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: Find a place on that bloody wall and focus on that spot. Then whip your head 'round and come back to that spot. Prepare!
: Right, Mr. Braithwaite, "The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow".
] Mrs. Wilkinson
: Fat chance!
: Miss, you don't fancy me do, do you? Mrs. Wilkinson
: No, Billy. Funnily enough, I don't. Now piss off! Billy
] Piss off yourself.
: Please yourself, darlin'.
: This'll sound strange, Billy, but for some time now I've been thinkin' of the Royal Ballet School. Billy
: Aren't you a bit old, miss? Mrs. Wilkinson
: No, not me... you! I'm the bloody teacher!
: So. Do we get the pleasure of your company next week? Billy
: It's just, I feel like a right sissy. Mrs. Wilkinson
: Well don't act like one. 50p please. And if you're not coming again give us your shoes. Billy
] No, you're all right. Mrs. Wilkinson
: What have I told you about that arm?
: She must've been a very special woman, your mother. Billy
: No she was just me mam.