The Football Factory (film)

2004 film directed by Nick Love

The Football Factory is a 2004 English film directed by Nick Love. The film stars Danny Dyer, Tamar Hassan, Frank Harper, Roland Manookian, Neil Maskell and Dudley Sutton. It is loosely based on the novel of the same name by John King.

Even in Britain, Crime is Crime. (taglines)

Billy Bright

  • Don't fuck about, ping him!
  • Are you tryin' to mug me off in front of my pals?
  • C'mon, jog on!
  • U fucking wanking off
  • We'll get the beers safe and then we'll outflank 'em, yeah?
  • I've never fucking liked you, you little cunt. Do you know what I'm thinking? I'm thinking I should take you outside and open you up.
  • You fucking little mug!
  • Once upon a time, I did get fuckin' done in, me and the lads went up to Dundee, and we got turned over by the two psychos known as the Carlin cousins, they fuckin' sliced and diced through our whole squad, and then a squad of old bill, and three police horses couldn't stop them. They're fuckin' insane.

Tommy Johnson

  • What else you gonna do on a Saturday? Sit in ya fucking armchair wanking off to Pop Idols? then try and avoid your wife's gaze struggle to come to terms with your sexless marriage? Then go and spunk your wages on kebabs, fruit machines and brasses? I know what I'd rather do. Tottenham away. Love it!
  • Kicked half to death, florists, cabbies, nightmares and visions; one of the old soldiers gone forever; Bright gone for a seven; and bollocks so ruptured that the only thing I'll be pulling for months is a chain. After all that you really do have to ask yourself if it was all worth it... course it fucking was!
  • Jesus! I was expecting a bowl of cornflakes and a quick wank...
  • There's nothing different about me. I'm just another bored male, approaching 30, in a dead-end job. Casual sex, heavily cut drugs and occasionally kicking fuck out of someone.
  • What else are you gonna do on a Saturday? Sit in your fuckin' armchair wankin' off to Pop Idols? Then try and avoid your wife's gaze as you struggle to come to terms with your sexless marriage? Then go and spunk your wages on kebabs, fruit machines and brasses? Fuck that for a laugh! I know what I'd rather do. Tottenham away, love it!
  • Problem was, he'd taken so many beatings on the terraces that he weren't scared of anyone. And the correct medical term for that is a "total fuckin' psycho".
  • I'm gonna smash the fuckin' granny out of that.
  • Getting beaten up by football hooligans is like having V.D. The fucking pain goes on forever. But that's what makes it so exciting.
  • My granddad, old Bill Farrell, drove us to drink with his stories about the war and how he fought to put the "Great" into Britain. He said fighting at football was nothing compared to fighting with the Germans... Although, he was right. We're an island race. It's what we do best. It's not about color or race, it's just the buzz of being in the frontline. Truth is, I just love to fight.
  • The next best thing to violence is sex. And seeing as there's nearly 500,000 single women in London, I must be in with half a chance. Especially as I'd fuck anything that's breathing.
  • 500,000 single women in London and I still can't get me fakin end away cause I'm a fakin stumblebum.


Fred: Don't get lemon Bill, it don't suit ya.
Billy: Spell it, you cunt.
Fred: C-u-n-t, Cunt.
Billy: I meant lemon, soppy bollocks.

Tamara: So... What do you do, then, Thomas?
Tommy: [Thomas? I kick people's fuckin' heads in for a laugh. And you should know, div. You read the charges out] "Me? I work long and hard.

Tamara's Father': [Rod meets his girlfriend's parents] "Tell me more about the air conditioning, Rodney. I'm fascinated.
Rod: Air conditioning?
Tamara's Father: You told me you run an air conditioning firm.
Rod: Oh, we have a few vans out on jobs most of the time. Yeah, sure it's always busier in the summer, of course. Nothing like a soaring temperature to help the work, you know what I mean? Anyway, most of the time I just sit around the office waiting for the weekend. Don't get me wrong, I love the money the job pays. But my real passion lies in kicking people's fucking heads in at football. See, I got to channel it somewhere. As you can probably tell by my bulging stomach, I don't participate in too many sporting activities. And I don't do drugs. Well, that's not entirely true, but not a lot. So I got to have my release in something, and a good fucking fight seems like the best way. Wouldn't you agree? Maybe not. At least I wouldn't be walking around like you lot, fucking horrible cunts with sticks shoved up your asses trying to pretend your little suburban nightmare's all right. Then again, I suppose it just depends which way you look at it.

Bill: Don't you ever get the itch?
Tommy: Yeah. I can see myself on a sun lounger in my back garden, couple of kids running about. Sipping my Pimm's quietly.
Bill: Kids, eh?
Tommy: Yeah, why not?
Bill: Well, what's their names?
Tommy: Dorian, after me mate.
Bill: Dorian? Both of them?
Tommy: Yeah, probably.
Bill: Well, what if they're girls?
Tommy: Dorian.

Tamara: Don't tell me you'd rather go to football.
Rod: Well, I am male.

Rod: Let’s get out of here Bill, there’s about ten Stoke fans staring right at us.
Billy: How many did you say it was?
Rod: About ten. Please don't start Bill.
Billy: Right, which one's staring at me.
Rod: The big geezer, one with the Hackett cap on.
Billy: [pointing at fan] Right see you you cunt, I'll cut you first.


  • Even in Britain, Crime is Crime.
  • What else you gonna do on a Saturday?


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