. Have that! Well, he's done most of it. Go on, don't be a twat, give him his prize.
DONALD: The whole jar, we said.
COOK SR: All right.
COOK: Nice. Ease you in.
DONALD: One half-pint of bitter, you sad little man. Right! Time! Everyone either head down the club or fuck off home!
COOK SR: Oh, I'm gonna have to neck it now.
DONNY: How about that, boys? Eh? All right? What you doin'?
EFFY: I'm not sure.
DONNY: What you doin' tomorrow? It's the solstice steeplechase. Come down and watch.
EFFY: The what?
DONNY: It's a race. Old village tradition. I'm champion, three years running. Aren't I, lads? You know, if you were my girl, I wouldn't let you out of my sight.
DONNY: I'd handcuff you to the bed an' all. Those things'll kill you, you know.
EFFY: Hadn't heard.
DONNY: That's funny, you can put it on your tombstone.
EFFY: So, what, you don't smoke? Drink? Nothing?
DONNY: We're straight-edge.
COOK: Ef! Effy!Effy!
DONNY: I don't let the pressure crush me up. You've got to look after yourself. Know what I mean?
COOK: Come on, Ef. We're going clubbin'. You, me and Dad.
EFFY: Let's get out of here. Let's just go, now.
COOK: Effy... Listen, there's nowhere else to go. This is it. And it's fucking brilliant! Come on, let's go get fucked up.
[In the club.]
COOK: So what d'you think of her, then?
COOK SR: Very tidy. Nice pins, quality tits and an arse like two snooker balls in a sock. Marvellous! Yeah. I'd ride that to hell and back. Looks like I'll have to get in the fucking queue, though.
COOK: No, I'm going to keep her, you know. She's mine. No cunt's taking her away from me.
COOK SR: I reckon some cunt already did.
COOK: What? You fucking prick! Fucking prick! Fucking... Come on!
[Out of the boat]
COOK SR: Full moon. When the full moon rises... ..gods and monsters will come out to play. So how does it feel? Eh? To have everyone want you? That Donny's desperate to get into your pants. Are you gonna let him? What about me? You gonna let me into your pants? Yeah. Too pretty for your own good. That's why you destroy everything you touch.
EFFY: Look who's talking.
COOK SR: I'm Guns N' Roses, love. I've got an appetite for destruction.
EFFY: You're not his dad. Not really.
COOK SR: And you're not his girlfriend. Not really. You're going to fucking snap that boy's heart in two.
EFFY: And you've been doing it to him every day of his life.
COOK SR: Where do you think you're going?
[In Freddie's shed.]
FREDDIE: Oh, yeah, right there. Ohh!
KAREN: JJ's here. Bye. Sorry, it's just...Facebook really needs to hear about this.
JJ: I just wanted to say something.
FREDDIE: Maybe I'll turn this off first, yeah? You can look now. So what's up? I thought you'd quit.
JJ: I can't quit. You can't quit. None of us can. We're still the Musketeers. We do stuff.
FREDDIE: Well, what are we supposed to do?
JJ: We're supposed to find them. We're supposed to sort this mess out once and for all.
FREDDIE: There's nothing to sort out.
FREDDIE: What is this number? Hello?
FREDDIE: Who is this?
EFFY: Freddie... Cook's in trouble. He needs your help. You need to come get him, right?
FREDDIE: Well, why can't you help him?
EFFY: Because I love you.
[On the boat.]
COOK: Where's Effy?
COOK SR: No idea. She must have fucked off sometime during the night.
COOK SR: Probably jealous of you and me.
COOK: We've got to find her.
COOK SR: Never mind, she'll be back.
COOK: How do you know?
COOK SR: She's in a small town, she's got fuck-all money and she's got no car. Anyway, fanny's fanny. Yeah? Family's family. I've got an idea that's going to take this town by fucking storm. But I need you with me 100%. Yeah?
COOK SR: Right, when we get in there... You do the talking. Great minds, son. Great minds.
COOK: Yeah, Dad.
COOK SR: Oh, I've missed "Dad".
COOK: Fuck off, Dad!
[In the pub.]
COOK SR: Oh! Place looks cracking, Donald. What time's Binkie the Clown serving up jelly and ice cream?
DONALD: Piss off, you. You're never getting a drink in here, ever.
COOK SR: Fucking hell, Donald. Your customer service has gone right out the window. They'd never stand for that in the States.
DONALD: You want to sod off to America, Cook, be my guest. I'll even buy your ticket.
COOK SR: But if I left, Donald I'd never be able to pay off me debt.
DONALD: How are you ever gonna pay me back?
COOK SR: Little wager.
DONALD: Oh, wonderful! Do tell.
COOK SR: My boy here... is going to enter your steeplechase.
DONALD: That... is...good news. No-one was even bothering to enter against Donny this year. What's the bet?
COOK SR: If my boy wins, you drop the debt, like Bono wants for them starving Africans.
DONALD: Fine. But if he loses... I get your boat and you fuck off out of town.
COOK SR: You're fucking on.
DONALD: Beat you later, then.
[In the street.]
FREDDIE: What a shithole.
JJ: Well, this was the area code. So what do you reckon? Shall we...have a look around town, do you think, try and find that phone box?
FREDIE: No, we'll stay here.
JJ: How do you know they'll be here?
FREDDIE: They're coming. OK? They have to.
COOK: What the fuck are you doing here?
JJ: We thought you might be in trouble.
COOK: Do I look like I'm in trouble? I'm fucking ten times better than you've ever been, you pair of miserable, boring shites.
FREDDIE: Where is she?
COOK: Oh, right. That's why you came. Fucking hell. You don't know when you're fucking beat, do you?
JJ: Guys, this isn't how it's supposed to...
COOK: How did you find me?
JJ: She called him. But...just stop this, right? Listen to me, please.
FREDDIE: JJ, stop it.
COOK: Fuck off, JJ.
JJ: Oh, OK, then. You know, flipping... flip the both of you, then. Fuck-turds!
COOK: Enter the race.
FREDDIE: You what?
COOK: Enter the race. The winner gets to keep her. For ever.
FREDDIE: You're a child.
COOK: You're a pussy. Come on, let's fucking settle this.
FREDDIE: In a race?
COOK: You got any other ideas?
DONALD: Ladies and gentlemen welcome to the annual solstice steeplechase. From time immemorial this race has typified the spirit of our town tough, uncompromising, hard. Many have attempted the challenge. Few have succeeded. It's winner-takes-all and everyone else can fuck off. Allow me to introduce the reigning champion, my son, Donny Donaldson.
FREDDIE: Who's that bellend?
DONALD: Not since the first time since Kriss Akabusi graced us with his presence, we have outsiders in the race, so I'd better explain the rules. Once round the village. First one back here is the winner. Oh, and if you drop your elder, you're out, and, er, we give you a bit of a shoeing, lads. Elders, assemble. Choose your riders. Elders, mount. On your marks...set...go! I think I'll chop up your boat and use it for firewood.
COOK SR: Come on, son!
DONALD: Come on, Donny! Away, man!
WOMAN: Why did you stop, mate?
FREDDIE: He fucking elbowed me.
FREDDIE: That's not fair, is it?
WOMAN: Fair? What do you think this is? Enid Blyton?!
WOMAN: Oh, you twat!
SOMEONE: Crap, you were.
JJ: This is my race! Mine!
PEOPLE: JJ JJ JJ JJ JJ...
DONALD: Tell your dad that I'll be there in the morning to collect me winnings.
COOK: You fucking dick! You've lost my dad's boat,Effy... I've got fuck all now, you...
JJ: This is the wushu finger hold. I learnt it in a book. Of a film.
FREDDIE: J, let's just leave it now...
JJ: I'm pretty sure if I apply the correct pressure, your eyes pop out.
FREDDIE: J, my eyes aren't going to pop out.
JJ: Do you really want to take that chance? Let's not air our dirty laundry in public, boys. You, too. Not you, loser.
[In the pub.]
JJ: Take a seat, Ef.
COOK: JJ, mate...
JJ: Now, let's get down to it. No more evasion. No more, "Ooh, I'm so fit and mysterious." Now, Freddie he's in love with you. Aren't you, Freddie? Aren't you, Freddie? And Cook, he loves you, yes? And just for the record, I love you, too. Plus...I won the race. So, three boys, one girl. It's an insoluble equation, unless you choose. Then we can finally get back to our lives.
COOK: Fuck all of yous.
JJ: Cook! No!
COOK: Your Prince Charming made a bet on you whoever wins the race gets to keep you. Classy, eh?
JJ: Effy, I didn't know. Cook, stay.
COOK: No, I'm not living on my fucking knees any more.
JJ: Cook, we can solve this. Stay here, you two.
FREDDIE: What did you expect? You made this a game first. Remember that stupid fucking list? You made this happen. And it's all your fault this is all so fucked up.
EFFY: I know.
FREDDIE: You know? What sort of fucking answer's that?
EFFY: The only one I've got.
JJ: Cook! Cook. Cook.
COOK: You all think... you all think that I'm scum that you're better than me that you're better than my dad.
JJ: Cook... I'm not better than your dad.You are. You're better than someone who runs away from the people who love them. Who need them.
COOK: Oh, fuck off, man. You daft boon!
JJ: Cook... where are you going?
COOK: I'm going to drink myself to death. Then I'm going to say sorry to me dad. Then life finally begins.
[On the boat.]
COOK: Dad?Dad! I thought we was gonna take this town by storm, you and me.
COOK SR: I'm not letting that twat take my boat.
COOK: Well, can't I just come with you, then?
COOK SR: Look, I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask you to turn up here. There's no fucking space. What the fuck are you doing? Give me the keys.
COOK SR: Let me tell you something, James. I never fucking wanted you in the first place. So give me the keys and get off the fucking boat.
COOK SR: Give me the fucking keys!
COOK SR: Now, give Daddy the keys, or I'm gonna melt your fucking face off! Be sensible, son. I'll fucking do it. I'll fucking do it! I don't give a fuck.
COOK: I don't, either.
FREDDIE: This is bad. Fuck! Cook, are you all right?
COOK: He didn't mean it. What's the fucking difference? Nothing good ever stays with me. Absolutely nothing.
FREDDIE: You've got me. I can't believe we just went granny racing.
COOK: I had it all planned out, man. Get a boat of our own moor it down here a job, everything. But she doesn't love me.
FREDDIE: She does. I know she does.
COOK: She loves you better.
FREDDIE: I was with her last night. Do you understand? So you know what I've come here to ask you. Cook, please... please just say it's OK.
COOK: I can't Freds, I just can't. I'm sorry. I just fucking love her. I'm sorry. I fucking love her.
FREDDIE: But we can't share, can we?
JJ: Cook! Cook! Freddie! Right, there you are. What's up?
JJ: On balance, I'd say he was alive.
FREDDIE: Should we...like...tie him up?
JJ: No. A bump to the head like that, you don't want to interrupt the blood flow.
FREDDIE: I dunno, J.
JJ: Right, we'll dump him later. Everyone wrap up warm.
FREDDIE: What are you doing?
JJ: We are going home.
FREDDIE: We can't just nick the boat, this is ridiculous.
JJ: This is 17 years' worth of birthday and Christmas presents. Cook, start the engine, please. We need to leave quite quickly.
JJ: Too late.
DONALD: Oi! Get out of my boat!
EFFY: Oh, my God!
JJ: Get on the boat. Go, go, go. Get that engine started, OK?
EFFY: Hurry up, Fred.
FREDDIE: Help me push it out.
EFFY: Hurry up!
DONALD: Get out of my boat!
COOK: Get it started. Come on!
FREDDIE: JJ,help him, will you?
COOK SR: It's all right, you little fucks.
DONALD: Wankers! You shit, I'll find you! I'll find you!
COOK SR: Fuck you! I'm Cook, you shithead! I'm Cook! Come here. I knew you wouldn't let me down, son. Eh? I'm Cook, you fuckers! Cook!
COOK: No. I'm Cook. Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!
FREDDIE: So...what do we do now?
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