Billy Elliott Script - Dialogue Transcript

Voila! Finally, the Billy Elliott script is here for all you quotes spouting fans of the movie starring Jamie Bell.  This script is a transcript that was painstakingly transcribed using the screenplay and/or viewings of Billy Elliott. I know, I know, I still need to get the cast names in there and I'll be eternally tweaking it, so if you have any corrections, feel free to drop me a line. You won't hurt my feelings. Honest.

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Billy Elliott Script



            Your eggs.

            It's Billy.

            Come on.


            - You been playing my records, you twat? - I never played naught.


            If Dad knew you smoked that stuff, he'd go mental.

            Fuck off, will ya!

            Little twat.

            Here we go, Dad. Come on, man.


            Hurry up, Dad, man. We'll be late.

            I'm telling you, the whole world will be on that picket line this morning.

            Have you tidied our room? Dad!

            There's not much coal left.

            That's fine. We'll be digging it up again next month.

            Don't kid yourself.

            I'm not waiting for you.


            See you down the picket line, Dad.

            Leave it, Billy.

            Mom would have let us.

            Your    pence is on the fridge.

            Scab, scab, scab!

            - Are you sure you're not going to come? - Am I fuck.

            - It's a right load of old bollocks. - It's not.

            It's a load of shite, kicking people in.

            I don't know why you bother.

            - I'm good at it. - Are you shite.

            - Look at them gloves. They're outdated. - They're me dad's, these.


            Right, lads. Listen up here.

             Hold it. Right.

              Here. Now, because they're using downstairs...

     a soup kitchen for the striking miners...

              ...I'm gonna let Mrs. Wilkinson...

              ...use the bottom end of the boxing hall for her ballet lessons.

              So, no hanky-panky, understood?


              Elliot, you're late.

              Get changed and get in here.

              Right then, lads.

              Give it all you got. Round one.

              Don't just stand there, Elliot.

              Not again. This is man-to-man combat, not a bloody tea dance.

              What are you doing, man? Hit him!

              He's just pissing about. Get stuck in and give him a belt.

              He's like a fanny in a fit.

              Billy, hit him!

              Jesus Christ, Billy Elliot!

              You're a disgrace to them gloves...

              ...your father, and the traditions of this boxing hall.

              You owe us    pence.

              Ho! Liberace!

              Will you give it a rest?

              Billy, punch bag.

              You're not going until you do it properly.


              Give these to Mrs. Wilkinson and her class when you're done. I'll see you next week.

              Okay, girls. Left hand on the bar.

              Thank you, Mr. Braithwaite.

              Pretty arms.

              Bottoms in.

              Where are you looking, Susan?

              Lift. Feel the music. Feel it.

              In time, Debbie, please.

              And one, and two, and three, and four...

              ...and five, six, seven, eight.

              And one, and two, and three, and four...


              And hold.

              Hold it.

              Support yourselves. Don't look at me. Look ahead.

              Where's your confidence? Come on.

              And down.


              Oh, God.

              And Debbie, eyes front.

              And five, and six, and seven, and stop.

              For God's sake. Thank you, Mr. Braithwaite.

              Right, into the center, girls, please.


              - Miss, the keys. - Not now.

              Right, Mr. Braithwaite.  y:i The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow.

              Fat chance.

              Ready, and...

              "Port de bras" forward...

              ...and up.

              "Port de bras" forward...

              ...and up.

              Why don't you join in?

              "Port de bras" forward...

              ...and up...

              ...and hold.

              And three, and four, and Debbie, straight leg...

     and eight.

              And one, and two, and three, and four...

              ...and five... Boots off!

              Seven and eight. What size are you?

              - Miss, what about the keys? - Into the center.

              Go on, I dare you.


              And one, and two, and three, and four...

              ...and five, and six, and...

              And eight, and hold.

              Hold it.

              What have we got here, then?

              Heel out.

              Drop your hip.


              ...straight leg.

              Good arch.

              Turn that leg out.

              Right. Class dismissed.


              Debbie, get the    pences.

              - You owe me    pence. - No, I don't!

              You do. Why don't you bring it along next week?

              I can't. I'm going to boxing.

              - But you're crap at boxing. - No, I'm not!

              Shut up.

              I thought you enjoyed it.

              Please yourself, darling.

               y:i "Dancing in my tails"

              He was your mom's favorite, was Fred Astaire.

              We used to watch him at the Palace Picture House...

              ...and then dance around the front room like lunatics.


              Mind, they used to say I could have been a professional.

              Come on, Grandma. Not now.


              It's this one here!


              It's over here!


              - Do you ever think about death? - Fuck off!

              Night-night, then.

              Plenty of boys do ballet, you know.

              Do they now? What boys do ballet?

              Nobody around here, but plenty of men do.


              Not necessarily poofs.

              Who, like?

              What about that Wayne Sleep? He's not a poof.

              He's as fit as an athlete.

              - Bet he couldn't beat Daley Thompson. - Maybe not in a race, but in stamina.

              - Come tomorrow. You can just watch. - I can't.

              Gotta go to boxing, haven't I?

              Please yourself, then.

              See you around.

              Aye. See ya.

              Right, lads. Look sharp. Everybody out.

              Turn, turn and stop.

              One, two, three. One, two, three.

              Arms are in fifth.

              One, two, three.

              Turn, turn and stop.

              One, two, three. Where are those arms?

              - I don't know what to do. - Follow the others.

              Shut up, Debbie. One, two, three.

              Nice pretty arms. And stop.

              See? I told you it takes loads of practice.

              - Debbie. - What, Mom?

              - What do you call me? - Miss.

              Shove off!

              So, do we get the pleasure of your company next week?

              It's just...

              ...I feel like a right sissy.

              Well, don't act like one. Fifty pence, please.

              If you're not coming again, give us your shoes.

              - You're all right. - Right.

              What are you doing, going around like creeping Jesus?


              They found your nanna in the Spar stores. Where have you been?

              Boxing. Where do you think?

              What are you doing?

              - I forgot me gloves. - They were my dad's gloves.

              You better take better care of them, okay?

              Copy down that diagram. You only have five minutes left.

              Hurry. This way.

              You're going to ballet every week?

              - Yeah, but don't tell. - Why do you need to take lessons?

              Why do you think? To get better, you divvy.

              - Do you get to wear a tutu? - Fuck off!

              They're only meant for lasses.

              I wear me shorts.

              - You want to ask for a tutu. - What for?

              - To dance in. - I'd look a right dickhead.

              I think you'd look wicked.

              Come on.

              I don't know why you're looking at that.

              You can't take that out on a junior ticket.

              Come on!

              See you, then.

               y:i Okay, Billy Elliot, he's the center.

               y:i Right, I want you to watch carefully, girls.

               y:i First, arabesque.

              Drop your shoulders.

              Look forward, beyond your fingertips.


              Right. Spin it, Mr. Braithwaite. Spin it.

              Come on! Spin it!

              Now, focus.

              Look at yourselves! Look in the mirror!

              Christ almighty! What was that?

              - What's going on? - Nothing.

              Prepare one, and two. Strong position.

               y:i Weight on both legs.

              Pirouette, and down.

              Up you get.

              Find a place on that bloody wall...

              ...and focus on that spot.

              Then whip your head round and come back to that spot.


               y:i - One, and two, and... - Fuck it.

              Have you got the spot?

               y:i Prepare.

               y:i - Prepare! - Prepare.


               y:i Go, Billy!

              What have I told you about that arm?

              Right. Back to the bar.

              You look like a right wanker to me, son.

              Listen, it was just    pence a session, you know.

              I can do without it. I don't do it for the money.

              - What are you talking about? - The boxing.

              I haven't seen hide nor hair of Billy for months.

              I was gonna say something, but I thought it might be embarrassing.

              First, I knew about it. He's never got the gloves off.

              Send him round to my house. I'll knock some sense into him.

              Scab! Scab!

              Step, open and "balancé".

               y:i Balancé.

              Scab, scab, scab!

              Right. Let's do it again.

              Open and lift your chest.

              Let's do it again. Thank you, Mr. Braithwaite. Step...

               y:i Open your arms. Do it.

              Pay attention.

              Arms like this. All right?

              Thank you, Mr. Braithwaite. Step really...

               y:i ... open.

               y:i Powerful! Proud.

              You're not concentrating.

              - Yes, I am concentrating. - You're not even trying.

              Can we have a go at it, Miss?

              Let's do it again.

              Listen, have you noticed anything weird about Billy lately?

              What are you after, like, a list?

              Got enough food there, scab?

              What are you doing?

              - Scabs eat well, eh? - You're me best mate.

              First rule of a union, Gary, you never cross a picket line.

              - We're all fucked if you forget that! - We're fucked anyway.

               y:i In a speech to Tory MPs yesterday...

               y:i ... Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher  y:i referred to members...

               y:i ... of the striking National Union  y:i of Mine Workers...

               y:i ... as the "enemy within".

               y:i The speech comes following  y:i several months of violent clashes...

               y:i ... between police officers  y:i and striking miners.

              - See you, then. - Wait. Your breakfast...

              What the hell's he up to?

              One, two, three, "pas de bourrée".

              And one, two, three, and a turn.

              And one, two, three, "pas de bourrée".

              You, out!


              I beg your pardon?

              Please, Miss.


              All right, which way are we facing? Come on.

              And one...

              ...two, three, "pas de bourrée".


              What's wrong with ballet?

              What's "wrong" with ballet?

              It's perfectly normal.

              "Perfectly normal"?

              I used to go to ballet.


              Aye, for your nanna.

              For girls, not for lads, Billy.

              Lads do football, or...

              ...boxing, or...


              Not frigging ballet.

              What lads do wrestling?

              Don't start.

              I don't see what's wrong with it.

              You know exactly what's wrong with it.

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

              - No, I don't. - Yes, you bloody well do.

              Who do you think I am?

              You know quite nicely.


              What are you trying to say, Dad?

              - You're asking for a hiding, son. - I'm not, honest.

              You are, Billy.

              It's not just poofs, Dad. Some ballet dancers are as fit as athletes.

              What about that Wayne Sleep? He was a ballet dancer.

              - Wayne Sleep? - Aye.

              Listen, son, from now on you can forget about the fucking ballet.

              You can forget about the fucking boxing, as well.

              I'm busting my ass for those    pences, and you're...

              No, from now on you stay here, you look after your nanna.

              Got it?


              They used to say I could've been a professional dancer, with some training.

              Will you shut up?

              I hate you!

              You're a bastard!

              Get off!



              My dad'll kill me if he knows I'm here.

              He's stopped you coming to classes.

              It's not his fault, Miss.

              That's all right with you, is it?

              I suppose so.

              You should stand up to him.

              You don't know what he's like.

              Well, that blows it.

              - Blows what, Miss? - Debbie.

              I've heard a lot about you. Durham's little Gene Kelly, eh?

              Your dad worked down the pit, then?


              Must be hard for the family, being on strike.

              He is out on strike, isn't he?

              Of course.

              I shouldn't worry. They won't last long.

              Tom, don't.

              If they voted, they'd be back tomorrow. It's just a few commies, stirring things up.

              Let's face it, they haven't got a leg to stand on.

              Who doesn't?

              The miners.

              It stands to reason.

              Some pits are just uneconomical.

              If it costs more to pay everybody to dig the coal out...

              ...than you get for it when you sell it, what does that say?

              I don't know.

              You wanna think about that, don't you, son?


              If it was up to me, I'd shut them all down tomorrow.

              For God's sake.

              What do you do, Mr. Wilkinson?

              He's been made redundant.

              - I thought he was gonna hit me. - Don't be silly.

              He's just under a lot of pressure.

              That's what Mom says. I think it's because he drinks too much.

              Does he drink too much?

              He's always pissed. Once he pissed himself.

              Your dad?

              'Cause he's unhappy and that. 'Cause they sleep in separate beds.

              - Why do they sleep in separate beds? - So they can't have sex.

              Do they not have sex?

              Dad did it with this woman from work, but they don't think I know.

              Do you miss your mom, then?

              I don't really miss her as such.

              It's more like just feeling sad.

              Especially when I remember her all of a sudden.

              When I'd forgot that she was dead and that.

              What about your mom? Does she not have sex?

              No, she's unfulfilled. That's why she does dancing.

              She does dancing instead of sex?

              - Your family's weird. - No, they're not.

              They are though. They're mental.

              Get off!

              See? You're a nutter, you.

              Debbie, it's time for Billy to go home.

              Come on, Billy. I'll drop you off at the corner.

              I'll see you, Debbie.

              Okay, then.


              ...what have I blown?

              This'll sound strange, Billy...

              ...but, for some time now, I've thought of the Royal Ballet School.

              Aren't you a bit old?

              No, not me. You.

              I'm the bloody teacher.

              They hold auditions in Newcastle.

              I'd never be good enough. I hardly know aught.

              They're not interested in how much you know.

              They'll teach you. That's why they're a ballet school.

              It's how you move, how you express yourself that's important.

              Express what?

              I think you're good enough to go for it.

              It would mean an awful lot of hard work.

              But I'm banned.

              - Maybe I should have a word with him. - No, Miss!

              - I could teach you on your own. - We couldn't afford it.

              - I'm not doing it for the money. - What about Dad?

              - He doesn't need to know. - What about boxing?

              Listen, if you wanna piss about with your mates, that's fine with me.

              All right, don't lose your blob.


              So, we could do it private like?

              Just you and me.

              Miss, you don't fancy me, do you?

              No, Billy. Funnily enough, I don't.

              Now, piss off.

              Piss off yourself.

              See you Monday, then.

              You coming in or what?

              - What are you doing? - Nothing. Just dressing up.

              - Whose dress is that? - Come on.

              - Whose dress is that? - It's me sister's.

              - Did she give you it? - She doesn't know.

              Do you wanna try? You can have one of me mom's.

              No. You all right?

              - What are you doing that for? - I'm just trying it on.


              Come here.

              Stay still.


              - Won't we get in trouble? - Don't be stupid.

              Me dad does it all the time.

              He dresses up in your mom's clothes?

              Only when he thinks everybody's out.

              Have you got a tutu yet?

              Do you think being a ballet dancer would be better than being a miner?

              I don't know.

              It's just, I've got this audition in Newcastle, in a couple of weeks.

              - What for? - To go to ballet school.

              Ballet school? Is that in Newcastle?


              You'd have to move with your Tony and everybody?

              - No, by myself. - That's a bit steep.

              - Can't you be a ballet dancer here? - Don't be stupid.

              - When are you going there? - I don't know.

              I haven't even got in yet.

              What does your dad say?

              - He doesn't know. - Fucking hell.

              - Are you not going to tell him? - Not yet, anyway.

              He might be pleased about it. He could rent your room.

              He couldn't. What about our Tony?

              What do you reckon?

              I think you shouldn't bother.

              Why not?

              I'd miss ya.

              Fucking hell.

              Brought your things?

              I don't know if they're right, Miss.

              If they're special to you, they're right.

              What are they for?

              To give us some ideas for a dance.

              Come on, then. Let's see them.

              What's that?

              It's a letter.

              I can see it's a letter.

              It's me mom's.

              She wrote it, for when I was   ...

              ...but I opened it.


              "To my son, Billy."

              "Dear Billy:

              I know I must seem like a distant memory to you...

              ...which is probably a good thing."

              "It will have been a long time...

              ...and I will have missed seeing you grow."

              "Missed you crying, laughing...

              ...and shouting."

              "I will have missed telling you off."

              "But please know that I was always there."

              "With you through everything."

              "With you through everything."

              "I always will be."

              "And I am proud to have known you."

              "And I'm proud that you were mine."

              "Always be yourself."

              "I'll love you forever."


              She must have been a very special woman, your mother.

              No, she was just me mom.

              I brought a tape and all.

              - What is it?  y:i - I Love to Boogie.

              It's one of our Tony's.

              Spin it!

              Go on!

              Tap, tap.


              Grandma, teatime.

              Where are you going?

              Go back to sleep.

              It's  :  .

              You weren't thinking of taking it with you?

              If you just wanna stand around...

              ...getting the shit kicked out of you, that's fine.

              - Some of us are ready to fight back. - They're already after you.

              You're no good to us in jail.

              I don't plan on getting caught.

              - What's going on? - Get back to bed.

              Both of you!

              Fuck you.

              Put it down.

              - You gonna stop me? - I'm warning you.

              You haven't got it in you. You're finished!

              Since Mom died, you're a useless twat. What are you gonna do about it?

              Stop it!

              What the fuck are you looking at?

              You haven't been practicing.


              One, two, and one, and two.

              Get up.

              Miss, I can't do it.

              That's because you're not concentrating.

              I am concentrating.

              - You're not even trying. - I am, Miss.

              - Do it again. - I can't.

              You do it again.



              I'm sorry.

              It's all right for you. It's not you who has to do it.

              - I know. - You don't know anything!

              What do you know in your posh house, with your husband that pisses himself?

              You're the same as everybody else. All you want is to tell me what to do!

              Now, wait a minute.

              I don't want to do your stupid, fucking audition.

              You only want me to do it for your own benefit!

              Look, Billy...

              - Because you're a failure! - Don't you dare talk to me like that.

              You don't even have a proper dancing school.

              You're stuck in some crummy boxing hall!

              Don't pick on me because you fucked up your own life!

               y:i Can I put a tape on, Miss?

               y:i All right, if you must.

              It's cush, isn't it?

              So, is there a story, then, Miss?

              Of course.

              It's about a woman who's captured by an evil magician.

              Sounds crap.

              And this woman, this beautiful woman...

     forced to be a swan...

              ...except for a few hours every night...

              ...when she becomes alive.

              When she becomes real again.

              And then, one night...

              ...she meets this young prince...

              ...and he falls in love with her.

              And she realizes...

              ...this is the one thing that will allow her...

     become a real woman once more.

              So then what happens?

              He promises to marry her and goes off with someone else, of course.

              So she has to be a swan for good?

              She dies.

              'Cause the prince didn't love her?

              Come on. It's time to go.

              It's only a ghost story.

              Come on.

              It's me.

              It's Billy.

              Oh, little one.

              Oh, little one...

              ...what have I told you about drinking out of the bottle?

              Sorry, Mom.

              Well, put it back.



              ...and reach.

              Down, and one.

              Breathe and stretch.

              And one.

              Lift and stretch.


              ...and lengthen that foot.

              And it's one.


              Reach out.

              Lift and breathe.

              And one.


              Out and close.

              And one.


              When's the audition, then?

              Tomorrow morning.

              I'll miss you if you go away.

              Who do you think is better, Fred Astaire or Ginger Rogers?

              Billy, do you not fancy us, like?

              Don't know. Never really thought about it.

              If you want, I'll show you me fanny.

              No. You're all right.

              - Get inside. - Come on.

              That's the union leader. Get him!

              Get down!

              Thanks, pet.


              Keep away from there, son.


              Here they come!



              Tony, come back!

              Take him away. Off you go, mate.

               y:i Miss, I've got a problem with the audition.


              Right, listings for Court  .

              Tony Elliot.

              George Brunton. Gary Cummings.

              - What's the time? - Colin Woodward.

                :  .


              Can I help you?

              - I was looking... - They're out.


              - Billy? - Please, Miss.

              - Don't. - What's going on, Billy?

              Who the fuck are you?

              I think we better go inside.

              I know this might be hard for you...

              ...but, today, Billy missed a very important audition.


              For the Royal Ballet School.

              The Royal Ballet?

              School. It's where they teach the ballet.

              You've got to be joking, love.

              No, I'm perfectly serious.

              Have you any idea what we're going through?

              I've been in a fucking cell, all night...

              ...and you come around here, talking shite. And you...

              Fucking ballet!

              What are you trying to do, make him a scab for the rest of his life? Look at him.

              He's only    for fuck's sake.

              - You've got to start training young. - Shut it.

              I'm not having my brother running around like a right twat for your gratification.

              Excuse me. This is not for my gratification.

              What good will it do him? You're not taking him away.

              He's only a bairn. What about giving him a childhood?

              I don't want one. I wanna be a ballet dancer.

              And anyway, what do you know about it?

              What qualifications have you got?

              Look, I haven't come here to defend myself.

              Well, for all we know, you could be some nutter.

              Get the fucking Social on to you.

              I think you should calm yourself down, son.

              You say he can dance?

              Go on, then.

              Let's see this fucking dancing.

              This is ridiculous!

              If you're a fucking ballet dancer, then let's be having you.

              - Don't you dare! - What sort of a teacher are you?

              He's got the chance to dance. Now, you're fucking telling him not to.

              Dance, you little twat!

              So, piss off. He's not doing any more ballet!

              If you go near him again, I'll smack you, you middle-class cow.

              You know nothing about me, you sanctimonious little shit!

              He won't grow up to race whippets, grow leeks or piss his wages up the wall.

              Listen! He's been with me...

              Billy, wait there!

              Billy, come on!

              Hurry up!

               y:i Merry Christmas, everybody!

              "Here we go, here we go, here we go"

              Do you think she'll mind?

              Shut it, Billy. She's dead.

              Well, merry Christmas, everybody.

              - Merry Christmas. - Merry Christmas.

              Merry Christmas.

              "Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way"

              "Oh, what fun"

              Fucking great Christmas this has been.

              - Go on, have some. - Where'd you get it?

              Me dad's got loads in the kitchen.

              - Won't he notice? - He never knows how much is there.

              - It tastes like piss. - You get used to it.


              Maybe you could run away or something.

              You know, join a dancing troupe.

              Don't be so stupid.

              - Well, maybe it's all for the best. - What do you mean?

              You won't have to go away or nothing.

              My hands are freezing.

              Give us them here.

              What are you doing?

              Nothing. Just warming your hands up.

              You're not a poof?

              What gave you that impression?

              Aren't me hands cold?

              I quite like it.

              Just because I like ballet...

              ...doesn't mean I'm a poof, you know?

              You won't tell anyone, will you?

              Come on.

              It's fucking freezing in here.


              - What's this? - Just put it on.

              A tutu.

              - George, there's somebody in the club. - This kangaroo...

     wanking away over it, right...

              ...and he's called Norman.

              And then, around the corner came this wallaby.

              "Plié", first.

              - What's a "plié"? - It's French.

              - Why is it French? - I don't know. Second...

     a princess.

              Second, and down.

              And first. Carry on. Fifth.

              Shoulders down. Long neck.

              How do I look?

              - Shut up, you poof. - Fuck off.

              Second, and down.

              And first.






              Jackie, man. Here.

              Give us your hand.



                Go home, son.

                Is this a friend of yours, then?

                How much is it gonna cost?

                And a happy Christmas to you, too.

                Not as much as you might think. Maybe two grand.

                - There's a good chance the Council's... - Two grand?

                I was talking about the auditions.

                It's just a matter of the trip to London.

                I'll give you the money for the fare.

                I didn't come here to be patronized.

                No one's trying to patronize you.

                You're being ridiculous.

                - Am I? - Yes.

                Thanks for everything you've done for Billy.

                But he is my son, isn't he?

                 y:i I'll handle this myself.

                - What? - Thorpe.

                Is that the lot, then?

                Fucking hell. I never thought I'd see you down here.

                Things change, eh?

                Right, you. Name?

                Jackie Elliot.

                Glad to see you've come to your senses.

                Who's a big man now, eh?

                Right. Okay, you lot, away!

                All aboard the Skylark. Look lively.

                You can't smoke on here, mate. These are private buses.

                Scab, scab, scab!

                Fuck off!


                Give us a hand.


                What the fuck are you doing?

                Dad, you can't go back, not now!

                Look at the state of us!

                - What've we got to offer that Billy? - You can't!

                Not now! Not after everything we've been through!

                It's for wee Billy!

                He might be a fucking genius, for all we know.

                For fuck's sake, Dad. You can't do this, man! Dad!

                He's only    for fuck's sake.

                He's a kid.

                He's just a fucking little kid.

                I'm sorry. I'm sorry, son.

                - Please! - I'm sorry, son.

                We're finished, son!

                What choice have we got, eh?

                - Let's give the boy a fucking chance! - Please.

                Please don't do this to me, Dad.

                We'll find him some money. We'll find it for him.

                What the fuck is he doing?

                It's okay. He's gonna be okay.

                Just get him out of here, Tony.

                Away. Leave it. Go on. Leave it.

                Let's go home, Dad.

                Dad's right, you know?

                Mom would have let you.

                All them    pences.

                It was a toss-up between a new punch bag or you.

                It's not even enough for the bed-and-breakfast.

                Forget it, you're dreaming. Look at you.

                Fucking scrabbling round for    pences.

                You've got to do better than that.

                How? I'm gonna have a raffle at the Welfare.

                And I'm gonna organize a concert.

                Thanks, George.

                Sheila's not got that kind of money. She can't even keep the soup kitchen open.

                George said we could have another whip-round.

                There's no money left. Get that through your head, man!

                You know there's nothing left. Stop putting ideas in his head, man!

                Come on, lads! Dig deep for the miners.

                Is that absolutely necessary?

                Walk normal, will you?

                So what's it like, like?

                What's what like?


                I don't know, son. I've never made it past Durham.

                Have you never been, like?

                - Why would I want to go to London? - It's the capital city.

                - Well, there's no mines in London. - Christ.

                Is that all you think about?

                Can I help you?

                Billy Elliot. We've come for an audition.

                You mean William Elliot?

                - Yeah, William. - Yes. Can you go upstairs, please?

                - This way? - Yes.


                - Is this your first time? - Yeah.

                I've been doing this for two years now.


                Nerve-racking, isn't it?

                Where are you from?

                Everington. County Durham.

                Durham? Isn't there an amazing cathedral?

                I don't know. I've never been.

                Up on the box, please.

                Right. Bend over. Right down.

                And come up.

                Head down.

                Tiny curvature here. Head down!

                How tiny?

                Might not be a problem. Come on, keep coming.

                - Right. Jump up, William. - It's Billy.

                Billy Elliot.

                Two, three, and four.


                Dad! Dad, for fuck's sake!

                I've changed me mind.

                Get back in there. Don't be so stupid.

                And you are?

                Billy Elliot from Everington.

                - I beg your pardon? - Billy Elliot.

                Yes, of course.

                Well, come to the bar, please, Billy.

                Left arm on the bar.

                Feet first.

                Arms second.

                "Demi-plié", and hold.

                Now, Billy...

                ...we'd like to see you move to music. Do you have a piece prepared?

                Thank you.

                Are you all right?

                - What's the matter? - It was a waste of fucking time.

                Don't be upset. It's only a stupid audition.

                - It's all right. - Fuck off.

                - There's always next year. - Look, fuck off, will you?

                You bent bastard!

                What on earth's going on here?

                How did it go?


                Mr. Elliot, I'm afraid that mutual respect and self-discipline...

                ...are absolute prerequisites for any pupil in this school.

                Such displays of violence...

                ...cannot be tolerated under any circumstances. Understand?

                I realize we shall have to consider this very seriously...

                ...and it will be bound to affect our final decision.

                Yes, well, just a few questions, then.

                Can you tell us why you first became interested in the ballet?

                Don't know.

                Just was.

                Well, was there any particular aspect of the ballet, which...

                ...caught your imagination?

                The dancing.

                He dances all the time. Every night, after school.

                Yes, well, we have a very enthusiastic letter from...

                ...Mrs. Wilkinson, and she has...

                ...told us of your personal circumstances.

                Mr. Elliot, are you a fan of the ballet?

                I wouldn't exactly say I was an expert.

                You do realize that...

                ...all pupils must attain the highest standards, not just in ballet...

                ...but in their ordinary academic work?

                No child can succeed without the     percent support of the family.

                You are completely behind Billy?

                Are you not?


                Yes, of course.

                Do you want to ask us any questions?

                No, not really. No.

                In that case...

                ...we shall let you know in due course.

                Just one last question. Can I ask you, Billy:

                What does it feel like when you're dancing?

                Don't know.

                Sort of feels good.

                It's sort of stiff and that...

                ...but once I get going...

                ...then I, like, forget everything...


                ...sort of disappear.

                I sort of disappear.

                Like I feel a change in me whole body.

                Like there's a fire in me body.

                I'm just there...


       a bird.

                Like electricity.



                Have a safe journey home.

                Mr. Elliot.

                Good luck with the strike.


                I think you should get yourself a trade, son.

                Something useful.

                I could have been a professional dancer.

                What's happened to the dinosaurs, Miss?

                They were crushed as well.

                And the pressure of all of this caused the plants and trees to change...

                ...into coal.

                That's what must have happened to her.

                Michael Caffrey, if you have got something to say...

       can say it to the class.

                Sorry, Miss.

                So, gradually...

                ...over hundreds of thousands of years...


                This is it.

                - Have you heard anything yet? - Not yet.

                You'll have no problem, man. Fingers crossed, eh?

                I got in.

                He did it! He fucking did it!

                Jackie, have you not heard, man?

                We're going back.

                Strike's over, Jackie. The union caved in yesterday.

                I think I'm scared, Dad.

                That's okay, son.

                We're all scared.

                Well, if I don't like it, can I still come back?

                Are you kidding?

                We've let out your room.

                Four, five, six, seven, eight.

                And one, two, three, four...

                ...five, six, seven.

                Keep going, girls.

                Miss, I just came to tell you.

                It's all right, Billy, I heard it from Debbie.

                Look, it was just...

                Well, you know, after everything.

                - I'll miss you, Miss. - No, you won't.

                I will. Honest.

                This is when you go out and find life...

                ...and all those other things.

                The best of luck, Billy.

                Right. Back to the bar, girls. And again.

                Thank you.

                Debbie, eyes front.

                - Was she there? - Yeah.

                - You'll miss the bus. - I'll take it.

                - Give us the bag. - Okay, right, no time for this.

                Come on, I'll take that.

                - Good-bye, Billy. - See you.

                Dancing boy!

                - You'll miss your bus, Billy. - Stop being an old fucking woman.

                See you, then.

                - I'll miss you! - What? I can't hear you!

                Dad, come on, man. We're gonna be late.

                Come on!

                The show's just started.

                Excuse me.

                Can you tell Billy Elliot that his family's here?

                - Sorry, mate. - It's all right, Tony.

                It's me, Michael. Remember?

                It's Michael.

                - What the bloody hell are you doing here? - I wouldn't have missed it for the world.

                Stand by, please.

                - Billy, your family are here. - Thanks.

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