Hang on, what about them blokes
Pete was on about?

What? Always got bags of it?
Straight out the back door
of the chemical factory?

That's fuckin' rubbish.
Just sort of bollocks you'd
expect from that flash cunt.

Yeah, but it's worth a try.
- I'll try him now.
- [Man] Nothing to do?

All right, George,
half a minute.

I'll pick you up later.
Yeah, all right, Jim.
D'you want a push start?
[Engine starts]
No, thanks.

Hey, Jim!
I'll be me own bike tomorrow.
The scooter's back
from the garage.

Burn the arse off
your rust bucket.

Any time.
[Dogs bark]
Butch! Jenny! It's all right.
Go on, get back in there.
Hello, young Jim. 0n holiday?
Nah, just fancied the day off.
You'll be a bloody beatnik
before you know it.

Ban the bomb and do fuck all.
Poncin' about.

0h, you're all right.
Just you and your Uncle Charlie.

Don't have to bother
with a load of cunts.

- You know what I mean.
- I don't.

No work, no money.
And I like money.
'Ere, Pete, what about Brighton
this weekend, eh?

What about it?
Er, pills.
We thought you might
get hold of some.

Why me?
I'm not a fuckin' pusher.

No, but you know
some blokes who are?

Not me.
Charlie's mates.
And I'm not gonna start blabbing
about mates of Charlie's.

They're fuckin' big.
They don't mess about.