Original subtitles

Thank you.

I can be so good for you.

Love you like you want me to.

I can be so good for you.

Love you like you want me to.

Here's a special announcement for the owner and rider of number two, Lily Law.

Will you make your way to the parade ring as soon as possible?

I don't know what I'm doing here.

I could be doing other things, you know.

The dogs.

Hackney. Dogs?

Terry, this is where it's at.

Your own county set.

The Mark Phillips lot.

Contacts, isn't it?

Combined business with pleasure.

I've got a smashing lance here I'm trying to unload.

1979 logbook. Only 14 ,000 o 'clock.

Not a trace of rust.

Got a bomb with a chin. It's wonderful, I should think.

God, I smell the affluence.

You don't get that at Hackney, dog track.

Now, it's done.

You're standing in it.

Declarations for the next race, the adjacent post -maison race, close in ten

minutes' time.

That's my one.

It's got a bent on it. So?

Wouldn't say no to her either, is it?

Lily Law?

You can't fancy that. What's with a name like that? You of all people.

I fancy it.

No chance. No chance at all. Look at his legs.

Look at his iron quarters.

What are you going on about as principal?

Want to stick them once on its nose, not give it one? Yeah, stick a fibre on the

other grape for me.

Be advised, Terry. Stand on me.

Lily law.

Here you go, seven quid on spring return.

£28 for seven spring return, ticket number 301.

Excuse me.

There you go.

Four to one.

Four to one?

He must have seen you coming.

So many others added, there's seven to two.

Do it yourself.

Couple of quid, yeah.

Now just walk up, slowly, slowly.

Slowly on the line.

They're under starter's orders, and they're off for the open race.

They're settling down, going to the first. Lily Law goes into the lead.

And at the rear, spring return has started slowly.

Lily Law clear in the lead. Phone bill, lantern and fly exchange. I'm on my

side. Come on, Billy.

Bugger's balked at the first. Billy Law goes clear, going to the second.

And on the run -in, it's Billy Law winning easily from flying stations and

bills.

Here is the result of the open race.

The one I fancy picked it. That's always been your problem, Terry, hasn't it?

What has?

Tethering about, chopping and changing.

What's known in the psychiatric profession as a grasshopper mind.

In the good old days, you could get treatment for it.

Pelmanism. If you have a fancy, a feeling in your water, stick to it.

But it was you who talked me out of it. That's the point I'm trying to make,

isn't it? You shouldn't have listened to me.

You've got to be strong -willed in this world, Terry.

Implacable, like me.

Now, come on, twist me arm and take me for a drink.

Listen, if you're going point to point again, let me know.

I'll arrange to be busy.

Hang about, Terry.

We may have done our bread.

But maybe it's only cast on the waters.

Eh?

Clock the keys in the wind in the willow's waistcoat and snap your felt

there.

That's Watson Everett.

Who? Watson Everett.

Stroll on. Come in, Terry. He's only one of your genuine NH trainers.

He's not rubbish.

Hey, that old bloke has got a couple of jumpers with him.

The Honourable Jeremy Burnham -Jones.

He's swallowed the yuzu or something.

What's the Jeremy Burnham Jones when it's at home? It's compact, isn't it,

Terry? Only one of your bright and true blue jet set.

Everly into antique commemorative pottery.

I'd forgotten he was also everly into GGs.

So what good's that going to do us? Because, Terry, as well as being everly

GGs, I am not entirely disassociated with antique statue work.

Since when?

Subsequent to a favour I did a geezer yesterday.

Antiques? That's who we're used to.

Why not?

Is there anything you're not into?

Yeah, there's one or two things.

Still, you never know your luck.

An

honest

opinion. A connoisseur's assessment.

Me?

You.

What it's worth, you mean?

Yeah.

Well, for a start, is it nicked?

Terry.

It's old, isn't it? Yeah, mid -19th century, yeah.

Well, it's an ornament.

It's a statue.

It's a geezer.

I don't think Arthur Nevis could have nailed it better.

It's China, Terry.

Is it?

You ain't got slant eyes. Not Chinese China.

Not bamboo shoots and prawn ball China.

Staffordshire China.

Oh. A fine, unrecorded Staffordshire figure holding a book and resting his

on a pedestal. That is how your bona fide art world auctioneer will classify

It's Milton.

Milton who?

Milton. The false teeth merchant?

The poet Milton.

Paradise lost, paradise got back, all that.

Go on, go on. Put a price on it.

Yeah, but am I buying or selling?

To the punter, what you are holding, Terry, is worth 80 quid.

95, top whack.

Is it really?

Yeah, it's nice, isn't it?

Handsome.

Bet you wish you had 100.

Too gross.

God, blimey!

Fakes! They are 100 % genuine reproductions.

Well, you're holding then, aren't you, son? All you need now is some punter to

get rid of them for you.

That is where my friend Jeremy Burnham -Jones comes in.

What, a geezer from Brighton who's into pottery and horses?

Context, Terry. That is what life is all about.

I've been on a blowout to him.

He does me a favour, I do him a favour in return.

Oh, yeah?

And what favour are you doing him?

Oh, be fair, Arthur. I mean, credit where credit's due.

Your average punter is not going to stand for it.

Terry, your average punter is going to stand what he's told to stand for

your average punter is a mug.

All right, all right, I won't argue with that.

Your average punter is a mutt.

But he's not a bleeding lunatic, is he?

How come?

Look, your average punter is not going to lob out 85 or 90 sobs on

an antique Staffordshire statue that was manufactured by a factory full of

Pakistanis round the back of Orient football ground, are they? Think not.

No, Arthur.

Highbury may be.

Orient, no.

Terry, I'll mark your card of your average punter for you. He goes into an

antique shop, picks up a little piece of pottery. He's got a sticker on its

bottom saying 350.

He is astute enough to know a piece of rubbish when it's put in front of him.

Vodka and tonic. No, only light ales.

Two light ales, then.

If, contrary -wise, the sticker says 90 nicker, he knows enough about the

subject to know a bargain when it's put in front of him.

Hello, hello, hello, says your Mr. Average Nice Guy Punder.

90 nikka, this can't be rubbish.

Ipso facto, we got a result, Terry.

£1 .60.

298 times 90 is... No, no, no, it's not all profit, Terry.

They are genuine reproductions.

Pakistani craftsmen are no Pakistani craftsmen. Oh, yeah.

It cost me six quid apiece. And there's overheads, travelling exits... Meals.

Exactly.

And what little I do come out on top with. I've got to split down the middle,

haven't I?

And Jeremy Burnham, what's he going to want? A cup of coffee, isn't he?

Sad, but true.

But life isn't just material possessions, Terry.

Do you know what life is really all about?

Contacts. Right.

Brighton is Mecca for your antique tourist punter.

Jeremy has friends at court.

What I was thinking, what keeps going through my mind is...

While you're buzzing around all these antique mortars, what am I going to be

doing?

I'm not surprised they turned it in, you know.

Your theatrical night. Shut up, market lot.

Turn what in?

Commuting. London to Brighton. Brighton to London.

Regulars, clockwork.

Boy, it was elbow.

What was elbow?

Brighton Bell.

Champagne and kippers.

They all did it.

Johnny Gilgall, Ralphie Richardson, David Sexton.

Every morning of the week, we had Pullman cars then.

They had vintage cars and all, didn't they?

London and Brighton.

I mean, can you see Johnny Gielgud, Sir Johnny Gielgud, no less, with his light

ale slopping around in his plastic beaker while he's stuffing individual

pie into his North and South?

Not on either, mate.

What, sitting here like this? He wouldn't stand for it.

You know what I keep thinking is...

Why do you need the heavy brigade?

Heavy brigade?

Yours truly.

Who down there needs leaning on?

Nobody. A little seaside trip for you, isn't it? Fresh air, all that.

Put money on it?

Much as you like, my son.

You'll find you're on a loser.

Yes, that was great.

He worked well on the bridle over six furlongs. He'll be there in time for

plumbing. He'll be all right in time for the race, all right. No fear in that

score. Yes, Governor.

Make sure he's done it properly.

Right. I did that right enough.

19th century commemorative Staffordshire equestrian figure you've got there,

Terry. Birth of Bob or two, I can tell you that.

Well, more than milk. What?

Your pottery equestrian's a different class, your pottery poet, isn't he? I

mean, that's really kosher. You're into the ton and a half club there, I should

say. Really? Yeah.

Rather more than that, aren't I? Yes. Hello, Jeremy. How nice to see you

Thank you.

So this is the friend you were telling me about, Arthur? Yeah, Terence McCann,

the Honourable Jeremy Burnham Jones.

Nice place to meet you.

Hello, Terence.

You're like the archer.

The what?

The Fred Archer, Mr McCann. He rode over 2 ,750 winners.

Six ledgers, five derbies, four Oaks, 2 ,000 guineas four times, 1 ,000 guineas

twice. Greatest pep war.

You haven't heard of him?

No, it's not up my street.

No, no, it's not his strongest subject, a history of the turf, Jeremy.

Now, that, that's more like it, isn't it? What?

Martha McGrath, winner of the Brownlow, Starris Brick and Douglas Cup.

The only dog ever to win the Waterloo three times.

Hardly the sport of kings.

How about queens, Jeremy?

Royal command.

was presented to Queen Victoria at court.

He will have his little joke.

And all the same, one hopes that Mr McCann will prove rather better than

when it comes to earning his keep.

I want a word with you.

Yeah, of course.

Outside.

Don't worry, Jeremy.

Underneath all that, solid gold.

All that glitters, Arthur.

Exactly.

Since when have I been on his payroll? I was going to tell you, Terry, but I was

just waiting for the opportune moment, you know. Like now?

Yeah, well, look, as I explained to you, Jeremy is doing me a favour, apropos

the milks, right?

Yeah, all right, yeah. And I, in return, and by courtesy of you, am doing him a

favour back.

What sort of favour? No, no, don't lose your bottle. Nothing big, nothing you

haven't handled before.

Sort of, um, watchdogging type of thing, you know.

What sort of watchdogging?

Well, watch all things, really. I mean, to be absolutely clinical.

Me? Sleeping there?

Leaving out?

Terry! No, no, no, it's not nice, is it?

What do you mean, it's not nice?

Me, keeping down with a bleeding neck.

No, I'm sorry, mate, it's not on.

Terry, this is the countryside.

This is your great outdoors.

Look, you could be sitting behind a desk in a solo club.

Breathing in all that ciggy smoke and all that rubbish.

Grappling with legless marauders from Man United's far -flung legions.

Having aggro.

This is Shangri -La.

No, Alfred, it's not on.

Don't mean.

Even the old pals act as its limit.

Yeah, but it's only for a few days. Just put it on.

Make sure you don't get lobbled.

I'm not pipping on straw, Finito.

That was good enough for our saviour, Terry.

But you wouldn't have to be kipping down on the straw, Patrick.

We've an armchair.

Especially for that specific purpose.

They've got an armchair? Well, that's terrific, isn't it? I'll tell you what,

Paddy. You get your head down. Go on, be my guest. You sleep with Pelman. I

mean, Pelman!

What's wrong with Pelmet for a name?

Nothing on a curtain rail. Listen, you, there is no way I'm going case with

several hundredweight of unprocessed dog mates.

That is one of the country's foremost chasers.

No, Arthur.

Well, if you want to, Patrick, there's always them that will.

Yeah, well, you'd better get hold of them.

Listen, wouldn't it be the first time that a stable after Stuttgart all night

lying down with the racehorse?

A bird? Yeah.

The mind boggles, doesn't it?

I mean, what sort of scruffy scrubber have you got to get who's going to sleep

with a horse in a stable, eh?

Hello.

I'm Jocelyn Maxwell Saunders.

Oh, I'm Arthur Edward Daly.

Oh, you must be the good Samaritan who's volunteered to give a watchful eye on

this chap.

Um, well, no, actually.

No, it's, uh, it's me.

Terry McCann. Oh, hello.

It really is awfully kind of you.

Absolutely. Any friend of Arthur?

We're awfully grateful, Pell and I.

Pell's his stable name.

I'm riding him next week.

I'm Rita.

I was going to get landed with the job of spending me nights in there, so

done me a right good favour.

I've given up all hope of getting any beauty sleep.

Yeah, well, your need is great.

Any road.

If there's anything I can do for you, you only have to ask.

No, I'll do my utmost not to be a bother.

You're a tough you are.

God, dear Lord.

Oh, that's nice, isn't it?

I'd never do that again. I mean, why couldn't you knock?

I didn't like to knock. I thought you might have had your head down.

Only it fetched you a cup of cocoa.

Oh, Tom.

Do you take sugar?

No, no.

Oh, I thought you would.

You look as if you do.

Only you've put three spoonfuls in.

Well, I won't stir it then, eh?

Nothing else you want?

No, no.

Oh.

Right.

Well, I'll say goodnight then, Terry.

Okay. Good night then, Terry.

It could do with a cork up your bum.

Work day today, Rita. As soon as you can. Let's have them tacked up early.

Morning, Parrish.

Have a nice night.

Perfect.

Oi, Paddy.

Yes, Patrick.

I want a wash and a shave.

Well, you're easily taken care of. There's a standpipe right behind me.

Well, no hot water.

No hot water.

How do you shave, then?

Electric razor.

That's what I've got.

Where do you plug it in?

I didn't plug it in.

Works on a battery.

Morning.

Oh, morning, Josh.

Morning. Morning.

Any chance of a cup of tea or something?

Oh, there was a cup of tea for them that was up in time for it, but there'll be

nothing there till after the gallops.

What, no breakfast?

Morning, Miltons.

It's funny.

What's that?

Well, don't make it obvious, but if you look to your right, I keep seeing

something glint in those trees.

Can't see anything?

No, you're right, it's gone.

Probably not important.

No, maybe not.

Possibly kids from the village fooling around.

It's a bit early in the day for kids, isn't it?

Anyway, they're always on the go, aren't they? Always dodging about.

That's the third time I've seen something in the same place in the last

minutes.

Do you think someone's trying to novel Pell?

What do you think?

All things are possible, as the poet said.

What poet?

Milton?

Don't you think you ought to stroll up there and take a look?

No, no, no.

No, if he sees me coming, he'll just leg it somewhere else, won't he? He'll also

know I know where he is.

No.

Always allow the enemy to believe he's two moves ahead, right?

But always be one move ahead of him.

Who said that?

Certainly not Milton.

Wellington at Waterloo?

No.

Alexander at Elyria?

No.

Jules C. Scott.

John, give me a rub over. Lay him down, will you?

Hey, I'll give you odds you've never done a day's work like this before.

Hmm? Being a bodyguard to a Gigi.

Look, I spent a fortnight once. It was Christmas.

Being nursemaid to a load of residents of a turkey call. Oh.

They're not very much alike, though, I wouldn't think.

They're not turkeys and racehorses.

You'd be surprised, you know. Yeah.

I mean, once they're bound and rolled, you know, sage and onion stuffing, of

course, and lashings of thick brown gravy, smashing.

Hey, listen.

You're not one of them heathens that eats horse flesh, are you?

I get it. The joke. Yeah. Roast racehorse.

That's very good.

Did you hear that?

Roast racehorse.

Come on, Diglo.

Oh,

my God. Rita, no. No, Rita.

Get out, Diglo. Get out.

Sorry, Terry.

God, you're a terrible man.

Right, what sort of menu do you have?

What day is it?

Thursday, isn't it? Oh, it's Thursday already.

Oh, in that case, it'll be... Beef bourguignon.

Beef bourguignon. Thursday is just the day to put the chef's hat on.

Now, if it was really the day, it'd be egg and chips.

It was egg and chips yesterday, wasn't it?

Yeah. Yeah, look, I prefer the beef bourguignon.

You're supposed to like my egg and chips.

I've nothing against egg and chips in principle, but you see, beef

got more protein.

Have you got a minute, Langton?

Oh, I'm totally committed to the Washington upcoming.

Oh, yeah, it looks like it.

Well, if you've finished, Rita, tune the crowd and give Joss a hand in the

taproom. I'm going down to the village.

Here,

Paddy, hands with your arm.

Have you seen this geezer? Oh,

the phantom nobbler.

Yeah, I've seen somebody a time or two up in them woods.

Is that what you think it is?

Somebody trying to nobble the honourable Gigi?

Well, he's hardly word -watching up there.

I listen to the rumour going around that someone's trying to get at the horse.

And Jeremy would lose a few bob, right? If his horse was got out.

Yeah, well, he loses his prize money. Picks 100 quid and thrusts past the

600? Yeah.

Oh, dear, I know. I've seen more in the pontoon kitty at the Fulham Conservative

Club. Ah, yeah, but the cut glass decanter goes with it.

Really?

Must be hoping to make a killing with the bookies, then, eh?

No, he won't do that.

Why not?

Well, I think he'll start off as a red -hot favourite, weigh out odds on. He's

not worth a bet.

That much a certainty?

Yeah, sure thing.

All he'll have to do is to turn up a plummet on the day, and he's as good as

the Post.

And he'll turn up all right.

Fit as a fiddle.

You've got you to see to that.

What do you say this was?

Hmm?

Oh, it's beef bourguignon.

It's French.

It's horrible.

What?

Hey, that's not... That's not beef bourguignon you've got there, Patrick.

did you get that from?

At the pan over there.

Oh, that explains it.

Explains what?

Well, you see, your beef bourguignon is in the oven, and what you've got there

is the special diet that I was heating up for the three -year -old.

Horse food?

Well, what's wrong with that?

He knows food.

Listen, there's nothing wrong with the food we give the horses. There's nothing

in there you couldn't eat yourself.

You sure of that?

Sure, I'm sure.

I make sure of it myself personally.

It's got oats and it's got bran and it's... Well, there's just one little

problem that you've got there, Patrick.

What? Well, you see, the three -year -old was on a diet for constipation and

put some jollop in there to give the horse the trots.

So if I was here, I'd keep my klimt soles on for the rest of the day.

You know what I mean?

You can't have out, Terry. If it were humanly possible, you could. But I have

given my word to Jeremy.

But in his circle, your word is thingy, isn't it? You know, sacrosanct.

I've eaten horse food.

During the war, we ate all sorts of things. We ate whales.

Even the odd snook.

No, I'm not spending another night without horse.

It farmed.

We're none of us perfect, Terry. Oh, and that silly cow, she's after me. Yeah?

Yeah. She only soaked all my clothes, didn't she?

Really? Oh, well, you seem to be getting some fringe benefits out of it all,

don't you?

I'm not certain I haven't got a little visitor, either.

If you've got fleas, you haven't got them from the horse.

And don't go giving them to the horse.

Or questions will be asked in the house.

You think you've got problems. You should be where I am.

I am where you are. Not of this immediate moment, you nurk.

I mean, in a hot seat, wearing out shoe leather, trying to knock out milts.

Now, if I'd been asked to keep in a proper stable with a derby runner or

something, Plumwick Pelmet would leave me out.

Milton? Brighton?

I thought they'd have gone a bomb with you Yankee tourist punters.

But they're all into royalty.

Got no literary heritage they can call their own.

All they want is pottery kings and queens.

She's a pigeon fancier.

What?

The Queen.

The pigeon fancier.

Hard to believe, really, isn't it?

No, I used to win a few fags with that in the scrubs. Used to carry around a

clipping from titbits.

What have pigeons got to do with it? I'm talking about American literature

before your present 20th century.

Mark Twain.

Moby Dick bloke.

Uncle Tom's cabin.

And what's that one about the red Indian with his short back and thighs? What's

his name?

Geronimo? No, no, no, no, no, no.

All guys up, though.

Last of the... Mohegans.

Oh, she's got class.

Yeah, she has, as it happens.

Really? You should see her at the gallops.

Firm, young thighs, clasped against the horse's flanks.

Holding it back.

Didn't get that bit of purple prose, did you?

You haven't been given it one, have you?

Nah, all I get from her is double blanks. It's that other silly moo I'm

off, trying to buy my body with mugs of cocoa.

You could travel farther and fare worse, Terry.

Well, she must have better manners in the kit than your four -legged friend.

I'll leave it out after.

That'll be one for your memoirs, Terry. You'll get a result there.

Oh, well, breath on.

I might have recourse to going back to town.

England? Yeah, London, yeah.

I've been considering the feasibility.

I mean, the milk's not doing the hot cake back down here. I might just want

chase my contacts up west.

Well, it suits me. I've had a belly full of this.

Oh, no, no, not you.

I have given Jeremy my word that you will see this job through.

And I am a man of my word.

And you are a man of my word, too.

Anyway, I'll keep in touch.

Oh, she wants you.

I'll be the Coco Queen.

Grab that finger, sir.

Get the other bugger down.

Near the table first.

Move it.

What the hell happened?

I had a visitor. He had a gun.

Get a look at him. Do you recognize the lunatic?

No. I'll know next time.

Enjoy the race, Patrick.

You're not going?

Somebody has to mind the shop.

Anyway,

I'm not missing much.

Hey, I'll tell you something.

She leads from the start.

And all the rest of the material will be the back of her bum.

Mr. McCann!

Yeah, well, tell her I'll find him, mate. I'll see you, eh? Look after

God bless, Patrick.

Hey!

Keep taking the horse tablets.

Come on.

Ten o 'clock already.

I want to get in there and settle down a couple of hours before the office.

Let him down just before you see the steward.

Where the hell's Rita got to?

Drop the time on you, Terry.

Yes, thanks.

Would you mind telling me? I've got a watch, but I haven't got it on.

Just gone 12.

It's at the Menders.

Getting mended.

You on your own? You waiting for somebody?

Yeah, something like that.

Haven't you got things to do?

Joc will see her into the stable. She doesn't run until the 2 .15.

Only if you are on your own.

I'm on my own.

So I'll wait for the gates to open. You could buy me a drink.

Or on the other hand, I could buy you a drink.

Sorry, Reek. Got to see a man about horse. See you later.

Be lucky.

Never another job like that one.

Hello, young lover.

Not playing Goodsbury, am I?

Open the boot.

Look at that.

That's a bit tawdry, isn't it?

Stone me, that's it. Pardon?

A geezer who tried to bonfire me.

Thank you.

you dare, and I'll do more than say of something. I'll have you put away again,

my lad.

Hold thy tongue, woman!

Thou art shapen in wickedness, and in sin hath thy mother conceived thee.

Build off!

Is that a friend of yours?

He's no friend of mine.

You're on a bleeding switch.

I know. I must have been off mine when I married that dast dozy sod.

Generation of vipers!

Who are you? I warn thee from the wrath to come. Shut your gob.

Can't you leave me alone?

Can't you let me live my life? I wouldn't care. I've been separated from

years. We've been divorced ten months.

I knew it was you. I knew all along. And you tried to give me some.

I've got a quarter older on him from a lesson.

You know you'll suffer for it in the long run. Why can't you?

and the bloody end.

He follows me round the country and a right good living job at a riding

near Eddon Bridge run by a married gentleman with a son at university.

A Rotarian.

morning when a couple of religious maniacs kept him talking on the door.

Well, as the man said, it takes all sorts.

Very astutely put, my son. But if we're going to stand here philosophising all

afternoon, we're not going to earn our wages, are we? Come on.

Number

three,

permit,

Miss Maxwell Saunders.

Grey and gold.

Any extras to declare?

No extras.

Allowance, three pounds.

Saving three pounds.

And it's just.

Go and get a cup of tea.

Next.

You know, my son, one ton.

Put yourself about, see what you can get.

A hundred?

Yeah.

It's going to be no price, is it? It's bound to be odds on.

And I could all catch a sprat then, innit?

Look, I have it from the horse's mouth. It's the biggest certainty since the

tortoise walloped the air. And catching a sprat's better than bugger all.

Well, go on, chill out.

What's your last servant dial?

Enlarged arteries.

Excuse me.

Here we go. Yes, sunshine.

£120. £120.

£734. £734.

There you go.

Five to one on.

Five to one on?

A hundred nigger to twenty. Is that the best you could get? Yes.

Do it yourself?

Nah. Never do odds -on shots.

So I walk away with twenty quid. That can't be bad. Minus tax.

No,

I never have done odds -ons.

In any case... They'll soon be calling the line.

In any case what, Tony?

What, Terry?

If coma is such a good thing, how come I saw your oppo, Jeremy, putting all his

dough on the second favourite, Linda's lunch?

Linda's lunch? Yeah, six to one, not a bad price, that, is it?

He needed his rider.

She got off.

Come on, Linda.

Come on, my beauty.

What you on about?

Go on, my son. Kick her on.

I never fancied that pelmet

anyway. Even before I saw this warm chick putting all his loot on a second

favourite. Just never fancied it.

Why not?

Feeling in me, Walter.

You might have told me.

What for?

Wouldn't have done any good, would it?

You're Walsh's name, aren't you?

Implacable.

Here's another thing.

What?

All that stuff you were giving me before the off about it being the greatest

racing certainty since the talk was well up the air. What about it?

Historically inaccurate, innit?

Before the start of that race, the air was not your favourite, was it?

Amazing. Who do you think you are? Bleeding Eshop?

Oh, dear.

Oi! Jeremy, you bastard.

You had that race rigged.

Wow, sir, as if I would.

Justin's foot slipped out of the iron, that's all.

Leave it out. She took a dive. I had her in me bins.

You might have robed me in. You did owe me a favour. I lent you Terry.

Oh, I would have helped you.

But one has to be discreet if one wants to keep the odds out on the second

favourite.

How'd you get that bird to sling it, eh?

Break her arm or something?

Hello, darling.

Dear, oh dear, Terry.

What is it all about, eh?

Contact, isn't it?

Sorry I couldn't help you push the Miltons, Arthur.

Give us a ring if ever I can give you any help again.

No, no, no, Terry.

Yeah, go on.

There's a copper.

No, I never had her card marked as being dodgy, I must say.

And it?

Well, he was definitely bent.

He was bent.

Oh, yeah.

Been crooked.

I thought we'd spent peculiar, you know. We didn't study the form, Terry, did

we? Ah, and your favourite finished well down the field, didn't he?

What don't a field be lost?

All is not lost.

The unconquerable will, the study of revenge, er, et cetera, et cetera.

Milton?

The lad himself.

Null desperandum, that's what I think he's trying to tell us, Terry. Cop that.

It's a paintbrush.

That is your starter for ten.

This is a pot of blue paint, this is a pot of white paint. I want them all

painted. Blue shirts, blue breeches, white socks, nice pair of boots.

Do what?

I have another contact in commemorative pottery.

No, no, no, be honest.

I've got a mate who's got a souvenir shop not far from Stamford Bridge.

I'll stand a loss, but you'll knock him out for me as Chelsea footballers.

Let him fit out.

He can't do that, he's a famous antique poet.

He's got a book in his hand.

FAM book, isn't it?

He's wearing a cloak.

Oh, paint it. Stick a number on the back.

Don't argue with me, Terry. Exercise your artistic talent.

Here.

You have the blue.

Here's another one for you.

I live in Gaza at a mill with slaves.

Samson Agonistes.

I've got one for you.

Oh?

When the ball hit the back of the net, I was over the moon, Brian.

Kevin Keegan.

I think you're an inside forward, my son.

I've changed the situation.

Right people, right time, just the wrong location.

I've got a good idea.

Just you keep me near. I'll be so good for you. I could be so good for you.

I'm going to help you. Love you like you want me to.

Peace out.