Ghost Train

Hey, stop grabbing at my legs, you little brat.

Get your feet out of my face.

-I thought you liked that. -Your feet stink, Peter.

-Your face stinks, Sam. -No, it doesn't, shut up.

I think I'll just head to the beach.

Don't leave me in here with him.

-What is wrong with me? -You're a spanner, Peter!

-You're the spanner, Sam! -You'll be grand, Sam.

Call me a spanner again

and I'll slap you.

Come on, Sam.

Hey!

-Sorry, the doors are fucked. -Yeah.

-How was the train? -Fine, yeah.

-Did you get a sandwich? -Can you open the window?

Oh shit, sorry, Michael, sorry.

You know, you're getting grayer every year.

Thanks.

And what does your beautiful Swedish wife have to say about this?

She's from Finland.

What's the difference?

So listen, sofa's free, you'll stay the night.

I have to get home to the kids, sorry.

Sure, why don't we stop off for a pint along the way, catch up?

I wouldn't mind just getting this out of the way.

Good to see you, bro.

It's bullshit.

What's that?

I think it's where the money goes.

52 pence, not enough.

-You're holding back. -I'm not.

Your mum's rich and so are you.

She's not. I'm not.

Let's just go to the beach.

Punch or money, two choices.

Come on.

Beach.

Shut up about the fecking beach.

The only place we're going is in there.

I think I'll just head to the beach.

What are you waiting for?

Deadly.

Hurry it up!

I'm taking off some serious monster heads inside.

-What you do? -Nothing.

I put it all in and it just...

You thieving lump of...

I wish I aged this well.

Maybe if I drank less, right?

I'm leaving.

Let's roll then.

The country.

I'm leaving the country.