On Wednesday 3rd September 2008, London will play host to the inaugural Barclaycard World Freerun Championships. The event, taking place at Camden’s Roundhouse, is the first ever international competition for the pioneering urban sport of freerunning and is expected to attract an audience of over 2,000. For one night only, 24 freerunners from 17 countries will tackle a specially-designed course that will enable them to showcase the energy and complexity of the sport.
Amongst the challengers for the title Barclaycard World Freerun Champion are British hopes Pip Andersen of Somerset and Tim Shieff from Derby. They will be up against freerunners from as far afield as Brazil, South Africa, the United States and New Zealand. Each athlete will perform to his own individual soundtrack and be judged by fellow competitors on his athletic skill, creativity and technical ability. The winner will be the athlete who, in the opinion of his peers, delivers the most innovative, fluid, flowing performance. The night will inspire maximum originality and individuality, but the moves expected to be showcased on the imposing structure will include spectacular sequences of jumps, flips, spins, cat leaps and kong vaults.
Urban Freeflow’s Parkour/Freerun ‘Glyph’ Logo Explained
Design/Concept by Jamie (Biomech) O’Rourke
The Glyph logo is a registered trademark of Urban Freeflow
Based on Eastern symbology and inspired by ancient and fictional hieroglyphics, the Parkour/Freerun glyph depicts balance, equality, stability, control and simplicity. Also employing Hindu and Taoist beliefs, the Parkour/Freerun glyph characterises four segments, or stages that are used to represent the four seasons and the transition from awakening, through self improvement and proficiency, to self awareness.
Initially divided vertically into two halves to denote height and ambition, the glyph can be seen to represent the two divisions of Parkour/Freerun; technical ability and philosophy.
Representing ability (1), we envisage a traceur or freerunner as they make their way over an obstacle in their path. Succeeding ability comes self awareness (2). Denoting this we see the sun as it rises beginning a new day.
The Glyph can be further divided as follows…
A. (Spring) Representing the birth of a traceur/freerunner as they discover the art of movement.
B. (Summer) Depicted by the sun, the practitioner grows both physically and mentally as they begin to find their ‘way’.
C. (Autumn) Symbolised by linear water. The practitioners abilities increase and movements begin to flow, whilst remaining 100% focused at all times.
D. (Winter) The practitioner reaches a certain level of proficiency in the search of perfection and as the cold weather looms, a period of reflection is entered before the start of a new cycle.
The Parkour/Freerun glyph has become globally recognised as the one symbol to represent both disciplines and in a
very short amount of time, has received heavy duty exposure worldwide. Here’s a breakdown as to what it all means.
“yah, shure. I lack daahgs~ ;)
Bud die lack care ah vantz bett-ah.”
sNATch:
Memorable quotes for: Snatch. (2000) More at IMDb Pro »
Customs official: Anything to declare?
Avi: Yeah. Don’t go to England.
——————————————————————————–
Avi: Should I call you Bullet? Tooth?
Bullet Tooth Tony: You can call me “_susaen” if it makes you happy.
——————————————————————————–
Bullet Tooth Tony: You should never underestimate the predictability of stupidity.
——————————————————————————–
Brick Top:
Do you know what “nemesis” means? “A righteous infliction of retribution manifested by an appropriate agent.”
Personified in this case by an ‘orrible cunt: me.
——————————————————————————–
Avi: Tony.
Bullet Tooth Tony: What?
Avi: Look in the dog.
Bullet Tooth Tony: What do you mean “look in the dog?”
Avi: I mean open him up.
Bullet Tooth Tony: It’s not as if he’s a tin of baked beans! What do you mean “open him up”?
——————————————————————————–
Turkish: Well, do you want to do it?
Mickey: That depends.
Turkish: On what?
Mickey: On you buying this caravan. Not the rouge one, the rose.
Turkish: It’s not the same caravan.
Mickey: It’s not the same fight.
Turkish: It’s twice the fucking size of the last one.
Mickey: Turkish, the fight is twice the size. And me ma still needs a caravan. I like to look after me ma. It’s a fair deal. Take it.
Turkish: Mickey, you’re lucky we aren’t worm food after your last performance. Buying a tart’s mobile palace is a little fucking rich. [Realizes his mistake]
Turkish: I wasn’t calling your mum a tart. I just meant…
Mickey: Ah, save your breath for cooling your porridge. Now, look…
Mickey: [starts talking incoherently] I want the hector two roof lights, with the discover cushions and the matching side stripe caravan.
Mickey: Right. And she’s terribly partial to the periwinkle blue, boss. Have I made myself clear, lads?
Turkish: Yeah, that’s perfectly clear, Mickey. Just give me one minute to confer with my colleague.
[to Tommy]
Turkish: Did you understand a single word of what he just said?
——————————————————————————–
Bullet Tooth Tony: Boris the Blade? As in Boris the Bullet-Dodger?
Avi: Why do they call him the Bullet-Dodger?
Bullet Tooth Tony: ‘Cause he dodges bullets, Avi.
——————————————————————————–
Avi: Eighty-six carats.
Rosebud: Where?
Avi: London.
Rosebud: London?
Avi: London.
Avi’s Colleague: London?
Avi: Yes, London. You know: fish, chips, cup ‘o tea, bad food, worse weather, Mary fucking Poppins… LONDON.
——————————————————————————–
Turkish: You show me how to control a wild fucking gypsy and I’ll show you how to control an unhinged, pig-feeding gangster.
——————————————————————————–
Vinny: Why are we stopped here? What’s wrong with that spot?
Tyrone: It’s too tight.
Vinny: Too tight? You could land a jumbo fucking jet in that.
——————————————————————————–
Vinny: I thought you said he was a getaway driver. What the fuck can he get away from?
——————————————————————————–
Bullet Tooth Tony: So, you are obviously the big dick. The men on the side of ya are your balls. There are two types of balls. There are big brave balls, and there are little mincey faggot balls.
Vinny: These are your last words, so make them a prayer.
Bullet Tooth Tony: Now, dicks have drive and clarity of vision, but they are not clever. They smell pussy and they want a piece of the action. And you thought you smelled some good old pussy, and have brought your two small mincey faggot balls along for a good old time. But you’ve got your parties mangled up. There’s no pussy here, just a dose that’ll make you wish you were born a woman. Like a prick, you are having second thoughts. You are shrinking, and your two little balls are shrinking with you. And the fact that you’ve got “Replica” written down the side of your gun… [Zoom in on the side of Sol's gun, which indeed has "REPLICA" etched on the side; zoom out, as they sneak peeks at the sides of their guns]
Bullet Tooth Tony: And the fact that I’ve got “Desert Eagle point five O”… [Withdraws his gun and puts it on the table]
Bullet Tooth Tony: Written down the side of mine… [They look, zoom in on the side of his gun, which indeed has "DESERT EAGLE .50" etched on the side]
Bullet Tooth Tony: Should precipitate your balls into shrinking, along with your presence. Now… Fuck off!
——————————————————————————–
Brick Top: Listen, you fucking fringe, if I throw a dog a bone, I don’t want to know if it tastes good or not. You stop me again whilst I’m walking, and I’ll cut your fucking Jacobs off. ——————————————————————————–
Tommy: Who took the jam outta your doughnut?
Turkish: You took the fucking jamm outta my doughnut, Tommy. You did.
——————————————————————————–
Brick Top: I don’t care if he’s Muhammad I’m hard Bruce Lee. You can’t change fighters.
——————————————————————————– [Tyrone just backed into Franky Four Fingers' van]
Tyrone: I didn’t see it there.
Vinny: It’s a four ton truck, Tyrone. Its not as if it’s a bag of fucking peanuts, is it?
Tyrone: It was a funny angle. [All three turn and look back at the truck]
Vinny: It’s behind you Tyrone. Whenever you reverse, things come from behind you.
——————————————————————————–
Turkish: What’s happening with them sausages, Charlie?
Sausage Charlie: Five minutes, Turkish.
Turkish: It was two minutes five minutes ago.
——————————————————————————–
Policeman: So, what you doin here?
Turkish: I’m taking the dog for a walk. What’s the problem?
Policeman: What’s in the car?
Turkish: Seats and a steering wheel.
——————————————————————————–
Mickey: Good dags. D’ya like dags?
Tommy: Dags?
Mickey: What?
Mrs. O’Neil: Yeah, dags.
Tommy: Oh, dogs.
Sure, I like dags.
I like caravans more.
——————————————————————————–
Tyrone: I don’t want that dog dribbling on my seats.
Vinny: Your seats? Tyrone, this is a stolen car, mate.
——————————————————————————– [pricing a diamond for Bad Boy Lincoln]
Sol: No, it’s a moissanite.
Bad Boy Lincoln: A what-a-nite?
Sol: A moissanite is an artificial diamond, Lincoln. It’s Mickey Mouse, mate. Spurious. Not genuine. And it’s worth… Fuck-all.
——————————————————————————–
Bullet Tooth Tony: I want to know who blagged Brick-Top’s bookies.
Mullet: Do me a favor, Ton!
Bullet Tooth Tony: I will do you a favor, Mullet. I’ll not get out of this car and bash the living fuck out of you in front of all your girlfriends. [Mullet hunkers down to the car window]
Mullet: Got to make it worth my while, mate. Jesus, Tony, you know that… [Tony seizes his tie and rolls up the window, wedging Mullet's head in it]
Bullet Tooth Tony: Comfortable, Mullet? It seems sadly ironic that it’s that tie that’s got you into this pickle. Now you just take all the time you want. [He starts the car forward]
Mullet: What the fuck are you doing, Ton?
Bullet Tooth Tony: I’m driving down the street with your head stuck in my window. What do you think I’m doing, you pen-ass?
Mullet: Slow down, Ton.
Bullet Tooth Tony: [sniffs] You been using dogshit for toothpaste, Mullet?
Mullet: Slow down, Ton! Slow down, Tony!
Bullet Tooth Tony: I don’t think I’ll slow down. I think I’ll speed up. You can play some music if you like. [He turns on the radio; Madonna's "Lucky Star" is playing]
Bullet Tooth Tony: Oh, I love this track.
Mullet: I think…
Bullet Tooth Tony: Yes, Mullet?
Mullet: I think it’s two black guys, in a pawn shop on Smith street.
Bullet Tooth Tony: You better not be telling me porky pies.
Mullet: I’m fucking telling you, it’s two black guys who work off a pawn shop in fucking Smith Street!
Avi: That’s very effective, Tony. It’s not too subtle, but effective. [Tony accelerates and turns toward Smith Street]
Avi: Are we taking him with us?
[Tony rolls down the window, releasing Mullet's head and dumping him on the roadside]
——————————————————————————–
Turkish: I can’t make him fight, can I?
Brick Top: You’re not much use to me alive are you, Turkish?
——————————————————————————–
Errol: Fuckface, who’s speaking to you? He asked him, didn’t he?
Turkish: Fuckface… I like that one Errol. I’ll have to remember that one next time I’m climbing off yer mum.
——————————————————————————–
Turkish: Well the rabbit gets fucked.
Tommy: [pauses] Proper fucked?
——————————————————————————–
Turkish: [voice over] Boris the Blade, or Boris “the Bullet Dodger.” As bent as the Soviet’s sickle, and as hard as the hammer that crosses it. Apparently, it’s impossible to kill the bastard.
——————————————————————————–
.
——————————————————————————–
Alex Denovitz: What about Tony?
Alex Denovitz: You know, Bullet Tooth Tony.
Avi: Who’s Bullet Tooth…?
Charlie: Tony!
Bullet Tooth Tony: You silly fuck.
Doug the Head: He’s a liability.
Alex Denovitz: He’ll find you Moses and the burning bush, if you pay him to!
——————————————————————————–
Brick Top: You’re always gonna have problems lifting a body in one piece. Apparently the best thing to do is cut up a corpse into six pieces and pile it all together.
Sol: Would someone mind telling me, who are you?
Brick Top: And when you got your six pieces, you gotta get rid of them, because it’s no good leaving it in the deep freeze for your mum to discover, now is it? Then I hear the best thing to do is feed ‘em to the pigs. You got to starve the pigs for a few days, then the sight of a chopped-up body will look like curry to a pisshead. You gotta shave the heads of your victims, and pull the teeth out for the sake of the piggies’ digestion. You could do this afterwards, of course, but you don’t want to go sievin’ through pig shit, now do you? They will go through bone like butter. You need at least sixteen pigs to finish the job in one sitting, so be wary of any man who keeps a pig farm. They will go through a body that weighs 200 pounds in about eight minutes. That means that a single pig can consume two pounds of uncooked flesh every minute. Hence the expression,:
“…As greedy as a pig”.
——————————————————————————–
Sol: You ain’t from this planet are you, Vincent? Who is gonna mug two black fellas, holding pistols, sat in a car that is worth less than your shirt?
——————————————————————————–
Sol: What the fuck is that?
Vinny: Heh heh. This is a shotgun, Sol.
Sol: It’s a fucking anti-aircraft gun, Vincent.
Vinny: Well I wanna raise some pulses, don’t I?
Sol: You’ll raise Hell. Never mind pulses.
——————————————————————————–
[after cleaning out Turkish's Safe]
Brick Top: He’s been a busy little bastard, that Turkish.
Errol: I think you’ve let him get away with enough already, Guv’nor.
Brick Top: It’ll get you in a lot of trouble thinking, Errol. If I were you, I wouldn’t do too much of it.
——————————————————————————-
[while robbing the bookies]
Sol: Are you all right there Vincent?
Vinny: I would be if you stopped using my name.
——————————————————————————–
Brick Top: Pull your tongue out of my arsehole, Gary. Dogs do that. You’re not a dog, are ya Gary?
Gary: No, no I’m not.
Brick Top: But you do have all the characteristics of a dog, Gary. All except loyalty. [Errol zaps Gary]
Turkish: [Voice over]It’s rumored that Brick Top’s favorite means of dispatch involves a stun gun, a plastic bag, a roll of tape, and a pack of hungry pigs.
Brick Top: You’re a ruthless little cunt, Liam, I’ll give you that. But I got no time for grassers. [John throws a plastic bag over Liam's head and suffocates him]
Brick Top: Feed ‘em to the pigs, Errol.
[to the two boxers, who are now staring in horror]
Brick Top: What the fuck are you two looking at?
——————————————————————————– [Brick-Top's men have Turkish pinned on the floor. Errol raises a sword to strike, then Tommy appears with his dud pistol]
Tommy: Turkish, get your arse up. Any of you lot follow me, and I’ll fucking shoot you.
Errol: Easy, old son. Calm down.
Tommy: I’m the one who’s got the gun, son. It’s you who I think ought to calm down.
[Errol takes a step forward. Tommy cocks the gun and sticks it right in his face]
Tommy: Go ahead. You want to see if I’ve got the minerals?
[Brick-Top's men don't move as Tommy backs out of the slot parlor, then runs after Turkish]
——————————————————————————–
Brick Top: What do you think, Errol?
Errol: I think we should drip-dry them, Guv’nor, while we have the chance.
Brick Top: It was a rhetorical question, Errol. What have I told you about thinking?
——————————————————————————–
Gorgeous George: Get back down or you will not be coming up next time. [watches as Mickey warms up]
Gorgeous George: Oh, bollocks to you. This is sick. I’m out of here.
Mickey: You’re not going anywhere, you thick lump. [Pulls off his shirt]
Mickey: You stay until the job’s done. [kisses his good luck charms and knocks Gorgeous out with a single punch]
Turkish: [narrating] It turned out that the sweet-talking, tattoo-sporting pikey was a gypsy bare-knuckle boxing champion. Which makes him harder than a coffin nail. Right now, that’s the last thing on Tommy’s mind. If Gorgeous doesn’t wake up in the next few minutes, Tommy knows he’ll be buried with him. Why would the gypsies go through the trouble of explaining why a man died in their campsite when they can bury the pair of them and just move camp? It’s not like they got social security numbers, is it? Tommy – the tit – is praying. And if he isn’t, he fucking should be.
——————————————————————————–
Sol: He’s a natural, ain’t you Tyrone?
Tyrone: ‘course I am… [reverses into parked van]
Vinny: A natural fucking idiot.
——————————————————————————–
Turkish: It’s an unlicensed boxing match. It’s not a tickling competition. These lads are out to hurt each other.
——————————————————————————–
Sol: I’m not in here to make a fucking bet.
Female Bookie: ‘Preciated, but all… bets… are… off. If all bets are off, then there can’t be any money can’t there?
Sol: I’m not fucking buying that.
Female Bookie: Well that’s handy, ’cause I ain’t fucking selling it. It’s a fact.
——————————————————————————–
Turkish: You aren’t exactly Mister Current Affairs are you, Tommy? “Mad Fist” went mad, and “The Gun,” shot himself.
———————————————————————————
Bullet Tooth Tony: A bookie’s got blagged last night.
Avi: Blagged? Speak English to me, Tony. I thought this country spawned the fucking language, and so far nobody seems to speak it.
——————————————————————————–
Franky Four Fingers: So the biblical scholars mis-translated the Hebrew word for “young woman” into the Greek word for “virgin,” which was a pretty easy mistake to make, since there is only a subtle difference in the spelling. But back then it was the “virgin” that caught people’s attention. It’s not every day a virgin conceives and bears a son. So you keep that for a couple of hundred years, and the next thing you know, you have the Roman Catholic church.
——————————————————————————–
Avi: Tony, there is a man I’d like you to find.
Bullet Tooth Tony: Well, that depends on all the elements in the equation. How many are there?
Avi: Forty thousand.
Bullet Tooth Tony: Where was he last seen?
Doug the Head: At a bookie’s.
Bullet Tooth Tony: A bookie’s… pass us the blower, Susi.
——————————————————————————–
Doug the Head: Avi, I’m not telepathic.
Cousin Avi: Well you’re plenty fucking stupid, I’ll give you that. Do you know why they call him Franky “Four Fingers” Doug? Because he makes stupid bets with dangerous people, and when he doesn’t pay up, they give him te chop, Doug. And I’m not talking about his fucking fore-skin either.
——————————————————————————–
Cousin Avi: Is there gambling involved?
Doug the Head: It’s a boxing match, Avi, a boxing match.
Cousin Avi: Did he have a case with him?
Doug the Head: Yes, he had a case.
Cousin Avi: And this schmuck is gambling? You’re talking about Franky “I’ve got a problem with gambling” fucking Four Fingers Doug.
——————————————————————————–
Vinny: The dog.
The dog must have ate it.
——————————————————————————– [standing over Franky's body]
Bad Boy Lincoln: What has he got a tea cozy on his head for?
Sol: [sarcastic] To keep his head warm.
Bad Boy Lincoln: Well, what’s the matter with him?
Vinny: He’s been shot in the face, Lincoln. I would’ve thought that was obvious.
——————————————————————————–
Mickey: I’ll tell ya what. I’ll do it for a caravan.
Turkish: For what?
Pikeys: For a caravan.
Tommy: It was us who wanted a caravan. [looking around]
Tommy: Anyway, what’s wrong with this one?
Mickey: It’s not for me. It’s for me ma.
Turkish: Your what?
Pikeys: His ma.
——————————————————————————–
Sol: You are a bad-boy yardie, and bad-boy yardies are supposed to know how to get rid of bodies.
Bad Boy Lincoln: I create the bodies. I don’t erase the bodies.
——————————————————————————–
Franky Four Fingers: I have stones to sell, fat to chew, and many different men to see about many different dogs, so if I am not rushing you…
Doug the Head: Slow down, Franky, my son. When in Rome…
Franky Four Fingers: I am not in Rome, Doug. I am in a rush.
——————————————————————————–
Boris ‘The Blade’ Yurinov: Give me the stone.
Vinny: [pointing] It’s in the case.
Boris ‘The Blade’ Yurinov: What? [takes out his earplugs]
Vinny: It’s in the case!
Boris ‘The Blade’ Yurinov: You put the stone in the case? Then open the case and give me the stone.
Sol: The only man who knew the combination… you just shot.
——————————————————————————–
Turkish: For ever action, there is a reaction. And a Pikey reaction… is quite a fucking thing.
——————————————————————————–
Errol: Looks like we’re in, guv’nor.
Brick Top: Goody gumdrops. Get us a cup of tea, would you, Errol?
——————————————————————————–
Gorgeous George: It’s a camp site, a pikey campsite…
Tommy: Ten points.
Gorgeous George: What we doing here?
Tommy: We’re buying a caravan.
Gorgeous George: Off a pack of fuckin’ pikeys? What’s wrong with you? This will get messy.
Tommy: Well not if you’re here.
Gorgeous George: Oh, you bastard! I fuckin’ hate pikeys!
——————————————————————————–
Tommy: The human body hasn’t got used to dairy products yet.
Turkish: Well fuck me Tommy. What have you been reading?
——————————————————————————–
Boris ‘The Blade’ Yurinov: [referring to Tommy's gun] Heavy is good, heavy is reliable. If it doesn’t work you can always hit them with it.
——————————————————————————–
[from a deleted scene]
Errol: You’re a dead man, Tony! You hear me? A fucking dead man!
Brick Top: Oi! What’s going on in there?
Errol: He’s pissed in my fucking pocket!
Brick Top: Oh, shut up, Errol. Get back in your fucking pram. Tony, ain’t you house-trained?
——————————————————————————–
[Gorgeous George has just been knocked out]
Tommy: We’ve lost Gorgeous George.
Brick Top: Shhh. You’re going to have to repeat that.
Tommy: We’ve lost Gorgeous George.
Brick Top: Well, where’d you lose him? He ain’t a set of fucking car keys, is he? And it ain’t as if he’s incon-fucking-spicuous now, is it?
——————————————————————————–
Vinny: Wow! That’s a great load off me mind. Now, if you wouldn’t mind telling me who the fuck you are, apart from someone who feeds people to pigs of course!
——————————————————————————–
Turkish: All he’s gotta do is stay down. [Mickey suddenly rises from the mat and knocks out Anderson with a single punch]
Turkish: *Now* we are fucked.
——————————————————————————–
[last lines]
Turkish: [narrating] Tommy persuaded me to keep the dog. I eventually agreed, as long as he took it to a vet. I couldn’t stand that squeaking any more. The vet found half an undigested shoe, a squeaky toy, and an 84-carat diamond lodged in its stomach. It’s quite amazing what can happen in a week. Still didn’t shut it up though. So what do you do? You go to see the man that knows about these sort of things.
Turkish: So what do you think? Do you know anyone who’d be interested?
Doug the Head: I might.
On Wednesday 3rd September 2008, London will play host to the inaugural Barclaycard World Freerun Championships. The event, taking place at Camden’s Roundhouse, is the first ever international competition for the pioneering urban sport of freerunning and is expected to attract an audience of over 2,000. For one night only, 24 freerunners from 17 countries will tackle a specially-designed course that will enable them to showcase the energy and complexity of the sport.
Tickets for the Barclaycard World Freerun Championships are available from The Roundhouse, box office number 0844 482 8008, www.roundhouse.org.uk. For more information check out www.worldfreerun.com and www.urbanfreeflow.com 
