All language subtitles for Mean.Machine.2001-DVDRip-plstk.eng

New car, Z?

For your information only,
that's a prototype. Bother.

Yes? Right. l'll be back in a sec'.
Don't touch a thing.

England captain,
Danny ''Mean Machine'' Meehan,

is licensed to score with Umbro.

Licensed to get hammered, you mean.

Large whisky.

Do you want anything in that?

Yeah, a double.

lt's lively in here.

Didn't you use to be Danny Meehan?

Used to be.
A very long time ago.

Sir, we're going to
have to breathalyse you.

No need, officer. l'm totally pissed.

Come on, Danny. No trouble.

Oh, look, a miniature copper!

You'd better come along with us.

Don't be silly. Come on!

You are nicked, sunshine.

BBC news headlines.

This morning, ex England football captain

Danny Meehan was jailed for three years,

despite pleading guilty to assaulting
two police officers and driving drunk.

Meehan's downfall from the pinnacle
of world football has been swift,

since match-fixing accusations ended
the career of one of our finest players.

The judge showed little sympathy
for his pleas of mitigation,

imposing the maximum sentence.

Meehan showed no emotion
as he was led away.

The former star will serve his sentence
at Longmarsh High Security Prison...

...famous for its rehabilitation programme,

reformed characters,

and modern conditions.

Open!

That's it. Get out!

Come on!

- Get away from the van.
- All right.

Shut it! This is a category B nick,
not Butlins. Do you understand?

You're nothing in here.
Do you hear me? Nothing. Move out.

May the good Lord be with you.

He's a pretty boy.

Coming in.

Straight down the stairs.

Prisoner on the move.

Stay behind the line. Stand there.

- Valuables?
- Prisoner Meehan 041 1 2.

Sign it.

Here's your designer gear
for the next three years. Enjoy.

What are you waiting for?
Come on, move it.

Captained his country,
and he ends up in here?

73 caps for England,
and you sell your country out in a game.

That's un-bloody-English, that is.

Chief.

l'm the chief officer of this prison.

You call me ''Mr Burton, sir''.

You call him Mr Ratchett
and him Mr Hayter.

Anybody in this uniform,
you call mister, right?

Right.

Mr Burton, sir.

Sometime tomorrow,
governor wants a word.

He wants you to coach my football team.

Little word of advice.

You're gonna smile nicely and say no.

- Move it!
- All right!

What did you say? That's ''Mr Hayter, sir''
to you. Do you understand?

l think you need a little reminder
of Mr Burton's orders.

You won't coach our football team.

OK?

Stand there where l can see you.

Meehan, stow your kit top right.

All right, lads? New cellmate for you.
l'm sure you recognise him.

He used to be a somebody
once upon a time.

Got plenty of time
to get to know your new playmates.

Work assignment. C wing.

Got you an apprentice.
He used to be a sweeper.

- Comedian.
- Enjoy it, Meehan.

- l've got some advice for you.
- Thanks. l'm short on advice today.

This will change your life.

Do you see that?
Be very careful of those.

Some of the boys have a pony in the night,
wrap it and airmail it out the window.

Here, use this.

Glamorous job.
Stick it in the bin and follow me, OK?

Come on!

Do you know who that is?

Meehan! Here.

Not the muscle, the other one.

- Christ, he's got old.
- 30 years will do that to you.

Still thinks he's Al Capone.
You'd better go over.

- You know who l am?
- Charlie Sykes.

- l run this nick.
- l've been told.

l lost a great deal of money on an
England/Germany game a few years back,

after one of the Englanders
gave away a very suspect penalty

after 72 minutes of playing time.

So l think that you owe me.

Come on, superstar. Tour's not over.

You know,
it's not gonna be easy for you in here.

What's everyone's problem?

You really want to know?

Most of the guys in here have nothing,
never had to start with.

But you, you had everything
they ever dreamed of,

and threw it all away.

Hey!

The superstar! Danny Meehan.

lt's the thingy, the...fuckin' hell...

...the Mean Machine!
l bet you've got a few stories.

All the, you know,
the pussy and all that thing.

- Funnily enough, no.
- Yeah? So what, big shot?

l know all about fame.
l was a face myself. l was the man.

The late '80s, all around the raves,
all that, fucking...voom!

l was the top fucking kiddy.

My food?

Danny boy.

Anything you need,
l'm a one-stop shop, OK?

Anything you want, l can get it for you.

l've just had that from Mr Fix lt,
throwing the beans.

Nitro? Keep away from him, mate.
Gets all in with all the newcomers,

- so that he can hustle them.
- And what's your angle?

lf you want any of life's little luxuries -

chocolate, toothpaste, soft toilet paper -

- Massive is your man.
- Massive?

lt's ironic.

- All right, Raj, you be black.
- No, l'll be white.

Just chill. You've got a black nose.

You saying l'm black? That makes me
the first lranian from Babylon.

The neighbourhood celeb's in town.

- Put the kettle on.
- Would you like any biscuits?

- l never asked to be put in here.
- And we did?

- l don't need this.
- You don't need this?

Let me tell you what we don't need.
We don't need you, another body, in here.

Ain't nothing personal, pal.
lt's just...l don't fuckin' like you.

- Our star looks beat, Trojan.
- Yeah, he needs to chill.

- Yeah, him have a hard day at work.
- Any requests, star?

The legendary Broadhurst Monk.

Shipped in about six months ago,
but they still have him on the special unit.

Why?

Apparently,
he killed 23 men with his bare hands.

- Maybe l should take up karate.
- That was before he took up karate.

They don't mess with him, not even
the screws, not even when he's cuffed up.

- ls that the famous footballer?
- Ex-footballer.

He's just a number now.

Chief.

Stand there.

Danny Meehan.

Well, it is a pleasure to meet you.

l'm a big football fan. Big.

What do you think of amateur football?

lt's amateur.

Yes. Well, l'm sure we're not a match for
the pro's, but we do have our own team.

Southern Division, semi pro's.

And we have a chance of winning
the division this year, getting promotion.

We have been runners-up before,
but first is first, and second is nowhere.

l want you to train the team,
use your professional experience.

Well, l haven't played football for years,
and...

l'm a little bit
out of condition at the moment.

l pulled a lot of strings
to get you assigned to my prison.

l'm sorry.

l'm just not your man.

We'll stick a pin in it for now.

Out.

- Mr Burton, a quick word, if l may.
- Sir?

l've spent a fortune on this team,
for no return.

l am the coach of this team...

With the money l spent
we could have won the World Cup.

You can't put a prisoner
in charge of the guards' team.

Just get it done. Please.

- l wouldn't get too close, miss.
- Why? You're not dangerous, are you?

Only if you've got the ball, miss.

Hey, Danny boy. l can get you anything,
anything that's not on the menu.

- ls that stink you, Meehan?
- Don't you poke me again.

Don't you start growing a spine, footballer.

Bollocks!

Hands behind your neck.

Hands behind your neck.

Let go of my neck. Let go of me.

Let go of me.

Pack it in.

lt wasn't me!

lt's not me, you bastards.

Razzle Dazzle.
Three o'clock, Kempton Park.

�5,000, please. To win.

All this lovely fresh air.

Wouldn't you rather be
out there on the pitch, coaching?

l just wanna keep my head down.
Do my 1 2 months and l'm going home.

1 2 months, yes, but that's with parole.

And that's before
you assaulted another inmate

- and attacked my staff.
- Wait a minute...

Three years, that's your sentence.
So you could be with us for some time.

Take him back to solitary.

- Have a nice week's holiday?
- Yeah, lovely.

- There is a way out.
- What?

Listen, convince the governor
the best way to train the guards

is to play a tough match against a team
of cons with you as the captain.

Pro's always have a pre-season friendly.

What do you think, Mr Burton?

Could be a win/win for everybody.

Could this work, Meehan?

Yeah, but l need time to prep,
and l pick my own team.

l could get a real FA ref. There's one
at my golf club. That'll be good.

One more thing: what goes on
on the pitch stays on the pitch.

- Deal?
- Goes without saying.

l am a marketing genius.

You'd better get yourself some rest,
superstar. Busy day tomorrow.

We'll see.

- Remember, anything you need.
- l'm fine, thanks.

- Yeah? That's not what l heard.
- What?

l could have been a pro. l was very good.

They were gonna take me on, only l had
a bit of trouble and blah blah blah.

The old knees, l suppose, yeah?

Bomb-making.

Otherwise, you know...

Well, l'm sure
it was a big loss to the game.

l've gotta go, but l'll catch you later.

All right, Nitro?

Dickhead.

Yes, Razzle Dazzle. Came second?

What's the problem, darlin'?

- That's not possible.
- lt's very possible, sweets.

That's not possible.

l think you owe me five G, darlin'.
Have a nice day.

So, what happened to your marketing?

lt's early days yet.
You've got to give it a bit of time, Dan.

Danny, over here, mate.

Here we go.

Yes. Now, l can say l've had a kick-about
with Danny the ''Mean Machine''.

Burnin' in me head!
Burnin' in me head!

lt's all right. l'll go and get it.

Found a new bum chum, have we?

Makes you feel big, does he?
He's just using you.

Once he finds his feet in here,
he'll dump you on your fat, black arse.

You jumped up little shit.

Mr Ratchett, sir,
whilst l don't wish to be rude,

l do believe that you watched too many
Tarzan films as an impressionable child.

Don't you get smart with me.
Do you understand?

Now get out of my sights.

- What happened to you?
- Nothing.

Sykes' boys look pretty useful.

Don't even think about it. Who do you think
has been stopping everyone from playing?

l loved your work, man.

Sorry?

l never believed any of the talk.
l can't believe it. Look. Here you are.

Cheers.

That buys you three across, mate.

-Then you can teach me.
-Have a nice one.

Will you teach me, yeah?

Teach you what?

All that, you know.
All them soccer skills. All that.

Sorry, do what?

You know, like the pro's. All that caper.

Yeah?

l gotta go, but we'll stick a pin in it, all right?

Yeah, lovely. We'll stick a pin in it. Lovely.

Fan club.

Bloody stalker.

- What's three across?
- What?

l just saw a bloke pay money
for a strip of crossword.

Ah, Sykes!

Yeah, three across, four letters:

acid.

The governor lets Sykes get his ''Racing
Times'' and other papers special delivery.

He thinks it helps Sykes work out form
and give him tips.

He doesn't know
that they're pre-soaked in acid.

He's actually smuggling
Sykes' drugs in for him.

lt came second, and it cost me �5,000.

You must have made the wrong bet.

W for win.

Win.

lt's got smudged in the rain.

EW.

EW means each way.

lt's a fucking disgrace if you ask me.

Meehan fraternising
with that shower of shit.

What do you want, Tompkinson?

l was thinking. l know.

l know that l can help you,
Mr Ratchett, sir.

- lnformation and all, whatever.
- Help yourself, more like.

l'm sick of this place.
l need to get a transfer.

HMP Silver Sands.

Away from the influence
of all these criminals, sir.

You keep me posted.

Oh, look. A monkey learning new tricks.

- Why don't you leave me alone?
- Because l don't like uppity coons.

- Listen, man...
- No, you listen!

- You animal!
- Animal? You call me a fucking animal?

l'll open you up like a tin of beans.

Hey, stop him! Someone stop him!

You fucking scum!

Are you all right?
He needs a doctor! Just get a doctor!

That fucking Meehan!

Mr Burton. Have you missed me?

You might be the governor's pet project,
but don't push it.

lt's called sunlight, Meehan. Think of it
as a privilege which can be withdrawn.

Danny boy...

Well, come on then, star.

They're saying thanks for saving Massive.

Where's your manners?
What would your old mum say?

Fuck me!

- Wish l'd met her.
- Let's see how good you are.

Sort yourselves out. Skins v shirts.

- What's that?
- l'm your manager.

- Since when?
- Don't bother giving me no orders, yeah?

- Stop bitching, bitch.
- Dan, have a word.

Shut it, Massive.
Lads, want a game?

Fuck off!

Come on. Plenty of room over there.

Up, Troj!

Come on!

Come on!

Yes, yes! Trojan, it's down!

- What do you think?
- Bring your clipboard.

Five.

Three.

A generous one.

Seven. You missed two.

- Ten.
- Eight. My mum could have scored that.

- Still.
- Yeah, l know.

We'll try a fitness test.

One: left hand down. Two: right hand
down. Three: both hands. Four: clap.

Five: up. Run.

Bollocks.

One, two, three...

l wouldn't mind a crack at the guards.

- l'm sorry? l missed that.
- Just saying. Be a laugh.

That's the Scots all over, innit?
On the firm when it suits them,

and the next minute
they're all misty-eyed and independent.

- l was only saying.
- And l'm saying no.

l think we're going to have to work
on the stamina, lads.

l'll pay at the end of the month.

No, sweets. lt's cash on the nail.

- l haven't got it.
- Sell the nice new Saab then, love.

- How do you know about that?
- Pay us or we'll torch the motor.

You can pay us out of the insurance.
There you go. Sorted.

- l was told that you were reasonable.
- Reasonable, sweetheart?

Reasonable is how come
you ain't sitting in your own piss

wondering how to get up
with smashed knees and elbows, OK?

Big kiss.

Looking forward to getting a thrashing?

lf it means getting out of here early,
l'll take another beating.

Who said anything about a beating?
l'm talking about the match.

Come on! l've seen your lot in action.

l don't run my ship like that.
Are you making a complaint?

No.

Lock it up!

What's the matter?

Did you have a nice chat
with your chum Burton?

Ain't you got any hobbies?

- You sleep with one eye open, son.
- Whatever.

Hello, Danny boy.
Nitro.

l've been wondering.
You need a manager. You know, the...

...the tactics and all that.
Well, l am the bollocks.

Massive's manager.

Yeah, l know, but l'm better than him
because l had trials, didn't l.

We all had trials. That's why we're here.

Fuck off! Fuck off!

Football trials, yeah?
l could be the physio.

No, no, l could be the pharmacist. Get
the lads pepped up and all that bollocks.

l don't think so, mate.

Good job he likes you.
He blew up five people, he didn't.

They're slags. They won't even
let me in their poxy squad.

l don't give a fuck about their poxy squad,
do you understand me?

lf you want out of this fucking prison,

you gotta come up with something
to spoil their little party. Otherwise...

...you're fucked.

OK, relax.

Be in the atrium
1 1 o'clock tomorrow morning.

- Mr Burton.
- Thank you.

lt's only a paper.

One down, two words, you're nicked.

Do you know the penalty for possession of
illegal substances in a prison? Search him.

- What are you looking at, freak?
- You were grassed up.

That dodgy Meehan
is getting well pally with Mr Burton.

l've seen them talking.

- What are you doing?
- No one likes a grass.

- What do you mean?
- The big man's right.

We'll see what we can do
about them beady eyes.

- Chiv, you know it wasn't me!
- You know it's not me!

Which one am l going to burst?
You choose - the left or the right?

- For fuck's sake!
- Go on, pop it!

- Hold him!
- Hurry up, Jock bastard.

- Who are you calling a Jock bastard?
- You!

- l cut myself shaving.
- Nosebleed. lt's the altitude.

You want to get that seen to.

All right, that's a yellow card, gentlemen.
Behave yourselves.

You wanna be more careful with this.

You could have had my eye out.

Hey, big-un, here.

lt's Chiv.

Get him, Tone.

Thanks, by the way.

You saved me a lot of grief back there.

- Sorry about the...
- That's all right.

- Anyway, you need a few more players.
- What about your lot?

l don't think so.
Not against Sykes' word.

Not that some of them
wouldn't be up for it.

What makes you bulletproof?

He's not. But he's pally
with the bloke that Sykes is cagey about.

- Who?
- The Monk. That dude is beyond mental.

And so are his pals on the outside.
Sykes, he wants a smooth flow.

All he really cares about is profit.

- What money?
- You're a betting man. We'll make a deal.

Let your lads play. Win or lose,
you call the result. Bet accordingly.

Back to your fixing
the match routine, right?

Now, listen. lt's like this -

l'd never take a bet against England, and l
wouldn't bet the screws against the cons.

Capisce?

Then we can play to win.

- Would you think about it?
- Yes, l'll think about it.

But right now l'm thinking
you're polluting my air.

Now go away.

- How did it go?
- lt didn't.

Here, Dan. Dan, um...

- l've been thinking.
- Leave the thinking to me.

Yeah, yeah, of course, Dan, yeah.

Well, what it is, Dan...

What, what...

l was wondering if...

Wondering what, Billy?

Can l be in the team?

The squad, Billy. You can be in the squad.

- l won't let you down, Dan.
- All right.

Yes! The squad, yes!
Come on, well in, Bill. Well done!

Yeah, squad, squad! Well in!

You told me they were reasonable.

They are, but they're businessmen.

You got me into this,
and you can get me out.

Hey! l opened the door,
you walked through it.

You've been making money ever since.
So, why haven't you got it?

lt is just a temporary cash flow problem.
The team is bleeding me dry.

Well, get it sorted.
Because this lot have a bad habit

of turning cash flow problems
into blood flow problems.

l used to do double this just for a warm-up.

Anno Domini, mate.

l used to be able to piss in one go and then
forget about it for the rest of the morning.

Bloody hell.

You never did say how come it ain't
done your nut in, being in so long.

Only does your nut in
if you don't think you should be here.

Look at me. Sweet old geezer?

A bit bumbly,
full of jail-block wisdom,

cornerstone of the nick,
put in with the foundations, right?

Right.

l didn't get to be the oldest lag
for breaking windows.

Villains spend their lives
shitting themselves

that other criminals
are going to see to them.

So they get their retaliation in first
and twice as nasty.

A bloke was coming after me,
so l...

l went around to his digs
and lobbed a grenade in the window.

Left over after the war,
you know, army surplus.

l didn't know, but he had his little nipper
and his bird in there with him.

The house went up
like Guy Fawkes' Night.

No one came out.

He'd barricaded the door with furniture
in case l came around.

By the time they got in,
the screaming had stopped.

1 3 months old,
learning to walk, apparently.

Nothing l can do
is ever going to make up for that, is it?

- You're on.
- What's that, a joke?

l'm not famous for my sense of humour.
l know Nitro is the grass, not you.

- One thing: you fight one of my boys.
- Fight?

A little earner l stage now and then.
l can't be seen to be giving you a free ride.

- Fight who?
- Fight him.

- Soft as puppy shit, Nick is.
- l'm an ex-footballer, not a boxer.

So? Kick him.

An eye for an eye, you bastard.

- Fucking eye for a fucking...
- Boo!

- Don't you do that again.
- Calm down, silly bollocks.

You seem to be making
more enemies by the minute.

Yeah? Well, l want out of this shit house!

Please! Please!

You're half way home, son.
l'm taking you down to segregation now.

- That's why l'm here.
- Yeah?

- Yeah.
- Just give me a transfer, sir, please.

Please, please. Silverino Sands, yeah?

l will do anything, Mr Ratchett.

l will do anything, Mr Ratchett.

You owe me for this. Out, now!

We have a small change of plan.

Nick has come over all poorly.
So l had to bring in a substitute.

Walk away, Danny. Walk away.

Mass, this is the only way
we're gonna get these boys to play.

ln the dirty brown corner,

with a record of 35 and 0
all coming by the way of the big KO.

The heavy duty
champion of the penal world

Ketch, the Black Country Bastard.

Come on. Come on.

And in the other,
equally dirty brown corner,

we have the challenger,
formerly known as the ''Mean Machine'' -

Danny ''l've had more backhanders
than Boris bleeding Becker'' Meehan!

Yeah!

Gentlemen, it's alternate punches,

followed by one mug
of five-star prison cognac. Cheers.

No using your left hand, no butting,
biting, spitting, poking or kissing, you.

lt's show time!

First head to hit the table loses.

First punch to the challenger.

ls he trying to kiss me or what?

Yeah!

Come on, Danny, wake up!

He fucking...

Focus, Danny.

By the way, l'm in here for GBH.

And again, come on!

Keep your head up.

l'm in here for drunken assault.

Yeah!

First, l'd like to welcome Mr Sykes' boys.

Watch this.

Go on.

Hey!

OK, if you wanna do that, join a circus.
lt's no good to us.

We need 1 1 men
to play as a team. Right?

- Right!
- Yes!

That's lovely, Dan. Well in. Right!

OK, positions. l play centre midfield.

Let's have all midfield players behind me,
defenders to me left, strikers to me right.

Come on, lads, come on.

Terrific. Let's move on.

That's good. Now pass it.

Pass it, Trojan.

Pass it!

Trojan, it's a team game.
Pass to our team.

He's too greedy.

OK, fellas. Now, the key
to set pieces is concentration,

calculation, teamwork.

With corners it's about movement,

drawing defenders out of position.

When it comes to defending,
it's about tackling,

finesse,

calculation.

Remember these simple rules, and we're
in with a chance. Any questions?

Lovely story.

Yeah.

We still need a goalkeeper.
Somebody to boss the defence about.

There's one man l know who could
boss our def... No, no. Fuck that.

- That's not even worth thinking about.
- Who?

- No, no, you'll laugh your head off.
- Who?

- The Monk.
- Monk? Can he play?

They say he could have turned pro,
before he turned mad.

- How mad is he?
- He's the Jock that even the Jocks fear.

- What did he do?
- Something very dark up in Glasgow.

l heard he ate Hannibal the Cannibal.

Not even the Pope
could get him out of the special wing.

The Monk is in the high security wing.

So do me a favour. Maybe l can
help you with Barry the Bookie.

l'm listening.

Bet the game, your guards to win.

Price is right, we'll make a killing.

You pay off Barry,
and have some left.

Take the missus to Malaga.

- This is so illegal.
- l think criminal's the word.

All right, big man? Sound.

Danny Meehan,
he's all right, know what l mean?

He's got a wee favour to ask you.

- Hello, Mr Monk. Can you play football?
- Aye.

Good. Would you like to play with us?

Nah.

We're playing the guards.

- Aye. Then l'm with you.
- Sound.

Thanks a lot, Mr Monk.

OK, let's try it. Troj, you take the corner.

lt's my ball. Mouse's ball, Troj.

Come on, Troj. Yeah, yeah.
To me, Troj.

lt's Mouse's ball. My ball. Yeah.

- He's broke my bloody nose.
- Let me have a look.

What?

- He did that on purpose.
- No, he didn't.

- Yes, he did.
- Tell him...

Tell him it was an accident.

Right, it was an accident.

- Now, get yourself off over the back there.
- He said it was an accident.

You're not worried about the opposition,
are you, Mr Burton?

A team of life's losers led by a man
who can be bought and sold?

l don't think so.
Not when the game's about character.

We'll give you a match.

You'll give us a game.
Doubt whether you can match us.

We'll see.

One, two, three...
Look up, pass it. Look up again.

Well done! Let the ball do the work.
As the ball's coming to you, look up.

Start again. Spread out.

Up, down...

Up, down...

Come on.

One, two, three, four...

And left, and right.
And left, and right...

Hurry it up there.
l told you two to keep the centre tight.

l've always told you
to wear tie-ups on your socks.

Now you, get over there and mark up.
And you, bugger off.

Now listen, Daniel,
l'm not putting you under pressure, right.

l'm burning up phone cards, taking bets
from prisons up and down the country.

Oh, no.

Despite what the governor thinks,
l'm betting us to win.

So my arse is on the line.

And by my arse, l mean your arse.

- OK, l need a volunteer.
- Yeah.

- Dan.
- Yeah, all right, Bill.

Help Monk and Chiv
with their demonstration.

- Lovely.
- Cheers.

Aye, right. So, we are the cons.

And they are screws.

So if anybody's gonna play dirty,
it's gonna be they fuckers.

Here's one or two wee examples,
just to keep us a step ahead.

Numero uno:
the accidental treading on the toe.

lt's an obvious one, but it works.

Ah, fuck!

Numero...

...two.

Right, daftie, run towards The Monk.

- What now?
- On you go, half pace?

The cunningly titled ''elbow in the face''.

Very effective, but you tend to get sent off.

So if you use it,
make sure the ref's not looking.

- Number four.
- Wait. What happened to number three?

Number four: when you're helping him up,

grab the hairs under his armpits
and twist them round.

- Hurts like a bastard, doesn't it?
- Yeah.

- Number five.
- Wait, l'm gonna sit down.

l don't wanna hog it.
Let one of these lot have a go.

You're all right. You're the man.
You're hard. Get in there.

Yeah, as it happens, yeah.
No, go on, yeah.

And finally, the pi�ce de r�sistance,
number 23.

l can't. Monk, stop, l'm in a bad way, mate.

Monk, l can't breathe.

Ah, fuck!

The guillotine.

Come on, let's move on.

Get yourself up.
You're making the place look untidy.

- Was that all right though?
- Cream.

Well done.

Finish with a bit of shooting practice.
Troj, you lay them off.

Massive, marks out of ten.

You've done well with that lot.

Passes the time, Doc.

You know,
it's not a crime to admit enjoying it.

You're becoming a sentimental old fart.

That bloody Meehan.
Who does he think he is?

Don't you worry about Meehan.
l've got something sorted for him.

Mr Popular. Time to meet your friends.

You can't put me back on the wing.

- You scratch my back, l'll scratch yours.
- Sykes will fucking kill me.

You know the itch l want scratching.

l don't want Meehan on that pitch,
understand?

OK. l know what needs to be done.

Nice and easy.

Right down the middle.

And a one, and a two.

And a three.

Good shot. Good shot.

Where have you been? The governor's
been waiting. l'll take him in.

OK, miss.

l've thought of a way l can really help you.

- The sad old twat videos all their games.
- Really?

And l've written some pointers.
My own little dossier on the guards.

l'm sure you'll find it very interesting.
Now hurry up, we haven't got much time.

Quicker.

One thing. This is strictly sex.
l ain't gonna respect you after.

- Don't blame you.
- Girls like to brag down the pub as well.

l've heard.

What? Easy.

- Change her oil, did you?
- Gentlemen should never kiss and tell.

- l'd better go home.
- Massive?

lnside information on the opposition.
Read it carefully. lt's important.

All right, Danny.
There's a meeting in Mr Sykes' cell.

All right, lads.
A bit of wind-up material on the opposition.

Ketch, this one's for you.

You know how Ratchett's
going on about his dodgy knee?

lt's the right one.

This one is dynamite.

Marsden's daughter, Donna, has been
known to dabble in class A drugs.

Let him know about it at the right time.

Here we go, Danny boy.

And now for our secret weapon.

- Danny, tape.
- Oh, shit, l forgot it.

- l left it in my locker.
- l'll get it. Need a slash anyway.

Cheers, Doc. Sorry, boss.

That's right, get the old boy working.

Danny, why did you do it?

Throw that game.

Fuck me, Jerome, you do talk too much.

- Sorry.
- No, you're all right.

lt's funny,
but when you're in that football world,

you just don't realise
what it means to people.

You only find out how disappointed
they are, when you let them down.

l was 16 when l signed pro forms.
Thought l was the business.

Didn't take long
for standards to start slipping.

Cars, booze, bad tips for slow horses...

You think you can handle it,
then bang, very soon it's handling you.

Before l was picking up trophies,
l was 425 grand down...

...to men nasty enough... Well, even they
would have put the wind up Mr Sykes.

But they did give me two choices.

A wheelchair for life, or a deliberate
penalty against the Germans.

lt's not as if l've prospered.

Look where l've ended up.

But l'll tell you something -
l didn't start off out as a youngster,

looking to sell my country out.

None of us planned
to be here, mate.

Och, away tae fuck, man.
You were a hero in Scotland.

Sign it, and l'll ship you straight out of here.

OK.

Even down here you ain't safe from Sykes.
He's put a price on you, sunshine.

- Killing Doc, that was a big mistake.
- Fuck him.

Where am l off to, boys? HMP Silver
Sands, where all the toffs go? Whatever.

- Not exactly, no.
- No?

No. You're catching the ghost train
out of here to the funny farm.

To the funny farm.

Her Majesty's Prison - Broadhurst.

What? l'm gonna get you! Yeah!

l'm gonna find your house.
l'm gonna blow it up.

No, you won't. By the time
the orderlies have finished with you,

you won't be able to blow your nose!

Go on, get in there.

l'm gonna get you!

l reckon you're quits now, old man.

Mean Machine, Mean Machine...

No, don't you worry about the car.
l'd have my bloody house on this one.

Done deal, darlin'.

Yes.

Wanker.

OK, gentlemen.
You've got 90 minutes to show them

that when it comes to physical
and mental strength, they can't touch us.

Most of them are gonna want to
mix it up out there. Don't get involved.

All right, lads. You wanna be nothing,

numbers, prisoners, that's fine.

But you win today, you'll have
something you remember forever.

Talk about it over and over

because there are cons that are pig sick
at not being here in your shoes.

Just to have one crack
at those bastards next door.

Let's win, and let's win well.

Lose and they'll never let you forget it.

Run your guts out, and you'll have
something in here they can never touch.

No parole boards,
judges or nutcase governors.

They've got one good player,
but he's had his moment.

And this is a team game.

Now ask yourselves one question...

- Are you ready?
- Yes.

- Are we?
- Yes.

- Well, come on!
- Yeah!

l'm looking at each and every one
of you lads to get out there

and show them who's boss. Come on!

Hold up for Mr Sykes.

Doc was a different generation,
and he saved all his life.

But before he died,
he had me sort out these.

Come and get them, lads!

Good afternoon, l'm Bob Likely.
You join us live from the recreation field.

l'm Bob Carter, and thanks
again to our esteemed governor...

- Wanker.
- ...for providing the splendid facilities

that are here today as part
of his rehabilitation campaign.

And for our audience, cooped up inside,
here's a weather report.

lt's a beautiful day.

And what a day it is!
And the waiting's over.

The guards are out first,
fronted by Mr Burton.

And here comes the Mean Machine,

led out by our most famous son,
Danny Meehan.

- Don't worry. The boys are well up for it.
- l'm not worried.

- Where did they get that kit?
- Cheeky bastards.

Mean Machine! Mean Machine!

Skip.

- Your call.
- Heads.

- As we are, then.
- OK.

This is the one.
Take your chances.

Don't start anything.
lf they do, finish it. OK?

- Yes!
- Come on, lads!

- Let's wipe the floor with this shite.
- Simple ball every time.

Boy, Mr Sykes, you look the part.
All you need now is a...

lt's the one we've all been waiting for.

Longmarsh prison guards
versus Longmarsh prison cons.

lt's the cons to kick off, Bob.

lt's a free kick to the cons.

Ketch has just floored Mr Ratchett.

What's the matter?

Shut up, you pussy!

You fucking bastard!

Well done, Ketch. Just be subtle.

Which one's he then?

Come on, take him out, son!

And Trojan evades Marsden brilliantly.

lf only he could have done that
the night he got nicked.

The keeper plays it long.

Walker brings it down to the halfway line.

lt's a misplaced pass to Jerome McFife,

but the ever observant Mr Burton
kicks it back to the guards.

lt's a neat one-two. Walker to Burton.

Back to Walker. He shoots.
Just past the post!

Almost.

That was a bit too close for comfort.

Too fucking close for my liking.

Get up there!

Monk plays it out to Meehan.
Meehan has the ball in the centre.

Goes forward unchallenged.

Burton takes Meehan's legs away.
Meehan does not look happy.

Now that's it, Burton!

What's the matter with the rest of you?

You four stand there. Split on my run.
l wanna try something.

Meehan to take it.
Looks like he might chip this one.

Right in Ratchett's crown jewels.

lt'll take more than magic sponge
to take the sting out of that.

Fuck...me!

Ref, that was bloody deliberate!

Free kick. Handball.
Protect yourself at all times.

Ten yards! Ten!

Come away!

Right in his carrots and onions.

No nookie for Mr Ratchett.

No nookie for Mrs Ratchett neither.

Play on!

Just goes to show,
lightning can strike twice.

Abso-fucking-lutely.

23 minutes of the first half to go,
and it's getting heated out there.

Yeah, Bob. Very rock'n'roll.

Fuckin' hell!

- He's gotta get back in goal.
- l ain't telling him.

- Piss off, you Scotch bastard!
- How's your daughter, by the way?

Donna. Still hanging about
on street corners to feed the habit?

What's up with you?

Christ's sake!

That's it, fellas, good teamwork.

- That was a hard but a fair tackle.
- Yeah, it was a fair challenge.

But that wasn't.

This could be dangerous for the cons.

lt's a free kick.

Don't think l didn't see it.

Ketch has took a strop. And the guards
look determined to convert this.

Make it count!

The Monk's collected it cleanly.

The Monk - calm and calculated.
Looks like the therapy's paying off.

Once again, Monk's played it
to Trojan, who's again switched to the left.

He must be ambidextrous.

l don't know, but he can use both feet.

- Goal!
- Yeah!

Goal!

Yeah!

- Beauty! You beauty!
- Go on, my son.

We're all over them.

- One-nil to the Mean Machine.
- lt's the guards to kick off.

- lt's getting tough.
- You can say that again.

- lt's getting tough out there, Bob.
- Never mind, Bob.

Oh no, it looks like the Monk's at it again.

Pass it!

- Do that again and l'll rip your head off.
- Ref, did you hear that?

l'm not worried. He said it to you, not me.

Let's go, sonny.

- What's he doing?
- You're the skipper, you tell him.

Bollocks.

Hold on.

Fucker!

lt's kicked off. Let's just try and keep calm.

- Referee!
- Go on, get in there. Go on, chin him!

This isn't a football match!

- Do him!
- Go on, do him!

- This is bollocks!
- Do him!

Who are you hitting?

This is bollocks!
What's going on here?

- You want some? Come on.
- Any day.

Where are you, referee?

- Excuse me. Sorry.
- Calm down, everybody! Come on!

- Ref, how long?
- Bollocks, that'll do.

Half-time, come on.

One-nil to the Mean Machine, one-nil...

What the hell do you think you're doing?
You're supposed to throw this game.

Yeah, they don't seem
to be taking notice of me.

Youthful exuberance.

Shame.

lt would have worked out nice.

What do you think
Danny will say in the dressing room?

l think he'll be saying
there's only 45 minutes left to play.

Yeah.

Settle down, boys. Have a listen.
We ain't won nothing yet.

All we've got is one goal.
Now this half is when we're gonna earn it.

Midfield, tuck in,
get round behind the ball. Monk?

Good work, Monk, just don't leave us
exposed at the back, all right?

- Mouse?
- lt's my nose.

- Bill, you come on for Mouse.
- Where am l playing?

You take his place in midfield.
Frenchie, have a look at his nose.

OK, we've botched it, but we're
one-nil down. Mr Hayter, when the...

You think about it!

We're getting beaten
by a bunch of worthless criminals.

- l'm doing my half-time talk, sir.
- Sit down.

Have you forgotten who they are?

They're the dregs of society,
and they're in the next dressing room.

And they're laughing at you right now.

Just remember this:

every man here is playing for his job.

lncluding you.

- You wanted to see me?
- Yes.

- What's going on?
- You wanted a game.

Yes, but you never
said anything about winning.

You never said nothing about losing either.

Before leaving us,
Nitro wrote a confession.

He admitted killing Doc.

He said you knew about it,
and you sent Doc to your cell.

Now that's accessory to murder,

and that's 20 years.

You'll never get that to stick.

One whiff of this will kill you
with the parole board.

You could be with us for some time.

So l think it's in everyone's interest

if you lose this game.

- l can't do that.
- You've done it before.

You had everything they ever dreamed of,

and you threw it all away.

Meehan has given it away again.

For fuck's sake, Danny, l was open.

l didn't see you.

Looks like he's in a world of his own.

Wake up, Meehan.

The ball's played out to the left.

Hibert picks it up
and moves forward to the 1 8-yard box.

The defender cuts inside.

He plays it to Hayter,
who knocks it through for Downes.

Oh no,
he's been brought down in the area.

Could be a penalty.

The ref's waved play on.
What goes through Monk's head?

- Scary thought.
- l'd hate to think what he dreams about.

lt's getting naughty out there.

Positively brutal.

Are they fighting or doing the tango?

No, they're definitely fighting, Bob.

Billy's chasing the ball like a terrier.

Shame he hasn't got
the skill to match his enthusiasm.

- Shame he's fucking useless, Bob.
- Abso-fucking-lutely, Bob.

Ratchett's taken out Cigs.

Looks like the guards
aren't taking any prisoners. You get it?

Whatever, Bob.

You, fuckin' watch it.

No, you fuckin' watch it,
you fat bastard lndian!

That's going a bit too far, innit?

- He took a dive!
- Number 7, violent conduct. Off the park.

lt was a dive, look!

- Come on. Do one, now.
- Fuck off!

The cons are down to ten men.

lt's an early bath for Raj,

which is really gonna put
pressure on the Mean Machine.

lt's disappointing.
lt's not gonna be easy out there.

That's right. And they're taking full
advantage of the extra man on the pitch.

Walker's through ball to Mr Gayle,

who plays it, and Hayter, and Monk...
Superb save, way down to his left.

All right!

29 minutes, still one-nil,
and the cons are holding out.

And the Monk's going
on another walk-about.

But this time
he plays it safe to Trojan out wide.

- All Troj has to do is look up.
- And pass it.

- Pass it.
- Pass it.

- Pass it.
- Pass it.

Pass the fucking ball!

Yes!

Goal!

Two-nil for the cons, ten men down,

their liberty taken away from them,
locked in a cell for 23 hours a day.

and today, our boys had their day.

What's up with you?

For the last hour of my life,

l have been free!

Mean Machine! Mean Machine!

Mean Machine! Mean Machine!

Yes!

lt's the guards to kick off.

Mr Williams lays it back for Mr Hibert,
who whips a beautiful ball into the box.

Monk's got it covered. Safe as houses.

- You've gotta love the Monk.
- Gotta love the Monk.

What's Monk doing?
He's left an empty net!

He's lost the fuckin' ball!

He's lost the fuckin' plot.

Guards' goal. Two-one.

Yes!

Hey! Stop fucking about back here!

Get the ball up the park!

All right. My fault.

lt's no longer just a game out there.

There's a match on now.

- Have a word, Dan.
- Fuck off, Trojan.

- Come on, let's go.
- Come on, boys.

The cons kick off.

But what is he doing?
He's given it straight away.

He's hit the bar.

You see, there's no cohesion,
there's no character.

The Mean Machine need their star player

to pick up his game now.

- What is Meehan doing anyway?
- lt's like he's not even on the pitch.

What's up with you?
l never touched you.

Looks like Danny's injured.

You're cheating now.
Once a loser, always a loser.

- Dan, where did you get hit?
- Down there.

Doesn't look too clever, boys.

- l can't see anything.
- Let's get him up.

Come on.
Don't put no weight on it, Dan.

Meehan's leaving the pitch.
Let's hope they bring a sub on.

- lt's 1 1 against 9 out there.
- All right, got it.

- Get it fixed.
- OK, we got it.

Shove up and shut up.

The guards are moving the ball nicely.

Neat passing.

But the cons
are determined not to give up.

There's nothing wrong with that leg,
is there?

- Why don't people just let me play?
- Didn't think you'd sell us out.

Not after the big ''it's your time'' speech.

- ls there something l should know?
- He's fucked something up.

Could be a strain.

lt's getting tough.
The guards are putting the pressure on.

Fuckin' hell, Massive, help us out.
We've only got nine men on!

Get a sub on.

Walker to Marsden.

Downs, wide to Hibert.

Hibert clips it forward.

Walker brings it down.

The cons are swamped at the back.

Ratchett's free in the area.

Oh, no!

Yes! Yes!

- Two-fucking-two.
- Good one! Good one!

Thanks, Danny Meehan.

Two-two.

Right, now a third. Get up there!

Ref. Sub.

- Mass, look...
- lt's your life.

Ratchett's brought down Billy the Limpet.

And that's like kicking a puppy dog.

Give me my boot.

Yes! Ref! Ref!

l'm coming back on.

- Sit down.
- Forget it, Meehan.

Who's coming on?

- Me.
- Him.

- l am.
- You're playing like crap and you know it.

- Who's in charge here?
- On you go.

- l'm in charge. Danny's coming on.
- Hold it!

- Listen, l'm the owner.
- You?

- Yes.
- The owner?

- Yes.
- Behave. Manager's decision. You, on.

The great Meehan returns to the pitch.

Yeah, that's all we need. lf he carries on
playing like he did before he went off,

we may as well all go home now, Bob.

Ketch knocks it out wide to Trojan.

lt's amazing. The guards still find it hard
to deal with this man.

l'm with you here if you want.

Shoot! Shoot! Pass it, l'm on! Pass it here!

Trojan plays it into the centre.

l'm free there!

- Well, l didn't see you, did l?
- Really?

Chiv, pass it!

Chiv, pass it!

Oh, God. That was a meeting of minds.
Not a pretty sight.

Meehan's trying to redeem himself.

Yeah, but he's gonna have to do
a lot of work to manage that.

Meehan is now everywhere.

He is bobbing and weaving, Bob.

No way was that offside.

That's the way it's done, pal.

The ball's pushed high
into the guards' half. Cigs pulls it down.

Shoots. What a goal!

- The Mean Machine are in front again.
- There's a flag.

- God bless the Mean Machine.
- Keep your shirt on.

- Wait a minute...
- There's something going on.

- They're still celebrating.
- lt's been disallowed.

The ref has gone to the linesman.

There's confusion on the pitch.

- There certainly is.
- They're conferring.

Surely not! Now, if this stands,
it's a free kick to the guards,

- 35 yards out from the goal.
- Get up, you bloody tart.

OK, let's get him off.

lt's in a goal scoring position
if l've ever seen one.

We're in the dying seconds
of the game. lt's two-two.

Lee, get changed. You're on, mate. Ref!

Mr Ratchett, are you all right, sir?

Obviously not.
All right, take him away.

- Are you gonna do nothing about that?
- lt's a free kick, now take it.

- How long?
- Just moving into injury time.

This is it. lf he scores now, it's all over.

All right, stick it in.

Prison warder Mr Gayle, will take it.

He curls it.
lt's heading to the top right-hand corner.

No!

Yeah!

Guards of Pentonville,
guards of Wandsworth...

- ...Walton nick in Liverpool...
- ...policemen of Britain...

traffic wardens and parole officers,
wheel clampers,

your boys have taken a hell
of a beating today. A hell of a beating.

Mean Machine!

Mean Machine, Mean Machine...

Mean Machine, Mean Machine...

Burnin' me head out!
Burnin' me head out!

All down, Danny, all down there.

- You're all right, Dan.
- Take that.

- l told you l wouldn't let you down.
- Well done!

Ruin my life,
l'm gonna fucking ruin your life.

No. You're not stitching anyone up.
Not on my watch.

What are you gonna do about it?
Your job, your pension...

My arse.

Good game.

Jesus, what was that?

Looks like your Saab.

And what he said goes for me and all,
and Barry the Bookie too.

Nice one, Danny!

l want him in solitary,

and l'm the governor,
and that's an order. OK?

Shut up!

Stick that in your trophy cabinet.