Original subtitles

I might make a massive cock-up of the whole thing.

You won't, no chance, you're brilliant.

Who the fuck is he anyway?

You have to travel, and not just for two months.

But for five, maybe six.

- Heartbreaking. - You're insured, though?

Of course. It renews automatically.

- I think. - What shall we do?

It'll be fine. Trust me.

All done. Made safe until you can renovate.

We propped Strongboy heads over the Acro Plates

instead of needle beam,

and the brace couplers are obviously swivelled, not fixed.

Obviously. Nice one.

Cheers, mate.

The bank lady laughed down the phone when I mentioned the amount we need.

She claimed it was a sneeze, but it was a laugh.

Well, something needs to happen, because you forgot to renew

the fire insurance.

It was a collective forgetting. We all thought Dad had done it.

Whoever's to blame -- you, Stephen -- or whoever,

we're up widdle creek like a bunch of cunts.

Jeff was actually responsible for the fire.

If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't be responsible for the pub not being

insured, which I'm not.

I should get going. I need to head back and check my rucksack before

I leave this afternoon. I've checked it six times,

so I just need to check it another four and then I'm good to go.

- Cass the Traveller! Are you excited? - Fuck, yes.

And you'll be away for two months.

No, it's six now.

Half a year just bloody travelling like a traveller.

Morning. Thought we could all do with a coffee.

Stephen, you all right there with your morning wine?

I'm fine with my morning wine, thank you.

So, Cass, how can you afford to travel for six months?

I can earn some money along the way, you know?

Shearing sheep in New South Wales, or helping to harvest corn

- for the Incas. - The Incas?

Or whoever. Plus, Andrew's bought my shares in the pub, so...

What? That means you've got a 30% share now, more than me.

I just thought, if I had a greater share in the business,

then it would make sense for me to pump more money into it,

- pay for all these repairs. - You're a superhero!

Cass didn't want to sell to a stranger.

This keeps it in the family.

No, it doesn't. You're not family.

You're just some bloke.

Stephen! I made a promise to your dad as he lay there with the cancer

eating his oesophagus like it was a fucking cannelloni that we'd keep

his beloved pub going, and I'll keep that promise.

And I'm some kind of hindrance to that, am I?

I'm taking Maureen for a walk.

I may be some time.

And that's corked, by the way.

Don't throw it out.

Is it legal?

Cass is very easily influenced.

Remember when she bought all those crab sticks from that guy in his

transit van?

They were just loose in a holdall.

Well, unless you can prove Andrew coerced her,

there's not much you can do.

- No, I know. - How's Maureen?

I'm walking her now.

She's a lot better.

Has she got the little pink coat on I gave her?

She has got the little pink coat on, yes.

Oh, you know I said we were moving away?

Yes. Are you not now? Are you staying around here?

Alison?

No signal. Fucking masts.

Bollocks!

You're not leaving that there?

My dog's ran off. I have to catch her.

It can send kids blind, dog muck.

Do you enjoy blinding toddlers?

I genuinely don't.

I'll clear that up when I find my dog.

Next time, why don't you just get your dog to shit straight

in a baby's eyes?

They should exterminate vermin like you.

You are subhuman filth!

Maureen!

Come see Daddy, Mau-mau!

Maureen!

Hello?

Oh, fuck!

Oh, my God.

Oh, fuck! Oh, Jesus! Fuck!

Shit! Signal.

Shit! Shit! Shit!

Why don't you... Shit!

Just one fucking bar.

God, you fucking...

Fuck, fuck!

Jesus, fuck!

Hi, can you help me?

Someone's dead on purpose.

You OK? Where's Maureen?

There's a body. A man.

A dead man. We need policemen.

We have to get someone with a signal.

I'm a bit puffed. Can you carry me?

Give me a piggyback?

No, that's mad, but...

- I'll call the police. - Have you got a signal?

How have you got a signal?

- Fucking hell. - Yeah, police, please. Thank you.

Shall I speak to them? As I found him.

Hi, yeah, we think we've found dead body.

Not think! And then you say we, but I actually discovered it...

- Him. - Charlesworth Woods.

Yeah, give me a cell number. I'll ping you the GPS deets.

You read about dog walkers finding bodies, but you never think

it'll be you.

I feel weirdly... Not excited, that would be wrong but...

Oh, Jesus.

I know. The colour.

Like a Premier Inn.

Should we lift his legs up in case there's any chance he might...

Do you want to do it?

I don't think you can look like that and not be completely dead.

I can't look.

Can you imagine ever being that desperate?

- Yup. - Really?

Oh, God, yes. I'm precisely the sort of man who kills himself.

Yeah, I'm not sure you could end your own life, Stephen.

What do you know? I could totally kill myself.

In fact, I often think that's how I'll go. Hanging, vodka and pills,

level crossing.

I just don't know, that if the moment came, YOU could actually...

Are you daring me to kill myself?

- No! - Because if/when I do,

don't go spouting off about how you goaded me into it,

because, believe me, I was going to do it anyway.

I've drafted five suicide notes in my time.

Three in my head, and two on paper.

I don't need your help.

Are you angry about Cass' shares?

I'm angry about fucking everything.

Oh, Cass will like this.

She loves seeing her name written in big.

Has she had all her jabs?

I think it's all fine these days, isn't it, in terms of jabs?

I'm not sure it is, Geoff.

Typhoid, hepatitis, cholera.

They should let the kids catch all that stuff like they used to.

Build up resistance.

To cholera?

Oh, we had this through the door.

It's a proposal for that new estate they're planning. Looks great.

It's a terrible idea, Jan.

- Yeah. - I know people have to live somewhere, but it really doesn't

take long for a place to get built up.

Just look at Dubai.

A lot of farmers are selling up to these estates chancers.

Even offered me a small fortune for my place.

More fool them -- you'd never sell.

The only way I'd leave that farm is in a box.

I mean a coffin, not just a normal box.

So, can we protest? Go to the next council meeting?

Sadly, Ellen, the following words spring to mind --

horse, door, stable, and bolted.

- Yes, but if we... - And closed.

- No, closing. - I get it, Geoff.

Closing, like, the, is... That's after has.

- Got you. - And another the.

That's like closing the stable door after the horse has bolted.

- Spot on. - Well, I think it's rotten, profit over everything.

- Yeah. - I'm going to ice Cass' goodbye cake.

You're selling them your farm, aren't you, Geoff?

Course I fucking am.

Shall I make you the primary contact, Mr Donnelly?

No.

As we mentioned, Stephen was here a few moments before I was.

- I'll put you both down. - It was minutes rather than moments.

Not tens of minutes, but certainly, you know, fives of minutes.

OK. I think that's it for now.

Thank you, Detective Sergeant.

A grim old discovery...

.. for me to make...

.. on my own.

Sorry, again, about the vomit.

That's fine.

I hope it doesn't compromise the work of the forensics boys.

- No. - Will they be putting up one of those special tents?

I don't know. Probably.

If we're done here, I might carry on with my run.

- Shake off this tension. - All done.

Would you like me to remain in situ?

Happy to answer any more questions.

No, you're good to go.

Need to find your dog, anyway.

Oh, God, yes. I'd forgotten.

OK, you've got my number.

You're off on your run, then?

Yeah. I'll just warm up again.

Maureen!

I'm just so excited.

It feels a bit like fear, huge fear, but it isn't.

It's excitement.

I feel sick to my stomach with brilliant excitement.

I admire you. I've seen the world.

All manner of things could go wrong.

Yeah, but they won't, will they?

Aw!

I'm sorry, but they've offered a tonne of money.

More than I'd ever get otherwise.

I can't turn it down.

Your lovely farm.

It's not lovely, though, is it?

It's a shit farm, really.

Never makes a profit.

Bleak as all fuck.

So, why not take the money, and feel like a winner for once?

In this life, no-one gets a medal for coming second.

Yes, they do. They get a silver medal.

Yeah, no, I realised that as I said it.

- Done all yours? - Yep.

Varied the height of the posters on each lamp post

for optimum visibility.

We will find her, won't we?

She's only little. It's been hours.

She'll come back. She's probably having some amazing

Disney-like adventure with a Labrador and a Siamese cat.

Solving crimes!

So, moving away?

Have you changed your plans?

Oh, you know. Yeah.

But it's nothing and something, and feelings and things.

But not really.

But also really, and...

- You know. - Sure.

So, you and Tom are a bit...?

I sometimes think he has no idea who I am.

You always knew who I was.

I felt it was the least I could do.

It's Janet, isn't it?

Fuck you!

Ready or not, world, here I come!

Quick, world! Hide!

Make sure you've packed a fuckload of hand sanitizer.

Oh, look. Turn this up.

This is my body.

A man has been named locally as Martin Edward Barry,

whose car dealership recently went into administration.

His body was discovered this morning by the landlord of the John

Barleycorn public house in Snow's Hill Road.

My thoughts and the thoughts of everyone at the John Barleycorn

are with this gentleman's family and friends at this tragic time.

I'm the landlord.

You're not the landlord.

It just makes the narrative clearer for the layperson.

And you didn't find him.

I did. Do you say that on camera?

Do you say that I found the body?

Will the public know?

Sure, I think.

Although, it might not have made the edit.

I did talk for quite a while.

Fuck this! This is my body we're talking about.

I have rights over my body.

A man died, Stephen.

Took his own life. That's the main thing here.

I'm aware of that. I know he took his own life, because I found his

swinging, purple corpse, but I've received no credit.

- Credit? - Not credit, but you know what I mean.

Sort of credit.

Not credit as in credit, but credit.

It's the lack of bloody phone masts.

- I need to be going. - I'll never find another body.

This was my one chance.

Me! My cab's here.

Oh, darling. Come here.

There you go, my sweet.

Mum, I'll have to take this off again to get in the car.

My baby! All grown up at 36, and off to see the world.

Hello?

Yes, it is. Yeah.

Yeah, so we've found your dog.

Pink coat.

Brilliant. Where are you?

A grand, or I kill it.

- What? - You bring me £1,000 cash, or I put your dog behind

my back wheel, and I drive over it.

Nailsworth multistorey, one hour.

Money or she gets crushed.

Call the police, she gets crushed.

We've got people in the police.

- OK. - Cass is off, guys.

Come and wave goodbye.

- Do you want me to come with you? - I'm fine.

They might try to really hurt you.

Maybe just pop along, then.

- Does that guy look like he kidnaps dogs? - Yes. But then...

.. so does that one.

And him.

They all look like they kidnap dogs.

And if you told me they also wanked them off for money, I wouldn't be surprised.

You here about the dog?

We are. Now, we're very concerned...

- Shut up! - .. and you are very angry.

So, let's attempt to triangulate those...

Shut the fuck up! You got the money?

I need to see the dog first.

No, money now or I run her over until she fucking bursts.

Hey, let's everyone calm down.

Hey, let's you fuck off.

Don't burst Maureen!

I will fucking burst her.

I'm not even lying. A grand, now.

You look like a reasonable guy.

Yeah, and you look like a bender.

I've told you to shut up.

What I'd like to do now is to actively listen

to what you want out of this scenario.

Oh, don't tell me you were a

dog hostage negotiator in the fucking Lebanon or somewhere.

Right, I'm going to burst her like a fucking space hopper full of guts.

No! No, no.

Oi, city balls! Come here, you little shit!

Geoff? Is that you?

Don't call me Geoff.

He'll know I'm called Geoff.

Sorry... Lenny.

Dog killer, are we?

No, I haven't got the dog, all right?

It was a con. I just saw the poster.

You want to kill dogs, is that it?

- No, leave me alone! - I love dogs.

They are sweet and trusting creatures.

No, I haven't got the dog!

You ever looked in a dog's eyes?!

Pure devotion!

Beautiful, moves you to tears!

There is no greater love than a dog for its master and vice versa.

Geoff! I'm sorry...

Lenny! He's telling the truth!

A text from Jan.

Maureen's come home! She's back at the pub. She's fine!

I know, mate. The dog came back just before I left!

So, Andrew IS up to something.

I knew it. You can't fool me.

Although, I was once tricked into buying a mini disk player.

So, what exactly did he tell you, this Greg...?

Greg Fuller. He's the clerk of works for the new estate.

Comes to my Pilates class and pretends

to be gay so we won't mind him staring.

- Classic Greg. - He said that your pub is sitting on a potential access road like a goose

on a golden egg. They're going to offer you 40% over market price to knock it down.

So, this is what Brother Andrew's pilgrimage is about.

Worm his way in, sell the pub, cash up, and cunt off.

- It's possible. - Possible, shmossible.

It's probable. Actually, probable shmobable!

- It's certain. - So, advantage, you.

Knowledge is power, and you know something Andrew doesn't know you know.

One step ahead.

Like I was for a brief moment in the

school cross-country before I tripped over my own laces.

- Life's looking good. - And Maureen's safe.

- Do you know where she got to? - Just chilling in the woods,

like the three bears or Savile.

I really wasn't sure she was clever enough to find her own way home.

Oh, she's a very clever girl.

Who's the cleverest girl in the whole world?

I suspect that's probably a human.

So, when will your architect guy be here to plan the rebuild?

Soon. He's finishing another project in Zurich.

Oh, Zurich?

Very architect-y.

Ah, Andrew.

Here's an interesting thing I heard about this new estate.

Apparently, they want to...

- Bonjour! - Cass! Is everything all right?

Brilliant. I have had such an amazing time.

Crazy amazing!

You've only been away four days.

Is that all? It feels like years.

How are you all? Andrew, dear, sweet Andrew.

Look at you.

I have got so much to tell you, my good friend.

Erm, s-should we pay the cabbie?

- How much, mate? - Oh, sorry.

Everyone, this is Paul.

- Paul, this is everyone. - Hello there.

We're sort of married.

- I've got so much to tell you... - How old is he?!

- (70!) - .. I feel like I went away a caterpillar

and I've come back a butterfly!

And you brought back one of the blokes from Cocoon.

I got as far as Lille,

then there was a problem with basically all of my train bookings.

They said that I hadn't clicked the payment thing.

Not your fault.

Bad web design.

So, I ended up staying at this hotel near Lille Station.

Met Paul, made this connection, and just thought,

"Do I really need to actually travel for six months?"

You can see the world in a grain of sand.

Or on the telly.

Travelling to me is just moving from one place to another

in some kind of a vehicle.

A fascinating theory.

I-Is Paul OK, do you think?

He's fine. He spends a lot of time in the toilet.

It's one of his quirks.

Isn't he great? Where's he been all my life?

At a day centre.

And you're married to him?

Sort of. Paul did a kind of selfie marriage ceremony,

and he's an ex-pilot so it felt legal.

Your Lille experience was obviously a very powerful one.

I think of everything out as pre-and post-Lille.

Hanging out there has changed me so much.

They do Fanta in Lille, but a different Fanta.

It's made of lemons and they call it "Limon."

It's another world.

You wouldn't understand unless you've been to Lille.

Ham for breakfast, tabac shops...

.. God, I could go on.

Cass tells us your an ex-pilot, Paul.

So, civilian or military?

Hovercraft.

He was a hovercraft pilot.

Isn't that amazing? It can go on the land and the water.

Like Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, although that could also fly.

It couldn't ALSO fly.

I-It's main thing was that it flew.

To be fair, Chitty was an amphibious craft.

No, I-I get that, Paul.

I've seen the film,

but that's not what people remember about Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.

It's the flying.

It's like when hearing the word "pilot" my mind doesn't immediately go to "hovercraft."

So, what's been happening here since I've been away? Any goss?

Well, I heard some top goss today.

Apparently, the estate guys want to

demolish this pub to build an access road,

and they'll offer as 40% over the market price.

- 40?! - Fuck my old banjo.

I wonder, Andrew if...

You're not going to accept this offer are you, Stephen?

No, it's not about me accepting the offer.

- It's about you. - Stephen, how could you?!

If Stephen's insisting we sell and take all the money,

- then maybe we should... - No, no, I'm... - but I'm dead against it.

I'm not insisting anything. I'm saying that Andrew...

We must keep the mighty Barleycorn going.

We simply have to.

Laurie's dying wish was that his pub should carry on.

Who are we to deny a dying man right, Ellen?

Right. Who cares how many hundreds of thousands of pounds they offer.

I fucking do!

This could scupper the whole project,

and I'll die on my shitty farm and

be eaten by all the emaciated fucking animals!

Here's the plan -- we repair the J bar, I put in some more cash,

get some mates to help out,

and we turn this place into the best pub in a 30 mile radius.

Let's do this!

Hear, hear! I like this guy.

He's glib, but he has an aura.

To the John Barleycorn!

The John Barleycorn!

Yeah, fuck the lot of you.

Good, renovations start Tuesday morning.

So, if you want to be there to meet

the architect and the project manager...

I'm not sure if this is a double bluff

or some kind of 3D Escher bluff

or a fucking Rubik's bluff, but I'm onto you, my friend.

- Onto me? - You find the teats on anything

and then just milk it into your fucking bucket, don't you?

You should get away, Stephen, for a weekend.

Finding Martin's body will have taken its toll mentally.

I am not mad.

I'm the sanest man alive.

Oh, there's Jo.

I should say hello.

- Who's Jo? - Martin Barry's widow. - Widow?

How do you know the widow?!

She got in touch via the police.

She's such an extraordinary woman,

having to hold it together for those poor girls.

You piece of shit!

You've stolen my body.

You're a body snatcher!

If the handling of this story about

a father's suicide has caused you distress, I'm sorry.

Don't try to make me out to be the

unreasonable one here, or hysterical.

You've took my dead businessman away from me,

and it's perfectly reasonable to be angry!

Do you think, maybe, this is more to do with the pub?

That you feel I'm taking a part of your late father away?

Don't analyse me, Sigmund Fuck.

I'm gonna say hi to Jo.

- Hi, there. - Hello.

The girls are just off to their nan's,

but they've done you a drawing to thank you for everything.

You must have been very traumatised by the discovery.

You've been a real rock for us.

Um, actually...

Don't.

I found him...

.. M-Martin, y-your husband.

A-And your dad.

Hi, I'm Stephen.

Hello. A-Andrew actually arrived a bit later,

but because of the mobile mast situation,

which I've e-mailed Ofcom about...

.. twice...

.. I-I had no signal.

B-But it was my...

.. dark privilege to, you know, be there at...

.. Martin's...

.. Daddy's departure.

I-I hope I brought him comfort.

H-He was already dead, I-I couldn't have saved him, but maybe...

.. I d-don't know, d-does consciousness remain at all after

asphyxiation?

Nice to meet you all...

Finally. Thoughts are very much...

♪ Lonely then the table

♪ I'm out of the game

♪ I'm leaving the table

♪ I'm out of the game

♪ I'm leaving the table

♪ I'm out of the game. ♪