Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

Miss? Miss, the keys.
(SIREN APPROACHING)
I think you shouldn't bother.
Maybe not in a race, but in stamina.
Of course.
Yeah, but don't tell.
Aren't you a bit old, Miss?
(DOOR CLOSES)
Do it again.
JACKIE: What are you doing, going around here like creeping Jesus?
Look, Billy...
It's sort of stiff and that, but once I get going,
You look like a right wanker to me, son.
and four, and five,
Do you have a piece prepared?
Sounds crap.
He did it he fucking did it
good luck with the strike.
What are you doing?
Then whip your head round, and come back to that spot. Prepare.
Hurry up, Dad, man. We'll be late.
I'll take it.
(GIRLS CHATTERING)
Don't be so stupid.
(INAUDIBLE)
(CAPTIVATING CLASSICAL MUSIC PLAYING)
Your dad?
And first. Carry on. Fifth.
-But there's a good chance the council's... -Two grand?
That's what Mom says. I think it's because he drinks too much.
I'm not doing it for the money, Billy.
It's just... I feel like a right sissy.
Got enough food there, scab?
Lift and stretch.
(SIGHS DEEPLY)
Dear Billy.
Get off!
from now on you can forget about the fucking ballet.
No!
What about your mom? Does she not have sex?
(BILLY SIGHS)
Is that absolutely necessary? Walk normal, will you?
What's going on?
London.
Like I feel a change in me whole body.
Well, was there any particular aspect of the ballet
Blob?
(UPBEAT SONG PLAYING)
Yes, I am concentrating.
Okay, then.
Nothing. Just warming your hands up.
-What for? -To go to ballet school.
MAN 2: Just get him out of here, Tony.
(CAR HORN HONKING)
They are, though. They're mental.
That's a bit steep.
You've got to be joking, love.
BILLY: I think I'm scared, Dad.
FOREMAN: Surname.
I'd never be good enough. I hardly know aught.
WOMAN: You mean William Elliot?
(DOORBELL RINGS)
(JACKIE SHRIEKS)
Yes, well, just a few questions, then. Billy,
And a one, two, three, pas de bourrée.
You haven't been practicing.
And one, two, three, four, five, six, seven...
Shut it, Billy. She's dead.
You say he can dance. Well, go on, then.
I'm not having any brother of mine running around like a right twat for your gratification.
Hold it.
Shorty. You.
If they had a ballot, they'd be back tomorrow.
Fucking scrabbling round for 50 pences.
I changed me mind.
Well, put it back.