Bronson/Transcript

Narrator Bronson: My name's Charles Bronson, and all my life, I've wanted to be famous. I knew I was made for better things. I had a calling. I just didn't know... what it is. Wasn't singing. I can't fuckin' act. Kinda running outta choices, really... aren't we? Right. How else can I explain it? There was nothin' wonky about my upbringing, my parents were decent, respectable, and upstanding members of society. I went to school. I kept my head down. Sure, like most kids, I got into trouble. Well, I 'ad to.
Bronson's Mother: Oh, Michael!
Teacher: Mrs. Peterson, I really must talk to you about...
Narrator Bronson: But I wasn't bad. Wasn't "bad" bad. And I still have my principles. I took the first job I could get my hands on.
Worker: Bring the fries, Peterson.
Narrator Bronson: I suppose the crumpet wasn't bad.
Police Officer: Mrs. Peterson? We'd like to have a word with your son.
Bronson's Mother: Michael?!
Officer: Michael Peterson?
Bronson: Right.
Narrator Bronson: Yeah, before I forget -- I did come into this world as Michael Peterson, but I'll go out with my fighting name: Charlie Bronson. Which is my alter-ego. 1974. Tough time to be young in England. Not a lot of opportunity around. Still. Life moves on. Irene and I got hitched. It was alright. We didn't have it bad for a couple from the chippy. But they don't give you a star on The Walk of Fame for not paying, do they?
Irene: Michael, what is that noise?! For God's sakes...
Narrator Bronson: So... this is the post office I did over. This is what I got away with. And this is what they gave me...
Judge: Seven years!
Bronson's Mother: Don't worry, son! You won't do the seven. You'll be out in four!
Vaudeville Bronson: I had you going, didn't I, eh? Go on, I had you going! I've always fancied myself as a bit of a comedian! But seven years, oh... it is a long time. Now, I'm not gonna stand here and tell you -- yeah? -- tell you that prison is not bad. NO! That would be misrepresenting myself, and I think enough of that has been done already. DON'T YOU?! No... Y'see, I didn't see a cell, a cage, a box... To me, it was a hotel room. Don't get me wrong, for most people, prison is tough. A monotonous nightmare. 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year of pure, unadulterated, living, breathing hell. But for me... Prison was finally a place where I could sharpen my tools. Hone my skills. It's like a battleground, innit? It was an opportunity and a place where soon, every native was gonna know my name.
Rehab Officer: What's the matter, Charlie? Do you want me to take you through it again?
Bronson: No. They don't do work in long-term prisons.
Rehab Officer: It's vocational training. So you can get a job when you get--
Bronson: Fuck off!
Screw: What's the problem, Peterson?
Bronson: "Problem"?
Screw: I said, what's the problem, Peterson?
Bronson: I don't know; I don't have a problem.
Bronson: For sure there, mate!
Bronson: Would you like a cup o'tea, mate?
Guard: Thanks, Mickey. Love one.
Bronson: Milk and sugar?
Guard: Please.
Bronson: How many sugars?
Guard: Two.
Bronson: One, two...
Paul Daniels: [singing] Picture you upon my knee / Tea for two, and two for tea / Just me for you and you for me / Hello...
Bronson: And would you like a cup of tea, too, mate?
Paul: Nothing closer to my heart than a good cup of British char.
Bronson: Milk and sugar?
Paul: No, I like it dark.
Bronson: Ooh.
Paul: That's an impressive set of guns you have there; you must be handy in a brawl. Bam! Bam! Knock-out, ding-ding... Very nice. 
Vaudeville Bronson: But time stops for no man, ladies and germs, and my time was coming up! Parole! And just when I was about to make a name to be reckoned with...
Audience Member: Oh, yeah? As what?
Vaudeville Bronson: As what?! You don't wanna be trapped inside with me, sunshine. Inside, I'm someone nobody wants to fuck with. Do you understand? I am Charlie Bronson. I am Britain's most violent prisoner. Prison was... honestly? BRILLIANT! I liked it, personally. Oh, fuck that -- I LOVED it! It was exciting! It was on-the-edge! It was madness at its very best! Problem is, once you get comfortable or sometimes even before, they ghost you again and again, moving you from prison, to prison, to prison. And I fuckin' hate that. Parkhurst. God bless that place. The accommodation was more than worthy of my royal self. Your own bed. Toilet. A sink. The food was of exceptional standard.
Bronson: Oi!
Vaudeville Bronson: Yes, Parkhurst was a corker. And Hull Prison... Well, what can I say? Well worth a visit. Scrubs? Not my favorite place to visit, but the staff are ready to make your stay as memorable as possible. We had a laugh. How we laughed.
Bronson: [singing] Please release me! / Oh, let me go! / 'Cause I don't love you anymore!
Narrator Bronson: In the end, I got it wrong. Quite seriously wrong, actually. They sent me here. The funny farm.
Bronson: Thank you! Where are we going? Oh, what have you got for me, you jolly boys? Jolly boys all the lot of you. Cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt. Wait till I fucking kick the shit out the lot of you.
Asylum Officer: Right, Peterson. Now you've had a chance to cool down, I'll explain the Rampton rules. Rule Number One: You do as you're told.
Bronson: Eh, Rule Number Two?
Asylum Officer: This ain't prison. We're lion-tamers here.
Bronson: Mm-hm.
Asylum Officer: Right, take these pills.
Bronson: Stick 'em up your fuckin' arse. Yeah? Hm? Yeah? Yeah, he'll be back. Cunt. Fucking whip rag, you'll fucking shit it. Who you fucking with? You're gonna die, you CUNTS! You fucking cunt! You fucking cunt!
John White: The thing is, they don't understand. They'll never understand. And that scares 'em. So they keep you drugged up. What's that gonna change? Ain't gonna change the you inside. I think I know the truth. You're no more mad than I am. Yeah, it's all just made up. It's rubbish. You, me... nine-year-old girl. It's a loveology.
Narrator Bronson: Fucking loonies, they're great, mate. But, well... They're fucking loonies, aren't they? And I had to get out somehow. This was no hotel I wanted to stay at anymore. Being a celebrity and all, I needed to check out. And I had a good idea how to do it.
Vaudeville Bronson: I will not re-enact what I like to call "What Happens When Murder Goes Wrong". [as Bronson] "When do I go back?" [as nurse] "Now, now, Mr. Peterson. We aren't going to start up all that silliness again, are we?" [as Bronson] "Listen, nursie, I just wanna know when my trial is. And when I head back to the slammer, right?" [as nurse] "Wrong, Mr. Peterson. Now let's not play silly buggers, eh? I'll just have to pop you in the botty with one of my special potions, hm?" [as Bronson] "WHEN'S MY TRIAL?!" [as nurse] "Uh-uh-uh. Tsk-tsk-tsk-tsk, no. Mr. White recovered, dear! There's no trial. Isn't that wonderful? However, you are being moved." [as Bronson] "Where?" [as nurse] "Yes, Mr. Peterson! Broadmoor Asylum for the Criminally Insane!" [as Bronson] "I deserve to go to prison for what I did. I want my hotel room back!" [as nurse] "Well, I'm sure you'll find yourself some solitary!" [as himself] And I did. Twenty-six years! Twenty-six years years of solitary I've done, and I ain't killed no one! I'm not joking. Not a soul! Ever! Well, I thought, "If you're gonna be unfair with me, I'm gonna show you the ultimate in unfair takedowns." Now this is what I call. "Charlie Versus Broadmoor." [singing] When I'm a rock and roll / When I'm the rock and roll / When I'm the rock and roll star / When I'm a rock and roll...
Backup Singer: (When he's a rock and roll)
Vaudeville Bronson: [singing] When I'm a rock and roll...
Backup Singer: (When he's a rock and roll)
Vaudeville Bronson: [singing] When I'm a rock and roll...
Backup Singer: (Superstar)
Vaudeville Bronson: Well, that told me. Truth be told, though, they didn't want me in there anymore anyway. Apparently, I've managed to cost the system tens of millions of pounds in damage. And Her Majesty no longer wanted to pleasure herself with "Britain's Most Expensive Prisoner"! I know. It's not the moniker that I was looking for, but what were they gonna do? I mean, they couldn't let a loony run around for free! Oh, right, yeah. They had a dirty trick up their sleeve. They only went and certified me sane, didn't they?! So before I knew it, I was back on the streets again. But Charlie B. ain't no fucking pillow-biter. Oh, no. So it was time to suck up the free air and see what the world had to offer me.
Bronson: Very funny, boys. Right! It's been a pleasure. Look at you, Dad.
Bronson's Father: Hi, son.
Bronson's Mother: That's right! I'll show you your room, and then we'll have a nice cup of tea. Come on, son. That's right!
Bronson: Oh, look, it's me! I was very small. Where's all my stuff?
Bronson's Mother: Well, we couldn't bring everything, Michael. That was Luton.
Bronson: What, all of it?
Bronson's Mother: Well, we kept some.
Bronson: Where's my bed? No, not this one -- the other one I had when I had when I was a child.
Bronson's Mother: We couldn't keep everything, Michael; we don't have the room.
Bronson: Well, is my bed still in Luton.
Prisoner Bronson: Luton... never changes, does it? Now my mom once said, "Stick with what you know." And I knew two things. I knew Luton and I knew Uncle Jack. And Uncle Jack knew everyone. And anyone he didn't know wasn't worth knowing.
Train Passenger: Going on holiday?
Bronson: No. Something better than that. I wanna make a name for myself.
Train Passenger: Oh, yeah? Doing what?
Bronson: I'm gonna kill the Queen.
Train Passenger: So you're off to London, then?
Bronson: No. Luton's where it's at.
Andy Love: Alright, Charlie. Something to read? Right after that, got another Jilly Cooper. Tell me, how'd you get on with "Who Dares Wins" then? I've heard it's really good.
Bronson: SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH!
Love: No problem, Charlie--
Bronson: Shut the FUCK UP, you cunt! Shut it! Right! I've got a librarian up here... and he's in a lot of trouble! So I think you should send someone up to help him out, don't you?
Guard: For fuck's sake, he's at it again! He's got a hostage, get the governor!
Bronson: Right. Sit down. Not there! On the fucking karzy, you cunt! What happens now?
Love: Um, uh... I don't know.
Bronson: Well, I guess we'll just have to... we'll have to wait. Just as well, I can wait all day. I'm not going anywhere. You're not going anywhere, you fucking cunt. We'll just fucking wait. I'll wait. Um... Hello?
Prison Governor: Hello, Charlie. Can you hear me?
Bronson: Of course I can fucking hear you, there's nothing wrong with my hearing, you cunt.
Prison Governor: What is it, Charlie?
Bronson: "What is it, Charlie?" Well, I am sat here with, um... What's your name?
Love: Love.
Bronson: "Love"?!
Love: Uh, Andy Love.
Bronson: Oh, Andy Love! Yeah? Right, I'm sitting here... with Andy Love. And I'm gonna snap his fucking neck and stick his head up his arse if I don't get what I want!
Prison Governor: What do you want?
Bronson: What do I want...? What have you got?
Prison Governor: Well... that's entirely up to you, isn't it?
Bronson: We're done, you can fuck off now. Alright, Andy Love... Are you a family man?
Love: Yeah. I've got two kids.
Bronson: Two kids, yeah?
Love: Wha-- Wha-- What are you doing?
Bronson: "What am I doing"? What does it fucking look like I'm doing, you cunt?
Love: Look, look, let's-- let's talk.
Bronson: No, I'm done talking. Fucking pointless.
Love: Wait, uh--
Bronson: Wait for what? Alright! That's it!
Love: What are you gonna do now?
Bronson: What am I gonna do? I'm gonna put my fuckin' body paint on. That's what I'm gonna do. Get my body armor, alright? Fucking hell. Let's have it. Go on, get some of that rubbed on my back, you cunt.
Love: What?
Bronson: Get it on my fucking back now! Rub it in, you slag! Go on, rub it in. That's right, we ain't got all day. Rub it right down my back. Ooh, and down my back and my legs. Back of my legs, on my ass. On me arse cheeks. On my ass. NOT IN MY ASS, YOU FUCKING HOMO! On it! Go on, sir, quickly! Quicker, quicker! Quicker! Quicker! QUICKER! QUICKER! QUICKER! QUICKER! QUICKER! FUCK OFF! SIT DOWN, IN THE CORNER! DON'T MOVE, CUNT! Now hang on to your fillings, alright? 'Cause it's gonna get fucking hairy. 
Guard: Come here!
Bronson: Fuck off, you cunt!
Prison Governor: Alright, Charlie Bronson. I'll get straight to the point. We have been sailing rather close to the wind of late, and I detect a rocky patch. I had hoped that you coming onto the special unit with us might make you want to stop this hostage taking business. This attacking of my officers.
Webber: We can handle this prick, sir.
Prison Governor: Webber, will you please take the rest of the afternoon off? Thank you. Be in my office at 6:15 sharp tomorrow morning. Thank you, goodbye.
Webber: Yes, sir.
Prison Governor: Look, I'm not in the habit of making deals with prisoners. For your recent escapade, you will be punished again. Block. If you have absolutely no interest whatsoever in yourself, then you leave us at a bit of a loss with regards what to do with you. What would you like us to do, Charlie Bronson?
Bronson: Fuck off.
Prison Governor: You're pitiful. You know that? And I can promise you this: if you further this mindless behavior, if you continue to act in this nihilistic and Godless fashion, you will die inside.
Phil Danielson: Un, dos, tres... Cuatro! Como esta?
Prisoner: What?
Phil: What's this?
Prisoner: A painting.
Phil: Good for you. Now what do you mean? Talk to me.
Prisoner: Uh, sun, sea, sand, naked women, perfect.
Phil: Whose is this? Eh, whose is this? Come on, own up -- who did the crime? Hm-hm! Bombs a way. I'm not your art teacher for nothing, you know. Very interesting, Charlie. Hm.
Bronson: "Interesting"?
Phil: Hm, yeah! It's interesting.
Bronson: What does that mean?
Phil: What does "interesting" mean?
Bronoson: Mm-hm.
Phil: "Interesting"'s good! Bravado! You know? You know, you can't pin it down. Can't compute. You can't tie that up in a nice little pink bow.
Bronson: No, you can't pin me down, mate.
Phil: Pajaros!
Bronson: You fucking what?
Phil: "Birds". Birds, Charlie. I'm learning Spanish. Español.
Bronson: Oh. Oh, are you?
Phil: Olé.
[Bronson laughs]
Phil: Lot of birds in your work, Charlie.
Bronson: Well, I don't really get to see much through... bit of birds and bars.
Phil: Pajaros.
Bronson: Pajaros.
Phil: I know, mate. Here's an idea for your: find that piece of you, Charles. That piece that doesn't belong here.
Bronson: Hah! Fuckin' hell.
Webber: Prisoner BT1314 Bronson, sir!
Prison Governor: Good afternoon, Bronson. Well, Mr. Daniel here tells me that you've been doing extraordinarily well in your creative endeavors. Champions a "budding Magritte". 
Phil: That's right, yeah.
Prison Governor: You know, we've been holding these artist materials for you, sent in by your cousin Lorraine. Well, now that we're rather sadly having to consider the future of the arts facility, I don't see any reason why you shouldn't be allowed these materials now. Should help tremendously with your work. Mr. Danielson really has got great confidence in your cooperation, your responsibility, your ability to interact within the group. I strongly advise that you continue to follow this path. And I look forward to seeing some of this wonderful work I've heard so much about.
Phil: Gov-- Governor, Cha-- Charlie's actually brought something for you to have a look at now if you... if you'd li... Charlie, give me that. That's for you.
Prison Governor: Thank you! If you give it to Webber, I'll be able to have a look at it later.
Phil: Thank you.
Webber: Right then, Bronson. What are you waiting for, son? Let's go, move it! Move it! I said, let's go. Move it!
Phil: Oh, sorry -- Webber, that's for you, mate.
Phil: He's a star fucker, that one. I'll make sure he looks at that painting, mate. Don't you worry about that. Review the unit-pfft! Honest to God, though, Charlie, and I'll tell you this straight, I wouldn't be surprised if they started to discuss your release date. I mean, look, it's just my opinion. It's not necessarily the opinion of others. But you know, if there's one thing I am, I am a very good judge of character. Yep. Sí. Sí. Sí sí sí. You'll get a call, mate. You will. You know why? You're a brilliant artist. Bueno. Buenísimo. I'm so excited, mate. I'm proud as punch, 'cause you are a fucking star. Guv's a cunt! He is. Fuck him. Can't stand the wanker. Just keep your head down and I'm absolutely positivo that we can do this. We can, mate!
Bronson: What do you mean, "we"?
Phil: We-no. I'm just saying-. No no no, Charlie. Charles. Don't misunderstand me, mate. What I'm saying is you... you are finally gonna get what you've always wanted.
Bronson: What do you know about what I fucking want? What happened to my tea, Phil?
Phil: Sorry, mate. I'm such a cunt. I completely forgot. Two for you. Two for me. And then we have a cup of tea.
Prison Governor: Charlie? What is it you want now?
Bronson: Music.
Prison Governor: I don't see how that's gonna help the situation.
Bronson: I'LL FUCKING KILL HIM! I SWEAR IT!
Prison Governor: Bennett. Get me some music on now, please.
Bennett: Yes, Guv!
Phil: Here, Charlie. Not feeling very well now, mate...
Bronson: Oh, yeah. That's fucking piece of me. Right, that's enough! He's had enough! Get him out of here. Go on, get him the fuck out of here, he's had enough! Come on, you fucking cunts! No class tomorrow, eh, Phil? RIGHT!
Category:Transcripts