Shameless

Now, nobody is saying that Chatsworth

Estate is the Garden of Eden, but it's

been a good home to us, to me, Frank Gallagher and me kids,

who I'm proud of.

'Cause every single one of them reminds me a little of me.

They can all think for themselves, which

they've got me to thank for.

Quick, leg it!

Lip, who's a bit

of a gobshite, which is why nobody calls him "Philip"

anymore.

Ian, a lot like his mum, which handy for the others,

'cause she's disappeared into thin air.

And Carl.

We daren't let him grow his hair for two reasons.

One, it makes it stand on end and makes him look like Toyah.

Two, nits love him.

Debbie, sent by God, total angel.

You have to check your change, but she'll she go miles out

of her way to do you a favor.

Plus, little Liam.

She's gonna be a star someday.

Sheila, me bird.

Couldn't be happier.

One plate short of a full set, like.

And fantastic neighbors, Kev and Veronica.

Lend you anything.

Well, almost anything.

Carol and Marty, the lodgers from Hell.

Last of the lonely hearts and a psychologist's wet dream.

Still, nobody's perfect.

But all of them to a man know first and foremost one

of the most vital necessities in life

is, they know how to throw a party!

Scatter!

The thing about surprises

is, they're better to give than to receive,

like 18th birthday parties.

The fun part's the planning.

You get to make the list, tick things off, delegate jobs,

and be in charge while the other person you're doing it for just

has to pretend they haven't noticed.

Which, of course, they always have.

Debs!

'Cause everyone's acting so weird.

See you later.

Come on.

Carl!

Who's put that there?

Who puts a fucking pizza on a seat, like?

The real surprise in life, though, you

never get any warning about.

Shit, shit, shit, shit!

What the?

Oh, fucking hell!

Is there a next of kin?

There are two listed here, both wives.

Which one should I call?

Whichever one bloody answers.

So where's me present, then?

You'll have wait till tomorrow,

down the Trafford Centre.

Should I be worried?

You guys, shit!

Dad, Mom, over here.

Happy birthday, Philip!

Here's me baby!

I knew you'd miss me.

Mwah.

Take it, then.

Thanks, Paddy.

You're welcome.

So you're a grown man now, Phillip, huh?

Coming of age.

With that comes responsibility.

A knuckle duster?

Shane, Micky.

Come on, then.

Bring the box.

Fuck you doing?

A little birthday treat.

Our way of saying "welcome to the club."

- No! - Go

- On, give him one. - You're joking.

I'm not hitting some random bloke.

- He owes us money, don't you? - What?

Which means he owes you, Philip.

He what?

Well, I haven't exactly noticed you turning

into Rockefeller lately.

And if you're gonna swan about sponging off me,

then there's some jobs I want done.

Right.

Give it to me.

Eh?

She's my daughter.

I'll support her.

Her and our Mandy.

And I don't need help from you, Paddy.

Fine, not another penny from us.

Let's see how long you last.

A lifetime.

Mandy.

I'm with Lip, Dad.

Leave it.

There's more than one way to skin a cunt.

I was just saying, Patrick, hasn't

little Katie got Frank's eyes?

What's going on?

Don't know.

Nothing to see here, just some drunk

who set fire to his dinner.

Is he?

He's our dad.

He'll be fine.

Live another day to waste our time.

Might wanna give him this.

Come on, Liam.

Just through here, Mrs. Gallagher.

We've given him some fluids, pumped his stomach,

and a rabies jab for his dog bites.

Quite a night he's had.

Oi, open the fucking door!

Kev?

Kev?

Veronica?

There's no answer.

He's still not back, Yvonne.

And there's 12 bottles of milk around there.

Well, where the hell are there?

Booze run don't take this long.

Look, I've told you, I don't know where they are!

All Marty said was they were going abroad,

and that they were sharing the driving.

Well, I lent 'em 200 quid.

And now I found out there were 20 off of Lillian an all.

And 500 off Jess.

Oh, God, if they've done a runner, I'll have to move.

They haven't done a runner, Carol.

Look, if Kev and Veronica were doing a moonlight flip,

they wouldn't take Marty with 'em, would they?

No, see?

So they'll be back by tonight, I think they said.

They promised me.

And they promised me I'd have me money back last week.

Three biggest lies are "big is beautiful,"

"your check's in the post," and "I won't

come in your fucking mouth."

God, women, eh?

All is darkness without you till they

get a ring on their finger.

Then they can't stand by you in your hour of need.

You set fire to your dinner, Frank.

Be thankful she's there the rest of the time.

Oh, how silly of me to think someone cares.

But the fact is, your mother would rather do a lattice

work pastries of Denmark of course

than save me from the flames.

You should be on the stage.

Same again, please, Jess.

All right, love.

You're covered in sick.

Son, you're ugly, but tomorrow I shall be clean.

Oh, happy birthday, Lip.

Oh, thanks, Jess.

So what did you get him then, Frank?

What I give my kiddies money can't buy.

That's handy.

Oh, right, '89.

CD from the year you were born.

Shall we put it on?

Yeah, why not?

Cheers, Jess.

God, we nearly lost you in the womb, Phillip.

Yeah, Monica nigh on miscarried when Margaret

fucked you up the arse.

Thatcher fucks us up the arse by getting in

for "an historic third term."

Thank fuck ecstasy turned up.

Happy Mondays indeed.

That's not right, Frank.

She couldn't have been pregnant at election time.

That were '87.

Look, Lillian, love, do you not think--

11th of June, 1987.

That were my Brendon's 40th.

But we had to cancel the party.

We were depressed.

So we went to Brighton instead.

Great big hurricane.

Brendon got hit with a flying beach hut.

Terrible year.

Oh, that's right. 'Cause you were born in '88.

'Cause we registered you the year after.

'Cause Year, we were gonna do it, but--

But?

We ended up in Ladbrokes.

Big win!

Happy days.

Yeah, we went out and got wankered.