The alarm's gone off, yer know.
Do you think I don't know?
- Jud?
- What?

- You'll be late.
- Shut it.

- Clock's not fast, yer know.
- I said, shut it.

- Give over. That hurts!
- Well, shut it, then.

I'll tell me mam on you.
Shut yer stinkin' mouth.
Oh, Christ!
- Set clock on for me, Jud. For seven.
- Set it yerself.

Go on, you're up.
Hands off cocks; on socks.
You rotten sod!
Just because you've to get up!

- Another few weeks, you'll be up with me.
- I'll not.

- Won't yer?
- No, cos I'm not gonna work down the pit.

- Where are yer gonna work?
- I don't know, but not down the pit.

No. And have I to tell yer why?
For one thing, you've to be able
to read and write before they set yer on.

And they wouldn't have
a weedy little twat like thee.

- Switch t'light out, then.
- Switch it out yerself.