Original subtitles

across and says, I would if it wasn't for the bloody Dura!

Hang on, hang on, hang on. Hang on, I've got one for you, I've got one for you.

I've got one for you. It's a red Indian, Steve. It's a red Indian. And his name

is Chief Lazy Bird.

And this Indian... My shout, and who wants another drink?

So, same again, is it, lads? So he goes out of his teepee. Right, that's two

points of lager, two bitter, and a bit of shen.

Now, just start with me, I've got the mountains. I'll tell you what, make mine

pilt. A pint and a half of lager, two bitter, and a pilt. Anyway, he goes out

his teepee and he sees this elk.

So he sees this elk.

Now, I've heard the joke.

I told you it.

Yeah.

Murder, sir.

Yeah, we'll be right there.

While you're on, sir, have you heard the one about the Red Indians?

Yeah, right.

Dave, he told it to me.

What do you mean?

Nobody likes you. Exactly what I say.

You saw it back there in the pub.

Nobody listened to me.

Nobody likes me.

Well, who doesn't like you? Nobody likes me.

You name one single person down the nick who likes me.

Who really, really likes me.

Well, this is, um...

No, give me a chance. There must be somebody.

See?

But one person likes me.

How about that Dorothy?

You know, the traffic warden coming in the campaign.

What about Dorothy?

Well, she's written to you, hasn't she?

How did you find out about that?

Have you been going through my private correspondence?

Well, it wasn't exactly private, was it?

She left it in a little plastic bag under your windscreen washer.

There's nothing between me and Dorothy now, anyway.

She's married to a job.

I can't even take her out of me car since me tax disc ran out.

Nice door, Dorothy.

Nice legs.

Well, she's got one nice leg, anyway.

Well, we'll see.

I'm checking her to the division darts match tonight.

I can get her to sit down for two minutes. I might be in with a chance.

Dave, there's a message from Dorothy.

Dear Dave, can't make the dark tonight as I'm lanting me barucas.

See?

Even Dorothy doesn't like me.

What's the matter with you anyway?

Why do you suddenly think nobody likes you?

Nobody likes me, that's all.

When you say nobody likes you, I mean, I, you know.

Yeah?

Go on, you, you what?

Nothing.

What it is,

They don't like the idea that I'm vague and glamorous.

Always well turned out.

And they don't like the idea that I'm not a beer -swilling moron like the rest

of them.

I'm not a beer -swilling moron.

That's why they don't like you either.

You like me?

That's not what they call you.

You're on your back on me.

What? Twiglet.

Twiglet?

Because you look like a twiglet.

You see?

They hate us.

They don't like us.

Yes, they do.

The super likes us.

Yes, he does. The super hates us.

What have we ever done to make the super hate us?

Told you they hated us.

Watch it, twiglet.

DC Louis, DC Briggs.

Meet Brother Ryan.

Blimey! What's he done?

Done? He's done nothing.

He was a witness.

The only witness we have to the murder of this fellow.

Harry the Horse, he was a mule, did all the donkey work for an international

drugs cartel.

Got greedy and paid the price.

Now, the lads at Scotland Yard say his murder bore all the hallmarks of a

classic mafia hit.

That's why we've got to guard this fellow night and day.

His life is in mortal danger.

If this thing is handled properly, we can put some of the biggest names in the

mob behind bars for years.

I hardly need to tell you.

They'll stop at nothing to bump him off.

Could be the bullet from a sniper, the bomb in the car, or even a lethal dose

poison in his tea.

We think the safest place for him is his monastery in Cumbria.

So I want you two to go with him, undercover, and keep an eye on him.

OK?

No, I'm not going to hide it from you two.

This is a highly dangerous assignment.

If they get to him, they could probably kill you two as well.

So if you want to back out, say the word now.

Good.

Oh, there is just one other thing.

Brother Ryan is from a silent order.

He hasn't spoken a word to another human being for 30 years.

And while you're there...

You'll be expected to follow the same rules.

Think you can manage that?

Why us?

Why does it always have to be us? I told you about it.

Nobody likes us.

Ah, nice assortment, lads.

Two weeks in a monastery in Cumbria.

Have a good time, won't you?

Twiglet.

Would you like a pot of tea, Terry?

What flavor?

Plain.

Right, which way now?

Hang on, I'll ask Mr. Navigator.

First left.

Second right.

straight over the roundabout and first left

at the Prince of Wales pub.

Right,

we'll get changed in the pub then, bud.

She's it.

Come on.

You look like Lulu.

No, no, stay where you are, Frank.

I've just popped in to find out how our precious witness is getting on.

Important case, this, you know. Not to worry, sir.

He's well out of harm's way.

We've got Briggs and Louis looking after him.

Good. Good.

One of our usual safe houses, is it? No, sir.

They've taken extra special precautions in this case.

Really?

So where have you got him stashed, then?

Your garden shed?

No, we've sent him home.

Back to his monastery.

Oh.

And where's that, then, exactly?

A little place called Brecon Moor.

Just outside Carlisle.

And it's just Briggs and Louis, is it?

That's a point.

Think we ought to send reinforcements, sir? No, no.

No, Briggs and Louis will be just fine.

Thanks anyway, Frank.

And then they bring the mattresses in.

They don't have mattresses in a monastery.

It's not the bloody post house, you know.

That's the whole idea. People come to monasteries to suffer.

Through hardship shall cometh understanding, said Paul.

Through denial shall cometh forth wisdom.

Love it is.

Through sitting on a cold stone bench shall come forth pride.

My mum.

You see, that's the difference between you and me.

For me, this is an opportunity to get in touch with my inner self.

And Doc, just for one minute, will you leave Ninja Turtle Heroes alone?

This is God's house we're in.

Yeah, well, if it's God's house, why don't we stick up some shelves and bung

some central heating?

Anyway, where's old Notomath?

He's next door.

Two knocks means he's alright.

Three knocks, he's in trouble.

Poor knock is playing squash.

Come along, Bob.

What?

Breakfast?

You've got a lot to say.

Shameless.

Titty!

like cheeky.

I don't.

But I don't have a sign for mince.

It's a bit difficult, actually, sir.

Oh, Margaret hasn't left you again, has she?

Well,

come on, Frank, you can talk to me.

Well, I don't like to go behind anybody's back, sir, but it's about

Superintendent Lomax.

What about him?

I think he may be involved in that murder at the railway station.

Involved? Oh, it's only a hunch at the moment, sir.

But it's just that... Well, I really do think... You told it right there, Frank.

Ken Lomax has given 25 years of fine and dedicated service to this division.

Got that?

Yes, sir.

So, if you really do want to climb the greasy pole to the position of Chief

Superintendent, there are more honourable ways of going about it than

unfounded rumours about your fellow officers.

Understood? Yes, sir.

God, this is boring.

Is this all they do all day?

Try and dig the garden? Boring!

This isn't boring.

How can this possibly be boring?

Communing with Mother Earth.

Planting a seed deep inside her second warmth and watching it.

It takes it to a bosom and lets it in.

Oh, no, Bob.

This isn't boring.

A worm just touched me hand.

It's rearing up happily.

That may be a worm to you, but it's still one of God's creatures.

Yeah. Well, it's two of God's creatures now. Just take a look at it shutting

off.

He's alive, all right.

Out in the open air.

Ah, Spetland's sitting in a smoke -filled pub full of muggers and crack

and blokes pretending they used to be members of the SAS.

My back's killing me.

What's the matter, Bob? Not used to all this hard work?

No, I'm not used to sleeping on Fred Flintstone's Zed bed.

Shut up, that's your problem.

Look at this lot.

You don't hear them complaining, do you?

I bloody would if they're allowed to.

You know what your problem is, don't you, Bob?

You've got no... What's the word?

What? You've got no... No what?

No... What? No...

What? No soul.

You've got no soul, Bob. Well, who do you think you are?

James Brown.

He is a man without vices.

For 30 years, he has been tilling that same bit of soil.

He reaps and he sows, he rakes and he mows.

He never goes out.

Doesn't go to the pub.

He knows not of the pleasures of the flesh.

He doesn't go to the shops, doesn't watch the telly, never reads the

doesn't buy mucky magazines, doesn't go to the match.

And for 30 years, he hasn't spoken a single word.

Probably hasn't got anything to say.

Exactly. Shall we go to the pub?

What's this play?

Breckenmore brandy.

Brewed by the monks of Breckenmore Monastery for 500 years.

From a blend of traditional herbs and spices.

What do you do? Drink it or rub it in?

That has a nose faintly reminiscent of a fine amontillado.

Smells like deep eat.

Cheers.

Cheap ladybugs.

And he was out hunting elk.

That's a buffalo.

Anyway.

Hey, hey.

This, this is lovely, lovely.

What's the matter?

It's tea, brother.

What it is, what it is, what it is, is nobody

understands the real me.

Nobody knows the real David Briggs.

The thing is, I might seem to you to be uncompromising, uncaring, tough.

An immense theft.

But then, underneath this hard veneer,

I'm really very vulnerable.

And it hurts when people don't like it.

OK.

Dave, I like you, Joe.

Chief Superintendent Lomax.

Has he been a naughty boy?

He's been taking drives and handouts since his first day on the beat.

You've been a very naughty boy.

Nothing I hate more than a bent copper.

Help?

Mischief lazy -bones.

If that's a bison, God knows what they've done with the totem pole.