(VO) D'you know what?
Every f*ck' story about
Belfast starts like this.
(series of explosions)
But not this one and don't
be acting the f*ck' balloon,
that's not the start.
This is the start.
With my best mate, Naoise,
when he was a wee baby,
and his ma, Dolores,
out in ma nature...
This wasn't his ma's idea
at all.
Naoise's da, Arlo,
well, he wanted his firstborn
baptised here
at this secret Mass Rock.
It was a tribute to the
Irish Catholics who,
just a few generations ago,
gave the middle finger to
British rule by sneaking here
to practise their own religion
and speak their own language.
(helicopter)
Except the peelers went
and thought
they'd uncovered themselves
an IRA training camp.
(helicopter louder)
So on the day wee baby Naoise
was supposed to be taken
by the light of Christ,
instead he got the full beams
of an RUC chopper.
(muffled shrieks)
f*ck off!!!
(helicopter fading)
(VO) I mean, what f*cking
chance did the wee boy have?
techno
Powerful
Me and Naoise, we got our
first taste for drugs
at Ireland's most infamous
criminal finishing school.
Powerful
(sirens)
Stop! Stop there!
Powerful
(congregation coughing)
(coughing)
Next Sunday, that congregation
doubled.
Powerful, powerful
That's drugs for you -
they bring you closer to God.
For Naoise and me, they were
our f*cking calling.
and as Mass Rocks proved
nothing gets between us Taigs
and our religion.
(dogs barking) (sirens)
(loud bellow)
Didn't matter what community
in the north of Ireland
you came from,
we could always find
common ground
in a love for throwin' sh*t
at the Peelers.
And as for Naoise,
he was off learning
that public transport
doesn't mix well
with ketamine.
(distorted techno music playing)
(music stops)
As for myself, tonight
I learnt what it's like
getting bitten by a dog
wiped on MDMA.
It feels... (dog snarls)
...f*cking mental.
(sirens)
Okay.
(school bell)
(chairs scrape back)
(sigh)
(news)
Northern Ireland's government
has in the last hour collapsed
over failure to agree on
an Irish Language Act
giving the minority language
equal legal status to English.
Many republicans see the
language as an expression
of their political identity.
They say it's a matter
of civil rights.
(interviewee) The Irish
language is my heart and soul.
If it was the colour of my skin
and you could easily identify
me as being of a different
colour, and the DUP said,
'We can't give equal rights
to this guy',
I think the issue would
be clearer.'
(cheering and applause)
(phone buzzing)
Hello.
Yes, it is.
What... Now?
Nothing but a hood.
H double O D.
Lowlife scum.
Waste of f*cking space.
Do I look like I want to read
(speaking Irish)
Why don't you just speak
the Queen's English?
You...
(VO) This was a fair question,
though rudely asked.
For me to respond to this
sectarian prick in Irish,
I'd have to say something
along the lines of...
(speaking Irish)
Which means:
'May the lowest stone in the
sea be on top of your head'.
You do get there a lot quicker
with...
(water splashing)
Stop that, they'll catch
a cold!
I'm proud to have learnt
my irregular verbs
on a wall covered in shite!
-Aye, your own shite!
-Aye.
And you know what that shite
smelt like?
Freedom.
Not when I've been in the
toilet after you it doesn't.
What'll the next class be,
Grade 1 tunnelling?
Yoga actually, Ma.
Leave them be to get on
with their real homework.
Catch yourself on!
Pity your ma, Naoise.
Born with Irish in her mouth.
Now disowns her own
mother tongue...
Get you home, your mammy will
think we've kidnapped you.
A wee operation for youse.
I want you to sit down tonight
and watch an American Western
on the telly.
But here's the thing:
Watch it from the Indian's
point of view, ok?
And remember:
(VO)
And then Naoise's da was gone.
Like, gone gone.
Turns out since leaving jail
Arlo was having an affair with
blowing up anything British.
He blew this up.
And this.
And...
Alright, that one didn't
go off.
Anyway, three years after
going on the run,
Arlo fell to his death
from a fishing boat.
(splash)
Or, if you believe
the peelers, he didn't.
With his dead body
never found,
Arlo couldn't be proved dead,
and with his alive body
never found,
Arlo couldn't be proved alive.
The dead Arlo had his funeral.
And the alive Arlo remained
on the run.
And to this day, just having
met the man
was enough to have some lump
spitting in your beak over it.
I mean, Arlo was right
about one thing:
Cowboys... were proper c**ts.
(door opens)
Move!
This is Mr O Dochartaigh.
(door closes)
He is an Irish interpreter.
I'm not...
-D'you speak Irish?
-Aye.
That'll do.
What's he saying?
Just discussing the furniture.
So, eh, what are we
doing here?
Resisting arrest,
public nuisance,
and unless he can
somehow prove
he can't speak the language
of his home country,
then we can throw in
obstructing the police
in the execution
of their duty.
Am I supposed
to translate that?
I think he understood
just fine.
(suspenseful music)
(voices on TV) (door closes)
(door slamming)
What's this mean?
'I got up this morning,
well, at the end of the day.
Before I leave the bed,
a spliff and a cup of tea,
'Now I've a big night ahead
of me because of yesterday,
I spent all my DLA on MDMA.'
I want you to look for any
reference to an Arlo...
...O Caireallain.
(speaking Irish)
What's he saying?
(loud smack)
Aye... eh... he says
he doesn't have to prove
Irish is his only language
because
absence of evidence
is not evidence of absence.
It's just a basic principle
of modern justice.
-He said that?
-Yeah.
And he says that, furthermore,
and notwithstanding
the aforementioned,
he sees no reason to prove
that he cannot speak English
because he is here asserting
his right to speak Irish.
(loud smack)
Hmm!
(suspenseful music)
(beat rising to crescendo)
Sit down!
(door opens)
(guttural cry)
(grunts)
(TV voices)
(reflective music)
(traffic sounds)
(rap beat)
(rustling)
(beat stops)
(electronic sounds)
(beat resumes)
(rapping in Irish)
(music fades)
(VO) What d'you call a Provo
that's become
a yoga instructor?
Bobby Sandals.
You bring a stolen car here?
Here?
So you bought this, did you?
You're putting the whole
operation at risk...
Every day I am not captured
is a psychological victory
against the occupiers,
that's the operation.
What's this, drugs?
'Think I don't have eyes in
Belfast? I hear things.
I know where you'll end up.
You'll end up face down
in an alley.
You don't speak Irish.
You might know the words
but you don't understand
the language.
It is the light that guides us
towards our freedom.
Those who see it,
stand up for it.
You don't stand for f*ck all.
(waves crashing)
No, she wasn't.
I need you to do something
for me.
Arrange a memorial service.
For me. It's 10 years next
month since, y'know...
These peelers won't let me
rest in peace.
I need something to remind
our community I'm dead,
make it harder for these
RUC b*stards
to keep behaving
like I'm alive.
I thought maybe you'd be doing
something anyway, but...
What did you expect me to do?
(sigh)
If you got pulled over
and they found that...
Use your head, lad.
(door slams)
sombre music
(loud rap beat)
(VO) They called our generation
the Ceasefire Babies
as if our only defining
feature was
we were not the sh*t that came
before us.
Maybe they were right.
Maybe we were only ever gonna
be the moment after the moment
just as f*cked up and
miserable as the last
only with less chance of gettin'
-blown up to escape it all.
-(laughs)
But we still found ways
to escape it all...
(beat rises to crescendo)
You've heard of
intergenerational trauma, right?
-Right.
-Our history...
-Our history has become...
-Our biology.
It's like the trauma
our ancestors suffered
...has inserted itself...
...has actually inserted itself
into our genetic code.
Post-traumatic stress
disorder.
-Psychological...
-Reverberations...
Reverberations.
Reverberations.
A.D.H.D. O.D.D.
-The Troubles?
-The Troubles?
(loud explosions)
I've got f*cking troubles.
I just pray that this medicine
grants me some relief.
D'you not think I'd be better
going straight in with 500mg?
Is there... something else?
I've got a bit of a problem...
...down south...
...with my mickey.
Ok.
-It's political.
-Your problem?
My mickey.
See, I've no problem
pulling birds.
I can do that no bother,
anytime.
upbeat music
(girl laughs)
LIAM: This isn't the first bap
you've buttered.
Just can't get the wee man
to stand to attention...
Go on.
(moans)
(woman squealing)
(bedsprings creaking)
Without a King Billy
loving Prod.
And there's this weird wee
Tourettes thing before I...
(groans)
-(loud smacks)
-(thud)
...until the other week I met
this wee ride, Georgia.
(gasping)
Say it again!
Again!
Don't you dare c*m!
I wanna blow you like
a Brighton hotel.
(gasping)
romantic music
Have you thought about...
...seeing a priest?
(music stops abruptly)
(someone playing scales
on fife)
(tense silence)
(spaghetti western music)
(music speeds up)
Oi!
(clamouring)
(The Prodigy:
Smack My b*tch Up)
Female Arabic singer
vocalising
(car radio) This is a community
who live their lives
through Irish
through the schooling,
youth clubs, arts projects,
through the GAA clubs.
And for them, there's been
a very, very strong...'
Change my pitch up!
(triumphant yell)
Top man!
What the f*ck...!
-f*ck!
-Here!
Oh bollocks!
(gaming arcade sounds)
(roller door opening)
(roller door closing)
backing track
(sighs)
(sparkle sound)
(sniffing)
(loud beat)
Pissed off,
Sittin' around,
No money in our pockets
for going out,
We're sick and tired
of being skint,
but that's all gonna change
tonight.
Me and Mo Chara,
We're making plans,
And there's gonna be
a downpour, oh bam, bam, bam,
Soon we'll be drowning
in cash,
Well-earned of course,
young renegade,
Run around, trying to grab
what I can,
Look, Mo Chara,
there's a security van,
Now, look, man, don't wanna
do you no harm,
Just listen carefully
and I'm sure it'll be grand.
'Cause my friend, Mo Chara,
he's a bit of a psycho,
The type of fella loses
the head at a typo,
So whatever you do,
do whatever he says,
(rapping in Irish)
(in English) Mgla
get the noose
I'll proper introduce myself
I'm Mo Chara,
and I'm not well,
Are yiz ready for abuse?
But first, I'm sure
you're thinking, aw look,
I seem decent and clever,
Don't I feel bad
for this ever?
Guilty conscience,
no thanks,
I meditate and have
plenty of wanks,
I never spare a second
thought for c**ts in suits,
When the revolution comes
I'm first out to loot, yeah!
New guds (new guds),
happy days (happy days),
So much comfort when
you don't have to pay,
And when I'm happily tripped
in designer gear,
Then all of you c**ts are
getting one behind the ear.'
(fades)
(silence)
(exhales)
Something like that?
Guilty conscience, no thanks
(no thanks)
I meditate and have...
(loud beat)
(roller door opening)
New guds, (new guds),
Happy days, (happy days)
So much comfort
when you don't have to pay,
And when I'm happily tripped
in designer gear,
Then all of you c**ts are
getting one behind the ear.
Yeah, yeah, yeah
(laughing)
(music ends)
(discordant acoustic music)
(rising cacophony)
(school bell rings)
(indistinct chatter)
(screeching)
(roller door opening)
music on repeat
(gasping)
Don't you touch me,
you filthy Taig!
You've interned my d*ck!
Now for the hard
interrogation...
(groaning)
That's right -
confess, confess...
Never.
Spill your secrets inside me,
you Fenian c**t!
(gasping)
Northern Ireland!
-North of Ireland!
-Northern Ireland!
North of Ireland!
Northern Ireland!
The North of Ireland!
Oh!
Celtic... are... f*cking...
shite!
Leave Celtic out of this!
Wait till I get onto the Pope.
(exhales)
(sighs)
soft music
Right. I suppose I may go here
before your f*cking Black and
Tan da walks through the door.
I live with my aunt.
Well, go on then.
I'm going.
This can never work.
Suits me.
Maybe.
Or maybe you're scared.
Scared of you?
Of not me.
Of being with someone who
might ditch you for you -
not just what foot
you dig with.
Bollocks.
Ok then, tell me something
about you.
Something you've never told
anyone else.
I'm a rapper.
(snorts) Stop spoofing.
I'm a rapper - Irish hip-hop.
What the f*ck is that?
Hip-hop - in Irish.
-Why Irish?
-Why not?
When's your next gig?
Soon.
Let us listen to
something then.
Maybe next time.
What makes you think
there'll be a next time?
Here, what's your rap
group called?
beat
Kneecap?
(muffled digging)
suspenseful beat
(whistles)
(distant shoveling)
f*ck me, I never saw
the b*stards comin'...
(VO) When I said I'd booked us
a gig what I meant was,
my Uncle Peadar said we could
play in his bar
if I sorted some old folk
smoke for his gout.
JJ only agreed to DJ
if he could set up his decks
in the store cupboard,
just in case he was spotted
by any pupils.
His paranoia was not helped
by his new love affair
with the 'schniff'.
rap beat
(in Irish)
(English accent) Young man,
we caught you
damaging public property.
You are coming to the station
so we can talk properly.'
(music ends)
(feedback from mike)
moody music
upbeat vibe
(VO) You know, in West Belfast,
the only thing worse than
getting arrested and charged
is getting arrested
and not charged.
(music stops)
This yours?
(exhales)
Game over! (stupid laugh)
Well, well, well, well,
well, well, well, well...
Look who it is here, look,
Bone th*gs and No Harmony!
(snickering)
I hear you got scooped.
-What they charge you with?
-f*ck all.
They just gave me a hiding.
Or maybe you're just
a dirty 10 pound tout.
Sorry. Who would I be touting
on exactly?
Us.
Who the f*ck are 'Us'?
Us is us. We are us.
The Radical Republicans
Against Drugs.
That's right.
How the f*ck do you
pronounce that?
-R-RAD.
-R-RAD. R-RAD
Aye, that's right. R-RAD.
We're Rrad.
What, like you've all got
a f*cking s-s-stutter?
f*ck up you, tout.
What have you ever done
to tout about?
Plenty, actually.
We're an active f*cking unit.
Not like the Republican
Volunteers Against Drugs.
Or New Republicans
Against Drugs.
Or New Republicans
Against Drugs.
Or them.
All they ever did
was f*cking slabber.
Don't think I don't know
what youse two are up to.
Runnin' around the woods
sellin' gear like druggie...
f*ck'... eh... wombles. Huh?
Your da will be turning
in his grave.
Peelers say he ain't dead -
it was in the papers.
Word is he ain't dead.
Never mind the word.
Brits don't get to decide
when Irish patriots are dead.
We'll decide when we're dead.
God rest his soul.
Right, tell me
who's supplying you.
(scoffs)
(VO) The truth was, the biggest
drug supplier in West Belfast
was called The Postman.
That wasn't some cool
underworld nickname.
That was his job.
52 f*ck' years.
(whistles)
Some people say the
worldwide web
is the greatest invention
of the 21st century.
Those people have never been
on the Dark Web.
We bought MDMA from Holland,
Ketamine from India,
and Mephedrone from Vietnam.
They arrived disguised
as bath salts, flower seeds,
DVDs, kids toys...
Here, spaceman!
I'm talking to you!
When you gonna get my ball?
When you gonna give me a go
on your f*cking hurl?
Go ahead then.
(groans)
(VO) I'll just skip the bit
where we get
our bollocks knocked in.
(loud kick)
(gasping)
(Irish traditional
rallying song)
O-ro, we welcome
your return
O-ro, we welcome
your return
O-ro, we welcome
your return
Now that summer is coming.
O-ro, we welcome
your return
O-ro, we welcome
your return
O-ro, we welcome
your return
Now that summer is coming.
(singing continues)
(faint music from earphones)
(singing peters out)
(muffled Kneecap song)
Drink all night
with Ronan Mac An Ri
because f*ck the rules
of RTE.
(louder)
R.I.G.H.T.S.
Don't give a f*ck about
any Garda,
R.I.G.H.T.S.
Don't give a f*ck about
any Garda,
A joint lit,
I'm way too quick
Won't be standing
around too long
(man rapping in Irish)
(faint singing from bar)
(clamouring)
Here.
Here. Here. Here.
(snorting)
(coughing)
It's not like we never had
a line of ket before, is it?
(distorted voice)
It'll be 20 minutes
before it kicks in properly...
(voice of Gerry Adams)
..and by then we'll be halfway
done. No need to panic.
What are youse flippin'
staring at?
(stoned music)
(Gerry Adams)
No need to panic!
(echoes)
No need to panic!
'Round and 'round,
Big skins,
down at the mini-mart,
Few loose Capri-suns
and a Mars bar,
Big dirty joint and
I'm all set, round and 'round,
Like my grinder, yeah,
Busy wee man when I'm on tour,
No top, moshpit,
sweaty ba*ls, encore.
Another day, same sh*t,
Pass the stuff,
I'll put one together,
Moglai the builder,
Welcome to the latest,
green branch of Volunteers.
24 hours,
morning until night,
f*ck all else to do
'round here,
Back to the shop to get
a pack of raws.
Caught in a loop
Like I'm tryna read a book
Same page over and over
and over and over...
Ah f*ck, let's watch a movie!
Caught in a loop,
Nothing to do,
It's been too long,
I need an encore
and sweaty ba*ls too.
(English accent) What are we
gonna do tonight?
Same thing we do every night.
-Try to take...
-Drugs.
(crowd cheering)
(kerfuffle)
(music stops)
(door opens)
How many times
I gotta tell you?
He's either dead or dead to me.
Same difference!
Can I come in?
Got a warrant?
You look like sh*t.
Always did think you'd make
a good Avon lady.
You've no shoes on the rack.
Why have you no shoes
on the rack?
What does that got to do
with anything?
Not much. Only I've been in
this game long enough to know
you can still be a victim
of men like Arlo
without a crime
to match it to.
Consider this here
as the knock at the door
before the knock at the door.
Maybe it's their door you
should be knocking on.
Oh, so you want the police's
help now?
Just an observation.
(Detective Ellis) Well, whilst
we're making observations,
him and his wee pals' music,
it's drawing attention from
all the wrong places,
and I count myself among
those places.
Bloody kids, eh?
(Detective Ellis) And when
it all falls down, and it will,
I'm going to be knocking
at your door
with one choice
to dig him out of the rubble.
I won't enjoy it, but don't
doubt for a second I'll do it.
(teakettle whistling)
Remind me, how d'you take
your tea again?
In a cup or straight
in the face?
(broken glass)
(loud beat)
(VO) Arlo's was a strange sort
of memorial service,
given a third of the people
thought he was dead...
He was taken too soon.
...a third of them thought
he was alive...
It's as if he's never gone.
..and the other third were
undercover peelers.
You don't know me but I'm
an old, old friend of Arlo.
Can I buy you a drink?
(camera click)
(clears throat)
(clears throat loudly)
We, the Radical Republicans
Against Drugs,
are gathered to honour the
memory of Arlo O Caireallain.
When I was a wee boy, the
actions of Arlo O Caireallain
against the Imperialist State
were a lesson to me
to follow my dreams,
especially because my dreams
were about k*lling the Brits.
He was like a da to me,
so he was. (voice breaks)
(threatening tone)
In recent months
we have seen a rise
in anti-social behaviour
and drugs.
Now we will not tolerate
these parasites
SUCKING THE LIFE
out of this community
with their hedonistic
and toxic lifestyle.
Let us be clear now, okay?
Anybody found to be involved
in the ill*gal trade of drugs
or encouraging their use
through their actions,
are to be considered
legitimate targets.
And it's what Arlo O Caireallain
would have wanted.
(mutters)
Where's the...?
You were meant to give me that
in the car on the way up.
(g*n c*ck)
(menacing sound effect)
(grunts)
(beat quickens)
-(wee Liam in Irish)
-(clicks)
-(wee Naoise)
-(clicks)
-(wee Liam)
-(clicks)
(wee Naoise)
(loud shot)
(shot)
(laughs)
(siren)
(car door slams)
Is everything okay, officer?
Mind stepping out of the car
for a breathalyser, sir?
-He isn't driving.
-(sarcastically) Isn't he?
Really?
She doesn't know, does she?
Know what?
What about your school?
Do the students call you
Mr DJ Provai, or...?
Harder!
At the station, is that
when it started?
(machine beeps)
I feel like I discovered
the Beatles.
If the Beatles were sh*t.
What is it, some sort of early
onset midlife crisis?
Some men buy a Porsche, you
join a Republican rap group?
Why are you doing this?
(machine beeps)
Pass.
You have a life, a career,
a future...
Remember I can take it all
away from you like that...
Message from on high:
what those hoods have
to say
this city doesn't need to be
hearing, d'you understand?
(defiant beat)
C'mon.
Thanks for your time,
drive carefully.
There's a lot of lowlife scum
around.
I'm a H double-O D,
lowlife scum, that's what
they say about me
A dog with a job,
what the f*ck is that?
When our poor Micky's
just sitting in the flat?
Sippin' on his cans
and smokin' rollies,
'Cause all the best jobs
are taken by the dolies
Squidgy black, yeah craic,
and my spliff every day,
Get the facts, not assess,
Get that note off my car.
It's gonna be a bloodbath,
It's gonna be a bloodbath,
It's gonna be a bloodbath,
(It's gonna be a bloodbath)
Throw a hook, a jab,
and a boot,
I sneak a quick toot,
Then I fire another boot,
For callin' me a fruit,
For tryna take the loot,
But Billy won't be bothering
any more hoods.
'Now for some questions:
Do you want it in your chest,
or your knees or your head,
DJ Provai has the lead,
You can beg, you can plead,
You can tell us what we need.
You can change your name but
you're all the f*cking same!
(VO) Turns out a leafleting
campaign
about how your band gives out
free drugs
really drives ticket sales.
No more pay-to-play-with-hash,
people were paying us cash.
Equals a c*ck brave
for unleashing the beast,
He's beating some fella.
f*cked in to the back of
the jeep,
He falls asleep,
He does it every week.
Get the Brits out now,
A one-way ticket, please,
I've lost my bus pass!
I'm a H double-O D,
Lowlife scum, that's what
they say about me,
I'm a H double-O D,
Lowlife scum, that's what
they say about me,
I'm a H double-O D,
Lowlife scum, that's what
they say about me,
I'm a H double-O D,
Lowlife scum, that's what
they say about me,
(whistles)
(song ends)
(slap)
-What the f*ck was that?
-What the f*ck was that?
Brits Out?!
I've said far worse things
than that to you!
-That's different!
-Sorry!
Hold on. You're giving me more
stick for telling youse to leave
than what I just got for
coming here in the first place.
You don't tell me to leave,
I was f*cking born here!
I don't mean you, Georgia.
'Brits Out'
as in British State, MI5...
Then why didn't you say
that then?
Because it's the chorus
of a f*cking song,
not the 1916 Proclamation!
The wha'?
Don't give me that look 'cos
I don't know some Taig shite!
Who the f*ck are you calling
a Taig?
You! Or should I get up on stage
and say it to the whole world?
You seemed just f*cking fine
in that wee crowd.
Aye! Well, what do you care?
Oh I don't f*cking care.
I never wanna see you again.
I never wanna see you again!
What's happenin', Georgia?
f*ck up.
(TV) We have bigger issues
to tackle in our society
than fawning over a language
spoken by less people
in Northern Ireland
than Polish.
CAITLIN: But you say that as if
it's something to be proud of.
That the native language
of this island
has been driven to
near-extinction.
Type the name Kneecap
into the internet.
So-called Irish language
rappers promoting drug use,
anti-social behaviour
and violence.
One even wears a balaclava
and calls himself DJ Provai.
This is the true face of
the Irish language.
I wouldn't read too much
into that.
Well, if you can't be bothered
to go...
Widow.
Widow.
Oh aye, that lovely Detective
Ellis dropped it 'round.
Why do you think?
I'll take care of it.
You'll do nothing of the sort.
Doing nothing has allowed
our son to be dealing drugs.
That's unacceptable.
This operation will
not fail...
'Operation?'
There is no operation!
Jesus, you're like one of
those Japanese soldiers,
stumbling around some jungle
50 years after the w*r ended.
I sacrificed my life
for the cause.
You sacrificed?
You left us in a prison cell
so you wouldn't have
to go to one.
That lad is becoming something
despite you.
And if you've turned up here
with a mind to get in his way
I'll show you a woman
going to w*r.
Aye.
(door opens, then shuts)
(footsteps) (door opening)
(tense music)
(creaking)
(beat quickens)
(rises towards crescendo)
(VO) Aye so...
...turns out me and Georgia did
want to see each other again.
Auntie!
How can that be
your f*ck' auntie?
-I know, she's a peeler.
-I know she's a f*ck' peeler.
She's gonna sh**t me dead
in your f*ck' hallway!
(laughs) No, she won't.
Unless I tell her you broke in
and...
That's not even f*ck' funny!
(laughs)
Right.
(exhales)
Take it off.
(tense music)
(quick footsteps)
(door slamming)
-He's using you.
-Maybe I'm using him.
He's trying to get at me.
(scoffs) Don't flatter
yourself. He didn't even know.
You believe that?
-Who is he to you?
-Nobody.
Then what's the problem?
The same one that's always
been here.
You mix green and orange
you get brown.
Nobody likes brown.
Some people like brown.
I LIKE BROWN!
Will you take some more soup?
No. I found it
a bit tasteless.
(TV) A Belfast band has been
criticised
for chanting anti-British
slogans at a city centre bar
where Prince William had
spoken 24 hours previously.'
(reporter) The band involved
are called Kneecap.
The incident is making
headlines,
and they've been condemned
by the DUP.'
(players shouting)
(upbeat music)
(VO) There are 80,000 native
Irish speakers in Ireland.
Only 6,000 of them live in
the north of Ireland.
Three of us have
become rappers.
I don't know if we've become
popular by talent
or if it was just our turn.
It's a weird thing suddenly
being seen
when you come from a place
that never even
wanted you to f*cking exist.
I guess sometimes,
change happens on the down low.
Too little to notice until
one day, you can't not notice
and by then everything's
changed.
Including you.
And sometimes change hits
like a filthy bass line.
A boulder being pushed
over a cliff.
You can't control what it's
gonna hit on the way down,
but you can be sure as f*ck,
it's gonna wreck something.
(faint dance beat)
(knocking)
(door opening and closing)
Hi, guys.
My name's Lorna,
I'm a radio plugger.
That gig was deadly.
I'm meeting one of my contacts
at RTE tomorrow.
I'd love to take them a copy
of your music.
Maybe get you
a Track of the Week.
So whaddya think?
Could you get me something
by then?
You mixed up that coke
and ket again, didn't you?
So I'm just gonna...
leave this here...
(whispers)
...and I'm gonna go.
f*ck...
(VO) And off to the studio
we went...
...or at least, what was left
of it.
(sirens)
Those R.RAD b*stards!
(loud beat)
(door being forced)
f*cking yes.
Bom -
Ba-bom bom -
(beat)
I've got a point to be
proven to myself,
Sitting too long
getting mouldy on the shelf
-'Cos I'm too far gone...
-No, no.
Rather be sick in the head
With a little bit of wealth
Sick of taking strangers'
advice
'Cos the decisions people
make for me are dangerous
I'm not gonna listen
from now on
They're doin' it to you
constantly,
An individual is really
what you want to be
You gonna stand out?
Live your fantasy
Before they eat you up, they
put you out to laugh at you.
Don't be pushed back,
Bought for a sucker,
I've got a point to be
proven to myself,
Sitting too long getting
mouldy on the shelf,
Because I'm too far gone
when it comes to mental health,
Rather be sick in the head
with a little bit of wealth
I said to the devil,
Let me be rich instead.
He said: You'll no longer be
skint, but sick in the head
You'll never be in the streets
But you will have issues,
Do you want this for extra
zeros when you're paid?
-Yes
-You're a mad c**t, Mo Chara.
I'll be back for a fat loan
tomorrow,
Never gettin' dressed,
depressed, and now I'm para,
Throwing tantrums in my
mansion, am I embarrassed?
Nah!
Every chance I'm
a little bit crazy
There's no doubt about
me and Mo Chara,
(in English)
When we're smoking
Until it's aw naw!
But we're making up
our own laws
Never getting worried
'bout our own flaws
Kneecap, 3CAG,
We're our own law.
(music stops)
(groans)
f*ck off.
(yawns)
Oh happy days!
(door slams)
(upbeat music)
Oh sh*t!
f*ck. Let's go,
Let's go. f*ck.
(tense music)
Special delivery.
(phone beeps)
You sell drugs.
You sell them for the Radical
Republicans Against Drugs.
A bit off-brand, is it not?
No, it's not actually
and here's why. Listen.
Radical Republicans Against
Drugs are Radical Republicans
before they are Against Drugs.
It's right there in the name.
We're certainly not Radical
Republicans Against Making Money
because being radical,
as your Da was, (voice breaks)
it costs a pretty penny.
The price of Semtex has gone
through the roof I'll tell ya.
Some f*ck are making
a k*lling.
Maybe you shouldn't go about
blowing up garages, then.
Blowing up garages?
We haven't blown up any
garages, have we?
-No.
-What the f*ck you on about?
Look at me, right?
No more music.
Your hear me? HEY!
Youse are drug dealers.
That's all you'll be.
No more music. Alright?
(phone ringing)
(woman singing slow
folk song in Irish)
(singing ends)
(door closes)
(muffled children's voices)
(snorts)
(radio DJ) ...and with talks
to get Stormont
back up and running
still at a deadlock,
today's 'The Red Day'
Irish language rights march,
will further amp up the
pressure on politicians
to find a resolution to the
long running dispute.
(protestors chanting)
Now, it's time for
Track of the Week.
So excited to play you this
song for the first time
on the airwaves...
(bland pop song)
What the f*ck's this sh*t?
Caught my eye
'Concerns were raised around
some sex and drug references'.
(door slams)
(sombre music)
Oh f*ck!
(music builds)
f*ck!
f*ck!
(more urgently) f*ck! f*ck!
f*ck! f*ck! f*ck! f*ck! f*ck!
(VO) There are some things
in life you just don't cross:
motorways, picket lines,
and West Belfast ma's.
News of RTE2's decision
was soon flying down The Falls
quicker than a joyrider
in a Mitsubishi Evo.
With each telling, the snub
got more and more heinous...
...and they were promised
to be Track of the Week.
f*ck the f*ck off!
This Dublin music executive
tore the record contract up
and called them
all 'bin bombers'!
(VO) Hunger strikes.
Dirty protests.
When it comes to a good
ould campaign,
us Fenians do it better
than anyone.
Is that RTE?
-...discrimination...
-...censorship...
Don't make me come down there.
(VO) West Belfast protested
our persecution
by purchasing our tickets.
Thanks to Naoise's ma,
we'd sold out quicker
than Michael f*cking Collins,
but we'll not go there.
There aren't many things that
unite the Irish media, Peelers
and dissident Republicans,
but trying to stop our music
had gone and done it.
Sure, f*ck it,
at least we had DJ Provai
back behind the decks
where he belongs.
(rap) Gets further away
Every time I try to grab it
Underneath all the
chattering there's heaven
Got a little peek one day
made me feel like I was seven
I know it exists but I can't
stop getting pissed
One more thing
I'll be adding to the lyric
No better publicity than
getting banned, eh, lads?
It's gonna be bunged out there
tonight, so it is.
Anyway, you're late -
so chop chop.
Because of youse.
(crowd) Kneecap!
Kneecap! Kneecap!
(crowd roaring in background)
(hip-hop beat)
(wild cheering)
(muffled singing)
Out tonight,
cannot f*ck' wait,
Mici Dainin is on the way,
24 Carlsberg
gin and tonic,
That's the way I leave
Big bag of weed to end
the night,
For the comedown
Gum in your mouth,
Stop your jaw
getting destroyed.
Shower and a shite
Music in the background,
up full whack,
Shaven my ba*ls,
that's my sack,
Now I've an STI,
didn't do a check.
Knock on the door.
It's Postman Ket.
Three consonants and a vowel
And we don't pay VAT.
We don't cut the gear
'cos that's pure cat.
We take out a strap
Because we're Kneecap!
Woke up this morning,
Well, at the end of the day,
Before I leave bed,
spliff and a cup of tea,
Big night ahead of me
after yesterday,
Spent all my DLA
on MDMA.
Get on the phone
to Moglai Bap.
'What's the craic?
How'd you get the clap?
Never mind,
We're going out tonight',
10 kilos of coke
on Moglai Bap
Almost at the party,
I'm already buzzin'
Me I love double-dropping
bad boys,
Make sure there's MD
in your bag,
And heed the following
instructions:
Finger in your bag,
buzz on your lips
Knock back a few bombs,
And if there's nothing left?
Get a bump from Mo Chara,
Steal 20 from yer da
Sure what's the harm?
Finger in your bag,
Buzz on your lips
Knock back a few bombs,
And if there's nothing left?
Get a bump from Mo Chara,
Sure what's the harm?
(crowd roaring)
(loud background track)
Finger in your bag,
buzz on your lips
Knock back a few bombs,
And if there's nothing left?
Get a bump off Mo Chara.
Steal 20 from yer da
Sure what's the harm?
(song contd)
(loud dance beat)
(cheering)
(music cuts out)
(crowd cheering)
(wild cheering)
(crowd)
Kneecap! Kneecap! Kneecap!
(voice of Doyle on PA)
You sell drugs, you sell them
for the Radical Republicans
Against Drugs.
Radical Republicans
Against Drugs
are radical Republicans
before they're Against Drugs...
-Is that me?
-What the f*ck?
-Is that me?
-That is f*ck' you.
'We're not Radical Republicans
Against Money
because being radical costs
a pretty penny.'
(snorts)
'And one other thing, right?
No more music.
You're drug dealers.
That's all you'll be.'
(g*nf*re) (crowd screaming)
(indistinct shouting)
(truncheons beating shields)
(truncheons beating shields)
(roaring)
(VO) It was in this moment
JJ showed
he had truly come to embrace
his inner lowlife scumbag
by doing something impulsive,
violent...
...and utterly f*ck'
pointless!
(blows) (groans)
(blow)
(music stops)
(music continues)
(music stops)
(panting)
(slow orchestral music)
FRA: Wait. Wait.
Who's there?
If my son's blood is
to be spilt,
then it should be his own
blood pulling the trigger.
(sobs)
(banging inside car)
(cell door opening)
(cell door slamming)
Leave. Georgia. Alone.
(coughing)
(heavy blow)
Speak English.
You think a garage is the
only thing I can burn down?
(blow)
(roaring)
(groaning in pain)
(woman singing love song)
Don't you wanna?
Don't you wanna
fall in love again?
And it was at this moment
I realised something
about Georgia.
I f*ck' love her!
(cell door opening)
(officer) Oh f*ck...
Leave him, Ma'am.
He's had enough.
(exhales)
(cell door slamming)
(distant dog barking)
MAN 1: Give it to him.
(footsteps approaching)
(g*n c*ck)
Da?
(rapid g*nf*re)
-(moaning)
-(people groaning)
Who the f*ck brings one g*n
to a kneecapping?
What if it jams?
What if the sh**ter decides
to f*cking sh**t you instead?
-(shriek)
-Like that!
Amateur hour.
Take your hoods off.
(gasping)
-That one there's an MI5 tout.
-(shriek)
He's in the pay
of the Special Branch.
(shriek)
You can't be a serious dissie
with judgement like this.
Last man to the end of the
alley gets one behind the ear.
(all groaning)
(moaning and crying)
(sirens approaching)
(sombre music)
(sirens grow louder)
(slow Irish air)
(woman singing traditional
Irish folk song in Irish)
(VO) Every word spoken
is a b*llet...
I reckon everyone's fired
enough b*ll*ts by now
without the need to be
sh**ting metaphorical ones.
Maybe not firing the b*llet
should be the b*llet.
Ah f*ck it, I dunno...
I mean, we didn't set out
to be b*ll*ts, or g*ns,
but when do b*ll*ts ever
set out to be b*ll*ts?
They just are.
Waiting, hoping to be
unleashed into the world,
to find their velocity.
We'd found our velocity.
(traditional folk song)
(VO) The Irish for 'The End'
is 'An Deireadh'.
Ah, f*ck it - encore.
(Kneecap song: H.O.O.D.)
(Kneecap song: It's Been Ages)
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Kneecap (2024)
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