Alfie Solomons (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ofanotherera) wrote2015-09-11 09:33 pm
ofanotherera) wrote2015-09-11 09:33 pm
(no subject)
[The scene opens to Alfie on the desk, feet on the table, glasses on, doing a crossword. The phone rings.]
Alfie: That'll probably be for you, won't it?
[Not looking up from crossword. Tommy has a brief phone conversation, ascertains his brother is out of prison.]
Alfie: Right so tht'll be your side of the street swept up, won't it? Where's mine? What've you got for me?
[They exchange a contract.]
Tommy: Signed by the minister of the empire itself. This means you can put your rum in our ships, and no one at Poplar Docks will lift a canvas.
Alfie: You know what, I'm even gonna have my lawyer look at it.
Tommy: No, no, it's all legal.
Alfie: I know mate, I trust you. That's that. Done. So! Whiskey. There is, one thing though that we do need to discuss. This says here 20% paid to me of your export business.
Tommy: As we agreed on the telephone.
Alfie: No no no, I had my lawyer draw this up for us, just in case. Here. It says that, here that 100% of your business goes to me.
Tommy: I see.
Alfie: It's there. Don't worry about it, cause it's totally legal, binding, all you have to do is sign the document and transfer all that over to me.
Tommy: Sign just here.
Alfie: Yeah
Tommy: I see. That's funny.
Alfie: What?
Tommy: No, that's funny. I give you 100% of my business.
Alfie: Yeah.
Tommy: Why?
[Ollie, looking terrified, draws a pistol and points it at his head. Gestures, for emphasis. Soothingly, Alfie reaches up to push his hand down.]
Alfie: No, Ollie, no, no, put that down, he understands, he understands, he's a big boy he knows the road. Now look it's just non-fucking negotiable, that's all you need to know, so all you need to do is sign the fucking contract. Sign there.
Tommy: Just sign here.
Alfie: With your pen!
Tommy: I understand.
Alfie: Good. Get on with it.
Tommy: Well, I have an associate waiting for me at the door. I know he looks like a choir boy, but he is actually an anarchist from Kentish town.
Alfie: Tommy, I am going to fucking shoot you, all right?
Tommy: Now, when I came in here Mr Solomons, I stopped to tie my shoelace, isn't that a fact, Ollie? I stopped to tie my shoelace, and while I was doing it, I laid a hand grenade under one of your barrels, mark fifteen with wire trip, and my friend upstairs well he's like one of those anarchists that like, they blew up wall street, you know? He's a professional, and he's in charge of the wire. If I don't walk out that door at the stroke of seven he's gonna trigger the grenade and your very combustible to rum will blow us all to hell, and I don't care, because I'm already dead.
Ollie: He tied his lace, Alfie, and there is a kid at the door.
Tommy: From a good family, too, Ollie, it's shocking what they become.
Alfie: What were you doing while he sat there?
Ollie: He tied his lace, nothing else.
Alfie: Yeah but what were you doing?
Ollie: Just marking the runners in the paper.
Alfie: Good- eh?
[Tommy has glanced at his pocket watch.]
Tommy: Just marking the time. Carry on.
Alfie: Alright, Ollie, I want you to go outside and shoot that boy in the face from the good family.
Tommy: Anyone walks through that door except me, he blows the grenade.
Ollie: He tied his fucking lace
Tommy: I did tie my lace.
Alfie: I bet, hundred to one, you're fucking lying, mate, that's my money.
Tommy: Well, you've failed to consider the form. I did blow up me own pub, for the insurance.
Alfie: Okay, well, considering the form, I'd says 65 to one, very good odds, and I would be more than happy for you to sign over sixty five percent of your business to me. Thank you.
Tommy: Sixty five. No deal. Ollie, what do you say?
Ollie: Jesus Christ Alfie he tied his fucking lace, I saw him! Look he tied the grenade, I know he did. Alfie he's Tommy fucking Shelby.
Alfie: [To his feet, slapping Ollie across the face, lifting him by his lapels.] You're behaving like a fucking child. This isn't a man's world, now take that apron off and sit in the corner like a little boy. Fuck off. Now.
Tommy: Four minutes.
Alfie: Right, four minutes. Talk to me about hand grenades.
Tommy: With chalk mark on the barrel, at knee height. The Hamilton Christmas, took out a pin and put it on a wire.
[He tosses the pin onto the table. Alfie picks it up, and the look on his face- well. He holds the pin against his mouth, and contemplates, tortuously slow.]
Alfie: Based on this- fourty five percent
Tommy: Thirty.
Alfie: Oh fuck off Tommy, that's far too little.
Tommy: In France Mr Solomons where I was a tunneler, a claykicker, the 179, I blew up [word?] same kit I'm using today.
Alfie: It's funny that. I do know the 179, and I heard they all got burried.
Tommy: Three of us dug ourselves out.
Alfie: Like you're digging now?
Tommy: Like I'm digging now.
Alfie: Fuck me. Listen, I'll give you 35%, that's your lot.
Tommy: 35.
[Both men stand, spit into their palms, and shake. The deal is done.]
Alfie: That'll probably be for you, won't it?
[Not looking up from crossword. Tommy has a brief phone conversation, ascertains his brother is out of prison.]
Alfie: Right so tht'll be your side of the street swept up, won't it? Where's mine? What've you got for me?
[They exchange a contract.]
Tommy: Signed by the minister of the empire itself. This means you can put your rum in our ships, and no one at Poplar Docks will lift a canvas.
Alfie: You know what, I'm even gonna have my lawyer look at it.
Tommy: No, no, it's all legal.
Alfie: I know mate, I trust you. That's that. Done. So! Whiskey. There is, one thing though that we do need to discuss. This says here 20% paid to me of your export business.
Tommy: As we agreed on the telephone.
Alfie: No no no, I had my lawyer draw this up for us, just in case. Here. It says that, here that 100% of your business goes to me.
Tommy: I see.
Alfie: It's there. Don't worry about it, cause it's totally legal, binding, all you have to do is sign the document and transfer all that over to me.
Tommy: Sign just here.
Alfie: Yeah
Tommy: I see. That's funny.
Alfie: What?
Tommy: No, that's funny. I give you 100% of my business.
Alfie: Yeah.
Tommy: Why?
[Ollie, looking terrified, draws a pistol and points it at his head. Gestures, for emphasis. Soothingly, Alfie reaches up to push his hand down.]
Alfie: No, Ollie, no, no, put that down, he understands, he understands, he's a big boy he knows the road. Now look it's just non-fucking negotiable, that's all you need to know, so all you need to do is sign the fucking contract. Sign there.
Tommy: Just sign here.
Alfie: With your pen!
Tommy: I understand.
Alfie: Good. Get on with it.
Tommy: Well, I have an associate waiting for me at the door. I know he looks like a choir boy, but he is actually an anarchist from Kentish town.
Alfie: Tommy, I am going to fucking shoot you, all right?
Tommy: Now, when I came in here Mr Solomons, I stopped to tie my shoelace, isn't that a fact, Ollie? I stopped to tie my shoelace, and while I was doing it, I laid a hand grenade under one of your barrels, mark fifteen with wire trip, and my friend upstairs well he's like one of those anarchists that like, they blew up wall street, you know? He's a professional, and he's in charge of the wire. If I don't walk out that door at the stroke of seven he's gonna trigger the grenade and your very combustible to rum will blow us all to hell, and I don't care, because I'm already dead.
Ollie: He tied his lace, Alfie, and there is a kid at the door.
Tommy: From a good family, too, Ollie, it's shocking what they become.
Alfie: What were you doing while he sat there?
Ollie: He tied his lace, nothing else.
Alfie: Yeah but what were you doing?
Ollie: Just marking the runners in the paper.
Alfie: Good- eh?
[Tommy has glanced at his pocket watch.]
Tommy: Just marking the time. Carry on.
Alfie: Alright, Ollie, I want you to go outside and shoot that boy in the face from the good family.
Tommy: Anyone walks through that door except me, he blows the grenade.
Ollie: He tied his fucking lace
Tommy: I did tie my lace.
Alfie: I bet, hundred to one, you're fucking lying, mate, that's my money.
Tommy: Well, you've failed to consider the form. I did blow up me own pub, for the insurance.
Alfie: Okay, well, considering the form, I'd says 65 to one, very good odds, and I would be more than happy for you to sign over sixty five percent of your business to me. Thank you.
Tommy: Sixty five. No deal. Ollie, what do you say?
Ollie: Jesus Christ Alfie he tied his fucking lace, I saw him! Look he tied the grenade, I know he did. Alfie he's Tommy fucking Shelby.
Alfie: [To his feet, slapping Ollie across the face, lifting him by his lapels.] You're behaving like a fucking child. This isn't a man's world, now take that apron off and sit in the corner like a little boy. Fuck off. Now.
Tommy: Four minutes.
Alfie: Right, four minutes. Talk to me about hand grenades.
Tommy: With chalk mark on the barrel, at knee height. The Hamilton Christmas, took out a pin and put it on a wire.
[He tosses the pin onto the table. Alfie picks it up, and the look on his face- well. He holds the pin against his mouth, and contemplates, tortuously slow.]
Alfie: Based on this- fourty five percent
Tommy: Thirty.
Alfie: Oh fuck off Tommy, that's far too little.
Tommy: In France Mr Solomons where I was a tunneler, a claykicker, the 179, I blew up [word?] same kit I'm using today.
Alfie: It's funny that. I do know the 179, and I heard they all got burried.
Tommy: Three of us dug ourselves out.
Alfie: Like you're digging now?
Tommy: Like I'm digging now.
Alfie: Fuck me. Listen, I'll give you 35%, that's your lot.
Tommy: 35.
[Both men stand, spit into their palms, and shake. The deal is done.]
no subject
Re; the blinders-
Yeah they're out of fucking control mate, they come down the canal, they spread like the fucking clap.
---------
Their first meeting;
Put it down Ollie, put him down mate he's only little. You on your own? [Affirmative from Tommy.] Well you're a brave lad aintcha?
You wanna take a look at my bakery? We bake all sorts here, yeah, did you know we bake over ten thousand loaves a week, can you believe it? We bake the white bread, we bake the brown bread, we bake all sorts. Would you like to try some. Bread, yeah? What would you like, brown or white? Brooown, alright.
[Not bad.]
Not bad? Not bad. It's fuckin' awful, that stuff, fuckin brown stuff, it's for the workers, white stuff that's for the bosses. Come look.
[Later, at his desk;] Now I've heard very bad, bad, bad, bad things about you birmingham people, tsk tsk, you're all gypsies, right? So what'd you live in, a fucking tent or a caravan? Well [claps.] Rum is for fun and fucking, isn't it? Whiskey, now that's for business.
They say you had your life saved by a policemen. Well, I don't like policemen because policemen, they can't be trusted.
War ain't over till it's over, mate. You win the war.
I once carried out my own personal form of stigmata on an italian. I pushed his face up against a trench and I stuck a six inch nail up his nose and I hammered it home with a duckboard, it was fucking biblical. So don't come in here and sit there in my chair and tell me that I'm losing my war to a fucking wop.
Well you forget your fucking telegram, your telegram just said 'hello.' You want to sell me something. What? [Tommy: We join forces.] Fuck off. No. Fucking ridiculous.
You're the bloke who shot Billy Kimber, right? You did, you fucking shot him, that's you. You fucking betrayed him, mate, so it'd be entirely appropriate to do to you what I'm thinking in my head right now.
Let's say I shot you already, right? In the fucking face. And the bullet goes bone, mush, bone, cabinet, that cabinet, right over there, and it is a shame cause now that cabinet's fucked and I've got to get short of it. So, what I do is this. [Clicking off the safety.] It's fucking simple mate. I cut that cabinet in half, I do, I literally, I [In the tension, Tommy's nose spouts one thin line of blood. Alfie looks disgusted, and tosses a handkerchief onto the table, which Tommy ignores, wiping the mess away with his hand.] I cut the cabinet literally in half, and I take one half of the cabinet and I put it into a barrel, and I take another half of the cabinet and all its' pieces and I put that into another barrel and I send this barrel off to Mandalay, and the other barrel off to somewhere like, I don't know. Timbuktu. Have you ever been? [Tommy: No.] Would you like to go?
I always thought that you'd have a great big gold ring in your nose. Oh, sorry, go on, tell us your plan.
-----
He'll wake up. Granted, he won't have any teeth left, but he'll be a wiser man for it. And the last thing he will remember is your funny little joke. There are fucking rules here, yeah? There are fucking rules, for a fucking reason, and quite simply they have to be obeyed, alright? Rule number one. The distinction between bread and rum, yeah, it's not discussed! Rule number two, anything right that your superior officer, or any of your other fucking superior officers say to you, NOT DISCUSSED. Rule number three, four, five, seven, eight, nine, yeah, I don't care, right, the rest of your fucking miserable lives, because I like you am also a complete fucking sodomite. Jewish women. You do not go anywhere them because Jewish women for you are off the fucking menu. I think that's fair. All right, that's in then.
----
Alfie: Passover started off way out there in the far east, out in the sand, out in the desert where me forefathers come from you know the Jews the [inaudible, partially because a door is booming shut and locking] whatever you want to call them, but it started out as a little speck on the horizon
Billy: Arthur this isn't right.
Alfie: Billy, Billy, don't worry mate, you if you want you can leave, if you need to go to the little boy's room you can leave, I mean we're gonna open it in a while, do you wanna leave? You wanna stay? You stay there then, treacle. Okay then so! THe pharoah, he kept my people, the Jewish people, in slavery for thousands and thousands of years.
Arthur: Persecuted, right?
Alfie: He did, he persecuted my race, the killing of the innocent. Seder, this feast of what we is having hear, Seder is basically the day when the Jewish angels decided that the evil fucking Egyptians had pushed their fucking luck! Well part of our tradition to do with God to kill a king, we have to carry out a [something]. That is the ritual sacrifice of the passover goat. Yeah, and we're gonna sacrifice it, tonight. That's part of the reason why we have to shut the doors as well. But this year, we thought that we'd give the fucking goat a name.
Arthur: You named it.
Alfie: We fucking did. Yeah. After that evil fucking egyptian pharoah, you know what we called it?
Arthur: What'd you call it?
Alfie: Tommy Shelby!
[Madness begins.]
Alfie: So, then the evil egyptian scum was finally cleansed by the blood of the passover goat. [kisses both cheeks] that's from Sabini.
[Police enter]
Alfie: You fucking animal, you come in here with a fucking gun and a razor and shot him in the face, look at him, he's dead, he's dead! You won't arrest him he's [sammy] [inaudible]