Kill Wullie Still Game

Mornin', Victor.

Mornin', Jack.

-What are you up tae?

-Ah.

-Oh, aye...

let me guess. The breakfast biscuit of this morning is...Rich Tea!

-Please, my friend.

-Oh, aye, right enough, it was Bourbon Creams at mine yesterday

-so you would try and top that with the Mint Viscount?

-No. Way aff.

If you got in a private jet, Jack, you could not get further away...

-Kit Kat?

-No.

-Penguin?

-No.

-Blue Riband?

-No.

-Breakaway?

-No.

-Fox's Classic? ..Jaffa?

-No.

-There arnae any mair biscuits.

You've gottae think outside the box and more along the lines of... patisserie!

Mammy Daddy! Chocolate eclairs! That is exactly what you're after at half eight in the morning! To me.

That's it, Jack. Savour it. Take your time.

Would you like a tea plate and a pastry fork?

By the way, before I forget, Winston cannae meet us for a pint the day.

-He's gaun up the hospital to get his new leg.

-Good fur him. About bloody time, an a'.

I'd a boner this morning.

-A boner?

-Aye. Just woke up, there it was. Hello.

So, what did ye dae?

-What do you mean what did I dae?

-A wee fouter...?

Shut up. Course I didnae, no! I just admired it for five minutes and then it went away.

I cannae remember the last time I had a bloody boner.

Oh, no, I tell a lie.

-Judy Finnigan.

-Judy Finnigan?!

Aye. Before she went all shakey.

Christ, that must have been a while ago.

Ah, well, good luck to you, Jack.

That there is Mother Nature's way of reminding you that everything is in working order should you need it.

I think it's Mother Nature taking the piss, giein' you a bone and naewhere to bury it.

Tell me this...what would you dae if a big dame came to the door and said,

"Right, Jackie boy. Get me squared up pronto."

I know exactly what I'd dae. "Come in. Get yer scants and nylons aff, there's a wee sherry."

Into the bedroom and yabba dabba doo.

Is that right, aye? I think ye'd shite yersel.

-Aye, I would, aye. So would you!

-Course I would.

-Good job then, intit?

-What?

-That naebody's up bangin' the door wantin' their hole aff us.

-Aye.

We're lucky. Couple of lucky auld bastards.

KNOCK ON DOOR Smashin'. That'll be some woman wanting her hole aff us noo.

DOORBELL RINGS, KNOCKING CONTINUES

-Yes, lads?

-How you daein', Mr McDade? We're collecting for Craiglang Football Club.

Nice touch. Used ma name. Personal. So what huv ye got tae dae?

-Pick a number and write yer name on the back of it.

-Back of it.

-Then, when a' the numbers are took, we cut them up and put them in a tombola.

-A tombola?

-Aye. A tombola.

-If ye win, it's, er, £20.

-The rest of the money goes to jerseys, for the team.

That sounds smashin'. Hold on, I just want to get my pal. He'll want a piece of this. Jack?

What's going on here?

-The boys here are collecting for the Craiglang football team.

-Oh, aye.

Apparently what you do is ye pick a lucky number and then they cut them all up and put them into a...

-What is it you call it?

-A tombola.

-A tombola!

-Tombola?

-You can win...

-20 quid!

-Where is it Craiglang football team play again?

-Eh...doon at the green.

-Oh, aye, the green, aye. What green's that?

-Um...the wan just doon there.

-Did you no' get beat last week?

-Aye! Aye, we did! We got beat!

-Who was it that beat ye?

-Em...

Come on now, ye must remember, it was only last week.

-Was it Made Up United?

-Arenae There FC?

-Don't Exist Rovers?

-A Couple O' Wee Lyin' Pricks Albion?

Put that in yer tombola, ya wee bastards.

Craiglang fitba team! Ma arse!

Anybody sittin' there, Eric?

-Eric?

-Eh? Aye...naw.

Mind if I join ye? I'm gonnae get a wee cup of tea before I start at Navid's.

Bloody parched. Never got ma normal cuppa this morning. Fuse was away in the kettle.

I always take a cup of tea in the morning. Puts ye right off yer stride when you don't get it.

That first cuppa.

-Is it tea or is it coffee you take, Eric?

-Tea or coffee.

-No, it's petrol you drink, intit?

-Petrol, aye...

Oh, aye.

-That'll be the new lassie then, is it?

-That's her.

-The lovely Rena.

-I don't know about that.

Her skirt's away up roon' her erse and the chest on her's ridiculous!

Oh, aye. I hate that. She's a widow tae.

What difference does that make to you? She's aboot 45.

She wouldnae look at any of youse, ya daft old buggers!

-Isa.

-Eric.

-Oh, aye. I was wondering when you two would show up.

-How's that?

Down here ogling the new lassie.

-What new lassie?

-Rena. The new lassie.

-I didnae know there was a new lassie. Did you, Victor?

-Nup.

-What can I get for you?

You can accept a warm welcome to Craiglang, sweetheart.

We wish you every success in your new job. Good luck.

-Two teas, please, sweetheart.

-Aw, that's lovely!

That is really lovely.

And it's Jarvis and McDade pullin' away from the pack of dead-beat loser arseholes...

Chocolates and flowers, Eric. The only way to fly, son.

There he is!

Can you no' read?

Aye, I can read. I can read perfectly well.

Says...Nosmo King. Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha. He's a good guy, Nosmo!

Very good.

-I broke ma wrist at work.

-Thanks for that. I didnae ask ye.

Where's yer leg?

You're no' really readin' that, man.

You're just pretendin' tae read that so ye don't huv tae talk tae me.

Cos it's a wummin's magazine. Mate...

Here, mate...

Here, mate, it's a wummin's magazine.

Mate...

What is it?

Where's yer leg?

-It's no' here.

-Where is it, then?

I don't know. I got it cut off, cos I smoked too many fags like you when I was younger.

-You smoked yer leg aff, man?

-Aye.

-What ye talkin' aboot?

-Well...

-Naw, man. Naw, man!

You smoked yer leg aff wi' too many fags?! Like this?

Ohhh!

Naw, I don't think so, mate.

Mr Ingram?

That's me, son.

-Oh, aye, mate...

-What is it?!

Don't smoke yer other leg aff, an a'!

Right, Doc. Let's get a look at this new leg.

I tried phoning you this morning, Mr Ingram, but you'd already left.

There's a wee bit of a problem.

Oh.

New fitba strips? That'd be smashin'!

Put your purse away, Mima.

That's right, cos it's a bloody con.

Is it?

Ye little bastard!

What is it wi' you, eh? Preying on bloody pensioners!

Just tryin' tae get masel some money.

You're gonnae end up in the pokie, boy. A couple o' quid just now, but it'll lead to bigger things.

-Bag snatchin'. Armed robbery.

-Diamond heists.

-It's a slippery slope.

-You need to get yersel on the straight and narra. Get yersel a girlfriend.

-Aye.

-That's what you should be aboot at your age. Pictures. Dancin'.

-Walkin' in the park. The good stuff.

-You got a girlfriend?

-Naw. I quite like that lassie, but, that works in the cafe.

-The big redhead?

-She's old enough tae be yer maw!

-Naw. Sinead.

-The one that does the tables.

-Oh, aye, the wee lassie. Well, there ye are then. Ask her oot.

-Naw.

-How?

-I wouldnae know what tae say.

-Rubbish. Just hit her wi' the young patter!

The young patter, eh? This'll be good.

-Gie us some of that, Jack.

-Eh, right ye are. Em...

I like the PlayStation. Do you like the PlayStation?

Whit are ye laughin' at? Can you do any better?

Huv ye heard a' the new rapper music? I've heard it. And I like it.

I'll gie ye that, aye. That's good, aye.

No, that was pish, man.

-There's Isa.

-Jesus, look at the state of her!

She's hotfooting it into Navid's to spill the beans about Rena and Wullie.

Let's beat her to it and put her nose right oot o' joint. Come on.

You, keep yer nose clean. And good luck with that lassie.

Navid! Guess what!

-Wait till ye hear, Navid.

-Isa, shut up, we're telling the tale.

-Ye know big Rena that works in the cafe...?

-Shut yer hole, Isa. Just for once I would like to hear a bit of gossip no' from you.

-I was in the cafe...

-Get your brush and go behind the beads.

-Yeah, but...

-Behind the beads.

Will you get behind the bloody beads, woman!

Gentlemen, the floor is yours.

-Right...Victor.

-Not at all, Jack.

-Are you sure?

-I insist.

-Right... We're in the Rendezvous Cafe...

Rena the new woman in the cafe was snoggin' Wullie Reid! Sorry! It's too good!

Ya lousy bastard!

Oh, Christ. That's a belter. She's been in here.

-She's a big honey.

-Aye. What dae ye suppose the attraction is there?

-It's no' money. He's no' got two bob.

Naw, he's a scrounging bastard, always asking for tic. He must have a smashin' big cock.

-Aye.

-Probably.

I'll tell ye what he's got - that smashin' hoose on Blairtannoch Avenue.

Two in a block. They're like hens' teeth! She'll be after his hoose!

-Wullie. Christ, look at the state you're in.

-Are you riding a bike?

Aye. It was a gift from ma girlfriend.

-Aye, we saw the pair o' youse at the cafe. She's half your age.

-So?

It's love. She's moving in wi' me.

-You not a bit old for a bike, Wullie?

-Nonsense!

-She got me a bike. Keep me fit!

-Keep ye fit for what?! Oh, you're no...?

That's absolutely none of your business! What a thing tae ask.

I would never discuss anything personal like that!

Any condoms, Navid?

-What are youse laughin' at?

-Nothing. Nothing. Sorry, Wullie.

-Ask again. I won't laugh.

-Condoms. I'm needin' condoms.

Ribbed...or flavoured?

..Flavoured.

Ach, get it up youse! I'll go tae Boots.

There's someone lifted my pint! Where's my pint?

Jeezo! You go for a quick pish and some lousy bastard whisks yer pint away.

Ye didnae have a pint, Tam. Ye've just come in.

The Lord loves a tryer. What's that ye've got, Eric?

-It's supposed to be mince and tatties.

-Tatties rock hard?

-Mm-hm.

-Mince a' watery?

-Aye.

-Nae Oxo.

-Nup.

-Salt?

-Naw!

-Tasteless?

-Aye.

Pint of lager, Boabby.

-Two pints, Boabby.

-Thank you, Eric.

-Winston. Did you get your new foot?

-I did, aye.

-That's good, Winston. Noo you can have the two shoes on.

-Two shoes, Eric, aye.

-What's the matter wi' ye?

Nuthin'. Gimme a pint o' lager.

Look who it is! Phyllis and Diller.

That's got to be the worst yet, ya tosspot.

-How?

-Cos Phyllis Diller is one person, no' two.

Normally, when we come in, you gie it, "Batman and Robin."

Or "Laurel and Hardy." Double acts.

-What you said is like saying, "Look! It's Frank and Sinatra."

-Or "Bob and Hope." But if that's yer patter...

Knock yourself out. Look, Jack! It's Lawrence Lewellyn Bowen!

Two pints, ya prick!

Is that your new foot, Winston? Smashin'.

-Is it comfy? You getting aboot a' right?

-Aye.

-Gie's a look at it.

-Eh? Naw. It's a foot.

-I've never seen a rubber foot.

-It's no' rubber.

-Is it a good match wi' the other yin?

-Can you wear shorts? Let's see.

-Get it oot!

Leave the man alone. He's in for a quiet pint, no' to show it aff!

-Let's see it!

-Aye, c'mon get it oot.

There ye are.

-There ye are.

-Cheers.

Gie it a rest, youse two. You've had yer jollies doon the pub.

It's no' the foot. It's the nails. What's the deal with the nails?

I've telt youse. It's the only one they had. Bloody NHS.

-It was either that or wait forever for a man's foot.

-Get a marker pen

-and draw hairs on it! Butch it up a bit!

-Gie it a rest.

-Well, it's, um, a bonnie foot, Winston.

-Well-turned ankle.

-Sexy even.

It's depressing, that's what it is.

-How?

-See sitting in that hospital,

wi' a' the other decrepit old bastards...

in beds, in chairs and on sticks.

I've never seen masel as one of them...

but that's what I've become noo, intit?

I mean, what next - the other bloody leg?

-You're not one of them, Winston.

-Aye, Jack's right.

This'll no' change anything.

Ye've lost hauf yer leg, big deal.

I mean, that's hardly you on the scrap heap, is it?

When life hands you melons... make melon-ade.

-Lemons, Jack.

-Eh? Oh, aye.

Melons, ya prick!

Bloody melons.

-Speaking of melons, eh? We've got just the thing to cheer you up.

-Eh?

Put yer socks on. We're going to the cafe.

Where am I looking?

You see Wullie Reid?

-Aye, I see him. What aboot him?

-He's shaggin'...her.

Away ye go, ya pair of doolally bastards!

We're telling ye!

-Christ almighty.

-How about that?

-Randy old bastard.

Awright?

-Huv ye asked that wee lassie oot yet?

-Naw.

-Noo's yer chance!

There's yer roll.

Thanks.

-Is there sauce on it?

-Aye.

-Is it red?

-Aye.

-Thanks.

-Right.

Boys. Thought youse might like to hear the latest.

I was up the high street payin' ma phone

when who staggers oot o' Curry's carrying a big heavy telly? Wullie.

And she's at his side carrying nothing! Sweatin', he was!

-And if that's no' enough...

-Jesus, there's mair!

Etta Clarke who lives through their wall telt me he was up all night bangin'!

-Good for him!

-Naw! Hammerin' and sawin' and bangin'!

-What's your point, Isa?

-I think she's got him daein' too much!

I think she's trying tae burst his wee ticker and keep that hoose.

Where do you think you are? Cabot Cove? Who are you?! Angela bloody Lansbury?

Black widow pish!

-Hello there, Wullie.

-Hello, lads.

-What's that you're drinkin'?

-She's got me on it! Red Bull!

Says it's good for me!

My heart's gaun' like a train!

I huvnae slept in two days!

See youse!

Very cynical, Isa. The man's in love.

He's not the only one, Jack!

-Isa's talkin' oot her arse.

-Aye.

A bloody black widow in Craiglang. I mean, it's only the daft woman that works in the cafe.

And Sweeney Todd was just a daft barber.

Be the way tae go, but, eh? Pumped tae death.

It's the only way tae go. With a smile on yer face and they cannae get the lid of the coffin doon!

Look at that Texan billionaire! He was pumped to death by his wife. That Anna Nicole Smith.

The big blonde? "Here gie me your money! Feel ma diddies!"

-It would be bad news if it was true, but.

-If what was true?

-Big Rena shagging Wullie oot his hoose.

-At his age?

Your hoose for your hole? That's a no-brainer!

A pint o' lager. I'll be next in the queue once she's finished wi' him. Imagine that, eh?

-The last days o' your life and you wake up with a big dolly bird lyin' next to you!

-You do that already.

Wake up, look doon at your lovely wee woman's foot hanging oot the bed. Wee painted tootsies.

Next, you'll be lookin' for a wee plastic haun, a fake wig and tits. You could shag yersel' tae death!

-I'll stick this woman's foot up your arse, Boabby.

-I'm intae that.

-Easy, Winston.

That'll learn ye, ya bastard!

Aw, naw!

I know I'm right.

She was living in that council estate that had to get pulled doon!

So she needs Wullie's hoose! Everybody thinks it's a big joke!

And I'm thinking, "Is it ME? Am I the crazy one here?"

BHANGRA MUSIC PLAYS

I mean, what do you think, Navid?

Navid!

-Navid!

-I'm no' listening to you, Isa. I'm listening to my iPod.

-Go and hawk your bullshit to someone who gives a toss!

-All I'm saying...

All bloody week! "She's trying to kill Wullie! Big Rena from the cafe is a murdering cow!"

-Did you hear any of what I was saying there?

-Er...no.

-Quality.

-What can I get you?

-Big box of matches.

-Matches.

-Bottle of methylated spirit.

-Spirit.

And a packet of Jammy Dodgers.

THUNDER AND LIGHTNING

That's...£4.75.

There you go.

-There you go.

-Thank you.

What an elaborate trap, huh? First, she lures him into the basement with a trail of Jammy Dodgers...

then squish...

whouf... Boof!

I'm beginning to think you're not so crazy after all!

That'll be Winston barred oot the Clansman for a wee while.

Well, it's his ain fault.

He hasnae got a leg to staun' on.

There she is.

I know I'm being a sexist pig an' a' that, but...

there'll no' be a man in Craiglang that wouldnae gie their eye teeth tae be hangin' oot of that big dame.

I know exactly what you're sayin', Jack. Good luck tae ye, Wullie!

-Aye, happy huntin' tae him, aye.

-Get in amongst it, boy!

How's that, Rena?

Are ye gettin' a picture noo? Rena! ..Aagh!

GLASS SMASHES

Victor, open the door!

Jack! Are ye in there?

-What the bloody hell is it, Isa?

-Quick!

I telt youse, but you wouldnae listen!

What are we lookin' at?

Oh, Jesus!

Poor Wullie. I hope you've got her arrested!

-Can you stand back, please?

-What happened?

-There's been an accident.

-My arse!

-Easy, Isa.

It was no accident. She's killed him!

-Keep your voice doon, hen. Mr Reid is with the officer just now. He's very upset.

-MR Reid? Is he no' deid?

I wis fixing the aerial...

Lost ma footin'...

Ended...falling off the roof...

crashin' through the greenhouse.

Rena must have came runnin' doon the stairs tae see what happened and fell.

Snapped her neck like a twig.

Oh, my...

Are ye OK, Wullie?

I'm fine.

These wounds are superficial!

I don't know what I'm gonnae dae.

I loved her that much.

You're a big honey. What's your name?

DO you like the rappin'? Or the PlayStation?

Winston!

-You gettin' aboot then?

-Aye, I am.

-Good.

-Want tae by a ticket for the Craiglang fitba club?

-Aye.

-When's the draw?

-What the bloody hell are you daein'?

-You still connin' people?

-We were trying to help you. Get you a girlfriend. Keep you oot o' bother!

I know, man, but I need the dough. Ma burd's up the duff.