All language subtitles for Brassed.Off.1996.1080p.BluRay.x264.AAC-[YTS.MX].eng

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Bastard.

(HONKING HORN)

A few days, you say?

Not what I'd call a light traveller,
are you, pet?

Sorry. It's mainly work.

I wouldn't apologise
for having work, flower. Not round here.

What's this, then?

It's just a flugel. A trumpet.
I thought I might get some practice in.

- In here, you mean?
- Well, wherever.

Oh, I wouldn't mind, pet.
Don't get me wrong.

If it were up to me,
there's nowt I'd like better

than to hear you blowing
that bloody thing all night long.

- Oh, no, it wouldn't...
- You've heard of Grimley Colliery Band?

Yes, I have.

Well, they have their own practice hall.
I should get meself down there, pet.

They'd welcome someone like you
wi' open arms, knowing them.

Another?

It's a sad old day, in't it, V?
When it's finally come to this.

- What's that, then, Ida?
- Your Jim and my Ernie packing in band.

They are doing it, then? For definite?

Aye. Last practice tonight, Ernie said.
Then resigning after.

Well, no point in carrying on, is there?
Pit goes, band will go t' same way.

Oh, I feel sorry for old Danny, mind.
He'll have bugger all to do.

- We'll all have bugger all to do, V.
- MAN: You get used to it.

(HUMMING)

(RINGING BELL)

- All right, love?
- Aye, all right.

IDA: Don't forget what you're doing,
you lads.

Don't be handing over any kitty money.

- Just resignations.
- Aye, all right, pet.

- Well, mind you do.
- What do you mean, "mind you do"?

- It were our decision, weren't it, love?
- Aye, well, just mind you do.

Now, let's get this right, Ernie.

When he collects for t' kitty,
we say, "Sorry, Danny, but us two,

"we've decided, in present climate,
to tighten our belts, like,

"and only spend money
on essential items.

"Sorry. It's been good and all that,
but right now we don't regard band

"as one of t' aforementioned
essential items."

"And regretfully, therefore,
we feel obliged

"to tender our resignations forthwith."

- Right?
- Right.

Then we wake up in Casualty.

Well, if he goes barmy,
it's not our fault, is it?

- No.
- I mean, what's t' worst he can do?

- Have an heart attack?
- Ah, what the hell.

If Danny don't like it, bollocks to him.

- All right, lads?
- All right, Danny, mate?

Sixty years between us, you and me,
down t' pit, frightened of nowt.

When it comes to telling Danny boy
we're packing t' band in...

We're shitting bloody bricks.

JOURNALIST ON TV: And coming up
later in the news,

continuing our regular reports on
the Government's pit closure programme,

we visit Grimley Colliery,
which, despite being one of the oldest

and largest mines
in the Yorkshire coalfield,

has nevertheless become
the most recent candidate for closure.

Although the Grimley miners
and, indeed, their wives

appear very determined to fight on
and keep their pit open,

a redundancy offer to the workforce
is believed to be imminent.

(CHANTING) The miners, united,
will never be defeated.

The miners, united,
will never be defeated.

JOURNALIST: Other redundancy offers
at neighbouring pits recently

have been too attractive
for the miners to ignore.

In the last few weeks,

seven pay-off packages
have been offered to seven pits,

all accepted, leading to seven closures.

Trouble is, I'm no bloody happier
when I'm winning.

- Double or quit?
- No, I best not.

It's kitty night tonight.

Cheer up, Andy. It might never happen.

Representatives of union
and management meet tonight

to discuss the redundancy offer
to be put to the Grimley miners.

Bloody going to, though, in't it?

- See you.
- See you.

Don't be a pillock all your life.
Take money while it's still on offer.

Hey, there's a lot of folk out there

wouldn't like to hear
t' way you're talking, love.

Aye, and they're all as daft as you are.
All end up wi' nowt, just like us.

DANNY: (WHISTLES) Philip.

I'm late for practice.

- We'll talk about it later, eh?
- Later?

You'll still be saying "later"
when we're out on t' bloody streets.

There's always Mr Chuckles.
I can do more of that.

Phil? Phil! Phil!

You have a wife
and four bloody kids here

in a house nobody will bloody buy,

mortgage up to the bloody hilt,
loan sharks on our backs,

no bloody money, no bloody job,
and what are you gonna do?

Fucking juggle?

Bit clumsy with the crockery,
your Sandra.

Bastard.

- All right, love?
- All right.

(BOTH HUMMING)

(PLAYING FLORAL DANCE)

Crap. That's what that was.
A load of bloody crap.

What did Eric Morecombe say?

All the right notes,
but not necessarily in the right order.

- What happened to you, son?
- I just fell apart.

Aye, well, you're not the only one.
Andy, lad, all over the shop, you were.

- What is up with you lot?
- Got our minds on other things, Danny.

Like what?

Blimey, Danny,
you been on holiday or what?

How'd you mean?

Well, it may have escaped your notice,
like, but t' pit's under threat.

- Aye. What's that got to do with us?
- Oh, aye, you're right. Not a lot.

(MUFFLED LAUGHTER)

Now, listen to me, all of you.
These are worrying times. I know that.

But look what it says here, eh? 1881.
Over 100 years, this band's been going.

Two World Wars,
three disasters, seven strikes,

one bloody big Depression.

And t' band played on
every flaming time.

Danny, this is t' biggest disaster
of t' lot.

Can't have a colliery band
without a bloody colliery, can you?

Listen. We've got
the national semi-finals coming up,

and we're capable, I mean it,
well capable of going through to London.

The first time in our history.
The Albert Hall.

Now, I know
there's a spot of bother at the pit.

But that's summat separate.

This is music,
and it's music that matters.

Now, come on, kitty for t' weekend.

Danny, me and Ernie,
we've been thinking it over, like.

I know t' subs aren't much,
but the present climate and that...

What are you saying, Jim?

Me and Jim have made a decision, like...

(DOOR OPENING)

Hello, love. Can we help?

Is this the colliery band rehearsal?

No, love. Band's on Tuesdays.
Tonight's origami class.

Take no notice, flower. Can I help?

I'm staying at the pub.
I play the flugel.

Well, sort of dabble.

Mrs Foggan said...

Well, she said
you might let me play with you.

Down, boy, down.

Well, I know it may sound like
we need all the help we can get,

but I'm sorry, love.

I mean, usually, as a rule
we don't allow, you know, outsiders.

Aye, I understand that,
except I'm not strictly an outsider.

- I were born in Grimley.
- Is that right, love?

- What's your name?
- Gloria.

DANNY: Gloria...
ERNIE: S tits.

- Eh?
- Glorious tits.

(ALL LAUGHING)

DANNY: Ernie.

Mullins. Gloria Mullins.

No, no, you...

Arthur's Gloria?

- You're Danny, aren't you?
- Aye.

- I didn't think you'd still be...
- Alive and kicking?

- Oh, aye, love, just about.
- No, I meant leading the band.

Yes. Well, come in, park your bum...
Park yourself somewhere.

If you didn't know him,
you'd have heard of him.

Arthur Mullins.
This young lady's granddad.

Best bandsman I ever played with.
Bravest miner I ever worked with.

Closest friend I ever had,
till his lungs packed in, in '79.

- Sorry, love.
- It's true.

Good to see you back.

Excuse me a moment, Gloria.
I'm just collecting.

Jim, what were you saying?

You and Ernie.
Summat about present climate?

Oh, aye. I was saying, like,
despite present climate,

you can always rely on our continued
and wholehearted support for the cause.

Oh, aye. Solidarity.
Thick and thin and all that.

Lend us a fiver.

Solidarity.

Do you remember me?

- Barry? Barry Andrews?
- Andy Barrow.

Andy Barrow.

- God, you haven't changed a bit.
- You have.

What you up to now, then?

Oh, this and that.
You know, keeping busy.

Hey, that's not... Is it?

He left it me in his will.
Couldn't let it go to rust, could I?

Clever old sod. Even when he were gone,
he made sure I'd take it up.

Well, I know it won't be the same,

but, well, it'll be lovely
just to hear it again.

- Okay.
- What do you know?

Well, I've been practising
Rodrigo's Concierto de Aranjuez.

You what?

- Orange Juice to you.
- Oh, aye.

- I'm a bit wobbly still.
- Don't you fret, pet.

Wobbly'd be too good for this lot.

Paul, the music.
Bernie, get her a stand.

Okay, everyone.

All right? Are we all together?

Andy, lad, are you with us?

(TAPPING BATON)

Poor lad.
Still got your mind on that pit?

All right, lads.
Rodrigo's Concierto de Orange Juice.

(PLAYING CONCIERTO DE ARANJUEZ)

(INAUDIBLE)

All right.

She calls that wobbly.

(ALL APPLAUDING)

(MAN WHOOPS)

- Well done, lass.
- Well done, love.

Bloody great!

You doing anything at the weekend, love?

Right, lads, listen up.
Saddleworth tomorrow.

Fourteen villages, love.
Contest in each.

And all at the same time, like.
Cash prizes.

So any road, lads, big chance
to swell the coffers tomorrow,

so we're going for all 14.

- Are you on, love?
- If I'm allowed.

Don't be soft, lass. You were born here.

(ALL MURMURING IN AGREEMENT)

(HUMMING)

(COUGHING)

MAN: It's a profitable pit, this.

There's hundreds of years
of coal down there,

but it don't seem to matter
to them bastards.

We're making money for 'em
hand over fist, we are,

and still they want to shut us down.

Tell 'em bollocks to 'em.

Well, that's up to you lot,
in't it, lad?

Well, thank Christ it in't up to you.

Well, Jesus, they shouldn't have
even let the offer be put on t' table.

They're just bloody puppets, that lot.
They do whatever the bastards want.

- Phil, lad...
- Yeah.

Well, we didn't do
what the bastards wanted in '84, did we?

- MINER: That's right!
- No, we dug us heels in then, didn't we?

Aye, and some of us
got bloody locked up for it.

Big bloody deal.

Hey, suspended, I were.

It took that lot a year and half
to get me reinstated.

That's 18 month on bloody strike pay.

- With a wife, bloody kids, mortgage.
- It's 10 year ago, pal.

Aye, 10 years.

And I were that bloody broke,
I'm still frigging paying for it.

That's how big a fucking deal it were.

Hey, where were you then, eh, pal?
In '84?

I don't remember seeing you on t' line.

Oh, aye, we all know
which way you'll be voting.

- Come on, then, you bastard.
- Anytime!

You're a bastard!

Hey! Hey!

Drop it. Leave it out.

Hey, wait! Wait! Hey, listen!

That's just what they're bloody wanting.
You know that, don't you?

All right, this is what you've got.
Ballot next week, right?

You've got two options.

One, you can vote
to take pit to review procedure.

Obviously that's one
we want you to take,

'cause we reckon
you've got a decent chance in review.

Or, two, you can vote to take pay-off.

Listen, listen. They told us last night
that redundancy offer's gone up £3,000

from a 20 grand maximum to 23,

with a five grand sweetener.

But this is only a temporary offer.

If you say no to it and stay put,

they're pulling any future offer down
to a flat 15.

Those bastards.

Right, there you are.
Born bastards, stay bastards.

That's right!

Well, all right, blokes.
No use shouting now, lads.

Do it next week in the ballot.

Say no to bloody blackmail
and yes to keeping this pit alive!

(HONKING HORN)

The miners, united,
will never be defeated.

- The miners, united...
- Poor old biddies.

Don't they know they're pissing
in the wind like the rest of us?

- Can they do that, women?
- What?

- Piss in the wind.
- No, Ernie, that just the point.

No, but even a nice day,
you know, when there's no wind about,

they can't, you know,
get any direction on it.

Yeah, all right, then whatever it is
that lasses do that's pointless.

Bloody hell, so much to choose from.

Fart in a force 10?

My God, Phil, you don't half know
some funny women.

Steady, lads. My missus does that.

Oh, you daft bastards.
Women Against Closure.

At least, when she's not farting
in a force 10.

(ALL LAUGHING)

- Morning, love.
- See you.

If I don't have a day away on me own,
I'm going to go frigging barmy.

Honest I am. I'll kill someone.

Go somewhere tomorrow, eh?

Phil, I'm off today or I'm off for good.
Give me some money.

- Oh, hey, love, I've only got a tenner.
- Tenner will do.

But it's Saddleworth. I mean,
Dad'll kill me if I don't turn up.

Aye, and I will if you do.

In't life just shit?

CRAIG: On your head, Dad.

'Course the offer's attractive.
It's tantamount to bribery.

They're not messing around.

(KNOCKING AT DOOR)

They want Grimley closed
for whatever reason, nobody knows,

and they think that
by dangling a carrot...

- This just came for you.
- Oh, ta.

Thanks.

They want jobs, a future.
They want an industry.

And come the ballot,
that's what they'll be voting for.

(PEOPLE APPLAUDING ON TV)

If the hearing decides
the pit has a sound economic future,

then we shall abide by that decision
and work towards it.

Naturally.
I mean, nobody wants Grimley to close.

Oh, I'm bloody starving. Aren't you?

Let's see what we got.

Dad, who were that?

Oh, just a couple of fellows.

- Are you in trouble, Dad?
- Eh? Your dad in trouble?

Looked like they were gonna smack you.

Aye, they were, lad.

They were from t' Council.
Leisure Department.

They said that
if we don't have fun today,

we are in big, big trouble.

Dad, I'm eight and a half now.

Are you?

Well, you can help me find
t' bastard tin opener, then, can't you?

Gloria Mullins?

What, Melons Mullins?
Lived up Donny Road? Chubby lass?

We used to sing that hymn, Gloria in XL.

That's her,
except she's far from chubby now, like.

Aye, I remember her.

- You had her behind t' bus station.
- No, I never.

You told us you did.

No. It were top half only.

- Hey, does she remember?
- Does she, hell as like.

- Couldn't even remember me bloody name.
- Ah, get away.

Bet that's why she's come back,
to complete unfinished business.

What are you smiling at?

Another?

Oh, aye. Go on, then.

What the bleeding hell
are you two doing?

We fancied a game of golf, like.

You daft gawpheads.
You never resigned, did you?

Sat there like a couple of old biddies
and paid over t' money, didn't you?

Old Danny talked us round, like.
He were very persuasive.

- We had no option, lover, honestly.
- No bollocks, more like.

I reckon it were something to do
with bollocks that got us to stay.

- No bloody gumption, them two.
- Oh, soup for brains, the pair of 'em.

- Excuse me. Where's the Collier's Arms?
- Hanging off his shoulders, pet.

The old ones are the best, eh?

Oh, it's the young ones
we worry about, love.

- Off to Saddleworth, are you?
- That's right.

- Follow them two daft apeths.
- Ta.

- VERA: Hey, love?
- Yeah?

- Joined t' band last night, did you?
- Yeah. How did you know that?

Oh, just summat me husband never said.

- Aye, I am.
- What?

Thinking what you're thinking.

- Eh up, lads.
- All right?

All right.

- Hi, Danny.
- Paul.

Oh, tell me you're bloody joking,
son, please.

Sorry, Dad.
It's all of us or none at all.

Why, for Christ's sake?

It were them men
from t' Pleasure Department, Granddad.

It what?

Anyway, nowt wrong
wi' a bit of vocal support, eh?

(BABY CRYING)

Eh up, lass.
I hope you feel as good as you look.

- I'm nervous.
- Hey, get away with you.

Your granddad would be proud of you.
Go on, in you get.

Hey, ogle-eyes, is that the lot?

No, no. No, there's...
There's one more, as per bloody usual.

Poor lass.
All she wants is a nice day out

and she gets stuck
between them two buggers.

Oh, shit. Oh, sorry, Harry.

- Come here, darling.
- Thanks a lot, Kylie.

There you go, mate.
Oh, what was all that about?

Eh up, bloke,
here comes Fast bloody Eddie now.

Come on, Andy, lad. Step on it.

Sorry.

- All right, Stanley, that's the lot.
- What about these two here?

Bloody hell.

Don't look like that, Danny, lad.
It's t' nearest colours we could find.

- What are you doing?
- We've just founded a fan club.

Well, I don't think we...

Look, ladies, I mean, this is
traditionally a male-only excursion.

- You know that.
- New lass onboard, is she?

Aye. That's different.
I mean, she's very talented.

Aye, I know. We saw her.

I'll have you know
that girl blows flugel like a dream.

Danny Ormondroyd! At your age!

(IDA LAUGHING)

What?

Come on, love. It's not What's My Line?

Well, I'm a surveyor.

Blimey.
What, you mean like a quantity surveyor?

- Kind of.
- Want to survey my quantity, love?

Well, I do say, "No job too small."

Get away, love.
Take you a bloody fortnight, this one.

"We had no option, lover, honest."

Shift up, duck.

Eh up, Phil, groupies are on.

(MAN CHEERS)

Sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll, eh, girls?

Aye, except we can do without drugs
and rock 'n' roll.

(PLAYING MARCH OF THE COBBLERS)

(INDISTINCT)

VERA: Come on, you.

(INDISTINCT)

(PLAYING OFF-KEY)

DANNY: Laughing.
They were bloody laughing at us.

I mean, look at them.
If some of them were alive today,

they'd be turning
in their bloody graves, they would.

And if Arthur Mullins
was looking down on us...

Well, God bloody help us,
that's all I can say.

I mean, is this what it's come to, eh?

Bits of trombone
flying all over t' shop?

Stopping t' march
to change bloody nappies?

Too bloody bevvied
to stay on t' buggering bandstand.

We may as well all bloody give up.

I reckon we already have, Dan.
That's kind of why it went like it did.

Reckon we thought
we'd go out on a high note.

Happen our idea of a high note's
a bit different from yours, like.

Go out? What are you
talking about, Ernie, go out?

Danny, lad, you've got to face it.
If pit goes, band goes with it.

- When pit goes.
- If.

However ballot goes,
they'll still close the bugger.

Not necessarily. It depends on...

On that review thingy, surely.

DANNY: Trouble with you lot
is you've got no pride.

And you know one thing
more than owt else round here

that symbolises pride?

It's this bloody band, that's what.
Ask anybody.

I mean, if they close down the pit,
knock it down,

fill it up like they've done
with all t' bloody rest, no trace,

years to come,
there'll only be one reminder

of a hundred bloody years' hard graft.

This bloody band.

Oh, they can shut up the unions,
they can shut up the workers,

but I'll tell you one thing for nothing,
they'll never shut us up.

We'll play on, loud as ever,

starting with t' national semis
in Halifax.

Win them,
and we can carry our heads high

and march on to the Albert bloody Hall,
all right?

Now, are we playing
or are we packing in?

GLORIA: Playing.

Sorry.

No, don't you worry, flower.
You've nowt to be ashamed of.

No bugger else, then?

Danny, I reckon I speak for everybody.
We'll play on while pit's open.

The minute they close it, we pack it in.

(ALL MURMURING IN AGREEMENT)

- You can't ask for more than that.
- Hear, hear.

No. Obviously not.

- Hiya.
- Hiya.

Moving words.

- What?
- Back there. Danny.

Oh, aye, daft old codger.

If it weren't for band,
I reckon he'd pop his clogs.

Listen, I wondered
if you fancied some grub?

- Where?
- I don't know. I'll go posh if you want.

- Andy.
- All right, Phil?

- Have you seen me dad?
- Aye, he's still inside, I think.

- Well?
- All right.

(DANNY COUGHING)

You all right, Dad?

Thank you for your support, son.

Oh, listen, Phil, lad.

I've been thinking on it.

Semi-final's no place for scrap metal.
Better find yourself a new bit of brass.

I'm not forking out for a new trombone
just for one performance.

One? What about the Albert Hall?

Now, normally
I'd say get summat cheap, but...

Well, you're a bloody good trombonist,
lad. You need a bloody good trombone.

Dad, I like the band.

I love the band. We all do.

But there's other things in life,
you know, that's more important.

Not in mine, there isn't.

- What's that on your hankie?
- Eh?

Oh, nowt.

Chain come off me bike.

Didn't realise we were going this posh.
I'd have got dolled up.

You know back there, when Danny said
you had nowt to be ashamed of?

Is that right, then?

You work for bloody management,
don't you?

- Andy, I'm just...
- Fuck.

I just compile surveys, Andy,
just do viability studies.

Boring, maybe,
but hardly summat to be ashamed of.

No? Kept very quiet about it.

'Cause I knew you lot would get it
all wrong, that's why.

- Oh, aye?
- I'm on the same side as you, Andy.

I want Grimley to stay open,
same as you do,

and once it gets to review,
I can help it stay open with my report.

- Bollocks.
- My figures show Grimley has a future.

It's a profitable pit.

They already know that.
It'll never reach review.

The lads'll go for redundancy.

And that's another thing
that you lot know,

just how much to offer to get a result.

Every miner I have spoken to
is voting to stay put.

Do you think
they'd tell you any different?

Four-to-one it'll go, for pay-off.

- You're voting to stay put.
- 'Course I bloody am.

- Then you must have some hope.
- No hope. Just principles.

It's your first job for them, in't it?

Otherwise you would know, wouldn't you,

that your report means as much to them
as we do, bugger all.

It's just a bloody PR exercise

so blind, naive people,
people not unlike yourself,

will think those good eggs
at head office have been very fair,

very reasonable,
done their best, done their sums,

and, oh, dear, they just don't add up.

They'll have to close another pit.
Shame.

They won't even read the bugger.

They've already made their decision,
probably when you were still at college.

Oh, don't be ridiculous.

Anyway,
if my job's so bloody irrelevant,

how come you hate me so much?

I don't hate you, I...

- Who's the haddock?
- She is.

I chose Grimley, you know.

They offered me other pits,
but I chose Grimley for two reasons.

First, because if I was going to help
keep one pit alive,

I wanted it to be this one.

Second...

Hey, in't that
where the old bus station was?

- I didn't think you'd remember.
- How could I forget?

I'm sorry. Fumblings of a 14-year-old.

- What did we call it? Top half only?
- Top half only.

Can hardly have been worth it
at that age. Just kids.

Aye. I'd get better value now.

Well, that's inflation for you.

I did know your name, you know,
when I called you Barry Andrews.

I just didn't want you to think...

I don't know,
that it was etched forever on me brain.

'Cause it hasn't been, has it?

Do you want to come up for a coffee?

I don't drink coffee.

I haven't got any.

- Eh up, Phil.
- Jesus Christ.

Did you like it so much
you want to go back?

- What?
- Wakefield Prison.

- What are you on about?
- Shall we call it a day, eh?

- Evening, love.
- Night.

All right, Andy, lad?
What have you been up to?

Oh, a bit of extra practice, like.

- Well, you're a genius, you, aren't you?
- What?

Well, it takes a special talent, that.
Practising without your instrument.

Oh, I must've left it in there.

- I'll pick it up tomorrow.
- Right.

Gloria on good form, is she?

- Night, Andy, lad.
- Night, Danny.

(INAUDIBLE)

Mr McKenzie, could I have a quick word?

Well, I'm actually rather busy, Gloria.

Yes, sir, so am I. I just wanted to
make sure I wasn't busy for no reason.

It's just,
some of the information I need,

it's like getting blood out of a stone.

I feel like I'm flogging
a dead horse sometimes and I...

Shall we stop
talking in riddles, Gloria?

I'm worried that my report
may be sort of

immaterial.

Your report is vital,
absolutely paramount.

If this pit goes to review,
and we hope it will,

we have crucial decisions to make here,

and we can't make them
without detailed, accurate reports

from highly qualified people
such as yourself.

It's a tricky business, Gloria.
All we want to do is get it right.

Okay?

Yeah.

Eh up, Andy. Look, there's your mate,
Miss Glorious Tits.

What's she doing here?

Now then, love,
what's a nice girl like you doing

in an horrible place like this?

Oh, hiya.

- Hi, Andy.
- Hiya.

I just came up to meet Andy out of work.

He's not out of work yet, love.
Come back next week.

I just wondered
if you wanted a quick practice, Andy?

No, he can't, love.
He's going for a pint with us.

- Oh, right. Well...
- See you.

That's all right, innit, Andy?
Nice pint and a chat.

We can talk about price of fish,
plight of the Third World,

pros and cons of t' sweeper system

and why your bird's got management logo
on her key ring.

Still, it doesn't make her
t' devil incarnate, does it?

What does it make Andy here?
That's what I want to know.

Lay off him, eh, Jim?
He said he didn't know.

I mean,
with legs like that round your back,

you don't stop
and ask for a reference, do you?

It's a mistake anyone could've made.

Aye, and by hell,
we all wish we'd made it.

- This isn't funny.
- Nowt wrong with shagging management.

They've been shagging us long enough.

Oh, don't tell me, Andy.

It weren't shagging,
it were true love. Aw.

SIMMO: You playing, Andy?

No, he isn't. He's had enough
fun and games for one week.

- I'm not a kid any more, Jim, all right?
- Oh, aye?

- Old enough to be a scab, then.
- HARRY: Jim!

ERNIE: It's all right, Andy,
he doesn't mean it.

You don't mess around
with words like that.

Aye, I'm sorry, Andy. Take it back.
You're just a stupid fucker.

That's more like it.

I'll catch you later, lads.

Where are you off, then?

(NOISEMAKERS BLOWING)

Hello, kids. My name's Mr Chuckles.

Hello, Mr Chuckles.

- Now, do you like card tricks?
- Yeah.

Will you help me with this card trick?
Come here, come here.

What you have to do
is pick a card from there.

Don't let me see it.

And show it to all your friends
so that they can all see it.

Now put it back anywhere you like.

Tell me when you've done it.
Have you done it?

Now I'm gonna shuffle them all up.
Did you see what the card was?

- ALL: Yeah.
- Don't tell me.

The card was the jack of hearts.

ALL: No.

- Queen of clubs?
- No.

- What were it, then?
- Ace of spades.

Correct. All right.

All right, now, Scott.

I'm going to put your watch there
and I'm going to fold this over

once, twice, three times, four.
Just like that. All right?

And with this hammer, Scott,

I want you to give that watch
a great big smack.

(SHATTERING)

No.

- When I say the magic word, Scott.
- Oh.

- This isn't your main job, is it?
- I'm a miner.

A miner?

You remember 'em, love.
Dinosaurs, dodos, miners.

Sorry, Sandra. A bit short, love.

- How much?
- £1.50.

- What's up wi' you?
- What's it to be?

- What about them aeroplane things, Mum?
- What?

- Them things wi' wings on.
- Oh, I need them.

Here you are, love.
Put that back, will you?

We'll use soap. Sorry, Vera.

Me and sums, you know,
not what you'd call best of friends.

- Me and money, total frigging strangers.
- Sorry, love. Still need another 60.

I tell you what.
Give it us next week, all right?

Are you sure?

Don't forget your receipt.

See you, love.

Get back in here now with that.
Who do you think you bleeding are?

- Hey!
- Bastard.

Come here, you bastard. What do you
think you're fucking doing, eh?

What do you think
you're fucking playing at?

I told you, pal. It's payday.

Yeah, all right.

Right.

- God, just give us a bit of time, eh?
- It's been 10 years, mate.

Payday's payday, pal,
especially when it's 12 grand.

- Twelve?
- Ah, it's that interest, innit?

- It's a bugger.
- Well, what about...

- Can you wait till t' 21 st?
- 21 st?

Oh, ah. Coco the Scab, eh?

We'll be back with truck.

- Truck? What for?
- Contents.

Until you pay up, like.

Hey.

If you touch my kids again,
I'll fucking kill you.

What the frigging hell's this?

It's a frigging dent, that's what it is.

Andy Barrow lent it me.

He'll go frigging barmy.

- Hiya, Danny, love. You well?
- Oh, aye, can't complain, Betty.

What time do they announce result,
do you know?

Oh, it's about 5:00-ish or summat,
I think.

I didn't know
you were that bothered, pet.

Whole town's bothered, love.

Can't do wi'out pit.

Oh, that? I thought
you were talking about semi-finals.

Honest, Danny. A day like today,

you think anyone's interested
in some daft football match?

All right, love?

That's it, you bugger off
and blow your bloody trumpet.

Blimey, a conversation.

Harry, in a month's time,
when you're at home all day

and there's nowt but dole coming in,
at least I can sit there, too,

and know that I did summat.

It weren't much,
but it were t' best I could do,

- and at least it was summat.
- What are you on about?

Ten years ago, before the strike,
you were so full of fight.

Packed full of passion, you were.

Now you just do nowt.

All you do is blow your bloody trumpet.

Aye, but at least...

At least what?

People listen to us.

Go on, sod off.

And it's a bloody euphonium.

You know, I can't tell a lie, Ida.
I were never one for brass bands before.

But when you hear that sound,
when you're near that sound...

- Doesn't it half grab you, doesn't it?
- Aye, it does that.

But, you know, folk like Danny,
it's taken over their lives.

Ooh, I'd never let that happen.

Ooh!

- Gorgeous.
- Oh, yeah.

All right, Bernard?

- Jim, Ernie.
- Danny.

- Hi, Danny.
- Hello, Danny.

Hiya.

Bloody...

Hi, Harry. Make an effort, Andy.

Bloody hell, son.
What's happened to you?

Sorry, Dad.

- Bit of a domestic, like.
- But you know this is a special...

Sandra did that to you?

No.

Go on, get on bus. Get it cleaned up.

Bang goes the deportment prize,
any road.

HARRY: Hey, we're gonna win
this one, Danny.

Look, your Phil's got a new trombone.

All right, Stanley.
Halifax, here we come.

(PLAYING FLORENTINER MARCH)

Ah, shift, will you?
Stop fighting all the time.

(KYLIE CRYING)

Vote for redundancy, 798.

(INAUDIBLE)

The winners, with 194 points,
the Grimley Colliery Band.

Harry.

Rita, love.

Four-to-one against, it went.

Four-to-one, Harry.

Still, see a bit more
of each other now, eh?

Dad?

Dad!

Dad. Oh, Jesus Christ.

Will someone get an ambulance, quick?

Hurry, man! He can't breathe.

- Just back off, will you? Come on!
- Don't crowd him, don't crowd him.

- Come on, breathe for me.
- Somebody call for that ambulance?

Come on.
Come on, I've got you. Phil's here.

Come on, hurry up, will you? Come on.

- How is he, Phil?
- I don't know. He hasn't woke up yet.

They just said
there'd be more news tomorrow.

Right. We're just having
a collection for him. Harry?

You still here, love?

I reckon it's got to be ta-ra now,
don't you?

I'm on your side. I always was.

Andy?

HARRY: Andy.

Phil, lad.

Not flowers, all right, Jim? Not grapes.

Get him summat he wants, eh?

You sure about this, Andy, mate?
What about finals?

What finals?

Andy, I don't want to fall out, mate.
You're me main source of income.

Don't worry, Simmo.

I've lost more this week
than a bloody trumpet.

San?

Sandra?

They came. Took t' bloody lot.

- I warned you, Phil.
- Oh, hey, San, no. I...

Look, don't...

Not now.

Seems as good a time as any,
what with there being nowhere to sit.

Dad's collapsed.

Aye, I heard.

I'm sorry, Phil.

Oh, you fuckers!

(TELEPHONE RINGING)

- Sandra?
- Phil? Harry.

Are you set for one final performance?

(DANNY BOY PLAYING)

What on earth?

(WHISTLING)

Nurse, go down there at once
and get rid of them.

Leave 'em be.

- Mr Ormondroyd, how are you feeling?
- Death's door.

- The bastards still take the piss?
- Yes, I am sorry about this racket.

- We'll stop it, don't worry.
- Stop this racket?

You'll wake up in the next ward.

Is it going like shit off a shovel?

If by that you mean fast,
yes, it is, rather.

It always does when they play this one.

Message from Mr Ormondroyd.

- He's awake?
- Yeah.

He says tenor horn's too soft.

Phil, lad, I reckon it'd be best
coming from you.

About us packing in,
not going to finals.

You shouldn't have, you know, lads.

Really. Should've brought me
flowers or summat.

Grapes. I could murder
a bunch of grapes.

Bloody hell.

NURSE: Right, thank you.
The concert's over.

It's past 11:00 and Mr Ormondroyd
must have some sleep.

- Thank you.
- ANDY: See you, Danny.

And I'd prefer any future visits
to be made in visiting hours,

preferably without trumpets.

It's a euphonium.

Hey, lads.
Sounded good, mind, out there.

Keep playing like that
and we'll murder 'em at bloody finals.

Tell him.

You in a bit of trouble, son?

- It's nowt, Dad.
- You seem a bit upset, like.

Of course I'm upset.
Me old man's poorly.

Aye, well,
we'll both get over that, won't we?

Nice bit of brass.

Cheap, yeah?

Ah. Ta, son, anyway.

It mattered, you know, that trombone.

- To me, any road.
- Aye.

Aye.

I'd best be off, eh?
Let you get some shuteye.

Aye.

- Say hello to Sandra and t' kids for me.
- Yeah. They said, you know, get well.

Worked alongside Arthur Mullins

every day of his working life,
you know that?

- When they cut him open...
- Dad, don't.

They say, when they opened up his lungs,
there were nowt in there but coal dust.

Slack. Slack everywhere.

- Took 'em a week to get the slab clean.
- Dad.

You'll be all right.

You going to tell me lies
all bloody night?

No. You're right, son. You're right.

Go on, be off with you.

I'll be out of here
in time for t' final.

One way or the other.

...different after recent events.
- FRANK: Yeah.

Just thought I'd bring you
the viability study.

Ah, right. Yes.

Put it there. Thank you.

So, Frank, you're going down to Stanley
Tuesday and, what, coming back...

Will you be reading it?

Gloria, it would've been very valuable

if the Grimley miners had decided
to go to a review,

but, as you know, sadly...

You made them an offer
they couldn't refuse.

- None of this is simple, Gloria.
- All right, I'll make it simple.

I'll tell you some facts
the way I see them

and you tell me if I've got it wrong.

Miss Mullins...

One, I write reports
that no one will ever read.

They have to be seen to be written,
but they're not written to be seen.

Two, Grimley is... Was a profitable pit.
Says so in here.

Three, the decision to close it
wasn't made today,

- it was made weeks ago.
- Wrong.

Two years ago.

Coal is history, Miss Mullins.

I'll catch you later, lads.

Look, for years, bloody years,
nowt good's ever happened to me.

The only reason I'd get up in mornings
to see if me luck had changed,

but it never bloody has.

And it was just beginning to get worse,
with pit closing, losing me job,

and then what happens? Gloria Mullins.

Love of me bloody life
walks into practice hall.

"Bloody hell," I thought,
"maybe life's not so bad."

But is it, buggery?
She's only fucking management.

And now that's what you've been doing.

Yeah, well, let's just call that
sleeping with the enemy.

I'm not the enemy. I'm like you.

Unemployed.

I told them to stuff it.

- You off back down south, then?
- Well, hardly welcome here.

Reckon they all know now.
You were only trying to help.

Thing is, if help comes to summat,
then you're a hero.

If it comes to nowt,
you're just another meddler.

And is that what you reckon?

I reckon
your heart's in the right place,

but you never did owt to prove it.

I'll say ta-ra, then.

Summat good will happen soon, Andy.
Hope it's at Albert Hall.

Doubt it somehow. We're not going.

What?

They worked it out.
It'd cost three grand or summat.

No, the band's dead.
It died with everything else.

Harry.

- All right, Ernie?
- Aye.

- Jim.
- All right?

- All right, Phil?
- All right, Andy, lad?

- Owt in?
- There's a machinist wanted.

- You any good at button stitching?
- I'll take anything.

Well, thank Christ I found you. Look.

How's your dad?

How'd he take it about us packing in?

Oh eh, Phil, come on.
You got to tell him, you know.

- I mean, before final.
- I'm going to. I'm going to.

- There a while yet, though, in't there?
- Saturday.

I'm afraid I've got some bad news.

What? Sandra and the kids?
I heard all about that.

Don't fret, they'll be back.

- Dad...
- It's just one day.

They won't let me out
for one sodding day.

(COUGHING)

Dad, look...

Guess you might as well
give these to Harry, then.

Wish him good luck.

Was up all night doing them.

Aye?

Right.

(TELEPHONE RINGING)

Harvest festival.

Well, to tell you the truth,

I don't know too much
about t' harvest festival.

But I do know a story about God.

So, God was creating man, all right?

And his little assistant
came up to him and he said,

"Hey, we've got all these bodies left,
but we're right out of brains,

"we're right out of hearts
and we're right out of vocal chords."

And God said,
"Fuck it. Sew 'em up anyway.

"Smack smiles on their faces
and make 'em talk out their arses."

And lo, God created the Tory party.

- WOMAN: Come on. May God forgive you.
- God?

All right. There. Now, there's a fellow.

I mean, what's he doing, eh?

He can take John Lennon.

He can take those three young lads
down at Ainsley Pit.

He's even thinking of taking my old man.
And Margaret bloody Thatcher lives?

I mean,
what's he sodding playing at, eh?

You've been great.
My name's Coco the Scab.

Good night.

Granddad?
What's Granddad got to do wi' it?

Dad said when people
are as poorly as Granddad is,

you've got to do special things for 'em.

Shane, love, your dad didn't buy
trombone for your granddad.

He bought it for himself.

He said Granddad's gonna die,
but at least Dad getting a trombone

is gonna make him die happy.
That's what he said.

- Mum?
- What, love?

How the hell do you die happy?

Oh, we'll find a way.

I don't like seeing Dad sad, Mum.

- I know.
- But I'd sooner see him sad

than not see him at all.

- PHIL: Help!
- What's that, for fuck's sake?

(PHIL GAGGING)

What is it?

OFFICER: Jesus Christ!

Philip?

I mean, what the bloody hell
were you playing at, lad?

You lost your marbles?

Maybe. I've lost everything else.

Wife, kids, house, job, self-respect.

Hope.

But then, that's nowt, is it, Dad?

Because it's music that matters.

Band's packed in, anyway.

Oh, bloody hell, Phil.

NURSE: Is this man bothering you?

'Course he is. He's me dad.

- Phil.
- Phil, lad?

- Are you all right?
- What you up to?

Feeding the fucking ducks.
What's it look like?

We heard about...

We were on our way to hospital
to see you.

- Aye, and your dad.
- Oh, aye.

He'd be dead chuffed
wi' a visit from you lot.

I tell you, if he were up and about,
we'd all be in intensive bloody care.

Ah, right. You told him.

Maybe we'll visit him
next week, then, eh?

You coming for a pint, mate?

Drink with scabs, do you?

I voted for t' money, you know that?

Come on, Phil, lad.

Stop being a bloody drama queen
and come and have a wet with us.

Anyway, there's enough bloody rubbish
in this canal already.

PHIL: He just shook his head.

Can't tell you. It were like...

Lights just went out.

I mean, there he is coughing up coal,

and all we can do
is break his bloody heart.

Poor sod's got nowt left to live for.

Eh up.

- Can I get you a drink?
- No, it's all right.

I just wanted to show you summat.

New bank account. Grimley Brass Band.
There's three grand in there.

If nowt else,
it'll get you to Albert Hall.

This your money?

I don't want it. It's dirty money.

I'd prefer it to be brass.

Must be awful, love,

having that much guilt,
you got to buy your way out of it.

Jim, I'm just doing
what I was always doing, meddling.

Difference is, this time
we've not lost before we start.

And you would want
to play with us, yeah?

I'm not doing this for me.
I'm doing it for you.

And Danny.

I hope you budgeted for booze.

Danny'd want us to win, wouldn't he?

Well, we're not gonna win
without a flaming flugel, are we?

Simmo? Yeah.
You haven't flogged it, have you?

Right, your horn plays my 20.

What?

All right, bastard, 30.

Okay.

- Yes! He's missed!
- Come on.

- Come on, Andy.
- Go on, Andy, son. Go on, go on, son.

Take your time.

- Missed it!
- Bollock brain.

PHIL: Eh up.

It's going in!

You jammy git!

Well done, Andy.

I said no, Mr Ormondroyd. He's asleep.
Most people are at 2:00 in the morning.

Look, leave a message.

He'll get it the moment he wakes up,
all right?

(BRASS BAND PLAYING ON EARPHONES)

(INDISTINCT)

(ALL SINGING)

At least it'll give 'em more energy,
won't it?

(COLONEL BOGEY PLAYING)

WOMAN ON PA: Brighouse
and Rastrick Band, you have two minutes.

Brighouse and Rastrick, two minutes.

Grimley Collerery, you have two minutes.

Grimley Collerery, two minutes.

By hell, I bet she's glad
they've closed the bugger.

Okay, lads. Let's do it.

For 1,000 redundant miners
and one poorly one, let's do it.

Nurse, quickly!
It's Mr Ormondroyd. He's gone.

(PLAYING WILLIAM TELL OVERTURE)

(BABY CRYING)

First prize
and champions of Great Britain,

Grimley Colliery Band.

This band behind me will tell you
that that trophy means more to me

than owt else in the whole world.

But they'd be wrong.

Truth is, I thought it mattered.
I thought that music mattered.

But does it? Bollocks.
Not compared to how people matter.

Us winning this trophy
won't mean bugger all to most people.

But us refusing it,
like what we're going to do now,

well, then it becomes news, doesn't it?

You see what I mean.

That way I'll not just be
talking to meself, will I?

Because over the last 10 years,
this bloody government

has systematically destroyed
an entire industry, our industry.

And not just our industry.
Our communities, our homes, our lives.

All in the name of progress
and for a few lousy bob.

I'll tell you something else
you might not know as well.

A fortnight ago,
this band's pit were closed.

Another 1,000 men lost theirjobs,
and that's not all they lost.

Most of 'em lost the will to win
a while ago.

A few of them
even lost the will to fight.

But when it comes to losing
the will to live,

to breathe...

Point is,

if this lot were seals or whales,
you'd all be up in bloody arms.

But they're not, are they now?
No, they're not.

They're just ordinary, common-or-garden,
honest, decent human beings,

and not one of 'em
with an ounce of bloody hope left.

Oh, aye,
they can knock out a bloody good tune.

But what the fuck does that matter?

Now I'm going to take my boys out
onto the town.

Thank you.

- Oi, he said he wasn't accepting it.
- Don't toss a bloody soft.

(ALL CHEERING)

- Are you coming back, Sand?
- I don't know.

I've got a chair now.

I mean, I've no frigging house,
but I've got a chair.

- Well, sort of a chair.
- It all sounds very tempting.

All right?

Is that a thank-you?

More than that.
Never known him gush like that before.

Aye? Well, I suppose
that's what Yorkshiremen are famous for.

Not showing their feelings.

Right.

I'm not gonna show mine, either.

(ALL EXCLAIMING)

MAN: Good on you!

DANNY: All right then, lads and lassies,
Land of Hope and bloody Glory, eh?

(PLAYING LAND OF HOPE AND GLORY)