Original subtitles

to see you nice.

Phew. That guy gives me the creeps. That guy gives me the creeps.

Sinister. Sinister man.

Sinister man.

I don't think it's fucking great. Fuck, fuck, fucking great.

You just have to meditate.

Let me take you on a journey.

Just sit back and enjoy the ride.

Very interesting.

Very interesting.

fuck yourselves i

was just playing

I want to show you something. I want to show you something.

Something new. Something new.

Have a look. Between my ears.

Let me show you a few of the other characters that are involved in this

tragic comedy.

I'll be up.

Delightful little chip ball towards San Jose, the covering player for Mark

McGee. Huge winning in the middle.

Yeah, Mark!

Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.

Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you,

fuck you.

Don't mind me, don't mind me, don't mind me.

We're both evil, we're both evil, we're both evil.

Be with.

It looks shite, but it isn't actually that bad here.

Obra has a bad reputation.

A rough, working class shite hole.

Most people have left.

I understand why.

But at the same time, this place has so much personality.

It's proudly working class.

Proudly fucking mental.

The big cities are scared to be seen as mental.

But here, we wear that reputation like a fucking badge.

You may say it is grim.

But I fucking love it here.

I have some wild fucking memories here. I have tales to tell that you wouldn't

fucking believe.

I've seen cunts on fire smoking fucking black tar heroin and shag the missus all

at the same time.

Mental shite.

You don't get that in Edinburgh.

I love the grimness.

And Davy.

And I fucking love Obra.

Most of my mates have either left or are in the process of leaving.

That's shite.

You can't leave Davy. You can't turn your back on the Emerys.

We made them together.

You can take somebody out of Obra.

But you cannae take Obra out in Wocan.

I'm not gonna let them leave.

how would i last see them die here then be gone

feed me

davy feed me davy feed me their little souls

i'll gall them up digest them to the soil they shall return and from the

ground they will be born

Thanks to my mate here, whom I call the Haggis.

They will die here, and they'll remain part of Obra forever.

I think he's cute.

I don't know where he came from or what he even is, to be fair.

But I think he's the lifeline of this place.

The heart and fucking soul.

I feel like I need to feed him if I want Obra to stay mental, you know?

Eat some old characters, shite out new ones.

I don't really know, but I look after my pals and he's hungry.

He needs a feeding, lads.

Feed me, Davey, or sorry, son.

Shite out, shite.

I spend my formative years here.

Absolutely raving across the cult with all my pals.

But those days, those days are long since gone.

I still like it.

I love it when things are grim.

There's a beauty to it.

Something you can't quite unscrew.

All of my mates fucking hate it here now.

But fuck them. They're all a bunch of pricks anyway.

Minimum alcohol pricing doesn't exist here.

But it fucking does in Edinburgh.

You couldn't get a drink like this for less than four quid.

We've all been bastards.

It's a bit sad that no one comes here anymore.

This used to be everyone's happy place.

But now, it's like they've all forgotten about it.

But I could bet you, if the world was ending, for one last mental night,

they'd all come back here for a fucking rave.

That's my friend Elisa.

She's got a twin called Caitlin.

She fucked off.

But Elisa?

Fine girl.

There's a dad that owns this place.

He's a prick.

Got me a weekend the once because I shat in his garden.

But I like her.

But she wants to leave as well.

Sprout the brand across Scotland, out in the big conglomerates, leading the

coffee revolution.

growing it into the largest coffee brand in the United Kingdom whilst still

maintaining its pungent feel or some shite

It's nice.

You wouldn't have touched that shit before then.

Used to drink frosty jars from White Lightning.

When I was 15.

Aye. Anyone that drinks that at 15 doesn't grow up to be a cunt who drinks

mocha fucking frappies.

How are you?

Good.

Have you heard from Caitlin?

Nope.

You're what?

I made a new pal.

Oh yeah?

Oof. Job.

Does he have a job or have I?

Both.

Me? No.

But him, I, he has a very important job.

He's keeping this place going.

Must not be doing a great job.

What do you mean, hon?

Look around, Davy.

There's nothing left here.

It's bogging.

There's a reason I'm leaving and I don't blame my sister for doing the same

thing.

It used to be good.

But now... Now nothing.

It's always fucking been like this.

I saw it for what it was, and I loved it.

Whereas you, you saw it through frosty, jack-tinted glasses, and when that wore

off, you fucking hated it. I think you're too good for people in places

like me now. That's not true at all.

I think I can make a better life for myself somewhere out there.

I can't stay here forever.

Well, I can.

And I'm happy for you.

I wish you'd be happy for me.

Right. Well, come on with me then, eh?

Let's go for a wee walk to see you off.

I've got a present for you, actually.

Hmm? Present?

Aye. Might convince you to stay in Obra forever.

Wonder what that could be.

he drowsed and was aware of silence heaped round him unshaken as the

steadfast walls aqueous like floating rays of amber light soaring and

quivering in the wings of sleep silence and safety and his mortal shore lipped

by the inward moonless waves of death

Water, calm, sliding green above the weir. Water, sky-lit alley for his boat.

Bird-voiced and bordered with reflected flowers and shaken hues of summer

drifting down.

He dipped contented oars and sighed and slept.

Night with the gust of wind was in the ward, blowing the curtain.

to a gummering curve night he was blind he could not see the

stars glinting among the wraiths of wandering cloud queer blots of colour

purple scarlet green flickered and faded in his drowning eyes

rain he could hear it rustling through the dark fragrance and

passionless music woven as one warm rain on drooping roses pattering

showers that soak the woods not the harsh rain that sweeps behind the

thunder but a trickling peace gently and slowly washing life away

he

stirred shifting his body then the pain leaped like a prowling beast and

gripped and tore his groping dreams with grinding claws and fangs but someone was

beside him soon he lay shuddering because that evil thing had passed and

death who had stepped toward him paused and stared

Fucking hell.

This place. Some memories, like.

Aye, good times.

So that's what you ought to call it.

Where are we going, you mad junkie?

You'll see soon enough.

Is it a tree with white lightning growing from its branches?

Oh, it's better than that.

There it is.

What the fuck is that?

I don't really know.

But I consider him my pal.

Come on.

Careful.

Oh no, he's friendly to me.

I call him the haggis.

The haggis?

Aye.

Have you ever been hungry for haggis, Elisa?

Sorry? I said, have you ever been hungry for haggis?

Nope. I'm a vegetarian.

Are you?

Yeah.

But we dared you to eat a part of that dead cat we found on Churchill Drive.

You ate its fucking ear.

That's why I'm a vegetarian.

Oh.

Right, well, I'm sorry, Elisa, but I cannae see you go.

You're a part of this town whether you like it or not.

You're staying.

And whilst you might not be hungry for haggis, the haggis...

is hungry for you.

At least the haggis are spreading back into the woods of Old Brown.

Yeah.

Using a body as a fertilizer to continue the growth of filth.

It's such a lucky experience I get to have and such an incredible experience.

The woke mob no longer like laughing at the disadvantage in our community.

So it's often not considered polite to laugh at individuals.

Like Ketamine Kenneth.

Instead they like cunts like this.

For fuck's sake.

Even the young teen don't like this shite.

Couldn't have a 10 minute slot doing this.

That's how fucking desperate they are.

My mate here, Scott, does stand up.

He's not bad at it.

But tonight, he's playing a theatre at the college he studies travel and

tourism in.

He's organised this himself.

No one goes here anymore.

It's fairly dead.

People have stopped educating themselves.

I mean, what's the fucking point in Oprah, eh?

Bless Scott.

I wasn't really friends with him in school.

Far too artistic for my taste.

But he does stand up now.

He's keeping local jokes alive.

I like that.

But he wants to leave.

Thinks he can make a go of it in the central belt.

I can't let him leave.

He's the one sharing stories of our treasured past.

He only knows local jokes.

He's one of the surviving Glasgow.

Pull it in, cunt.

Thanks a lot, Davey. I really appreciate it.

Aye, no bother, pal.

Anything to get out of the house?

It's good to see you, Davey.

So what's your act about tonight?

Life. I like to jog about life.

There's plenty of that in there.

Do you remember mental wacky with the foot from fucking hell, eh? Remember

that? I won't be talking about her tonight.

I like to speak about autism and how it perceives the world.

It makes the audience very uncomfortable and it's how you create joy in that.

That sounds shite.

It's not shite.

It's jokes like that that'll bind me into a hit to life to follow.

I can't keep talking about Oprah in my routine forever.

I'll never grow.

And say something fucking funny

Davy, that's me away to perform.

Davy?

Davy? Henderson, do you go here?

I ain't gonna go here anymore, Scotty, okay?

Fuck you, Scot.

Round little bastard.

Henderson?

Round little bastard. Run, you round little bastard. Run.

Fuck you.

Fuck you.

Fuck you, you're my smells.

I owe you my smells.

I owe you my fanny smells.

I owe you my fanny smells.

I owe you my fanny smells.

I owe

you my

fanny smells.

And there he is he's got the nice little ties got the little smile good-looking

police officer there

time for a nice wee fun jokey joke this one has a nice twist at the end i think

you'll enjoy the sharp delivery this one involves a bit of audience participation

my good friend davey i'll use you you wanted some local jokes ones that

highlight the amazing characters in millborough people who are the

foundation for the grime in this town that you love so much do you remember

kieran henderson

I'd like you to help me out, Davey, with a moral dilemma.

If anyone else wants to voice their opinion, feel free to do so.

Christ.

Kieran Henderson was a social pariah at the Academy.

He was once just an ordinary kid. Not popular, but also not hated.

Just the typical in-between child most of us were at Academy.

Most people knew of him, but didn't necessarily know him.

I'm sure a lot of us can relate to that.

Anyway... There was one day at P.E. where we were all walking to the park to

partake in rounders, which is basically a gear version of baseball.

And there was a line of us, and at the front was local hoodlum Andrew Cunliffe,

a man who now parades about the importance of mental health on Facebook.

Now, this story doesn't have a particularly good beginning, middle, or

end. It's all very sad, really.

Sad to his day, in fact.

Anyhow. Andrew dared Kieran to nip the girl ahead's backside.

It was not in Kieran's character to do so, but I suppose he wanted to impress

the school bad boy.

He nipped her backside and, well, the rest is history.

What happened next?

Aye, he was a social prior.

Everyone called him Nonsense Pedo.

He was basically blacklisted from the school.

He was quite terrible, really.

He was a kid.

You did something stupid.

But kids are cruel.

Kids are cunts.

Yes, kids are cruel.

Kids are very nasty individuals.

Was it wrong to nip her bum? Yes, of course it was.

But was it right to destroy his entire life over?

I think that's a question for the audience.

But he was just a fucking lad.

Stuff like that wouldn't have gotten you a second look before the fucking woke

mob came in. Woke mob came in and fucked up.

His life was over.

Constant bullying.

Everywhere was a smear campaign.

People would shout pedos and walk down the hallways.

My gosh.

Teachers can be cruel too.

Right.

Life wasn't easy for him.

Students made YouTube videos about it.

Endless Facebook posts about him. The fact he didn't take his life is a

miracle.

really he's still going he had to leave school his whole family had to uproot

and leave this town but the stuff on the internet followed him everywhere every

town or city he went he got hell all because he nipped one girl's bum as a

dare not saying that's right but should the sins of an eleven-year-old punish

the fifteen-year-old trying to get into college or get a job at mcdonald's when

i say the bullying was hell i mean it even now people post about him

Especially since he's planning on coming back to the area.

This is a post on Facebook.

Kieran Henderson is set to return to the area.

Make sure we make an effort to hang the beast.

Not just should it be out on the street.

Protect our kids.

Thoughts?

Yes.

What do you think?

Scott, you're leaving out some vital fucking information.

So should we accept Ciaran back into our town?

Should he still be judged at his actions at 27 years old?

You're all about loving the locals of this town.

You celebrate them. Love their filth.

You're proud of the rot of old bra.

What do you think?

Should we accept him back?

I'll take that as a yes.

Wow, amazing stuff.

This town has really changed.

Y'all just accepted Henderson back into the community.

That's incredible.

I'm sure he'll be very happy.

He's also just out of jail for rape.

I bet he'll be delighted to have his town to call home.

That's the wee twist at the end of the joke.

Quite like that one.

It's because he is back.

Davey, you knew he was a rapist.

Why did you say you should welcome him back?

I didn't fucking say anything.

I don't want fucking notices on Oprah. Quite a dark joke, isn't it?

I'm leaving this town because of people like him. I can't pretend to enjoy his

character anymore.

It was always awful. I need to move on. Can't just accept this place.

There's a reason Caitlin left Oprah.

You, you have no idea why she fucking left. So watch your fucking mouth you

cunt.

He wants raped next.

He's retarded.

Feed me, Davey. I'm starving, son.

Believe me, Daisy. I'm starving, son.

We can't go back. We shouldn't go back.

We can look back, but keep moving forward.

A glance back is fine.

So long as you step ahead.

Boxing.

Just eating them. A shite about shite.

You fucking fool!

And you're giving nothing back.

The past burns and gives us new skin.

You love the past deep in your gut.

But you just consume the future.

You little bug.

Caitlyn.

Yeah.

Caitlyn will taste nice.

Feed me, baby.

I'm starving, son.

Go on then, you fucking cunt. Go on.

Spit it out.

I'm gonna fucking eat this.

Hey there, retarded girl.

You make my heart and penis do a twirl. Simple girl.

I idolize those idle eyes.

That's fucking shite.

You didn't eat with that fucking shite.

I'm in the process of shedding my skin to become one. I am losing everything

that proves I have a beating heart to become a true Eastwood warrior.

Now those who are toxic to him didn't initially embrace the gas.

They were poisoned.

They were invaded.

Fuckin' cunts.

Fuckin' cunts.

Fuckin' cunts.

Fuckin' wankers.

Fuckin' wankers. You don't celebrate Eastwood like I do. You don't fuckin'

celebrate. Fuck you pal.

Fuck you. And I am genuine. Fuck you pal.

The man Tim Eastwood.

Fuckin' cunts.

Fuckin' cunts.

Fuckin' cunts. The man, the man, the legend, Tim Eastwood.

Get out of my way.

Fuck you.

Fuck

you

son

Oh,

there's a home

He's a fun character, let me tell you. He's a dodgy bastard.

He's not a seedy cunt.

Are you alright,

Paul?

Baby, you fucking gay cunt. How you fucking doing?

Smashing. Smashing?

You want to fucking lift some weight?

Is that alright?

Give me a fucking minute, Paul.

Just give me a fucking minute. I need a minute.

Why?

Yeah, yeah.

You don't mind, do you?

Squeezing into you.

Right hand.

Do you mind taking me to the woods, Paul?

Aye. I've got to get going.

It's a school night.

I'm TV.

Just thinking of fucking shite.

Have you had a shite recently?

Or been around shite recently?

Go on home, hen.

You're not from here. You don't deserve to be drenched in off-stains, now fuck

off.

Fucking whoresmen.

I've had the ones with your generation.

They sucked better.

Do you, uh... Do you mind taking me to the woods, pal?

Aye. Make a look under the pile.

You're getting a score.

Hmm.

I'm feeding a habit.

Oh, Bernard Dickens.

I was planning to leave for Latvia.

Chase the tail there.

Couldn't let a legend like that leave now, could we?

Soon he lay shuddering, because that evil thing had passed, and Death, who'd

stepped toward him, paused and stared.

Light many lamps and gather round his bed.

Lend him your eyes, warm blood, and will to live.

Speak to him, rouse him.

You may save him yet.

He's young, he hated war.

How should he die when cruel old campaigners win safe through?

I choose him.

So he went.

And there was silence in the summer night.

Silence and safety.

And the veils of sleep.

Then, far away, the thudding of the guns.

Fuck teeth.

Fuck toothbrushes. Fuck toothpaste.

Fuck everything.

Better than my fucking body.

You fucking

birthed me. You fucking deal with me.

FUCK OBRA FUCK ENGINES FUCK ENGINES FUCK OBRA

Hello?

Hi. My name is Eric Roberts.

And I have been in many things.

What do I train?

That's the best expendables. I was even in a dark night.

I was just an old bird.

Fuck my cunt in life.

Okay, can I ask what this is about? There were men and women without legs.

Their face halved cats and someone they called Eastwood.

They floated around, spread out their filth, spreading racist imagery, spewing

hate, encouraging violence, engaging in violence, exterminating the weak and

giving wiggins a bad name.

They see Eastwood as an idol.

They don't know what else to worship because in Old Brook there is nothing

else.

Like his worst self without impulse.

He channels through the Scottish Ned.

But an interpretation of the evil does come out.

Right, is this really Eric Roberts?

Hello?

...the Burrowlands Baldwin back in 68.

They never mopped up the pus and it became something else.

People have gone bad in Scotland.

Over.

He's not alone.

They put me in a motherfuckin' beanbag.

I was told of Ian Brady.

His physical form is gone, but his spirit lives on in the newborns of old

Bert. Some dress like him.

Others live like him, running across the hills into the next towns, making the

kids a pure burden, a crazy burden to battle with boys and girls.

I've got eight fuckin' two... Get a call, I'm gonna call Karen.

fucking days.

Ha ha, fuck I miss Cinemax.

I love the sound of a film camera.

Porn felt like Danny Boyle made it back then. I can't think of an American

contemporary. Can you?

To be fair, I can't. You got a point there.

That brings me back to Humboldt County, which is where I am now.

That place seemed to be connected by some sort of rotten cunt ridge of

opposing evils.

They say Humboldt called Eastwood.

Told him he could hide there.

when the fire died down they sent him to oldburg whatever is in oldburg called me

took me on when i had the most severe heartburn i wouldn't say it took care of

me but i could stay there when i left it sent me here humboldt county the whole

flight i carried something deep in my gut i couldn't even swallow the coach

dinner service when i arrived in humboldt county i walked to an unmarked

spot and spat it out

town was poisoned they swore he'd always been there there's some in old bird that

don't like the eagle their body fights it and they can never succumb to it they

keep their arms and legs but act like they don't walk any more they go off not

to fight evil but study the true horrors and find out if there's something deeper

than this whole gad thing after all hope to god none of you cunts good old bird

What the fuck do you want, you stupid cunt?

You were out last night. Aye, I was out last night. At a fucking rotten leg.

Place was fucking mental.

It was a fucking film.

Brother. There was so many fucking mental geezers out there last night. I

fucking loved it.

I don't know why you still go there. It's rank.

For the fucking characters, that's why I still go there.

We went down to Glasgow and slept shite in here, mate.

Fuck you, pal.

There's no characters down there like they are fucking here, in Oprah.

I'm gonna do really hard things to you, because you deserve them.

Do I?

You do absolutely despicable things to your fucking face and body, you stupid

cunt of a woman. Do I have any choice of what you're gonna do to me?

What the fuck do you think?

And if he's a whore-bearer, women like you have no choice but to suffer.

What's gonna happen?

I read the Bible, but I got women.

I find pleasure in causing harm and killing others.

The feeling of ending some life.

Obviously I know it's wrong and sick and shit.

But the more I do, the more parts of my brain that tells me to stop starts

agreeing with the side that tells me to keep on going, to stab and penetrate one

more time.

I feel like I'm some sort of predator in there, my prey.

Like the gazelle for the lion, or plankton and the basking shark.

They exist to feed me.

At least that's what I think.

There's a bit much to process, you know.

I've killed three people.

I can assure you, more will follow.

Every person I look at, I think about cutting, dousing myself in their blood,

and possibly making out with a body.

I think of the ways in which I can see their body being mutilated.

I run my fingers up and down their corpse, but it's warm because of the

blood. So I keep stabbing Chloe Gertner repeatedly until she goes cold and hard.

And as you dance around the room and talk, I think about bashing the back of

your head, maybe cutting off the bottom part of your body and having sex with it

while the top half stays black like...

I

know that's heavy, but you're so pathetic and the noise did not like it.

A cold-blooded killer like myself doesn't have the guts to kill you

because you're unbelievably benign. And like me, you exist in your own little

world. You think your purpose is to help fix me. It's not.

You told yourself that. You think it. You may very well believe it. If there's

any choice in your life, you're never doing what you're meant to. I have no

fucking choice.

You'll forever exist in the pain I spread.

You are intertwined with my disease.

At least that's what I think.

What the fuck, man?

This place gives me fucking hometown pride.

I love it.

Fuck you and fuck Glasgow.

That place is shit.

This place is shite.

They have fake fucking tan grime, and we have real fucking grime.

Fuck you, you fucking faggot.

Fuck you, son!

What the fuck do you want, you stupid whore?

Fuck you and fuck milk!

Listen here, you fucking faggot. I'm taking your milk.

I know what you were. Well, you'll always be in my fucking eyes. Fucking

faggot. Fucking janky faggot. A fucking janky junky faggot. I don't give money

to people like you.

You deserve every beating that you've ever fucking gotten from life.

I'm taking this milk and you are not going to stop me. Stopping me would be

another mistake in your tragic fucking life.

You filthmonger.

You've already stolen so much fucking oxygen from us. Why can't you just die

already? But you know what? You know when you actually are dead?

I'm going to tell people that your grave is actually where Jimmy Savile is

buried, and each and every night your corpse is going to be dug up and fucked.

Because even in death, your body doesn't deserve rest.

Fucking janky junky faggot. You fucking faggot. Why? I don't give money to

people like you.

A fucking janky faggot. You deserve every beat. Fucking faggot. Your tragic

fucking wife.

Can you just die soon?

See ya.

I'm sorry.

You're not a Jakey Junkie faggot.

Enjoy your milk.

We don't even get proper music in Obra.

None of the hits ever made it here.

But they've tried to seep in through the telly.

Take a look at this shite.

Do you wanna go get away from the old?

Bites in the sand.

Fabric of Drake. Nothing in your hand.

We'll be falling in love. To the rhythm of a steel drum band.

Not in Coca-Cola.

Jamaica. Or I'll take you to Bermuda. Bahamas. Turkey.

Cuba. Once you leave, we go to Poco-Mo. We get depressed.

And then we'll take it slow.

That's where we wanna go.

We gotta go-go.

That's how the hits sound here in Oldborough.

No wonder we're all so uncultured. But I'm proudly uncultured.

Because I'm Davey.

And you're a fucking fanny.

You alright, Mark? I'm alright, Paul.

What are you saying?

Still living with your parents?

Aye, I am.

All right, parents, what are they like, man?

You know, sometimes you just want to be a canny-canny, so

I fed them to a giant beast instead.

Funny folk.

Listen, Davy, your dad, your dad's a good man.

Solid bastard.

Starved.

Aye.

He has his moments.

Did I ever tell you about my father, Davy?

His name was Bobbert.

Do you mean Robert?

No, Bobbert.

Bobbert!

He was a prick, mate.

Total junkie. Now you know how much I fucking hate them.

Oh, aye.

Listen, when I was a wee kid, Davey, my dad was a proper bastard.

Do you remember that old belt shop up on Queen Street?

Aye, I think so.

Well, my dad went in there, frosty jacks on his breath,

and he mutters,

I'll take them all.

I remember the beltmaker toning his face. He was confused.

Surely he didn't mean all of them.

Indeed he fucking did.

He walked out of that shop with several bags full of fucking belts.

I mean, what did he need with those thick leather belts?

Did it matter?

Okay.

Listen, Davey.

Come rain, hail or storm, that man went into that belt shop and he bought up all

the belts.

I mean, seriously.

Tony must have been questioning it, but he never said anything.

Just kept selling him the belts.

I mean, what did you really need all those belts for?

Of course, he was not going to say anything, was he? Because he had to keep

that little financial angel going just as long as he could.

as long as he was paying for them.

Until one day, he did question it.

So what's with all the belts, chief?

He said.

A glare was my father's first response.

Followed by, I'm keeping a jackal in line.

Right, Tony thought it was in his best interest to no question it.

Until one day, curiosity got the better of him.

And so he followed my father home.

Aye, keeping his distance, of course.

What happened next?

Tony looked through the window when he got there.

I saw him. I saw him through that window.

My father was in the house. Me, tied to the bed.

And he was leathering my arse with those belts until they'd break.

and splinter away.

Gold buckles scattered across the room, mate.

It was fucking torture.

I mean, what, too embarrassed to be seen making contact with this filthy,

abhorrent creature?

Apparently that I was.

I mean, with the black eyes, bruised, lumpy skin.

You know, it didn't really show the darkness deep down, mate.

Right, and he would beat my arse raw.

And then when the belt snapped, mate, he'd go right into his little black bag

and he'd pull out another in, thicker than the last, and he'd go again.

All my mother could do was just sit in the corner and cry.

I'm so sorry.

That's terrible.

What happened next?

He left.

He looked at me through that window, said nothing, scampered away.

I mean, what would you do in his situation?

Would you still profit off of that fucking abuse?

Tony did, for a good long while.

Dad still went in.

Tony said nothing.

Buying up the belts.

Felt like every time he'd go in, he'd keep asking for thicker and thicker

belts and the best fucking buckles money could buy.

He didn't care, he'd spend it.

By God.

The suffering that that Tony profited off would put most wars to shame, mate,

I tell you.

That continued right up until I was 30 fucking too.

Listen Davey, after all that, I didn't kill my dad,

and nor should you.

I already did, brother.

They wanted to leave Oprah.

You take care.

Meet me

Until they were snapped and threaded.

Until they were snapped and threaded.

Beat me with a fucking bat.

Until they were snapped and threaded.

Iron buckles hit my ass.

And broke my fucking face.

Beat me with a fucking bat. Water and other volatile material.

No, sorry pal, I'm really busy at the minute.

Mark?

Mark, you there?

Fucking Jesus. Davy.

My mother, she was a strong woman, Davy.

She might not have looked it, but she was.

Five foot one, but that cunt could down the rock with a glare, I tell you.

Aye, she was a character.

She did my head in, truth be told.

Parents do that, Mark.

Parents do that.

Aye, they do.

Listen, Davy, wouldn't you mind that you wanted to throttle them?

Did you mean it?

No, no, of course not. Good, good.

Because I can promise Davy.

Where are you?

that it is not worth it.

What do you mean, pal?

When I was young, and I'm talking about seven or eight, my mum took me to the

local baths.

She was my only friend.

I mean, God knows my dad wasn't.

I really struggled with the other kids.

I couldn't make a connection then, I don't know why.

You see, when heroin came along, then of course they all flocked around me.

But before that, they just, they wouldn't be seen with me, Devi.

I suppose after heroin, it was much the same.

They just spat a lot more as kids.

Right in my face.

I mean, sometimes I couldn't tell if it was tears or saliva I was wiping away.

They both stung me the same.

anyway so she took me to the pool and i was bobbing about happy as larry and

then i just sunk straight to the bottom of that pool

i wasn't sure what happened truth be told i just disappeared

at the bottom of the pool christ it was cold but i felt

something davy

I felt peace.

I mean, Mum was obviously worried as can be, looking up the length of the pool

for me, and then she stopped and she looked down, and she saw me at the

bottom of that pool.

Not moving, but I had a little grin on my face.

And on any other day, I can imagine she'd be straight down to the bottom to

save me, but not that day.

She saw a smile on my face, Davey, and she thought to herself, fuck it, he's

smiling.

When's he going to do that again?

If I rescue him, I'm bringing him back to a cruel world of hatred and bigotry

and all sorts of bad shite.

Might as well just leave him.

Let him experience peace for once in his life.

letting this wee boy drown isn't the kindest thing i could do for him it

would be evil to save him and subject him to his father and the rest of the

world jesus mark she just left me

got out of the pool dried herself off and went home of course somebody

rescued me and i got brought home

In those days, the bobbies didn't care if you hurt your kids. I mean, let alone

leave them to fucking drown.

I'm pretty sure they would have.

Not these bobbies, Davey. Not these bobbies. You didn't fucking see them.

I was never right after that day.

I mean, I wasn't the best beforehand, let's be real, but all that water...

Lack of oxygen, it does something to you, mate.

I hated my mum for doing that, but... I mean, maybe she was right, baby.

I was better dead at the bottom of that pool, let's be real.

How did your father react to seeing you alive?

How do you think?

I'm sorry, Mark.

I didn't know your parents were like that.

It's all right.

At least you know now your parents aren't that bad.

Aye.

But when she... When she was gone, when I... When she died, I didn't feel

much relief or anything.

I mean, it didn't seem worth it.

Mark, how did your mum die?

Ha, ha.

Get this, Davey. The cow drowned in the bath.

Then my dad hanged himself with a belt.

My parents died too, Mark.

I fed them to the beast.

Would you...

Would you like me to feed you to it?

Can it... Can it chip me out with something better than this?

You fucking thing.

He was bored of just shite.

You're meant to be shitting out legends, and you're just getting fatter and

fatter, you fuck.

Fuck!

It's just gooey drop, what's the fucking shite?

You useless cunt!

We love your memory.

Takes me down.

I can't say your name.

No, I can't say.

Say your name.

Lord, I can't say.

She was a mad cat in her day.

A proper fucking character.

But even I don't love this town enough to do this for it.

I'm doing it because I feel guilty.

I was a mad lad back in the day. And well, I hurt this woman.

I hurt her heart.

I help her in many ways now.

Try to keep the old relic alive, you know.

Not just sexual things.

Sometimes with technology.

So, er... You can't take any more pictures on your iPad or something?

Sorry, I can't remember what my mum said.

Yeah, I've got no memory.

I can't make any more memories.

Remember what I said last time?

No. I said, you've got too many photos and videos on there.

You need to either delete some or back them up onto a cloud or whatever.

That way you'll have more room on the device to make more whatever it is you

make.

Please, Davey.

Please, would you look at it for me, please?

This is all I've got for my memories.

I don't think I've got time right now, Millie.

I suppose that's fair, Davy.

Things like this happen all the time.

I get left alone.

It's a shame for me, really. I used to have visitors around every day. Now,

seldom do I see anyone.

I need these memories.

and i need to people send me pictures and i can't save them it tells me

there's no room all i have are those pictures on that ipad to remind me of

how good some things used to be how good my friends looked how healthy our smiles

were how beautiful i was the memories are endless but my time is limited davey

there's still so much i want to reminisce about but my ipad doesn't

have the memory it's poppin up and tellin me that i don't deserve to

remember that time has passed and i should look at myself in the reflection

of its glass growing old and withering away slowly ever so slowly life goes so

fast when you're young then when you hit my age it's dead slow you drag your

heels to the grave davy please help me davy

Please.

What's the passcode?

It's 130393.

My fucking birthday.

Easy to reveal. Look.

Oh, baby.

Oh, baby.

What a treat.

Keep the ones you like,

or you need the ones that you don't.

Nothing's changed down there, David.

It's still the same.

Very womanly.

You like this video?

Right,

I've deleted all your duplicates and...

All the other things.

So you should have plenty of memory on there now to make new ones.

Listen, Melanie, I know what you're trying to do.

I'm sorry, but I'm not interested.

You had your run.

I'm looking for the new Queen of Obra.

Well, good luck with that, son. You'll never find anyone as cock-mad and as

filthy as me.

Or as disease-ridden.

Diseases build character.

I'm gonna leave now.

Stevie!

Put them back in my gob or I'll tell.

The three of you will go down for good.

I know what you did to my sister.

Mucking gone wrong, was it?

Do you want to go for a wee walk?

Look at his fucking stomach.

It's violent in there. That thing's gonna fucking pop.

It's fine.

It's getting up for a proper shite.

I think when that thing goes, we all fucking go, Davey.

I'll shit out a new legend into all of us soon enough. Mark my words.

Shut the fuck up. You're just feeding the cancer at this point.

We can't go back.

Fuck you.

I thought you fucking loved Obra, too.

I do!

I mean, I did.

This place is slowly... This place is slowly disappearing, Davey.

The cancer that we once loved... Oh, and it's slowly eating this place fucking

alive.

It'll all be fucking gone soon.

You've changed your tune.

The rotten leg changes tune too, Davey.

I was there last night and it was fucking bogging.

I need to leave.

I'm bad for this place and this place is fucking bad for me.

Maybe the fresh air of a new land will heal what ails me.

But it'll be the same sun.

Shining its shitty light down on me. Fuck you, son!

Fuck you.

Don't even try fucking feeding me to that thing.

Beck.

Fuck you!

That's right.

Fuck off like you always do. You traitorous bastard.

A glance back is fine.

You prick.

So long as you step ahead.

Thank you.

So, Caitlin, what's your biggest strengths?

That after every nightmare.

I still get through the nights though.

Sorry? I get a lot of nightmares.

I've not killed myself yet.

Oh.

Yeah.

I get them all the time.

They're really bad.

Tell me about them.

Okay, well, I get them most nights.

Typically the same thing happens over and over.

It's the end of the world.

Chaos reigns.

Blood reigns.

I'm just dancing with the few remaining bastards.

No one's even drinking.

There's not a lot of people left.

The ones who stay, they don't even care that the world's ending, because to

them, it ended years ago.

And there's some cretins who just stay and dance.

They're young.

They're full of life, but they're not happy.

Others try to escape but some just bask in the darkness.

Anyway, I'm in the club and I suddenly get really scared.

Anxiety grabs a hold of me, sexual abuse chokes me.

But I escape it.

I'm in a void, far away from everything.

The world is ending and I'm on my own.

Death rides over the hill.

His headlights are blaring, exposing every horrible thing I've ever done.

Taking me out, I feel life being stripped from every part of my body.

I wake up gnawing.

I don't deserve to live to see the end.

This dream takes me days to recover from.

Oh, hold on.

Spradley, you've got to come back to Oldborough.

You've got to come back. You've got to come back to Oldborough.

I think something's happened to Elisa. I think Davy did something bad. I think

Davy did something really fucking bad.

I think that Quint did something really fucking horrible at your sister.

It's getting really bad here. I need you to come back. It's getting really

fucking bad.

It's getting really, really fucking bad.

Alright, Caitlin, I love you. I've got to go.

Okay, love you. Bye.

My twin sister's gone missing.

Sorry.

What the fuck, man?

i kains am lookit doon upon for spikkin oot s'braid but i still use

my mither tongue why jest as it was made some pit it doon a native

mouk all forrent it micht be but longwidge it my feyther spoke

is gweed enough for me an finn am writin to my freenes

So you back?

Mm-hmm.

Couldn't make a name for yourself down south.

That's not it.

Realised you can't run away from your past.

You can't escape what made you, Caitlin.

I'm here to find Alyssa.

I want to find her and be there for my family during this difficult time.

Don't try and act like a good person now, sweetheart.

You were the one who stepped on her neck.

Aye.

It was my idea to mug her.

But you... You fucking killed her.

We are the scum of Oldborough. We belong here. We don't let ourselves spread.

We keep Oldborough at the place it is. The place it should be.

Fucking mental.

Bogging.

Despicable.

You were the one that put your foot on her neck.

You're the filth that makes up this town.

Don't act like you're any better.

Everyone knows what happened.

Even those who weren't there know.

You can't escape that.

You're not too fucking good for this place.

Maybe that's right.

But I'm always looking for something better.

There's nothing wrong with that.

Sometimes you just have to move on, Davy.

Accept that the past was shite and you've wasted your life.

Don't pretend to like the filth.

You love the past deep in your gut, but you just consume the future.

Feed me, Davy.

I've got something to show you.

Okay.

My name is Wee Scott, and I'm an orb now.

And when I was an itty-bitty kid, my daddy bought me a Sega Mega Drive.

And I thought, a Sega Mega Drive?

Me?

Wee Scott?

Well, I'm just no long off the bloody leapfrog.

What on earth would I be doing with a Sega Mega Drive?

Father, what benefit is it to me?

Have a think, son.

Have a think why I bought you a Sega Mega Drive.

I said, I'm not a wiser daddy.

And he says, well, I'm Sonic the H-Hulk 3.

There's a character called Knuckles who is advertised as being a bit of the

baddie.

He's the villain.

And I know you don't like Knuckles, son.

You don't like my knuckles.

You don't like my knuckles at all, do you, son?

So I got you this Sega Mega Drive so that you can finally... So you can

finally defeat knuckles.

I got you it so you could finally beat some knuckles.

And he looked at me and he said, but for the time being, son, these

knuckles...

You're gonna have to fucking beat you.

In Christ did he fucking leather me.

What is it?

I don't really know, but I call it the haggis.

Why?

Because it's fucking Scotland, you mong.

Come on.

I know you're a fool.

Close to bursting, you poor hairy bastard.

Look at her.

She's delicious.

Have her.

She's a traitor to Obra. A traitor to us.

What the fuck are you doing?

Come on.

Eat her.

You know you want to.

Eat her.

You fucking need... Eat the fucking bitch.

Come on. Eat her.

Eat her and shout out a new legend.

Come on.

Come on, you fucking... Eat her.

Fuck it all the time, man.

For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in

him should not perish but have eternal life.

For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order

that the world might be saved through him. Whoever believes in him is not

condemned, but whoever does not believe is condemned already, because he has not

believed in the name of the only Son of God.

This is all right. We'll make this thing right.

We'll make this thing right.

That's it.

Obra's fucked.

The hag has popped and killed every fucking cunt going.

No more toxic Thames.

No more cunts.

No one.

Don't let your town become like Obra.

However the fuck you're supposed to stop that shite from happening, just fucking

do it.

Cunt.

It's over.

Thank the Pope.

Thank God.

Fucking hell. Fucking hell.

I've never been so fucking grateful.

I hope you enjoyed yourself.

Was it an abortion?

Abortion? Yeah.

No. Let's stop talking about abortions. This lived.

It didn't just die.

It has just died.

You're so fucking special.

I wish I was special.

You're so fucking special.

You are retarded. I know you're not retarded. But I'm a creep.

I'm a weirdo. What the hell am I doing here?

I don't belong here.

Can't change a thing.

It's driving me crazy. I'm talking to myself.

Fucking hell.

I'm feeling overwhelmed.

Scared of the future?

I'm scared of the present. What's going on?

Pussy shit. That's what's going on.

Pussy shit. That's what's going on.

Pussy shit.

Scared of the future?

I'm scared of the present.

I don't know what's going to happen next.

I've never been this open.

Yeah, I've got problems.

This feels normal to me. This was the spam of my subconscious.

What's gonna happen next?

What's gonna happen to me?

Who the fuck knows?

Who

cares?

Who says anything will happen?

This is my spam!

Direct from my brain.

This is my spam.

Direct from the brain.

Scared of the future.

I'm scared of the present.

What's going on? What's going on?

Pussy shit, that's what's going on.

Pussy shit, that's what's going on. Scared of the future. I'm scared of the

present. What is going on?

Pussy shit, that's what's going on. Pussy shit, that's what's going on.

I don't know if I can handle the spam direct from my brain.

I don't know if I can handle the spam directly from my brain.

I don't know if I can handle the spam directly from my brain. I don't know if

I can handle it all, the spam direct from my brain.

I want to say thank you to my crew.

To my real genes.

I struggle hard.

The world often doesn't make sense.

Does not compute.

Computer says no.

What are you, retarded?

So he... I know you're not retarded.

Well, don't make that anyone else's problem but my own. Is that the right

thing to do?

What am I doing?

I challenged myself.

And I am, myself, challenged.

To make a feature before I was 27 years old. I had five grand and I thought,

fuck it. Fuck it. Fuck it. Fuck it.

Five grand.

Was that all?

The English would have gotten more.

And shite being Scottish!

Fuck it. I thought, I'll do it my way.

And now the end is near.

And so I face the final curtain.

I'll say it clear.

I'll state my case, of which I'm certain.

I've lived a life that's full.

Are you a glass half full, or are you a glass half empty?

I've travelled each and every highway.

Why did it have to be this way?

And more, much more than this, I did it my way.

Mark and Sarah, you know it shouldn't have been this way.

Regrets? I've had a few. But then again, too few to mention.

I did what I had to do. I saw it through without exception.

I planned each chartered course.

Each careful step along the byway.

Ewan and Elizabeth, great job by the way.

And much more than this, I did it my way.

Aye. Mark and Sarah.

You know it shouldn't have been this way.

Yes, there were times, I'm sure you knew.

Guilty, bitch, I'm guilty.

I ate it up and spit it out.

I faced it all and I stood tall and I did it my way.

Mark and Sarah, you knew it shouldn't have been this way.

I've loved, I've laughed and cried.

I've had my fill, my share of losing.

And now those tears subside with all thought about it.

Suicide. Your life losing.

I find it so amusing to think I did all that.

And me, I say, not in a shy way.

Mark and Sarah, you know it shouldn't have been this way. Oh no, oh no, no.

Not me.

I did it my way.

But what is a man?

What has he got?

If not himself, then he is not.

To say the things he truly feels.

He doesn't have a clue what he was trying to say. Not the words of one who

kneels. We should just let him speak.

Nah, he's retarded.

He's sincere.

That's hard to come by. But if he says he's happy, check his nose.

It goes.

The record shows I took the blows and did it my

way. The record shows I took the blows and

did it my way.

Yes, it was my way.

The record shows I took the blows and did it my way.

Aye, it was my way.

Mark and Sarah, you know it shouldn't have been this way.

Fuck it! It should've. And it is.

Fuck the lot of you. Fuck you all.

That's not fair. I'm just speaking out of hurt. I did it my way.

Hope you enjoyed that.

If you didn't, then I have it for something.

I want it to live there. Live there.

I think it's world fucking class.

Live there. World fucking class.

To anyone that doesn't like it, well, they don't need to stick around.

What was I trying to say again?

Actually, I'm happy. This is my thing.

I'm happy this way, even though... The record shows.

That's up the blows.

Spalding, man.

i do apologize you um i have to work with this some somehow