(men shout)
(whistle blows)
You should've gotten rid of the ball.
You can't take it home with you.
It's a free out.
(blows whistle)
(man) Ah, ref, that's a disgrace.
- He held it too long. Shut your mouth. - (man) Ah, for God's sakes.
The ball is there.
(shouting)
Come on, Teddy!
Come on, Chris. Come on!
(whistle blows)
Teddy O'Donovan.
If you don't stop, I'll put you off.
You are not playing hurling.
(shouting)
It's alright. Shake my hand.
We didn't come here to fight.
We came here to play hurling.
You're on your last warning.
(whistle blows)
We're going to miss you on the fullback line.
- When are you off to London, Doc? - At the weekend.
What in the name of Jesus are you going there for?
- Not enough sick people in Ireland? - To lick the King's arse.
With a tongue like yours, you'll be able to cure his piles.
Want to sort your own out first.
I want to see Peggy and your mam.
- She's at the farm. We'll head up. - Grand.
(chatter)
Welcome. Your mother and father would have been proud of you.
They would indeed.
- They'll be watching over you. - Hopefully they will.
- Always knew you'd make the top. - Well, I'm only starting, really.
Don't be shy. You're going to one of the very best hospitals in the world.
- It is, I suppose. - It is.
- Hello, Sinead. - Damien.
- When are you off? - At the weekend.
- I wish you all the best. - Thanks very much.
- Mind yourself. - I will.
- Right. - God will protect you, son.
- I know he will. - Thanks, Peggy.
(shouting)
OK, alright.
- Get over there! - Against the wall, now!
Don't move a muscle.
Don't look at me! Move!
Right. How many times have you bastards,
you Mick bastards, been told, eh?
Defence of the Realm Act. Do you understand?
All public meetings are banned,
and that includes your poxy little games.
Do you understand?
Take their details.
I want names. I want addresses. I want an occupation.
- Name? - Con O'Sullivan.
- Louder! - Con O'Sullivan.
Ballingeary. Ironmonger.
- Name? - Chris Reilly.
- Louder! - Chris Reilly.
- Don't look at me, boy. - Reaves Estate.
By the crossroads. Farm labourer.
More like a prick! Don't grin at me, you bastard.
Name?
- Look down. - Your name?
Micheail O'Sullivan.
What's that shite? He doesn't want riddles!
He wants your name, in English.
- (mumbles) - Tell him. Shut the fuck up!
- Tell him. - (speaks Gaelic)
Bit of a comic, are we, boy? Do you see me laughing? Hm?
- Well, laugh at this. - (mutters)
The lot of you, strip off. Now. Shut up, you bitch! Move!
Shut the fuck up! Move!
- Move! Get back! - (shouting)
I'm telling you, his name... His name is Micheail O'Sullivan.
(woman) He lives with me.
(soldier) Strip off right now! Right now!
- Quicker! - Do it right now!
Take your bastard trousers off, you prick!
Your bollocks are in a bag. They're not gonna drop out! Come on!
- We got a tough guy over here. - Take your shirt off!
Take your clothes off, Micheail.
When I say strip, I mean fucking strip.
(soldier) You bastard! Get up, you bastard!
(Damien) There is no one involved here.
There is no one involved here.
(soldier) Get up there!
- He's only 17. He's done nothing. - There is no one involved here.
- Shut the fuck up! - Micheail O'Sullivan is his name.
(shouting)
(Peggy shouts)
He's not involved in anything. He's... He's 17 years of age.
Micheail O'Sullivan.
Micheail!
Get back in your trough, you fucking sow! Get back!
17 years of age. Not involved in anything,
yet you come here beating women and children! Is that your game?
- (screaming) - Micheail!
That's him done, Sarge.
Right, lads. Start backing off.
(Damien) Big brave men, aren't you?
Sweet Jesus!
Oh, Jesus Christ. Oh, Jesus Christ.
(sobs)
God! Take him down. Take him down.
- Micheail? - Micheail!
Micheail? Micheail?
- Micheail? - Micheail! Micheail!
He's... He's dead. He's gone. He's gone.
- He's gone. - (sobbing)
♪ The new that made me think
♪ On Ireland dearly
♪ While soft the wind blew down the glen
♪ And shook the golden barley
♪ 'Twas hard the woeful words to frame
♪ To break the ties that bound us
♪ But harder still to bear the shame
♪ Of foreign chains around us
♪ And so I said the mountain glen
♪ I'll seek at morning early
♪ While soft the wind blew down the glen
♪ And shook the golden barley
- (chatter) - Alright, lads.
- Alright, Damien? - Alright, lads.
Want a cigarette?
I tell you, lads, it's the last straw.
Benny McCabe, ten days ago. Innocent. What did he do?
- Cutting turf. - Then there was Seamus.
Aye, and Young Ernie across the way there.
All young fellas from the parish. And poor Micheail inside.
- It's happening everywhere. - You can't leave us now.
Some of us have the brawn. Some have the brains.
Not after this. We need you now more than we ever needed you.
So, what have you got to say for yourself?
Think about it, Damien.
We've got to get these bastards. Drive them out.
I agree. We have to drive them out.
How many British soldiers in the country?
- Too many. - How many?
- There's about ten thousand. - Ten thousand? Tans?
Artillery units, machine gun corps, cavalry.
And many more besides. What's your point, Damien?
It's young men like Micheail we're talking about, Teddy.
Micheail was a real Irishman.
- You're a coward, Damien. - I'm a coward?
And you're a hero, is it, Ned?
You're going to take on the British Empire with your hurley, is that it?
For Christ's sake, Damien. What about Micheail?
Look, Micheail was killed because he wouldn't say his name in English.
Is that what you call a martyr?
So we should all buy a one-way ticket to London, is that it, Damien?
(sighs)
(Sinead) Damien?
Bye, Sinead.
Squad, halt!
Right turn!
Corporals, fall out.
Listen up, I'm gonna fall you out.
The front rank will go to the far carriage.
The rear rank will go to the nearest carriage.
Squad, attention.
Fall out.
Hold it! Hold it!
No soldiers on this train. Stay there. Stay there.
- No soldiers on this train. - Get out of the way!
(guard) I am under instructions. The driver of this train has been...
- Move out of the way! - Driver!
- Speak to him yourself. - Get out of the way!
- Get back. - Hold on. What's up?
- Who the fuck are you? - The driver.
Get back on the train and start driving.
My union has instructed me not to carry...
I don't give a fuck about your union.
...not to carry any British personnel, weapons or supplies.
Get back on the train or else I'll blow your fucking head off.
- Get on the train and drive. - Get back on the train!
- I'm not moving the carriages. - Get back on the train!
(guard) Don't hurt the man like that!
- Can you drive the train? - Not without the driver.
You! Find someone to drive this train. Find someone...
You hurt the driver!
- Find someone to drive... - I can't!
- You fucker! - (groans)
Irish fucking bastard!
Bastard! Cunt! Wouldn't drive the fucking train!
I'll fucking kill ya! You wouldn't drive the train.
- Get them off the train. - Everybody, off the train!
(shouting)
- Are you alright? - Grand. Help him.
How are you? Look at me. Look at me.
- (shouting) - Irish bastards!
Thank you very much.
(whistle blows)
Thanks.
Bastards.
"I do solemnly swear that to the best of my ability
I will support and defend the Government of the Irish Republic,
which is Dail Eireann, against all enemies, foreign and domestic,
and I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same,
and I take this obligation freely,
without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion."
"So help me, God."
- I'm glad to have you with us. - Thank you, Finbar.
- Steady Boy. - Well done, Damien boy.
Leo, thank you.
- Good to have you, Damien. - Good to have you, Damien.
- I knew you wouldn't get that train. - Did you, now?
Because I would've kicked your arse if you had.
Where's the rest of that shaggin' section?
Move, you...
I have him. I have him. I have him.
Right sections, hollow square.
Section Two, facing me. Come on.
Section One, along here.
Ned, Aidan, Sean,
Damien, Paul, Vince, Richard, Dennis, Pat, down.
Why are they down? Why are they down, lads?
- Dead. - Dead. That's right.
I estimate half the column just died. Everyone down.
If we lose half this column, it's not readily replaceable.
The Brits see you, they're going to kill you,
the Brits catch you, they're going to kill you.
Rory.
Did you see our position when you came over the crest of that hill?
You did not. You were looking down at your shoes,
trying to pick your way through the mud and keep your shoes clean.
There'll be clean shoes on your corpse.
You also, cos it's your responsibility, led your men into open ground.
You didn't use the natural cover.
It's on your shoulders and I don't want to see it again.
We're only saying this to keep you alive.
All I need is the size of a packet of fags. Only that size.
I've got fags. Chris, come here. One second.
Packet of fags. See that rock down there with four white spots on it?
Put that on top of it. There's fags in that now. I want them back. Go on.
Look, listen and learn.
Over to the left now, Chris boy.
(gun clicks)
Direct hit!
You've wrecked your fag box!
(birdsong)
Good man.
- Hi, lads. - Sinead.
Bang on time. We're not long here.
What have you got for us, Sinead?
- Some fags for Steady Boy. - Thanks very much, Sinead.
- Want any? - No.
That's from Finbar, Teddy.
- Jesus, it's the barracks. - We're going to hit the barracks?
- Which town is it? - A detailed map of the building.
I was almost caught on the way over to you.
They stopped you?
Yeah, a few miles back.
- Were there many? - Eight or nine.
- Did you get a fright? - I'm grand.
- Listen, we'll let you go. - Mind yourself, girl.
Good luck, Sinead.
Sinead? Sinead?
How are things at home?
They're not the best.
- It's been tough on us all. - I know.
- How are you yourself? - (breathes deeply)
Jesus, Damien. I can still hear his voice.
I have something here for you.
It's Micheail's St Christopher's medal.
And I know that he really looked up to you, so I'd like you to have it.
Thank you.
I'll be thinking of you.
Shit!
- (window rattles) - Hey, you down there!
What do you think you're doing?
♪ Through many's the year
♪ And I've spent all my money on whiskey and beer
♪ And it's no nay never
♪ No nay never no more
- Shut your... - Jesus!
Get down! Get down! Get down! Get down, you ugly bastard!
- Hands above your heads. - (shouting)
- Get up and face the wall. - Against the wall.
Eyes straight ahead.
The King doesn't want any heroes tonight. Now shut up.
Stand there, lad.
Right, men. Back here, please.
Understand this. You are now seen as traitors to your nation.
If I hear one more report of any of our boys falling down your stairs,
you'll be shot. Is that clear? This is your final warning.
Right, men, load them up.
- You face forward. - (everyone talks at once)
Come on, lads, move it on. Come on now. Hurry up.
Keep your mouth shut, if you know what's good for you.
It's not as easy as it looks.
- Shot, Teddy lad. - Shot.
22... 22-16.
Listen in. Five minutes, lads, and you're off the table.
Right, lads, get on this side of the table now! Move!
Come on, move your arse! Get in line now!
Eyes down, arms up. Move!
Come on. You're all a sack of shite, the lot of you.
You cretinous crap. You piece of shit. Look at you! Arms up.
Don't eyeball me. Keep them up!
We done here, lads?
A pound a day, lads. A pound a day.
That's what they're paying them bastards.
- Is that right? - Yeah.
Our pounds out of our pockets to pay for that swagger.
Handpicked, they were, by a personal friend of that bollocks, Churchill.
Fucking bastard.
So we can expect what the Boers got, can we?
The very same, yeah. Friend of the worker.
Faster, faster. Come on.
Dear God.
Shh.
- You're no oil painting. - (crash)
Get their guns. Move!
(groaning)
Move!
Come on, Damien, go!
Go, go, go!
(gunshots / screaming)
- Take the end house! - (gunshots)
Go, go, go!
(screaming)
Don't fucking move.
There's no one here. There's no men.
- Where's the men? - There's no one here.
- (gunshots) - Stay still!
- Spread your legs. - Get your hands above your head.
Leave him alone! Leave him alone!
(screams)
- Open your legs. - Get down. Stay there.
Stop fucking around or we'll take you out.
- Hello, Bill. - Good morning, John.
- May I introduce Captain Harris? - Captain Harris. Do come through.
- Bill, it's good to see you. - Lovely to see you.
- Good morning, Julia. - Good morning, sir.
- Is Chris milking the cows? - He is.
Chris!
Chris? Sir John wants to see you.
Sir John wants to see you. The soldiers are with him.
- Should I take a run for it? - No. They have the place surrounded.
Come along.
They're in there.
- Must I go in? - Go on, knock.
(knocks)
Come in.
Oh, Reilly.
Come in. Come in.
Come in.
(Reilly) I'd get the carpet dirty, mud on my boots, sir.
That's the least of your worries. Come over here.
Tell these gentlemen where you were last Friday, the day of the ambush.
I was at my uncle's funeral.
- Which uncle? - He lives far away.
- Where, Reilly? - Clare.
- You don't have an uncle in Clare. - I do, sir.
Don't lie to me.
We paid a little visit to your mother in her lovely little cottage.
- She never mentioned a funeral. - You don't have to go to my mother.
Stop lying, Reilly, and stop wasting our time
or I'll see to it personally that your mother and your family suffer!
My family's nothing to do with it, sir.
We know you know Teddy O'Donovan.
Yes, you do.
Oh, yeah, didn't see him in a while, actually.
Well, we will find him, with or without you.
Psst!
(gun clicks)
Oi. Get down! Shut up! Give me your rifle.
Give me your fucking rifle before I blow your brains out.
I'll blow your fucking brains out. Tell me where they are.
- Wake up, you Irish bastards! - (shouting)
Get down, you dirty fucking scum!
(shouting)
Get in there! Go! Go!
Filthy Irish scum.
Kevin?
- We're fucked, Teddy! - Kevin! You're grand. Let me look.
- I'm alright. - Hold it up.
He's alright.
It's just a nick, Kevin. It'll stop the bleeding, alright?
Look at me. Just keep your head back.
Hold that there. Jesus.
- Did they pick you up together? - Yeah.
Do I know you, do I?
You're the train driver.
Remember, on the platform, you wouldn't let the Tans on the train?
- You're the doctor? - That's right.
That's right. What do they have you in for?
The written word.
"Disloyally affected person", whatever that means.
- (door bolt clicks) - We ain't fuckin', lads.
Right, which one of you fuckers is Teddy O'Donovan?
- It's me. I'm O'Donovan. - Get him out!
- Get outside, you Fenian fucker. - Sit down!
- You bastards.
I'm Teddy O'Donovan.
- (shouts) State your name again. - Teddy O'Donovan... (speaks Gaelic)
- Get this one out. - You Fenian fucker. Get him out!
(shouting)
You Fenian fuckers!
- Move! Move it! - (shouting)
Get in there! Fucking get in that chair! Fucking dirty Irish fucker!
Strap him down. And his legs.
(Teddy chokes)
Hello, Teddy.
It's a pleasure to meet you in the flesh after all this time.
Where's your safe houses, Teddy?
I want names, places, Teddy.
- Where's your weapon stashes? - (coughs)
I'm going to make you squeal, Teddy, like all the other fuckers.
So you'd better start talking to me.
Now, I take it that you want me carry on with this, yeah?
♪ He played knickknack on my thumb
(screams)
Now, I want names and fucking places.
And you'd better start telling me soon!
Names and places. Come on, sunshine. Come on. You can do it. Come on.
Come here, you little...
(screams)
Come on, Teddy. Come on, Teddy.
(shouts) Come on! Tell me!
(man) Teddy!
(Teddy screams)
Hold it together, Teddy! Hold it together!
- (distant screaming) - Teddy!
Teddy! I can't take that fucking shite. Come on.
We have to be strong for him. Do you hear me?
- He'd want you to be strong, boy. - (sings in Gaelic)
Come on now. Sing the song.
(all sing)
(stomp in time to beat)
- (singing) - Shut up!
Shut up. Fucking Irish.
- (singing continues) - (guard) Shut up!
- Get in there! - Jesus Christ, you fucking bastards.
- What have you done to him? - Keep his hands up, lads.
Give me something for his head.
- (groans) - Behind his head.
You're alright, Teddy boy. Keep them up now.
- I never said a word. - I know you didn't, boy.
I know you didn't. You're the most stubborn man I ever met.
You're alright.
How long have you known him?
All my life. He's my brother.
It's alright. Shh.
Open that fucking door.
- Get on your feet, you fucker! - Come on, move!
(shouting)
Get in there!
What's your name?
(pants) I am... I am a member of the Irish Republican Army.
I demand to be treated as a political prisoner.
You're a murdering gangster who shoots men in the back.
No, you're wrong. I'm a Democrat.
In the last election, Sinn Fein won 73 seats out of a possible 105.
Our mandate's for an Irish Republic separate from Great Britain.
- A democratic decision. - That is not my responsibility.
I'm just a soldier sent by my government.
Your government, which suppresses our parliament, which bans our paper.
Your presence here is a crime, a foreign occupation.
Tell me what I'm supposed to do.
Turn the other cheek for another 700 years?
- That is not my responsibility. - Get out of my country.
- What is your name? - Get out of my country.
You're not a bog cutter. Show me your hands.
Show me your fucking hands!
What are you going to do? Pull my fingernails off?
What do you fucking well expect? These men fought at the Somme,
up to their necks in vomit, in filthy trenches,
while their friends got blown apart in front of their eyes! Sort him out!
Give me your name!
(groans)
(gun clicks)
Your name?
(yells) Come here!
Soldier!
Shoot him in the temple. In the temple!
- Can't. - Do it! Do it!
- I can't. - Do it! It's an order!
(Damien whimpers)
(gun clicks)
Tomorrow, military court
and execution for possession of a firearm.
"So I turned to the garden of love...
...and priests in black gowns were walking their rounds and..."
"...binding with briars, my joys and desires." William Blake.
I got deported to Wales. Frongoch Camp.
Don't tell these bastards, but they were the best years of my life.
I learnt to read and write... and think.
- Were you in the Citizen Army? - Hm.
- With Connolly? - Oh, yeah.
- Did you ever hear him speak? - Dublin lockout.
1913.
Saturday afternoon in the pissings of rain.
He set the place alight.
"If you remove the British Army tomorrow...
...and hoist the green flag over Dublin Castle...
...unless you organise a socialist republic,
all your efforts will have been in vain."
(both) "And England will still rule you through her landlords,
capitalists, and commercial institutions."
(laughs) Thank you, Mr Connolly.
I used that once in a debate at university.
Jesus, I was all talk.
And when it came down to it, I always had an excuse.
Teddy could see right through that.
Man of action.
We were fierce close as young fellas. Just the two of us.
Me following him around all the time.
I could never match him.
They sent him away... at 12 years of age.
The seminary at 12 years of age.
By the time he came back, he was a man.
- I was still a boy. - (door bangs)
My name's Johnny Gogan.
My dad's from Donegal. And I won't have your death on my conscience.
Come on.
- Where's the other fellas? - Away for a piss.
I haven't got the key. I don't have a key for this cell.
(door bangs)
(shouting)
- Damien! - (door slams)
Come back! Damien!
Whoa. Whoa. Bye, lads.
- You must be hungry. - I'm starving. Thanks very much.
How is he?
- Aye, he'll be fine. - Bearing up.
Eat up now. You'll need to stay strong.
(gasps in pain)
- (woman) What age are you? - 19.
- (woman) What made you do it? - I don't know.
(woman) Well, you're a brave lad. Isn't he, Mam?
(Peggy) He's a very brave lad. And we're very proud of you.
- (Gogan) My dad's from Donegal. - (Peggy) Where?
(Gogan) Donegal.
There's a fresh bit there if you want it.
(sighs)
- Are you holding up? - Sure not great.
You did well, Damien.
Kevin, Johnny and Colum are still there, you know?
They could be shot at any time.
We left them there.
Ah, Jesus Christ.
I can't take much more of this.
We know who turned you in.
Mairi's a typist at the barracks. She found a letter and made a copy of it.
The horse you wanted is in the stable over there.
That's for you, Teddy. You've got to rest.
- Tim will take you back. - Damien's next in command.
Sean? Sean?
Go, Julia.
- (shouting) - Don't move!
Put your hands behind your head. Give him the letter.
Read it.
"I feel duty bound to inform you
of my suspicions concerning a member of my staff."
"Recently, I have observed
some unsavoury characters trespassing on my lands."
"Most of them are a trumped-up bunch of rustics, shop hands
and corner boys with delusions of grandeur."
"I am now certain my own employee, Chris Reilly,
takes orders from trench-coat thug, Teddy O'Donovan,
who I know is a top priority for you."
I don't suppose you know what he looks like?
Short and thick, I imagine.
Get him some paper.
Write this down in your own words. Go on.
For the attention of General Hugh Tudor.
I am responsible for the arrest of 11 members of the IRA.
Three now face execution.
If one hair on their head is touched, I will get a bullet, too.
Such a beautiful room.
It's hard to imagine a man scream from here.
Ever seen fingernails ripped out with rusty pliers, Sir John? Hm?
All your learning and you still don't understand.
Oh, I understand perfectly, Mr O'Donovan.
God preserve Ireland if ever your kind take control.
You better start getting used to the idea.
- A priest-infested backwater! - (Damien) Finish the letter.
Make sure he signs it.
And then help him find his best pair of walking shoes.
A little exercise will do a gentleman farmer no harm at all.
Chris.
Alright, Ted.
Come on.
- What? - Get your coat.
(speaks Gaelic) That's the house of Danny and Peg.
They'll have dinner on the boil for us.
(both speak Gaelic)
Welcome. Welcome. Welcome, boy.
(both speak Gaelic)
- (man) You must be very tired. - (woman) It's an awful long walk.
(man) Dinner's prepared for you in there.
(both speak Gaelic)
- Thanks very much. - You're welcome.
- I'm sure you must be very tired. - Starved.
Dan.
- A message for Damien O'Donovan. - It's me.
- Will there be any message? - No. Go on.
(horse gallops away)
They've executed Johnny, Colum and Kevin.
Oh, Jesus Christ Almighty.
Bastards!
- Were they tortured? - They were.
Jesus.
I've received orders to execute the spies.
Not Chris as well?
Ah, Jesus Christ, lads. He's only a young fella, like.
Hamilton's a civilian. You could order him to leave.
He cost us three lives already. It could've been more.
- It was his own choice. - Ah, but Chris!
- We can't. He's one of our own. - Congo, he's a traitor.
I'm sorry, but this is war. What are we doing here, like? It's a war.
- Come on. Move him on, will you? - Over here.
I studied anatomy for five years, Dan.
And now I'm going to shoot this man in the head.
I've known Chris Reilly since he was a child.
I hope this Ireland we're fighting for is worth it.
Where's your letters? Come on.
That's for my wife, for my children.
I'll make sure they're delivered.
Turn around!
- You'll never beat us. Ever! - (gunshots)
Roy, get up there.
Right there.
Give me your letters, Chris. Give me your letters, Chris!
I didn't know what to write. And Mam can't read.
Just tell her I love her. And where I'm buried.
- Do you want me to do it? - No.
Are you sure?
Promise me, Damien. Promise me you won't bury me next to him.
(Damien) The chapel, do you remember, on the way up?
- Do you remember? - Yeah.
In there.
Tell Teddy I'm sorry.
I'm scared, Damien.
- Have you said your prayers? - Yeah.
God protect you.
Two more have been burnt down. The peelers aren't fighting back.
- Two barracks is what I'm told. - That's brilliant.
- And courthouses, tax offices. - That's excellent.
Morning.
Some fantastic things are happening for the Republican cause.
The dockers went on strike yesterday.
The railway men are still refusing to transport arms.
- It has the army in chaos. - Excellent. It's still holding.
Every County Council and City Council has pledged allegiance to the Dail.
They're hitting back though. We lost two fellas down by O'Connor's.
Not to mention the dozens arrested, so...
And tell us, how are the hunger strikers?
They're holding up. They're doing their best.
Court's on inside. You going in?
- Lads, we've been training for this. - Go in and listen to Lily.
Good. Scabbing well. Are you looking after them?
Yeah. Yeah.
I'm sorry about Chris. Must have been tough.
How have you been?
Been grand, boy, grand. Thanks. Come one.
Did you agree the terms on the loan and make it clear to Mr Sweeney
that you wouldn't be able to repay him for quite some time?
(speaks Gaelic)
She knows exactly what she's talking about.
She agreed the terms and said she'd start repayments straight away.
She owes a huge backlog.
(Lily) Thank you, that's enough. Mrs Rafferty.
You agreed on this loan, but did you let Mr Sweeney know
that you wouldn't be able to repay immediately?
(speaks Gaelic)
You do know exactly what it was.
She said she'd be able to start paying right away at the rate agreed.
- (Lily) She will be given time. - I'm only filling in what she said.
Sinead, do you have those figures for me?
The accumulative interest, Mr Sweeney, is over 500 percent.
Interest is bound to accumulate if you're not making repayments.
That's normal commercial practice.
Come off it now, Sweeney, 500? Come off it!
It's standard normal practice. What am I supposed to do?
(Lily) This is a recognised court under the authority of Dail Eireann,
and a bit of decorum is required.
Frankly, my sympathies lie with Mrs Rafferty in this matter.
(Sweeney) That's very clear.
Those are extortionate interest rates to be charging.
It's abuse of your position in the community to be charging that.
This is a Republican court, not an English court.
I hereby order you to repay Mrs Rafferty ten shillings and sixpence.
You have seven days in which to do so. That is this day next week.
Me repay her? Are you joking me?
There's no way I'm paying money to her. She's the one who owes me money!
- I'm the aggrieved party here. - Sit down, please.
You're asking me to waive my interest.
I'm the one who's owed money and you call that justice?
- Sit down! - You got the result that you wanted.
A kangaroo court is what it is.
Me pay her? No way! Let me go!
What are you doing? Get your hands off me!
There's no way...
- Let go of me! - For God's sake!
Bring him back here. Bring him back. Bring him back here.
Teddy O'Donovan's after taking Mr Sweeney off us.
He's taken him out the front door of the court.
Teddy O'Donovan!
Teddy O'Donovan, come back into this courthouse immediately!
Teddy O'Donovan, I'm not standing here all day for you!
Teddy O'Donovan, come back here, please.
Who the hell do you think you are to interfere with a court decision?
- Lily, calm down for second. - Answer the question.
(Teddy) You answer my question.
Do you want every merchant and businessman up against us?
You're interfering with the court's decision.
Are you going to throw me in jail? Who'll fight the war then? You?
(Lily) What Mr Sweeney did to Mrs Rafferty was wrong.
It was wrong, but I need the man's money to buy weapons.
We can't fight a war without weapons. Are you gonna fight it with a hurl?
How do we maintain the trust of the people if you undermine us?
(Teddy) We maintain their trust with weapons in our hands.
We have men on the four corners of this town defending this town.
We took it from the British with force.
And the first judgement of this, an independent court,
you have undermined by deciding to settle it in a pub.
He provides us with money to buy weapons.
There is a consignment coming in from Glasgow in the next few weeks.
Tell me how I'll pay for that if he's in a cell sulking.
We should enforce the court's decision. I'm volunteering. Anyone else?
(everyone talks at once)
Hold on a minute. Hold on. There's a war on, right?
We have one objective, to get the British out of Ireland.
And the Sweeneys of this world give us rifles,
more important than a box of fucking groceries. A little clarity now.
- Well said, Rory boy. Well said. - Paint the town Republican green,
but underneath, we're still the same as the English.
- We're not the same as the English. - Better than painting it red.
- (shouting in Gaelic) - Ah, shut up!
Easy! Take it easy.
Justice and equality for all. Take a copy of the proclamation.
He's grand. He's grand.
- Are you boys finding this funny? - Very, very funny.
Turn out your pockets. How much money have you got in your pocket?
- Be careful there, Dan. - Be quiet. Be quiet.
- How much? - What you talking about?
Can you not answer a civil question? How much money have you got?
- Answer him, Tim. - How much?
- I have a shilling, alright? - Ned, how much land do you own?
Answer me, come on. Have you a blade of grass to your name?
No, not a blade.
- These boys are fine. - Let me finish.
I'm talking here. Right, you're paupers, just like me.
Take a look at this country and see the amount of volunteers
that are involved in land seizures, cattle drives. Know why that is?
- That's enough of that. - It's not enough of it!
The IRA are backing the landlords and crushing people like you and me.
- You sat down with the IRA last night. - I'm talking here!
You want madness up and down the country?
Hold on. You saw it here two minutes ago.