[Ext. Charlton, SE London. Mid-afternoon.]
Mick ‘Flash’ Flanagan kicks an empty coke can up the gutter of Charlton Church Lane.
[archive recording of 70s crowd noise]
‘Horsfield to Bowman,’ Flash says to himself, jigging around the bouncing can, ‘Oh dear! There’s a cheeky bit of skill to nutmeg the onrushing forward. Now it’s with Hunt, who sprays it out wide to Powell.’
[crowd noise intensifies]
‘Now Powell’s beaten his man, and Hales is screaming for it – he’s red in the face! But what’s this? Flanagan’s lost his marker, how’s that for a tasty bit of movement? Powell plays it into the big man’s feet. And what a turn! He’s taken out two defenders there, only the keeper to beat… what nonchalance! Cool as a cucumber, Flanagan chips it over the keeper and into the back of net!’
[crowd erupts]
‘And the crowd goes wild! Flanagan’s off celebrating with the fans, and Hales is left fuming in the middle of the park.’
Flanagan stops, and looks down at the crumpled can. ‘Daydreaming again, eh, Flash?’ he chuckles to himself. ‘You silly old fool.’
He feels in his pocket for the little bit of paper Hales had pushed into his hands as he left the flat. Charlton to beat Oldham 2 – 0, Abbott the first scorer.
E Coombes is just up ahead. But there across the street is the kebab shop.
Flash dithers. He knows he should place the bet – Killer will be mad as hell if he doesn’t. But it’s past lunchtime and his stomach is grumbling. And anyway, he quite fancies Oldham to come and do another job on them, just like last season. What Killer doesn’t know, can’t hurt him… can it?
[close-up of Flanagan’s face frowning and chewing his bottom lip, his silly bloody perm falling down around his ears.]
Narrator: ‘Will Flash do the right thing? Or will he cram his greedy mouth full of doner and chips? Will the big man Abbott get one over on his old club? Or will wily old Paul Dickov have the last laugh? Find out this Saturday…’
[Flanagan steps towards the camera – fade to black]
Leave a comment