This Town

This programme contains some scenes

which some viewers may find upsetting from the start,

strong language, and some violent scenes.

Fiona, last night I wrote a poem that could also be a song.

It's about you.

Do you love her? Yeah.

A medieval kind of love.

Bardon's father is trying to call him into the organisation.

Talking about sacks of fertiliser, and the purchase of detonators.

Someone told us you were having problems with your heart.

I just get off the phone from your cousin Bardon.

Your nan had a heart attack this morning.

It's your grandmother.

I have decided to recommend you for three days' compassionate leave.

Last night was an alarm going off.

I'm going to change the venue, and I will need new people.

If you're one tenth of what your brother was,

you can earn a grand a week just looking like how you look.

Dante, I've had this idea

that I could do the tunes and you could do the words.

What do you say?

SKA MUSIC PLAYS

LIQUID SPLASHES

Out through the door, run down 20 floors.

Drive along the motorway until you reach the Milky Way.

Get directions from a spaceman.

Get a lift in a chip van, and there, in a hurricane...

..is my nan.

Is it just me?

All except compassionate leave's been cancelled

because of the hunger strikes.

Where we going?

Birmingham Bronx.

Where?

Chelmsley Wood council estate.

Just get to Birmingham and head for the plumes of smoke.

Let's get these loaded onto the van.

I thought we were doing the diesel?

You thought wrong.

Is something the matter, son?

And there's a wee parcel under the sacks.

Get that as well.

So you start a fire, the funeral pyre...

of all that's normal and flat and dull,

and the afternoon has its own mad tune.

Then comes the night.

The bad kids fight, the dope-heads take flight,

the police flash their lights.

And me? I sit at home and I write.

Jesus, Dad, what the fuck!

You show me the thing Nana hated the most the day before we bury her?

When the time comes to bury me, I'd like good men

standing over my grave, firing one of these over my coffin.

I'd like one of those men to be you.

So have a fucking go, son.

I'm wondering if you're a man at all, Bardon.

She's there, above the tower blocks, landing on the chimney tops.

Singing with the blackbirds, "Dante,

"you can take your words, and put them to a birdsong."

Then bang goes the gong.

All along I've been wrong.

How could I have been so thick?

Words...need...music.

Why here, Mum?

I used to sing here.

On Saturday nights when you were little.

Are you sober?

You'd think the news would make me go back, but it was the opposite.

Last night I drank tea.

Mum, you know it were me who found Nana on the floor.

She loved you.

She loved you as well.

Nah.

I'm the worthless one.

Mum...

She said that.

She said, "You are the daughter I'm not proud of."

You made a lot of people mad,

saying bad things cos of how you were.

But you're getting better now, Mum, right?

So am I invited?

Am I allowed to attend my own mother's funeral or not?

Dad says you can come but you have to be sober.

Ha-ha!

Ah, yes. Company rules.

No volunteer will drink before 6pm.

No volunteer will take or deal in any class A drugs

or share a roof with anyone who does.

But you're clean now, Mum, right?

Any volunteer who breaks the rules will have their kneecaps drilled,

or have them shot away.

Bardy, if I come to the funeral, will you hold my arm?

Please will you hold my arm, Bardy?

There's something I want to do at the funeral.

Why does that make me nervous?

Well, cos you were always a nervous little boy.

SHE CHUCKLES

I smell diesel on your coat.

You joined the marching band?

No, I just help with the cones.

It begins with the diesel.

Well with me, it ends with the diesel.

I know when you're lying.

What?

Some stuff came.

They're planning something, but I said no.

You said no? Made it clear.

Nothing is clear with them.

You should pack your bags.

Where would I go?

Be with me in my little bucket.

You're worse than the Ra, Mam.

If you stayed sober for even a month...

..Dad could ask permission for you to move back onto the estate.

Nah, the Ra will allow no reconciliation.

The Ra does not forgive, the Ra does not forget.

And, anyway, fuck 'em.

I'm OK in my little bucket by the motorway.

Mum, I will hold your arm.

Just be sober.

Be yourself...

..when you're funny and nice.

SHE LAUGHS

What songs did you sing?

Shirley Bassey...

..Judy Garland.

It's only Rebel music now.

In those days, we just had a laugh.

Too much of a laugh, Mum.

Yeah.

Probably.

Probably.

Mum, if you want, I'll get the bus with you tomorrow.

We can have sandwiches and cakes, like when I was a kid.

Smoking on the top deck.

Yeah, bus back full of drunks.

SHE LAUGHS

Bardy...

Not being with you is like carrying a chisel in my heart.

We'll get the bus to Birmingham tomorrow morning at eight o'clock.

Yeah.

I'll bring the cakes. Just be there.

You. Yourself.

I'll leave the wicked witch in the bucket by the big road.

See you at the bus stop, my nervous little baby.

And wash that fucking diesel out of your clothes,

or you'll get so you can't even smell it.

If you're late, I'll go without you.

# It is you

# Oh, yeah

# It is you, you... #

This was my first suit.

I bought it when I was 17 at Palmer's in Kingston Town.

And I did wear it with this hat.

I can't wear this to a funeral.

Your nan loved hats.

She would want you to have some... Style?

She'd want you to have some...stoosh, you know?

You don't like those old words.

Yeah, well, I see you stand up and look good in this suit,

take me back, you know?

Back where you didn't want to be?

What that girl name again?

Fiona.

Your mama was my Fiona.

My first love.

I was lucky. She liked me.

You need somebody... There's a girl called Jeannie now.

Boy, you move fast, see. Nah.

Jeannie's just funny.

She writes music.

Your brother coming back today.

You should talk to him.

About what?

About being 18.

Talk to him about spending a night out in Babylon

and being all right.

It doesn't look like me.

But it is you, Dante.

This is who you are.

About a month ago, your nan said to me,

"You can't keep that boy shut up in a box.'

So, today, in her honour...

..I'm opening up the box.

But just a lickle.

Rock-hard and gorgeous.

DUB REGGAE PLAYS

Hello, uncle Eamonn.

Welcome home, Gregory.

Sorry to bring you all the way up here,

but Special Branch follow me round.

I didn't think you'd want them to have photos of you and me alone.

What do you want?

You know what I am,

and I know what you are.

I thought it'd be a good idea for us

to arrange a truce before the funeral.

I've had plenty to drink already.

Celebrating getting out of hell for a few days?

A truce...