Shameless

Anyone watching, thinking we know fuck all about knowing fuck all about owt

needs to watch their back.

So you've had your Labour, reclassifying skunk, sending prices sky-high,

literally...literally taking the grass from its own roots.

Now you've got your ConDemNation,

Liberals noshing Tories like altar boys picking dimps up!

Have we had a national fucking stroke or what?

Is "revolution" a word or was it never?

Anybody watching needs to know,

we cope better than average with irony in Chatsworth.

Well, for fuck's sake, we live in Manchester, and they charge us for water!

I wandered lonely as a clown, necking mushrooms rarely found.

This green and pleasant land in ancient times.

Yak, yak, yak, yak, yak, yak, yak, yak, yak, yak, yak!

It's not theirs any more.

This is our England now.

Pa-a-a-arty!

Clearer with number one or number two?

Society is dead.

But it was all a big fucking lie anyway, so save your tears.

Don't mourn.

Two.

Schools, hospitals, pensions, care for the wrinklies,

all that "cradle to the grave" shite was just an expensive luxury.

What were we thinking?

We are animals.

It is survival of the fittest.

To paraphrase the one good Scouser,

I don't believe in government, I don't believe in society,

I just believe in me.

Straight ahead.

Noble profession, optician.

Helping the blind to see. Windows to the soul.

Well, there's more money in dentistry, but I didn't make the grades,

so here I am, living the dream.

One of the girls will help you pick out some frames from our own-brand range.

- Beg pardon? - Your prescription.

Oh, no, you don't understand, Doctor.

The dole sent me down here.

You have to go through the motions, or they dock your benefit.

I'm not a doctor, and you need glasses.

That's not...

possible.

It's fact.

I'm not of the four-eyed persuasion, you know. I'm strong. I...

Me against...

- I've got the constitution of an ox. - An ox that needs glasses.

There's fuck all wrong with my eyes, love, so let's get serious, shall we?

Just put your breasts away and look again with your little torch thing

and see if we can't get it right this time.

(# THE STONE ROSES: I Am The Resurrection)

# Down, down, you bring me down... #

# Down, down, you bring me down

# Down, down

# Down, down

# Down, down... #

Ha-ha-ha(!)

Very fucking funny.

How can a piss-stained tramp like you be too vain to wear glasses?

It's not vanity.

- Yeah, and a wash wouldn't go amiss. - Fuck off, you chimp!

All right, knock it on the head!

- Come on, we're only having a joke. - Just fuck off!

- Oh... - Have we hurt your feelings?

- How was the graduation? - Oh, brilliant ceremony.

All dresses and gowns and hats.

Like the royal wedding but without the inbreeding.

Magical, pregnancy. It's brilliant.

Oh, it's a hoot.

Do you mind if I have a little rub?

Fire in. Everyone else does.

Good to have a graduate in the family, though.

White-collar worker, respectable.

Is that what it's about, respectability?

You're asking the wrong person.

You dirty bastard!

I hope he appreciates all this effort.

Buzzin'. Best day of my life.

Got to go.

No, no. Come on, Jackson, stay for another drink.

- Yeah, don't go! - Be fair.

- His mates are throwing a party for him. - Yeah, my mates.

(# THEME FROM 2001: A Space Odyssey)

I graduated. I'm a qualified teacher.

Mammoth.

Mates...?

Fuck it, they can wait an hour.

Cheers, everyone!

Here's to the class of 2012!

You all right, love?

Mm. Must have got caught up with his classmates.

Did you tell him you were planning a do?

Thought he'd pick up on my hints

but clearly not.

His phone goes straight to voice mail.

Poor cow's in denial.

- What of? - That her man's an arsehole.

Thank fuck we're normal, son, eh?

For fuck's sake, look in the mirror before you come out the toilet, will you?

Sorry.

How about some porky pig?

Oh, no.

Oh, vanity, thy name is salmonella.

Jesus Christ! What the fuck, Nosferatu?

If you're trawling the night looking for the blood of virgins,

you'll have a long wait round here.

I have the sweats, and you're lucky I do.

If you could read, you'd see that meat's not fit for human consumption.

I was saving it for the ducks.

Ducks can't eat bacon.

Tell me something I don't know.

And aren't you a bit past your own sell-by

to be self-conscious about wearing glasses?

I am not self-conscious.

Bollocks! You're like a teenager who's been told not to pop his zits.

We do have mirrors.

I am aware that energy expended on vanity's largely wasted on my part,

kind though it is of you to point it out.

So, what?

I cannot be weak.

I know what they think round here.

You've seen how they treat me. Laugh, point, kick, rob.

Not many tears shed when I fell in the Jockey, was there?

Sticks and stones.

It's only because...

I have this.

Yeah?

This.

Faculties. Senses. Head, body.

If I am strong, they can do whatever they like, but they cannot penetrate.

I am immune.

And wearing glasses fractures your superhero defences?

Spectacles, hearing aids, walking sticks, prosthetic limbs.

These...

these...

...place me on a very slippery slope.

If I am weak,

I will not survive.

Yeah, we open at seven.

Doesn't mean I actually want to be out of my pit at seven.

- What time do you have, Feeney? - Just gone half past the hour, Miss.

Begin.

Right, lads, not much time. You know the drill. You, number 10. You, 11.

Remember, be firm. Get straight to the point.

Leave them in no doubt. They'll be glad of it.

God in heaven! You'll have the thing off its hinges!

Don't open the door this time of the morning. It can only be...

- Operation New Start. - Oh.

DSS. Gestapo.

These are court-signed documents

ordering you to vacate these premises with immediate effect.

You're being evicted.

All right, all right! Keep your hair on...

so I can scalp you when I open the fucking door.

- Can we come in? - No.

It's not even nine o'clock yet. What's going on?

- We've been evicted. - Who has?

All of us.

Now, they can't search the house, right?

We've still got some human rights left

in this fucking dictatorship of the moderate.

So, we don't need to flush the drugs, then?

No, no, we're safe. What drugs?

You stupid little...

If the place wasn't swarming with suits, I'd strip-search you,

you little bastard.

What are you doing?

Make noise, move about.

Be several children.

Keep the noise down, will you?

We've got guests. Bloody hell, kids.

Mayhem up there.

Oh...hello.

He still doesn't get it, Miss.

Stop calling me Miss.

It's creepy, like I invented you in a fucking lab.

Sorry, Mi...

So...Aidan Croker,

14, should be upstairs.

And this little angel should be Stella.

Are you enjoying your...your breakfast?

Prawn cocktail. Loves her seafood, so she does.

Right, so no other children, is that correct?

Or were you suggesting there are some more up there?

Yeah, just the one. But, you know, he puts himself about a bit.

This is a multi-agency operation, Mr Gallagher.

Department of Work and Pensions, local council,

HMRC,

environmental health,

the police.

That's not fair!

In the past, people have relied

on the left hand not knowing what the right hand is doing.

Not any more.

You can't put people out on the street. A child, a cripple.

A geriatric fucking cripple.

No, it's a broad remit. Premises inspection,

checking that claimants are getting all they're entitled to.

Or not.

And in some very extreme cases, I am sorry to say,