01x04 - Episode 4

[bunniefuu]

What can I say about Niall Kennedy?

He's funny.

He's odd.

He's awkward.

He's determined.

He's devoted.

He's self-sacrificing.

He knows what he wants…

and he takes it.

I remember the first time
I met Niall Kennedy.

I was only a kid,
around seven at the time.

The wee b*stard was terrified of me.

I suppose it didn't help
that I would terrorize the wee f*ck,

but he was such easy prey.

Always wore a shirt
with the top button done up.

Made his head look massive.

We'd play hide and seek,
and he was so scared of me,

I would find him
in the most random of places.

Under cars, on top of bookcases,

at the end of the road
in other people's gardens.

I remember this one time, it was raining,
and I'd long given up finding him,

but the poor wee b*stard
was so committed to the game,

he developed pneumonia.

And there was this other time.
He said, "You hide, I'll seek."

And I hid up in the attic space
under some random tarpaulin.

But he never came.

When I walked down the stairs
half an hour later,

the wee b*stard was tucking
into my birthday cake.

But that's Niall Kennedy.

He knows what he wants…

and he takes it.

Here, stand.

Come on. Stand.

Come on, how long's it been? Let's go.

All right. That's it.

So…

here's to Niall Kennedy.

A man who knows what he wants…

and he takes it.

- Call me Daddy.
- Yes, Daddy.

Yes, Daddy.

Hey, can I print something off?

Oh, you are out of credit, I'm afraid.

Look, this is the proposal
to my follow-up novel.

I don't wanna send it over email,

'cause I don't trust my publisher
to read it properly on screen.

Can you do me a solid? Just this one time?

I don't know, Niall.
The boss hates it when I do this.

Well, the boss is a prick.

Come on, do this for me.

Promise I won't ask again.

Fine. Last time, okay?

Thank you. Thank you.

So, what do you think?

Just not really sure
what it's all about, you know?

I mean, the journey
the main character goes on.

Well, you know, it's all about
being true to your roots,

not selling out on yourself.

Well, I mean,
if getting an Oxbridge education

is selling out yourself,

I hate to think what other
impossible standards

this guy holds himself to.

Look, it's a proposal.

All these things will come out
in the wash.

Yeah, you said that about your last book,
and I hate to break it to you, buddy,

but I think there might be a problem
with your filter.

Not to mention the fact
that it's clearly been cobbled together

between one too many nights out.

What? No, it hasn't.

You spelt "Glasgow" with a seven.

Look.

All we're looking for here,
Niall, is a little more…

authenticity when it comes
to your writing.

My writing is authentic. Come on, Daniel.

You read my first book.
It was straight from the heart.

The one about the boy
who tries to communicate

with his deceased father.
What was authentic about that?

Well, all of it.

My dad died when I was young.
I never knew him.

Well, that was evident from the reviews.

Look, you've just gotta try
opening yourself up a little bit more.

It's what they all say, Niall.

The key to a good career, in all of this,
is learning how to tell your own story.

- Oh, do they now? And why's that?
- Well, it's quite simple, really.

Write about what you know.

Hello. How you doing?

Yeah.

f*ck!

f*ck! Gus!

Wait! Wait! Niall! Please! Please!

Well, this has got to feel good, right?

Not really.

You won't tell anyone, will you?

No.

But only because describing it
would place me at the scene.

Yeah, yeah, I hear you.

Plus, it's the doggers’ code, isn't it?

"Wherever we wheel, our lips are sealed."

- I've never heard that before.
- No, it's because I made it up.

Look, do you fancy going
for a pint or something?

- No. I should…
- Come on, man.

I've just been caught
buggering in a car park

in the dead of night
by the kid I bullied at school.

I'm standing here with no shoes on.

Look at my socks, Niall,
for Christ's sake.

Wallace and Gromit.

Accept my humbling, will you?

Come for a bloody drink.

- f*ck, I hate lager.
- Me too.

So, are you…

out?

No way. I'm not even g*y.

You sleep with men
all the time, don't you?

I mean, you must do,
going to a place like that?

It doesn't mean I'm g*y.
Would be g*y if I fell in love with them.

Oh, you're one of those, are you?

A man so straight, he f*ck men.

Are you so vegetarian too you eat meat?

- Yeah, it's a f*cking mess is what it is.
- Ah, you're fine.

It could be worse.

Could be married with kids.

I always had my suspicions, you know?

You used to love a wedgie.

Yeah, it was a whole mix of things.

Plus, your brother put me bang to rights
over all that, remember?

Pissed sideways
for about three months afterwards.

I didn't condone that, really.

I saw him the other day, you know.

Still puts the fear of f*ck in me.

Sorry, what did you say?

Your brother.
I saw him just the other day.

What?

- Where?
- In the street.

No, but wait, it can't have been him.
He's still inside.

Well, nah, mate. He got out.

We spoke for ages in the end.
He'd met some chick. He was working…

Wait, I'm sorry. He's working?

Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Up on the rigs in Aberdeen.

Three months on, three months off.

Even gave me his card.

Jesus Christ.

What the f*ck's a slinger?

I've no idea, but you can keep it,

just in case there's a tracker in it
or something.

You're not winding me up here, are you?

- He got out?
- Yeah, mate, I promise.

He got out.

It's Ruben. He's out. He's out of prison.

What do you mean you know?

- I know.
- How?

What, did Maura tell you?
You're not still speaking, are you?

- Kind of.
- What do you mean "kind of"?

- I thought things were finished.
- They are, Niall,

but we still see each other
from time to time.

Yeah, but you didn't think to tell me
that any of this was going on?

Well, how could I, Niall?
You're never bloody well here!

- Well, you could have phoned.
- You never pick up.

I leave you four voicemails a week
and never get anything back.

The last one,
I pretended I'd fallen down the stairs

and was on my last dying breath,
and you still didn't call.

Well, I knew you were faking it.

Was I faking my birthday too?

Wait!

I just don't understand
what the plan was here.

Were you just gonna plot and scheme
and hope I never found out?

Oh, you make it sound
like I'm enjoying it.

I have deep facial contours
devoted to the pair of you bloody idiots.

I felt nothing was to be gained from you
knowing anything about each other.

It runs the risk of him k*lling you,
or you dying from the worry.

Yeah, but what if he finds out where I am
and he comes looking for me?

I highly doubt that.

He's hardly gonna bump into you
on Brunswick Avenue, is he?

Or in Kelvingrove Park
men's toilets at 2:00 p.m.

with your pants around your ankles?

And you wonder why I don't come
around here anymore?

No. Wait, wait!

I'm sorry!

Everything I did,
I did to protect you, Niall.

But I… I still don't understand.
When did he get out?

I don't know.

- Two years maybe.
- Two years?

- Are you kidding me?
- That's a good thing.

That's two years
where he hasn't come looking.

But…

have you seen him?

Yeah, a few times.

Right. And did you mention me?

- I may have.
- Well, come on. What did he say?

He didn't say anything. He just… smiled.

Okay, that's good. That's good.

Was it like a… like a nice smile?
Like a fond one?

- Look, I can't lie to you.
- Well, what kind of smile? Come on.

I don't know!

Sort of with his mouth
and not with his eyes.

You know, the one he tends to do
before he kicks off.

I've only got ten minutes.

Darren has to visit his mum's today,
so I've got the kids.

Yeah, no worries.

Well, look, Joanna,
I don't want to worry you.

Ruben.

What? How do you know?

Look, I didn't want to say,
but I bumped into him not too long ago.

He was doing this thing
where he was going round

apologizing to people
he'd wronged in his past.

Christ, this is crazy.

I mean, going round
and saying sorry to people,

that doesn't sound like Ruben.

Well, he's been in prison
for God knows how long, Niall.

- That's bound to change someone.
- No.

No, people like him don't change, Joanna.
Come on, you know that better than anyone.

I don't know.

- He seemed different.
- Right.

Wow, Jesus.

He must be coming to me
to apologize next then.

No. He said I was the last one.

- Well, that's bullshit.
- How?

Because he owes me
the biggest apology of his life.

- Don't do that, Niall! It's embarrassing…
- He messed up my life, Joanna.

And I dropped out of Oxford,
I was so stressed with it all.

- I thought you didn't like the snootiness.
- No. That too.

It was… It was a combination of both.

Look, I think you'd better put this
out your mind, Niall.

But how can I put this out of my mind?

I mean, I just found out
he's working some fancy job on the rigs.

- Well, what's wrong with that?
- Everything!

What does it teach him about life
if he comes out to some cushy existence?

Meanwhile, I work my arse off every day,
and I'm rewarded with what?

Dreg payments, handshakes and promises.

Look, I get it, Niall.

It's hard seeing someone
you have so much history with

doing so well.

But maybe it's not the fact
he's changed that bothers you.

It's the fact you haven't.

Shut the f*ck up!

All right, chill. Breathe.

Here. Let's get your stuff out.

Come on. Here. Put this on.

- There you go.
- Thank you.

I think I know what this is about.

- My comments the other night.
- No, actually, it's not.

I don't mind you being g*y, Niall.

- It's the way you go about it.
- It's about Maura.

What happened, Mum?
Did the cancer come back?

No.

She hung herself, as it happens.

The rope snapped after about a minute.

Left her near brain dead.

Oh, my God. Mum, that's awful.

It's life.

I mean, did she leave a note?

Kind of. It was more of a list
of things to do.

"The cats are in the shed,
the keys are under the plant pot."

There was something so matter-of-fact
about the whole thing, which…

made it all feel worse somehow.

Like it was just another thing
to do that day.

Well, look, I'm…

I'm sorry I haven't been around much.

I mean, you get it, right?
The way you reacted?

I was just shocked.

I mean, how was I supposed to feel
when my brother calls me to say

he found you rogering another man
in a public toilet?

I blame myself, really.

Should have spotted it sooner in you.

It's like looking for my glasses,

only to find they were sitting
on the bridge of my nose the entire time.

- So, that's why Ruben got back in touch?
- Yeah, he contacted me from prison.

He needed my help looking after her.

So, all this happened
whilst he was inside?

Yeah, but don't go blaming yourself, okay?

She was in debt, she had aches and pains,
all kinds of things.

Niall, I want you to promise me here

that you're not going
to go blaming yourself.

I promise.

Hey, Stefan.

You couldn't do me a favor
and print this off?

Sorry, mate.
The boss was raging last time.

Well, you couldn't ask, could you?

- Nigel?
- No chance.

Sorry, bud. No can do.

You're a sad man, Nigel.

A sad, sad man.

So…

would you like to tell me
why you were in the toilet cubicle

with another man this afternoon?

Well, it's quite simple, really.

We were talking creative ideas,

and we didn't want to disturb
the rest of the library.

You must think I was born yesterday.

No. Don't worry, Nigel.
I've never thought that.

Look, you can't keep me.
So, if you're gonna ban me,

- just ban me already.
- No.

It's a little more than a ban, actually.

I was all for sexual liberation

until it started seeping its way
into our public services.

I started doing it
when I saw the library coming up

on Google searches,
"Renowned cottaging spot."

What are you intending to do
with this footage, Nigel?

Upload it online. Make an example of you.
Stop anyone else trying it.

What? No! Please.
I mean, why me? I'm not the only one.

You let the other guy go straight away.

I know. Because you're the constant.

Okay, look, what can I do
to make you not do this?

You can pay your fine.

What, my… my printing debts?

Well, that's easy.
What is it? Like, 20 quid?

No.

I'm looking here,

and the computer has it down
at 2,000 pounds.

What? That's ridiculous!
Where are you getting those figures from?

I don't know.

All those books you sold online perhaps?

Okay.

I'm sorry. I've been in a bad place.

But listen, there's no way I sold
thousands of pounds' worth.

No. But that's the rate I'm charging
to buy them all back.

Oh, come on, Nigel.
You're a librarian, not a bloody lawyer.

No.

I'm just a sad, sad man.

I just need two grand.

- Two grand?
- I know it's a lot,

but I'll pay you back 10%
on every pound.

See it as an investment.

Don't be like those stockbrokers
who chose not to invest in Amazon.

You have a high opinion of yourself,
don't you, Niall?

For someone caught buggering
in a public toilet yesterday.

Oh, come on, Joanna.
I am begging you here. Please.

Don't make me go to my mum.

You wouldn't believe
the things she said to me

- when I got caught the last time.
- Like what?

She called me a pervert.

Said she didn't mind a g*y son,
she just didn't raise a deviant.

She said that?

Go on, Bubby. Run to Auntie. Go play.

Look, Niall…

I still have a lot of love for you,

but bailing you out every time
you're in a tough spot

is clearly not helping you
turn your life around.

Where is this coming from?

I can't do this anymore, Niall.

I have three kids to look out for.
I can't handle one more.

Please don't visit us anymore.

What happened? g*y stuff?

Don't say "g*y stuff," Mum.

Well, come on, what was it?

g*y stuff.

I was caught in the library toilet
having sex with a man.

And now, the manager's threatening
to upload the video unless I pay him off.

Which library?

Clyde Park Library.

Jesus, Niall! They do school trips there.
What's your excuse this time?

- I was just exploring myself.
- Exploring yourself? In a library?

- Yeah, it's not as crazy as it sounds.
- Oh, I don't know about that, Niall.

I mean, would you bring a book
to a f*cking brothel?

Look, I get that
it's hard for you to understand,

but I'm almost there
in terms of figuring myself out.

Are you now?

You got caught shagging a man in a library
ten yards from where they stock Peppa Pig!

Great to hear you're almost there!

What's it gonna take
to push you over the edge then?

A f*cking intergenerational g*ngb*ng?

You're insulting my struggles here, Mum.

I'm insulting my struggles.
They're my struggles too.

At least you're the one cumming.
Jesus Christ.

What do you need?

Two grand.

Impossible. I'm a social worker.

I couldn't get you it
if I robbed all the people I work with.

- You don't have a pot somewhere?
- I used the pot.

I used the pot
the last time you had a breakdown

when you needed to go into the madhouse.

Hospital, Mum. It was a hospital.

A hospital is for arms and legs.
It was a madhouse.

You sat around in circles
talking about God.

You don't get much madder than that!

Enough of the jokes, Mum! I need money.

I'm not ready for the public
to think I'm g*y!

Then stop having sex in it.
There's your answer.

Mum, I am begging you, please.
Surely you know someone that can help?

I do, but you won't like it.

Ruben?

Are you serious?

How can you even ask me that?

After what he's done,
putting me in this position!

Oh, yeah?
He put you in a public toilet, did he?

I suppose he pulled your c*ck
out your pants too!

I am talking about the turning point,
the seed of all of my issues.

Oh, the seed.

You're always talking
about the seed, aren't you?

First, it was Dad.
After Dad, it was Maura.

After that, it was Ruben.

Then it was the court case
and the Oxford elite,

and now we're back to Ruben again.

Great! Glad you see it so clearly.

Turns out your glasses have been
on your face this whole time too!

See, this is your problem.

You are too busy
blaming everyone else for your issues

because it's easier to point the finger
than turn it back on yourself!

You're acting like
my breakdown was my fault!

It was! You made yourself sick.

"Mum, was I right
to tell the truth on the stand?"

"Mum, I had to, didn't I?"
You became obsessed with it.

Nothing I said would help.

- I was ill!
- You were self-involved!

Now, as far as I can see,
you are out of options here.

No doubt about it.

So, either you let me ask him for money,

and I will disguise it
by saying it's for me…

or you can face the music
on your own this time,

because I won't be helping.

Wait a minute.

- Have you done this before?
- Well…

You've used his money
to pay for things for me?

Well, of course.

Where did you think
it was all coming from?

Well, you remortgaged the house.
I thought you had stuff left over.

I mean…

what else has he paid for?

A lot of things.

My bedsit?

Yes.

- My car?
- Yes.

- My therapy?
- Yes.

The therapy I use to talk about him?

Yes, love, everything.
Your clothes, your Christmas presents.

Converting your bedroom
into an adult's room

so you can come back
every time you have a breakdown.

Oh, is that right, is it?
Well, I hope he accepts f*cking refunds!

Oh, Niall! Wait! Niall!

Wait!

- Niall!
- I don't f*cking need him!

- Stop this!
- This clock?

- Did you buy it with his money?
- Yes.

- Done.
- Jesus!

- This CD player?
- This is ridiculous.

Did he buy the CD player?

- Yes, he bought it!
- Fine!

This… This signed Harrison Ford poster?

- Yes, Niall.
- Really?

- He bought the poster?
- Yes, Niall.

Okay. That's fine.

- No. You know what? f*ck this.
- Stop!

- You're out of control!
- You don't know what you've done!

- You've made me his b*tch!
- Oh, my God!

- You're losing your mind!
- Well, good.

If Ruben's anything to go by,

perhaps you'll start paying me
some attention!

I hate him. I f*cking hate him.

- No, you don't.
- I do.

- I'm his b*tch! I'm his b*tch!
- Hey.

Come here. You are nobody's b*tch, okay?

I sometimes wish
he would just k*ll me, you know?

Put me out my b*stard misery.

He doesn't need to.

You're doing
such a good job of it yourself.

I have lost sleep over you, Niall.

I keep thinking I'll wake up one day
to find you've taken too much,

or contracted HIV…

or done a Maura.

I think you need to move back in here
and calm yourself a bit.

Meet someone.

They don't have to be perfect,
they just have to be steady.

Settle down. In life. In yourself.

Give up these silly writing dreams.
They're not doing you any good.

I can't.

You can.

One of the most lethal acts
of self-harm you can commit

is convincing yourself
you're worthy of a higher purpose.

You were published five years ago.
You sold less than 100 copies.

You live in a bedsit
in a shitty part of town.

Don't make me tell you
to get a job, Niall.

At least have the self-respect
to land on the conclusion yourself.

Hey. Come on.
f*ck all this stuff, let's get inside.

Lemme get that.

Oh, sh*t.

Hey! Oi! Get back! Get back here!

Hey! I can f*cking see you!

Get back, you little f*cking sh*t. Hey!

Hey! Get back here!

Hey! Where the f*ck are you?

Yeah, I can f*cking hear you!

Hey! Hey!

Oi!

What are you doing?

Oh, sorry, I kicked my ball in here.

It's Ruben from down the road.

Oh, yes. Hello, dear.

Sorry, I didn't recognize you
with your top off.

Here, I'll let you out the front
of the house.

You can get your ball back tomorrow.

Don't move.

Don't make a f*cking sound.

- Ruben, please…
- What did I just say?

Are you going to k*ll me, Ruben?

Is that it? 'Cause you shouldn't.

- You have your whole life ahead of you.
- Don't you talk about my life.

- Not after what you did to it.
- Oh, come on, Ruben. This is ridiculous.

- I mean, what's it been now?
- Fourteen years, seven months…



- You've been counting, have you?
- You're damn right I've been counting.

So, what is this?

What are you looking for here, huh?

- Revenge?
- Revenge?

Now, there's an idea.

Ruben, please, this isn't right.
We should just stay apart.

You have your own life to worry about now,
and I have mine.

That's why you were
in my driveway, was it?

That's why you scared my wife…

in the dead of the night?

I wasn't on your driveway.

- I was just passing through.
- Oh, yeah?

Explain this then.

Explain it, you little rat…

or I'll twist it up
your f*cking arse without lube.

All right, Ruben!

I didn't know it was your driveway.

- Honestly, I didn't…
- Have it your way then.

- You f*cking little f*cking rat!
- Jesus! f*ck's sake!

Hey, hey, this is what you came back for?
Wasn't it, Bambi, hey?

- This is what you wanted, isn't it?
- Help!

- f*cking shut the f*ck up.
- Help!

Shut the f*ck up.
Shut up, you little f*cking rat.

Trying to take something from me,
were you?

Hey! Hey!
Come here, you little f*cking rat.

- No! No!
- Yes! Hey, this is what

- you've always wanted from me…
- Don't, please!

…isn't it, Bambi, yeah?
Yes! Come on then. Hey?

Are you ready for this,
you little f*cking rat?

- Help! Just wait.
- Shut the f*ck up!

- Shut… Shut the f*ck up!
- Wait. Stop. I'll tell you. I'll tell you.

I'll tell you! Wait, I was angry!

I wanted to take something from you
to get a win, you know?

A win? Don't you have
enough wins, you f*ck?

Taking my life not enough,
you wanted a piece of my car as well?

Well, no, no, I didn't…

I rotted in a prison for over a decade
because of you.

No, no, f*ck! Wait!

Just… Ruben! Look, I'll talk!

No, wait! Ruben, Ruben, please, I'll talk.
I'll do anything you want.

I'll beg for forgiveness
if that's what you want.

Just don't do this, okay?

Why'd you do it?

- Ruben, it was 14 years ago.
- Why'd you f*cking do it?

I guess I felt I owed it to justice
to tell the truth.

Justice?

Justice is letting
a recently diagnosed cancer patient

watch her son go the clink?

I felt like it at the time.

No, I don't think
it had anything to do with justice.

I think you couldn't stand
to see me doing well.

- You were bitter.
- Bitter? I was off to Oxford.

- What did I have to be bitter about?
- My real life. Your f*cking fake one.

Living in my shadow.

You wanted me out of the way
so you could flourish.

How's it been in my absence, eh?
Flying, are you? You little f*cking cuck!

Or did you realize the hard way,
when you try and walk in my boots,

they're always gonna slip off at the heel?

You didn't like that, did you?

You know, it kills you, doesn't it?

To know that even in my absence,

with all the f*cking opportunities
in the world at your feet,

all you've done is kick up dust.

While I, with my back against the wall,
and a glass ceiling above my head,

and a f*cking army in my way,
clamber over you to the top.

I don't know what
you're talking about, Ruben.

I'm doing just fine.

Oh, I know from your mum
that's not the case.

As she comes begging for money

to solve all
your pathetic little problems,

your printing costs, your therapy.

- She told you that, did she?
- Oh, she told me everything.

You know, I have to bite my lip
from laughing

as I hand over the money.
You should see me.

"Well, Ms. Kennedy, I hope he gets himself
back on his feet soon."

I mean, imagine it.

I go to prison for 13 years,
and you go to Oxford,

and I'm the one lending you money.

And you wonder if I'm here for revenge.

sh*t, son. Don't be ridiculous.

It's already mine.

Is that what you want, is it?

Me to just admit that
you're doing better than me?

Well, you can have it.
You're doing better than me,

and I hate it.

I hate that the scum always sits
at the top of the water.

But no, I'm not bitter. I'm gleeful.

Because when you inevitably f*ck it up,
and you will f*ck it up,

I'll be the one grabbing the popcorn,
watching you fall.

Say it.

- Say you were bitter.
- No chance.

I wasn't bitter in the slightest.

I did what was right
and you can beat me all you want.

I'll never admit it.

Okay.

I admit I was bitter.
Please don't hit me again.

f*ck! I was bitter, okay? I was bitter.

Bitter that you put me
in that position in the first place.

Bitter that you kept doing
the same old sh*t.

Never learning, never growing,
never accepting responsibility.

Always smashing sh*t up

and expecting others
to pick up the pieces.

Well, I wasn't gonna do it
over the Alby stuff.

Not when it put my freedom in danger.

What would that teach you
about life anyway?

Life? I don't need to learn
about life, rat boy.

- I wrote the f*cking book on it.
- How?

You've done f*ck all!
You never applied yourself.

You never got an education,
or a degree, or a proper job.

I've never got a degree or a proper job?
Why the f*ck would I need to do that?

I think you're forgetting, son.
I don't need to work for status.

I was born with it.

I mean, why be a general manager
or an academic

when you're king of the f*cking world?

"King of the world." That's a joke.

I'm not jealous of that.
I'm jealous of the fact

that you can so willfully think that
without irony.

Challenge me on it then!
Prove me wrong! I'm your f*cking muse!

I'm the reason you have meaning
in your miserable life!

Don't tell me you sit there
telling people about that time

you f*cking aced your exams,
or you smashed out your dissertation.

No. No, you tell them about that time
we egged that house,

we slashed those car tires,

we took mushrooms down the lake
and saw the water sh**t green.

I'm the soundtrack
to your greatest moments.

And it pains you to know

that all your achievements
fill you with a void,

whereas a smile from me fills you
with all the f*cking energy you need.

You might be the painter, Niall…

but I'm the rolling hills.

So, you can point at my CV,
my 13 years in prison,

and all the b*llet points you need
to think you're better than me.

But you know fine well,

you'd do 40 years
in a windowless f*cking cell…

just to walk in my shoes for the day.

I mean, look at you.
I went to the clink for over a decade,

and you didn't even do
something worthwhile with your life.

You didn't even give me something
to take from you when I got back out.

And just as I stop thinking about you…

just as I pull my life together,

you appear like a rat on my driveway.

How dare you appear like a rat
on my driveway?

Come on, Ruben, with all due respect,
you broke contact first.

- How did I?
- You talked to my mum about Maura.

You don't talk about my mother, all right?
You don't mention her name.

But that's what I'm talking about.

You and Lori in cahoots
behind my back for four years.

She didn't even tell me Maura was sick!

What did I just say?

What? I'm saying…

- I'm saying I could have been there.
- Been there? Are you kidding me?

- She's half-brained because of you.
- Half-brained because of me?

I haven't seen her in 14 years
since the court case.

Well, it started with that, didn't it?
The separation from Lori not long after?

Because they couldn't come to terms
with what you did.

- You f*cking did that!
- I did that?

Or was it looking after
a f*cking animal for a child?

- Oh, you're talking real talk now.
- Yeah, well, what do you expect?

You're blaming me
for your mother's suicide attempt.

Oh, spare me the self-pity,
you little prick!

She did it while I was in prison!
I mean, I couldn't even get to her!

I couldn't even phone!

I mean, imagine it!

So, if you don't wanna
take the blame for it…

at least admit you wished it upon her.

I didn't.

She wished it upon you.

You know what she used to call you?

King Rat.

You know why?

Because you act like royalty…

but you belong in the gutter.

You're a gutter rat
who looks in a mirror and sees a king.

- Is that right?
- Yeah.

So, come on, gutter rat, come back at me.
I know you want to.

Well, it's a little glass house,
isn't it, Ruben?

If I'm in the gutter, I hate to think
of where you both ended up.

Yes! That's what I'm talking about!
Come on, more of that, please.

The gutter is something
you and your mum can only aspire to.

- Beautiful. Let's have it. Come on.
- The court case was convenient,

'cause she could draw an imaginary line
between past and present

and assuage her own responsibility
in raising a f*cking monster.

"Oh, it's an illness," she would say,
time and time again.

"Oh, it's just an illness.
He can't help it."

But when on the fourth, or fifth,
or even sixteenth time

you stamp someone's head into the floor,
does it stop being an illness

and become some sick, sinister,
f*cking gleeful act of perverse violence?

I've never once seen you show

an ounce of remorse
for what you did to that poor Alby boy,

whose face, I hear,
is still mangled, by the way.

The callousness you possess is born
straight out of your mother's heart.

So, yeah, I hate her.
I hate everything about her.

I hate how she let you get away
with near m*rder,

but if I did anything minor,
she was on me like a rash,

turning my mother against me,
squeezing the life out of me,

because I was her second-chance child,

seeing as how she so royally
f*cked up the first!

But I mean, I don't expect her
to be anything less than blinded by you.

I mean, you hit her enough times
to forget, didn't you?

And the worst part about all of this
is you are totally right.

I would face 40 years in prison
to walk in your shoes for a day.

An hour even.

To feel what it must be like to be you.

To look the way you look.

To f*ck the way you f*ck.
To talk the way you talk.

Hell, they can lock the door
and throw away the key for all I care,

because I would be happy
to lie back on the bed

and feel what it must feel like
to be the center of the universe

for a change rather than some c**t
standing in the queue outside.

I hate everything about you,
and the giant shadow you cast,

which seems to turn with the sun
whichever way I'm walking.

But that doesn't stop me…

wanting every bit of it.

So, yeah, I'm bitter.

I'm bitter that I'm alone.

I'm bitter that I have no money.

Bitter that no matter how hard I try,
how hard I work, sweat, and toil,

I just can't find the click
that's gonna make me happy.

And I'm bitter that you went around
apologizing to people

and you didn't think about
apologizing to me.

And I'm bitter that
I'm being blackmailed by some c**t.

I'm bitter that I can't pay him off
'cause I'm broke

or threaten him because I'm too p*ssy.

And I'm bitter that I had
the whole world at my fingertips.

Scholarship, Oxford education, all of it.

And I squandered it all
thinking about you.

- What the f*ck are you talking about?
- I couldn't breathe.

I couldn't do f*ck all
'cause my mind was still reeling

from that b*stard court case.
I couldn't get it out of my mind.

Your words, your screaming as you left.
That you would make me ugly.

I've seen you make people ugly, Ruben.
I know what it means!

I lived in fear of you from that point on.

Just imagining all the things
that you might do to me,

that you might tell
one of your prison mates about me

and they would come looking for me
when they got out.

I woke up in the night once,
convinced that you'd bugged the flat,

that you were monitoring my every move.
I started to sleep in the garden.

I wandered the streets
pulling up phone wires.

I went through about 30 pen lids,
swallowing them down whole,

because I would chew on them when I wrote.

And throwing them away wasn't safe enough

because you might find them and use my DNA
to pin a m*rder on me.

I ended up in a madhouse.
I had to have an operation on my gut.

Why?

Because I was telling the truth!

And then you appear…

out of nowhere,

with a six-figure salary, and a house,
and a girl, and a car.

How dare you appear out of nowhere

with a six-figure salary, and a house,
and a girl, and a car?

So, just be safe in the knowledge

that when you're imagining
the worst kind of revenge for me…

nothing can come close to the damage
that I've unleashed on myself.

So, go ahead, Ruben, f*cking k*ll me.

I don't give a f*ck.

I'm already dead.

I didn't know any of this.

Yeah, well…

Your mum never said that part.

The part about the hospital.

It's good to know
she still has some respect for me left.

You sound different.

You talk different.

I've done a lot of reading, Niall.

Oh, great.
So, now you're cleverer than me too.

Yeah.

You're getting blackmailed?

Yes, sort of.

Do you know their name?

No, not like that.

What do you need?

Money.

I've got money.

What do you want in return?

An apology…

for what you did.

That's it?

It's a lot, Niall.

It's a hell of a lot.

I'm sorry.

Well, I'm sorry too.

Missed you, yeah? Missed you.

Right, now, a proper toast.

Come on, Alby, stand.

Come on.

To the happy couple…

on their special day…

at the start
of a beautiful journey together…

hand in hand…

heart to heart…

forever and ever.

Amen.