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Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels

UK quad poster
Directed by Guy Ritchie
Produced by Matthew Vaughn
Written by Guy Ritchie
Narrated by Alan Ford
Starring Jason Flemyng
Dexter Fletcher
Nick Moran
Jason Statham
Steven Mackintosh
Vinnie Jones
Sting
Music by David A. Hughes
John Murphy
Cinematography Tim Maurice-Jones
Editing by Niven Howie
Studio The Steve Tisch Company
SKA Films
Distributed by United Kingdom:
Universal Pictures
PolyGram Filmed Entertainment
United States:
Summit Entertainment
Release date(s) United Kingdom
August 28, 1998
Australia
November 12, 1998
United States
March 5, 1999
Running time 105 min.
Country United Kingdom United Kingdom
Language English
Budget $1,350,000[1]
Gross revenue $25,297,569[1]

Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels is a 1998 British crime film directed and written by Guy Ritchie. The story is a heist film involving a self-confident young card sharp who loses £500,000 to a powerful crime lord in a rigged game of three card brag. In order to pay off his debts, he and his friends decide to rob a small-time gang who happen to be operating out of the flat next door. The film garnered Guy Ritchie international acclaim, and introduced actors Vinnie Jones, a former Welsh international football player, and Jason Statham, to worldwide audiences.

In 2000, Ritchie won an Edgar Award from the Mystery Writers of America for Best Motion Picture Screenplay. In 2004, the magazine Total Film named Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels the 38th greatest British film of all time.

A television series, Lock, Stock..., followed in 2000.

Contents

Plot

Long-time friends; Bacon, Soap, Tom and Eddie decide to put together £100,000 to play three card brag against Harry "The Hatchet" Lonsdale, a porn king of notorious disposition, in a high-stakes card game in the hopes of winning easy money. Aided by Barry "the Baptist", Harry's personal bodyguard and trusted counsel, the game is fixed so that Eddie, the card shark representing the group, loses to Harry and is forced to pay a £500,000 debt within one week, citing the loss of fingers and Eddie's father's bar if he fails to pay. To Eddie's fortune, and the dismay of his friends, all four of the group are tasked with honouring this debt, as they were all responsible for fronting the stake money. Harry’s loyal and violent debt collector, Big Chris—who often brings his son and apprentice, Little Chris, to his work—is assigned to collect the payment on the due date.

After several days and no ideas to come up with the money, Eddie returns home and overhears his neighbours, a gang of thieves known for robbing drug dealers, planning a heist on some marijuana growers supposedly loaded with cash and drugs. Eddie relays this information to the group, intending for all of them to rob the neighbours as they come back from their heist, therefore solving the debt. Tom uses his connection with an underground dealer, known as Nick "the Greek", to provide them with guns for the job, and to find someone to help them move the drugs. Nick then manages to acquire a pair of antique shotguns, and arrange a deal with Rory Breaker, a gangster and sociopath, to purchase the stolen weed. Prior to the card game, a pair of lowlife criminals, Kenny and Dean (two scousers used to doing small jobs like stealing cars and robbing post offices), were hired by Barry the Baptist to rob a bankrupt lord for Harry, who wanted a specific pair of antique shotguns from the stolen pile for his personal collection. The two guns that Harry wanted, however, were the ones that Gary and Dean sold prematurely to Nick the greek after the robbery. An enraged Barry the Baptist then threatens the two into getting them back.

The neighbours' heist goes underway; Dog, the leader of the gang, learned of the weed chemists from one of the members, and uses his connections to the group to catch them off guard. Despite having a gang member killed by his own Bren Gun, and an incriminating encounter with a traffic warden, the job is otherwise a success. Unfortunately as they come back to the hideout, the four friends ambush the neighbours and take the loot, who later return that night to stash the goods next door, and then celebrate with a wild night of drinking. The various characters finally collide when Rory discovers that the weed he was going to purchase was in fact his; the weed chemists that were robbed were under his employ. Rory interrogates Nick into revealing where the four friends live, and uses one of the chemists to identify the robbers. That same morning, Dog has become furious at having been cheated and, during a tirade, he launches one of his men into a wall, who discovers (through the hole he makes as a result) various sound recording equipment; Dog realizes that his neighbours were the ones who robbed him, and has the men prepare to ambush the friends in the flat as he takes the antique shotguns and counts the money. Gary and Dean call Nick, who (in frustration) directs them to the same address in their search for the antique shotguns, while Big Chris and his son depart to collect the debt, and the four friends drive home from the bar.

Rory and his gang assault the flat and enter a shootout with the neighbours, resulting in the deaths of all but Dog and the lone chemist, the latter taking off with the marijuana. Dog is mugged by Big Chris of the shotguns and money during his escape, Gary and Dean hastily follow Big Chris, and the four friends finally return to the flat, shocked by the carnage and the missing loot. Big Chris then gives the guns and cash to Harry, and as he returns to his car he encounters Dog threatening his son, who wants him to get the loot back. Desperate to get the guns, Gary and Dean attack Harry and Barry at their office, realizing who they were at the last minute before killing each other in another violent shootout. The four friends soon arrive to find another scene of carnage, and take the opportunity to re-steal the debt money, mystified by their strange fortune. Big Chris then crashes into their car to disable Dog, then flies into a rage at Dog for threatening his son, brutally bludgeoning him to death with his car door. He takes the debt money back from the unconscious friends, only to find his employer dead, and Tom just about to make off with the antique shotguns, which he'd briefly stayed behind to examine.

The remaining friends were arrested, but were declared innocent after the traffic warden from earlier identified the neighbours’ bodies as the prime suspects. The four reunite at Eddie’s father’s bar, and decide to have Tom get rid of the only evidence linking them to all the bloodshed – the shotguns. After Tom leaves, Big Chris arrives to admit he is keeping the debt money for himself and his son, but before departing he hands them a catalog on antique guns. A quick perusal of the book reveals that the shotguns the four had bought for the job were each worth a fortune, and so they desperately try to call Tom. The film ends in a cliffhanger when Tom’s cell phone, stuffed in his mouth, starts ringing as he hangs over the side of a bridge, preparing to drop the shotguns into the River Thames.

Cast

U.S. promotional poster for the film

Cast notes

The film originally starred Laura Bailey as Eddie's love interest. This major plotline was only removed after filming had been completed. The role of JD, Eddie's father, is played by the English musician Sting. Sting's wife Trudie Styler was an executive producer on the film, and the two later introduced director Ritchie to Madonna, whom he later married.

The role of Barry "the Baptist" was played by legendary hardman Lenny McLean also known as "The Guv'nor" after becoming the country's top bare-knuckle fighter. McLean became ill during filming, but believed he was only suffering from a lingering case of the flu. McLean died of brain and lung cancer on July 28, 1998, just before the film was released. Producers quickly changed billboards and posters to feature Lenny McLean as a tribute, even though Barry was only a supporting character.

Ross Boatman turned down a starring role in the film, as he did not wish to be typecast following his appearance in Hard Men. The film uses Dexter Fletcher, P.H. Moriarty and Alan Ford in a tribute to the classic London gangster film The Long Good Friday. This is the second film P.H. Moriarty and Sting both appeared in- the other being the film version of Quadrophenia.

Release

The film was released on 28 August 1998 in the UK, and on 5 March 1999 in the U.S. in 161 theaters. Its total domestic gross in the U.S. was $3,753,929.[2]

Soundtrack

Soundtrack from the Motion Picture Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels
Soundtrack by various artists
Released United Kingdom 1998
United States February 23, 1999
Genre Rock
Pop
Brit pop
Reggae
Length 62:54 (UK)
43:32 (US)
Label Island Records (UK)
Warner Bros. (US)
Professional reviews
Guy Ritchie film soundtracks chronology
Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels
(1998)		 Snatch
(2000)

The soundtrack to the film was released in 1998 in the United Kingdom by Island Records. Madonna's Maverick Records label released the soundtrack in the United States in 1999 but omitted nine tracks from the UK release.

Track listing

  1. "Hundred Mile High City" by Ocean Colour Scene
  2. "It's a Deal, It's a Steal" by Tom, Nick & Ed*
  3. "The Boss" by James Brown
  4. "Truly, Madly, Deeply" by Skanga*
  5. "Hortifuckinculturalist" - Winston
  6. "Police and Thieves" by Junior Murvin
  7. "18 With a Bullet" by Lewis Taylor & Carleen Anderson*
  8. "Spooky" by Dusty Springfield
  9. "The Game" by John Murphy & David Hughes*
  10. "Muppets" by Harry, Barry & Gary
  11. "Man Machine" by Robbie Williams*
  12. "Walk This Land" by E-Z Rollers
  13. "Blaspheming Barry" by Barry
  14. "I Wanna Be Your Dog" by The Stooges
  15. "It's Kosher" by Tom & Nick
  16. "Liar Liar" by The Castaways*
  17. "I've Been Shot" by Plank & Dog
  18. "Why Did You Do It" by Stretch
  19. "Guns 4 show, knives for a pro" by Ed & Soap
  20. "Oh Girl" by Evil Superstars
  21. "If the Milk Turns Sour" by John Murphy & David Hughes (with Rory)*
  22. "Zorba the Greek" by John Murphy & David Hughes
  23. "I'll Kill Ya" by John Murphy & David Hughes (with Rory)*
  24. "The Payback" by James Brown
  25. "Fool's Gold" by The Stone Roses*
  26. "It's Been Emotional" by Big Chris
  27. "18 With a Bullet" by Pete Wingfield

* Track omitted from 1999 U.S. release.

See also

References

  1. ^ a b "Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels". The Numbers. http://www.the-numbers.com/movies/1999/LS2SM.php. Retrieved 2009-09-11.  
  2. ^ Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels (1999), Box Office Mojo. Accessed 15 April 2009.

Further reading

  • Ali Catterall and Simon Wells, Your Face Here: British Cult Movies Since The Sixties (Fourth Estate, 2001). ISBN 0-00-714554-3.

External links

Films directed by Guy Ritchie
1990s
Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels (1998)
2000s
Snatch (2000) · Swept Away (2002) · Revolver (2005) · RocknRolla (2008) · Sherlock Holmes (2009)

Quotes

Up to date as of January 14, 2010

From Wikiquote

Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels is a 1998 film about four London working class stiffs who pool their money to enter a high stakes card game, but things go wrong and they end up owing half a million pounds, with one week to come up with the cash.

Written and directed by Guy Ritchie.
A Disgrace to Criminals Everywhere.Taglines

Contents

Eddie

  • The entire British Empire was built on cups of tea, and if you think I'm going to war without one, mate, you're mistaken.
  • [To Tom about the guns] So, the only thing connecting us to the case is in the back of your car, which is parked outside?
  • I fucking hate traffic wardens.
  • Anyway, fuck it. The battle is over and the war is won.
  • No, fuck that. You can think about it. I am panicking and I'm off.
  • Soap, stop being such a mincer.

Tom

  • There's no money, there's no weed. It's all been replaced by a pile of corpses.
  • They're lacking in a criminal credibility, ain't they? I might get laughed at.
  • Listen to this one: you open a company called the "Arse Tickler's Faggots Fan Club". You take out an advert in the back page of some gay mag, advertising the latest in arse-intruding dildos. You sell it with, I dunno, "does what no other dildo can do until now", "the latest and greatest in sexual technology", "guaranteed results or your money back", all that bollocks. Now these dils cost twenty-five quid a pop – that's a snip for the amount of pleasure they're gonna give the recipients. But they send their cheques to the other company name, nothing offensive, er, "Bobbie's Bits" or something, for twenty-five quid. You take that twenty-five quid, you stick it in the bank until it clears. Now, this is the smart bit – you send back the cheque for twenty-five pound from the other company name, "Arse Tickler's Faggots Fan Club", saying we're sorry, we couldn't get the supplies from America because they ran out of stock. Now you see how many people cash that cheque – not a single soul, because who wants their bank manager to know they tickle arse when they're not paying cheques?
  • It's a deal, it's a steal, it's a sale of the fucking century. In fact, fuck it, Nick, I think I'll keep it!
  • It comes with a gold plated Rolls Royce if you pay for it.

Bacon

  • Right. Let's sort the buyers from the spyers, the needy from the greedy, and those who trust me from the ones who don't, because if you can't see value here today, you're not up here shopping. You're up here shoplifting. You see these goods? Never seen daylight, moonlight, Israelite. Fanny by the gaslight. Take a bag, c'mon, take a bag. I took a bag home last night. Cost me a lot more than ten pound, I can tell you. Anyone like jewelry? Look at that one there. Handmade in Italy, hand-stolen in Stepney. It's as long as my arm. I wish it was as long as something else. Don't think because these boxes are sealed up, they're empty. The only man who sells empty boxes is the undertaker, and by the look of some of you lot today, I'd make more money with me measuring tape. Here, one price. Ten pound.
  • "Too late, too late" will be the cry when the man with the bargains passes you by.
  • [To Soap] I'm not sure what's more worrying, the job or your past.
  • [To Dog holding up a gun] Bend over the fucking desk!
  • Let me tell you about Hatchet Harry. Once there was this geezer called Smithy Robinson, who worked for Harry. It was rumoured that he was on the take. Harry's invited Smithy 'round for explanation. Smithy didn't do a very good job. Within a minute, Harry's lost his rag. Reached out for the nearest thing at hand, which happened to be a 15-inch black rubber cock. He's then proceeded to batter poor Smithy to death with it. Now, that was seen as a pleasant way to go. Hence, Hatchet Harry is the man you pay if you owe.
  • 'Course you will, sweet'art.
  • What d'you think this is, hide and seek?

Soap

  • A minute ago this was the safest job in the world. Now it's turning into a bad day in Bosnia.
  • Oi! Keep your fingers out of my soup!
  • You're not funny, Tom. You're fat, and look as though you should be, but you're not.
  • Brother, mother, or any other sucker, they're still fucking guns, and they still fire fuckin' bullets!
  • Also, I think knives are a good idea. Big, fuck-off shiny ones. Ones that look like they could skin a crocodile. Knives are good because they don't make any noise, and the less noise they make, the more likely we are to use them. Shit 'em right up. Makes it look like we're serious. Guns for show, knives for a pro.

Rory Breaker

  • If the milk turns out to be sour, I ain't the kind of pussy to drink it.
  • If you hold back anything, I'll kill you. If bend the truth, or I think you're bending the truth, I'll kill you. If you forget anything, I'll kill you. In fact, you're gonna have to work very hard to stay alive, Nick. Now, do you understand everything I've said? Because if you don't, I'll kill you! Now, Mr. Bubble and Squeak, you may enlighten me.
  • Is this a declaration of war? Is this some white cunts' joke that black cunts don't get? 'Cause I'm not fucking laughing, Nichol-arse!
  • This white shite thinks he can steal my tings and sell it back to me? He's got less brains than you, Lenny! Get Nick, that greasy wop, shistos, pesevengi, gamouri Greek bastard 'round 'ere now, if he's still stupid enough to be on this planet.
  • What do you want, a medal? I'll shoot you in the fucking throat if I don't get my ganja back!
  • We're gonna do a proper decoration job. I want the grey skies of London illuminated. I want that house painted red.
  • Mr. Breaker … today, my name is Mr. Breaker!

Barry the Baptist

  • If you don't want to be counting the fingers you haven't got, I suggest you get those shooters. Quick!
  • No mortgages, no debts; lock, stock, the fuckin' lot.
  • Fucking northern monkeys!
  • When you dance with the devil, you wait for the song to stop.
  • [Trying to stop his monitor switching off] Come on! Not now, please, not – [monitor goes off] oh, you fucking bastard.
  • Hello boy, feeling a bit poorly? I know your friends are responsible for most of the cash, so I'm gonna give you one week to find it. Otherwise, I will take a finger of each of you and your friends' hands for every day that passes without payment. And then, when you run out of digits, your dad's bar, and who knows what then. All right, my son?

Others

  • Big Chris: It's been emotional.
  • Big Chris: All right, son. Roll them guns up, count the money, put your seat belt on!
  • Hatchet Harry: I don't want to know who you use, as long as they're not complete muppets.
  • Winston: Charles, get the rifle out. We're being fucked!
  • Barfly Jack: Rory? You don't know Rory. He's not to be underestimated. He's a funny-looking fucker, I know, but you've got to look past the hair and the cute, cuddly thing – it's all a deceptive facade. A few nights ago Rory's Roger iron's busted, so he's gone down the battle-cruiser to watch the end of the football game. No one's watching the custard, so he switches the channel over. A fat geezer's north opens and he wanders up and turns the Liza over. "Now fuck off and watch it somewhere else." He knows claret is imminent, but he doesn't want to miss the end of the game; so, calm as a coma, picks up a fire extinguisher, walks straight past the jam rolls who are ready for action, and plonks it outside the entrance. He then orders an Aristotle of the most ping-pong tiddly in the nuclear sub and switches back to his footer. "That's fucking it," says the geezer. "That's fucking what?" says Rory. And he gobs out a mouthful of booze covering fatty; he flicks a flaming match into his bird's nest and the geezer's lit up like a leaking gas pipe. Rory, unfazed, turns back to his game. His team's won, too: four–nil.
  • J.D.: You're lucky you're still breathing, let alone able to walk. I suggest you take full advantage of that fact.
  • Dog: Golf – the best way to spoil a good walk. Winston Churchill said that. I say it's a dog-eat-dog world. And I got bigger teeth than you two.

Dialogue

Security #1: [upon seeing Eddie and friends] Invitations.
Eddie: Invitations?
Security #2: Yeah, invitations. You know, four pretty white pieces of paper with yer names on.
Eddie: Well, we've got a 100.000 bits of paper with Queen's head on. Will that do?
Security #2: All right, just you. The others, they can wait next door in Samoan Jo's.
Eddie: Samoan Jo's … you mean the pub? Hold on –
Security #2: [interrupting Eddie] Hold on to your fucking tongue and I'll hold on to my patience, okay, sonny? No one in here tonight but card players. And I do mean – no one.
Eddie: Right. We hit 'em as soon as they come back. We'll be prepared. Waiting. And they're armed …
Soap: What was that? Armed? What do you mean, armed? Armed with what?
Eddie: Er, bad breath, colourful language, feather duster … what do you think they're gonna be armed with? Guns, you tit!
Soap: Guns? You never said anything about guns. A minute ago this was the safest job in the world. Now it's turning into a bad day in Bosnia!
Eddie: Soap, stop being such a mincer. I've thought about that, and –
Soap: And what, exactly?
Eddie: And … all we have to do is find out who's carryin'em.
Soap: Carrying them? Well, they could all be carrying them for what we know!
Eddie: No. Only one of 'em carries them going to the job, so I assume the same one will be carryin'em when they come back from the job.
Soap: Oh, you assume, do you? And what did I say about assumptions being the brother of all fuck-ups?
Tom: It's the mother of all fuck-ups, stupid!
Soap: Well, brother, mother, or any other sucker! It don't make any difference. They're still fucking guns and they still fire fucking bullets!
Nick the Greek: Weed?
Tom: Nah, it's not normal weed. Some fucked-up skunk, class A, can't-think-let-alone-move shit.
Nick the Greek: Doesn't sound good to me.
Tom: Well, neither me. But it depends what flicks your switch. And the light is on and burning brightly for the masses. Anyway, do you know anyone?
Nick the Greek: I know a man, yes. Rory Breaker.
Tom: Not that madman with an afro? I don't want anything to do with him.
Nick the Greek: You won't have to. Just get me a sample.
Tom: Ah, no can do.
Nick the Greek: What's that? A place near Katmandu? Meet me halfway, mate.
Tom: Look, it's all completely chicken soup.
Nick the Greek: It's what?
Tom: It's kosher. As Christmas.
Nick the Greek: The Jews don't celebrate Christmas, Tom.
Tom: Well, never mind that. We're gonna need some artillery too. Couple of sawn-off shot-guns.
Nick the Greek: This is a bit heavy. This is London, not the Lebanon. Who do you think I am?
Tom: Think you're Nick the Greek.
Big Chris: He likes your bar.
J.D.: Yes.
Big Chris: He wants your bar.
J.D.: And?
Big Chris: Do you want me to draw you a picture?
Barry the Baptist: [turns around from stripper] Right, where was we?
Gary: Shotguns? What, like guns that fire shots?
Barry the Baptist: Oh, you must be the brains of the operation, then. Yes, that's right, guns that fire shots. Make sure you bring everything from inside the gun cabinet. There'll be a load of old guns, that's all I want. Everything else, outside the cabinet, you can keep. It's yours.
Gary: [sarcastically] Oh, thank you very much. There better be something there for us.
Barry the Baptist: It's a fucking stately home, of course there'll be something there.
Dean: Like what?
Barry the Baptist: Like fucking antiques.
Dean: Antiques? What the fuck do we know about antiques? We rob post offices …
Gary: … steal cars …
Dean: What the fuck do we know about antiques, mate?
Barry the Baptist: If it looks old, it's worth money. Simple. So stop fucking moaning and rob the place.
Gary: So who's the Guv? Who we doing this for?
Barry the Baptist: You're doing it for me is all you need to know. You know because you need to know.
Gary: I see. One of them "on a need to know basis" things, is it? Like one of them James Bond films.
Barry the Baptist: Careful. Remember who's giving you this job. Right, I'm off, call me when you're done. Ta-ta. [gets up and walks off] Fucking northern monkeys!
Gary: I hate these fucking southern fairies.
Winston: Charles, why have we got that cage?
Charles: Uh, security.
Winston: That's right, that's right – security. So what's the point in having it if we're not going to fucking use it?
Charles: Well, I would've used it, but this is Willie, and Willie lives here.
Winston: Yes, but you didn't know it was Willie until you opened the door, did you?
Willie: Chill, Winston, it's me. Charlie knows it's me. What's the problem?
Winston: The problem, Willie, is that Charles and yourself are not the quickest of cats at the best of times. So just do as I say and keep the fucking cage locked! What is that?
Willie: That's Gloria.
Winston: Yes, I know that's Gloria. What's that?
Willie: Fertilizer.
Winston: You went out six hours ago to buy a money counter, and you come back with a semi-conscious Gloria and a bag of fertilizer. Alarm bells are ringing, Willie.
Willie: We need fertilizer, Winston.
Winston: Mmm-hmm. We also need a money counter. This money's got to be out by Thursday. I'm buggered if I'm gonna count it. Oh, uhm, and if you do have to buy sodding fertilizer, could you just be a little more subtle?
Willie: What do you mean?
Winston: We grow copious amounts of ganja, yeah?
Willie: Yeah.
Winston: And you're carrying a wasted girl and a bag of fertilizer. You don't look like your average horti-fucking-culturist! That's what I mean, Willie.
Plank: [gets hit with an air rifle] Ah! They fucking shot me!
Dog: Well, shoot 'em back!
Plank: [shoots wildly]
John: Jesus, Plank, couldn't you have got smokeless cartridges? I can't see a bloody thi– ah! Shit! I've been shot.
Dog: I don't fucking believe this! Can everyone stop getting shot?
Little Chris: Fucking hell, John, do you always walk around with this in your pocket?
Big Chris: Hey! You use language like that again, son, you'll wish you hadn't!
J: [Discussing their careers as marijuana growers] I've a strong suspicion we should have been rocket scientists, or Nobel Peace Prize winners … something.
Charles: Peace Prize? Oh. Be lucky to find your penis for a piss, the amount you keep smoking.
Tom: Well, he can afford to do the deal at the price we're selling. It's not worth him giving us any trouble, 'cause he knows we'll be a pain in the arse.
Soap: I'd take a pain in the arse for half a million quid.
Tom: You'd take a pain in the arse for air miles.
Soap: Tom, the fatter you get, the sadder you get.
Eddie: Will you two stop flirting for a minute?
Soap: Where the fuck are they going? … Shift a piano? I thought this was meant to be a robbery.
Eddie: Where did they get those outfits?
Tom and Bacon in Unison: Not a bad idea, that.
Dean: He's got the guns. Go ahead. You get them.
Gary: Why me?
Dean: You're supposed to be the hard case.
Gary: [shrieks] You get the guns. I drive the car!
Soap: Rory Breaker? That psychotic black dwarf with an afro?
Tom: That would be the same man, yes.
Soap: Have a look at these. [hands Tom a ski mask]
Eddie: What are we supposed to do with these?
Soap: Put them on your head, stupid.
Eddie: Christ.
Soap: If you think I'm turning up clean-shaven and greet them with a grin, you've got another thing coming. Now, these fellas, they are your neighbors. I thought it might be a good idea to disguise ourselves.
Eddie: Right. Er, good thinking, Soap. Well done.
Soap: I brought weapons as well.
Eddie: What do you mean, weapons?
Soap: [pulls a bundle from his coat and unrolls it, revealing large knives] These.
Eddie: Jesus! [grabs the bundle and rerolls it] Let's keep 'em covered up, eh? Couldn't you get anything bigger?
Soap: [pulls a big ass machete from his trousers] What, like that? What d'you think?
Eddie: … I think you need help.
Nick the Greek: [haggling with Tom] What else does it come with?
Tom: It comes with a gold-plated Rolls Royce, as long as you pay for it.
Nick the Greek: Dunno. Seems expensive.
Tom: Seems? Well, this seems to be a complete waste of my time. That, my friend, is 900 nicker in any store you're lucky enough to find one in. And you're haggling over 200 pound? What school of finance did you come from, Nick? It's a deal, it's a steal, it's the sale of the fucking century. In fact, fuck it Nick, I think I'll keep it!
Nick the Greek: All right, all right, keep your Alans on!
[Nick pulls a massive wad of money out of his pocket]
Nick the Greek: Here's a ton.
Tom and Eddie: Jesus Christ!
Eddie: You could choke a dozen donkeys on that! And you're haggling over one hundred pound? What're you doing when you're not buying stereos, Nick, financing revolutions?
Nick the Greek: 100 pound is still 100 pound.
Tom: Not when the price is 200 pound, it ain't! And certainly not when you've got Liberia's deficit in your skyrocket. Tighter than a duck's butt, you are. Now, come on, lemme feel the fiber of your fabric.
[After shooting each other]
Gary: What the fuck are you doing here?
Barry: What the fuck are you doing here?
Bacon: Right. Let's sort the buyers from the spyers, the needy from the greedy, and those who trust me from the ones who don't, because if you can't see value here today, you're not up here shopping. You're up here shoplifting. You see these goods? Never seen daylight, moonlight, Israelite. Fanny by the gaslight. Take a bag, c'mon, take a bag. I took a bag home last night. Cost me a lot more than ten pound, I can tell you. Anyone like jewelry? Look at that one there. Handmade in Italy, hand-stolen in Stepney. It's as long as my arm. I wish it was as long as something else. Don't think because these boxes are sealed up, they're empty. The only man who sells empty boxes is the undertaker, and by the look of some of you lot today, I'd make more money with me measuring tape. Here, one price. Ten pound.
Eddie: Did you say ten pound?
Bacon: Are you deaf?
Eddie: That's a bargain. I'll take one.
Bacon: Squeeze in if you can. Left leg, right leg, your body will follow. They call it walking. You want one as well, darling? You do? That's it. They're waking up. Treat the wife. Treat somebody else's wife. It's a lot more fun if you don't get caught. Hold on. You want one as well? Okay, darling, show me a bit of life, then. It's no good standing out there like one o'clock half-struck. Buy them, you better buy them. These are not stolen, they just haven't been paid for, and we can't get them again, they've changed the bloody locks. Here. One for you. It's no good coming back later when I've sold out. "Too late, too late" will be the cry when the man with the bargains has passed you by. If you got no money on you now, you'll be crying tears as big as October cabbages.
Eddie: Bacon, cozzers!
Bacon: Shit. [quickly throws all the goods inside a suitcase and starts running]
Rory Breaker: What did you shoot him with, an air rifle?
Winston: Look, we grow weed. We're not mercenaries.
Rory Breaker: You don't say.
Eddie: Oh, and if Tom or anyone else for that matter feels like giving them a bit of a kicking, I'm sure it won't do any harm.
Soap: Yeah. Little bit of pain never hurt anybody, if you know what I mean. Also, I think knives are a good idea. Big, fuck-off shiny ones. Ones that look like they could skin a crocodile. Knives are good because they don't make any noise, and the less noise they make, the more likely we are to use them. Shit 'em right up. Makes it look like we're serious. Guns for show, knives for a pro.
Tom: Soap, is there something we should know about you?
Bacon: I'm not sure what's more worrying, the job or your past.
Barry the Baptist: Fucking northern monkeys!
Gary: I hate these fucking southern fairies!
Hatchet Harry: You must be Eddie, J.D.'s son.
Eddie: You must be Harry. Sorry, didn't know your father.
Hatchet Harry: Never mind, son, you just might meet him if you carry on like that.
Rory Breaker: Your stupidity may be your one saving grace.
Nick the Greek: Uh?
Rory Breaker: Don't "uh" me, Greek boy! How is it that your fucking stupid soon-to-be-dead friends thought they might be able to steal my cannabis and then sell it back to me? Is this some white cunt's joke that black cunts don't get? 'Cause I ain't fucking laughing, Nich-ohl-arse!
Gary: So who's the gov'? Who we doing this for?
Barry the Baptist: You're doing it for me, that's all you need to know. You know because you need to know.
Gary: I see. One of them "on a need to know basis" things, is it? Like one of them James Bond films.
Barry the Baptist: Careful. Remember who's giving you this job.
Big Chris: I've got some bad news for you, John.
John: What the fuck?
[Chris slamms top of tanning bed on John]
Big Chris: Mind your language in front of the boy!
John: Jesus Christ!
[Chris does it again]
Big Chris: That includes blasphemy as well!
Don: I'll fold.
Phil: Fold? Is that the only word you learnt at school?
Don: No, I also learned the word cunt!
Bacon: What's that?
Samoan Joe's Barman: It's a cocktail. You asked for a cocktail.
Bacon: No. I asked you to give me a refreshing drink. I didn't expect a fucking rainforest! You could fall in love with an orangutan in there. Bring me a pint!
Samoan Joe's Barman: You want a pint, you go to the pub.
Bacon: I thought this was a pub!
Samoan Joes Barman: It's a Samoan pub.
Dog: [indicates massive gun] What the fuck is that?
Mickey: It's me Bren gun.
Dog: Couldn't you have thought of something more practical?
Barry the Baptist: Hello, son. Would you like a lolly?
Little Chris: Piss off, you nonce!
Paul: Come, take a look at this.
Traffic Warden: Take a look at what, exactly?
Paul: Well, the van's half-full. So all I have to do is fill it up, put you in it, [knocks him out] and I'm off.
Tom: [after having just robbed Dog and his crew] Jesus, that wasn't too bad, was it?
Soap: When the bottle in my arse has contracted, I'll let you know.
Eddie: Bacon, see what we've got.
Bacon: Let's have a butcher's, eh?
[He inspects the loot]
Bacon: We've hit the jackpot, lads! We've got God knows how much of this stinking weed, a shitload of cash … and a traffic warden.
Tom: What?
[Bacon holds up an unconscious man]
Tom: Jesus, Ed, we've got a traffic warden!
Bacon: I think he's still alive – he's got claret coming out of him somewhere. What did they want with a traffic warden?
Eddie: I don't know, but I don't think we need him! Knock him out and dump him at the lights.
Bacon: Knock him out? What'd ya mean, knock him out? Knock him out with what?
Eddie: I don't know. Use your imagination!
[Bacon punches the Traffic Warden, who moans in pain.]
Tom: Don't touch him up. Knock him out!
Bacon: I'll knock you out in a minute! Look, you want to knock him out? You knock him out.
Eddie: I fucking hate traffic wardens.
[After a pause, Tom and Eddie jump into the back of the van with Bacon; all three proceed to batter the Traffic Warden senseless]
Bacon: The odds are a hundred to one. All we need is five grand.
Soap: I'd rather put my money on a three-legged rocking horse. The odds are a hundred to one for a good reason, Bacon. It won't win!
Tom: Listen to this one: you open a company called the "Arse Tickler's Faggots Fan Club".
Soap: You what?
Tom: You take out an advert in the back page of some gay mag, advertising the latest in arse-intruding dildos. You sell it with, I dunno, "does what no other dildo can do until now", "the latest and greatest in sexual technology", "guaranteed results or your money back", all that bollocks. Now these dils cost twenty-five quid a pop – that's a snip for the amount of pleasure they're gonna give the recipients. But they send their cheques to the other company name, nothing offensive, er, "Bobbie's Bits" or something, for twenty-five quid. You take that twenty-five quid, you stick it in the bank until it clears. Now, this is the smart bit – you send back the cheque for twenty-five pound from the other company name, "Arse Tickler's Faggots Fan Club", saying we're sorry, we couldn't get the supplies from America because they ran out of stock. Now you see how many people cash that cheque – not a single soul, because who wants their bank manager to know they tickle arse when they're not paying cheques?
Bacon: So how long do you have to wait until you see a return?
Tom: Probably no more than four weeks.
Bacon: A month? So, what fucking good is that if we need it in six – no, five days?
Tom: Well, it's still a good idea.
Soap: Where'd you get these? A fucking museum?
Tom: Nick the Greek.
Bacon: How much did you part with?
Tom: 700 for the pair.
Soap: Drachmas, I hope. I'd feel safer with a chicken drumstick. These are gonna do more harm than good.
Eddie: Where the hell are we gonna hide?
Bacon: Don't complicate things, just hide!
Dog: I'll find ya.
Bacon: 'Course you will, sweet'eart.
Dog: I'll find ya.
Bacon: What d'you think this is, hide and seek?
Rory Breaker: Your stupidity may be your one saving grace.
Nick the Greek: Uh?
Rory Breaker: Don't "uh" me, Greek boy! How is it that your fucking stupid soon-to-be-dead friends thought they might be able to steal my cannabis and then sell it back to me? Is this some white cunt's joke that black cunts don't get? 'Cause I ain't fucking laughing, Nich-ohl-arse!
[Nick shrugs with a stupid look on his face]
Rory Breaker: I know that you couldn't have known my position, 'cause you're not that stupid, that if you did, you wouldn't turned up here scratching your ass, with that "what's going on here?" look slapped all over your chevy-chase! But what you do know … is where these people live. [Rory swings around his chair, gets up and straightens his jacket] If you hold back anything, I'll kill you. If bend the truth, or I think you're bending the truth, I'll kill you. If you forget anything, I'll kill you. In fact, you're gonna have to work very hard to stay alive, Nick. Now, do you understand everything I've said? [Nick nods in fear] Because if you don't, I'll kill you! [Rory then puts on a gentle smile] Now, Mr. Bubble and Squeak, you may enlighten me.

Taglines

  • A Disgrace to Criminals Everywhere.
  • They lost half a million at cards, but they've still got a few tricks up their sleeve …

Cast

External links

Wikipedia







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