Purely Belter

Gerry, man, why's it always me that does all the hard graft?

Cos you're the one with the shovel.

Oh, right.

Aye, but even when there were no shovels,

it's still always me that does all the big, heavy, horrible stuff.

Aye. That's cos you're the one that's big, heavy and horrible.

Sewell, watch what you're doing, man!

I want straight edges, you know.

What you on about? It's pitch bloody black, man.

You'll have to make do with zigzag.

Here.

Oh, shite!

That was me last one an' all.

Haway, activity!

Step on it, Sewell.

Oh, fuck, man, Sewell!

Oh, Jesus. I need some bloody light, man.

Fuck it!

'Finally, a spokesman for Newcastle United described last night's theft

'of a penalty spot from St James's Park

'as "an act of mindless vandalism".

'Head groundsman Charlie Harrison had just one word for it -

'"sacrilege". Travel and weather coming up next.'

I don't understand what they're on about.

Sacrilege?

It's like, you know, making a mess of something sacred, like.

No, I mean mindless. That's bollocks, man.

We put a lot of thought into that. Like you said,

if you can't be a part of it, you might as well take a part of it.

That's it,

that's it. Come on.

Field of dreams, man.

We can be part of it.

I can see it now, Sewell, man.

We'll get in there dead early, like, to soak up the atmosphere,

and buy us both a huge cup of tea each. Two sugars, dead milky.

And when the Magpies come out, we'll get up and go bananas,

you know, like you do.

And then they'll kick off, and we'll just be there all comfy-like,

sitting in our seats, sipping our tea, watching our Toon. Belter, eh?

What are you on about, Gerry, man?

Season tickets.

Season tickets? Us?

Way-aye. Why not, like?

They don't hand them out on the social.

They cost about £500, like, each.

So?

So we're £500 short, like, each.

So? You know what you and me need?

About £1,000, by the sound of it.

A mission.

What do you say? All we get from thieving,

put it all to one side, like.

Anything we can think of for makin' money, we'll do.

And we dinnae chuck it away, either. Pack in the tabs, pack in the dope.

No booze, and no glue.

Save everything up for up our season tickets.

What do you reckon, eh?

There's a while until the season starts. We can do it easy, man.

Right, you lot, out of here.

And you two, you little fuckers.

You're not supposed to be up here!

You know what we'll get, Sewell, when we get our season tickets?

Something you and me have never had.

Proper pies?

Respect, Sewell. Are you with us?

Come on. Clear off out of it, you fucking little toerags!

Aye, I'm with you, Gerry, man.

We cannae fail, man. Especially not with that lass looking after us.

Who?

The guardian angel of fucking toerags. She'll see us through.

Here you are, son.

Ta, Dad.

Dad. Did you make this from the tap?

Aye, son. There something wrong?

Hot's the one on the right, Dad.

Oh. I'll make you another.

No, no. You're all right.

I'm off out.

Take your coat off, Sewell, pet.

You look like you've been lagged.

I'm all right, ta, Mrs McCarten.

You must be sweating rivers in there, big lad,

what with all that blubber.

I'm all right, Mrs McCarten, honest.

I wouldn't feel the benefit, you know.

All right.

All right, Mum?

How is Sheara?

Jesus, man, she stinks.

So did you, Gerry.

Not like that, I didn't. I'd remember.

You still do some times.

All right, Clare. What you up to?

I just got some stuff for Mam.

Still no Bridget, then?

No. It's been three weeks now.

BABY FARTS

You all right, Mrs McCarten?

Never better, Sewell, son.

Never better.

We going?

Are you off?

Wouldn't be school by any chance, would it?

I've told you, man. I'm studying at university of life, me.

University of life, my arse!

Sewell, can you not talk some sense into him?

No, I'm asking the wrong person there!

See ya.

So what's the plan then, Gerry, man?

Give us a chance.

I could murder a tab.

Sewell, man, you've only been given up ten minutes.

That's a record for me.

Oh, Jesus! It's staring us in the face, man!

What is?

Scrap, man, Gerry! The river's full of it, look!

Folk are always chucking away things that they don't want.

Aye, they don't want them cos they useless.

Hadaway, there's loads of money in scrap.

It's junk, man.

We've got to start somewhere. Everything in there's worth

something. All we've got to do is get in there and pull it out.

We?

Come on, Gerry. Give us a hand, man.

One of us has got to look respectable if we're gonna sell anything.

You might make money out of shite,

but you cannae go round smelling of the stuff.

Oh!

I'm trapped! Gerry, man, I'm sinking!

Shit.

Oh, Gerry!

Watch and you shall learn.

Practical science, like. If you stopped at school, you'd know that.

I'll get the bucket first, and then I'll come back for you.

Eh?

Second rule of scrap dealing. Leave the real shite till last.

Shit!

Rag-and-bone!

You're embarrassing, man!

I'm embarrassing? Look at you!

Anyway, do you want these season tickets or not?

Course I do, more than anything.

Rag-and-bone! Any old rag-and-bone!

You're not the usual.

Does Terry know you're doing this?

You know, Terry, the guy who normally comes round?

Oh, you mean Uncle Terry. Way-aye.

Hadaway, you lying bastards!

Come in, lads. I've got something for you.

Hey. Is that the new look, then?

Pebble-dash.

You look like you've been stood the arse end of an elephant, you.

Away, you bastards. They're me son's.

I wouldn't care, but it's a different one every week.

14 of them, there was in the house last night.

The stink an' all!

He gets mad if I mention it.

Anyway, lads, this is what you can take.

It's knackered, like.

Get hold of the bastard!

Quick!

Shite! He'll murder me, he will.

His favourite, that.

He'll get mad if that one's not in when he gets back.

What's he doing in a fridge, like? He's not a bloody penguin.

That one would be in the microwave if I had one. See ya, lads.

If I live.

See ya. Ta.

Oh. Hello, pet.

Hello, Mother.

Ah, you take after your grandad, you do.

No words.

Just all dribble and puke.

Oh, never mind. Your nana's here, pet.

Your nana'll always be here for you.

Shall I sing to you? Hmm? Shall I sing, my little Sheara?

# I cannot get to my love if I should die

# For the waters of time run between him and me... #

PHONE RINGS

Leave it. # ..And here I must stand with a tear in my... #

Not all phone calls are bad.

Clare, pet, I'd know if I'd won the bloody lottery.

# Both sighing and sickly My true love to see. #

No, it'll be the social.

Or the school. Or the loan sharks.

Or Bridget.

Or your dad.

# Oh, where is the boatman, my bonny hinny?

# Oh, where is the boatman?

# Bring him to me

# To ferry me over

# The Tyne to my honey

# Or scull him across that rough river to me. #

Are you sure this fella's gonna buy this stuff?

Way-aye.

Who is he?

Ginger? He's made a mint out of scrap.

Oh, aye, and this will be one of his many branches nationwide, then, eh?

You'll have to knock louder.