Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

What's wrong with ballet?
GEORGE: How! I'm gonna have a raffle at the welfare.
Heel out. Drop your hip.
BILLY: George said we can have another whip-round.
Right. All right. Jump up, William.
They teach you that. That's why they're a ballet school.
The best of luck, Billy.
GEORGE: Right, lads. Look sharp. Everybody, out!
WOMAN: Can I help you?
When I forgot that she was dead and that.
MAN: Well, in that case,
MRS WILKINSON: Debbie! It's time for Billy to go home!
MAN: Keep away from there, son.
(BILLY GIGGLES)
Come on. Spin it! Now, focus!
OFFICER: Go on. Get in there! Off you go, mate!
Where'd you get it?
No, not really. No.
-No, I don't. -Yes, you do.
she meets this young prince,
MICHAEL: Billy! Billy!
Please yourself, then.
(MUSIC STOPS)
(SPITS)
What have I told you about that arm?
Look, I don't wanna do your stupid fucking audition!
(DOOR SLIDES OPEN)
Come on.
-All right then, lads. -(PIANO PLAYING SOFTLY)
It's all right, Billy. I heard it from Debbie.
It's this one here!
as the enemy within.
Have a safe journey home.
And a one, two, three, pas de bourrée.
I'm just trying it on.
Do you think she'll mind?
BOY 1: This your first time? BOY 2: Yeah.
Who's a big man now?
You're asking for a hiding, Son.
(STUTTERING) You won't tell anyone, will you?
TONY: You haven't got it in you. You're finished!
Right. Spin it, Mr Braithwaite. Spin it.
Billy Elliot.
They're only meant for lasses.
Send him round to my house. I'll sharp knock some sense into him.
Bottoms in.
So then what happens?
Left arm on the bar. Feet first.
MRS WILKINSON: All right, if you must.
JACKIE: (CRYING) I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
MRS WILKINSON: Four, five, six, seven, eight.
He did it He only fuckin did it
Right, now I want you to watch carefully, girls.
No, she was just me mom.
My hands are freezing.
Liberace, will you give it a rest?
Thought you enjoyed it.
-MAN 1: Felton. -Felton.
TEACHER: Copy down that diagram. You only have five minutes left.
You all right? What's the matter?
Well, don't just stand there, Elliot!
See you down the picket line, Dad.
is forced to be a swan.
(DOOR CLOSING)
Nothing.
(WHISTLE BLOWING)
Your dad work down the pit, then?
GEORGE: Merry Christmas, everybody!
MAN 1: What the fuck is he doing, Tony?
-Let's see this fucking dancing. -MRS WILKINSON: No.
I'll give you the money for the fare.
Okay, right, we don't have time for this.
What're you doing, man? Hit him!