Original subtitles

Not a bad day, Bob. What's the final score?

One pickpocket, one shoplifter, one drunk in charge of a lawnmower and

lab.

Exhibit A for the forensic lab.

Not a bad

day at all.

You know, in spite of my initial opposition... I'm warm into this

-related pay business.

Initial opposition?

You burst into tears.

That was before I realised the possibilities.

Potential. Just stick. We get one house point for every arrest we make.

And points mean... Prizes!

Keep this up for the rest of it, because everyone thinks it mitches your food

up. Hey, you've missed one out.

You can't do that.

Do you want to win this handy blender -cum -juice -maker or not?

Curb crawling is a serious offence.

It is not curb crawling.

It's an open and shut case.

I'm slowing down to pick up that case.

He was driving up by.

Yeah, well, they all count.

So, that's three to me and one to Uncle Babblington.

Hang on.

What?

We agreed half and half.

If it hadn't been for me, you wouldn't have got any.

Who nipped the shoplifter?

Yeah, yeah.

And what about the joyrider? You wanted to let him go.

Joyrider? He was mowing his lawn.

He was in charge of a motorised vehicle with excess alcohol in his blood. How do

you know?

His lines were all wiggly.

Oh, and that's a crime now, is it? You wouldn't be so poncy, bloody liberal if

he'd mown over a crocodile and mixed infants, eh?

Wasn't a hovermower, you know.

and he hadn't got his grass box on.

You're becoming obsessed, you know that? I am just carrying out the Home

Secretary's instructions.

You're becoming obsessed with numbers. You'd do anything to get another notch

this board. There is nothing wrong with incentives, Bob. Oh, yes, there is. What

about Beckett?

Before this nonsense, he was a perfectly reasonable, work -shy copper with a

part -time job as a minicab driver.

And now he spends all his time hanging around public conveniences whistling

Doris Day songs.

So notches on the board don't matter to you?

No. Good.

That's fine, then.

Speak to me.

One to Uncle Boblington.

You're starting to look ridiculous, do you know that?

There is nothing ridiculous about it.

D .C. Beckett may be whistling the soundtrack from Calamity Jane every

evening, but two more arrests and he's jetting off to Puerto Bernute, mate.

All expenses paid.

Well, what about poor old Warner?

Winners and losers in everything, Bob.

Three months, one arrest.

Warner is in the fine arts squad.

If you don't make arrests in the fine arts squad, you wouldn't want to damage

their nails.

That's what I mean. It's still up to the draw.

Warner doesn't want to be in the fine arts squad. He's asked for a transfer

already.

Isn't that right, sir? What part are we?

Warner wants to leave the fine arts department.

Yes, he does.

Shame about Warner.

He's a good copper. He's being wasted.

He's got his eye on that wet and dry vacuum cleaner as well.

Exactly. It's a far.

It's a farrago.

It's a mondayo.

Arc at Vanessa Redgrave.

Why don't you start a little demo?

No, all I'm saying, people should be transferred from department to

so we could all have a fair crack of the whip.

You've got a point there, Louis.

Silly to leave a good man like Warner languishing in fine art.

Ooh, that's a nice pen, sir.

Yes. Three initials of my choice etched on the barrel.

I got it for that drive -by shooting in Shoreditch.

And 2 ,000 ear -miles.

There you are, Louis.

I've changed the rota.

Warner is no longer in fine art.

Thank you, sir.

Not be too bad, Dave. I can't.

I can't even begin to talk to you.

Hate is a big word.

But I hate you.

I hate everything about you.

I hate your clothes and I hate your head.

Oh, sir.

Your parking meter's run out.

Oh, thank you, thank you. I don't thank me.

I had it towed away.

It's my private.

There isn't even anybody here.

It's probably like a charity shop only open Wednesdays and Thursdays.

The Fine Arts Squad.

Look, how many cards do I have to sign? All right, a million.

A big zillion.

On your knees, on broken glass, watching golf.

The Fine Arts.

Have you any idea what a redundant, pathetic waste of taxpayers' money the

Arts Squad really is?

Hello, sir. Diggs and Louie, reporting for duty.

You'd better come in.

We're sorry to lose Warner. He's a damn fine backgammon player.

Do either of you two play backgammon? No.

We tend to spend a lot of time out catching criminals.

You know, in police cars.

Fire and flashing lights.

Men with tattoos in jail. That sort of thing.

That's a constable, isn't it, sir? That's what we'll be if we stay here.

Louis, sir.

Know a bit about art, do you?

Oh, I used to like art at school, sir.

The teacher used to love smoke.

She never wore a bra.

Do you recognise this?

It's Pollock's.

By Jackson Pollock, the father of contemporary action painting.

Ah.

And this?

Um...

Mozart?

No, not Mozart.

The other one.

Kirk Guglick played him in that film.

Was it Charlton Heston?

You think that that was painted by Charlton Heston?

That's not what I'm saying.

Did some cracking paintings, old Charlton Heston.

Picasso.

That's what I was going to say.

Picasso. Except, of course, that it isn't. No.

Exactly.

Not what I meant.

He's not giving me much of a chance, sir.

It's not my peculiarity at all. It's the forgery of fake, which is why it's in

my special collection.

Telling fakes and the real thing is an essential part of our work here.

Now, you tell me, how do we know that that is a fake?

Well, it's obvious, sir.

I mean, whoever painted that made a right cock up of it.

He's painting both eyes on the same side of the face.

Seems I'm going to have a terribly jolly time with you two along.

Terribly jolly.

Do you have much on at the moment, sir?

How are you on the subject of smugglers?

Smugglers? Seven down, eight letters.

Smugglers avoid aerobics when the Queen goes missing.

You've been bothering me all day.

No, sir. Is there anything you'd like us to work on?

Oh, I can't think of anything that would particularly suit your undoubted

talents.

You see, I do prefer to work alone.

Ah. I see.

Sorry?

You're after that speedboat, aren't you?

Speedboat? Oh, no, sir.

If you've got any little cases you want sorting out, we'll tag along, me and

him. Won't we, Bob?

Very well, if you insist.

Welcome to the world of art.

So, what is it to be, Brian?

Are you going to turn this poor, starving artist into a multimillionaire,

you going to totally destroy him?

How you flatter me, Sutton.

There are two people I'd like you to meet. I think you'll find them amusing.

Briggs, Louis.

D .C. Briggs, D .C. Louis.

This is Brian Kent, Britain's leading art critic.

Very nice to meet you, sir.

This is the man who tells us poor Philistines whether a pile of bricks is

of art or a pile of... bricks.

So you know all about this art stuff, do you?

One takes a passing interest.

So, um... What's that one supposed to be?

Fascinating.

I would say that it is a statement of man's burning desire to see his innate

animal passion quenched with the calming effluence of divinity.

What? That one next to the fire extinguisher.

We are talking about the fire extinguisher.

Now, Sergeant, what can I do you the pleasure?

It's about the Hayden Smales work.

It was stolen from the Anthony Neal Gallery.

Yes? The one that you gave such a glowing review in your column last week.

I had read that it had been stolen.

So, have you any ideas?

Yes. Yes, but you might want to steal it. It's obviously someone who shares

taste for the unusual.

Oh, there's a talk.

I was thinking of paying Mr. Neal a visit.

If you do, give him my regards in many ways.

What is it?

One of your colleagues has just knocked out perhaps the finest visual

performance artist that we have ever produced.

The rest of the monthly tax disc is out of date.

Now, before we proceed, I want you both to remember we're about to enter a

creative workspace.

What are you doing?

People you're going to meet are artists, and they can be rather delicate.

And the man who we're here to see has just had his most prized creation

so he may be rather upset. So what I'm saying is, please don't.

Hit anybody.

8 -2.

8 -2.

8 -2. 8 -2. 8 -2.

Get that, will you, please, Huey?

Yes, Master.

You carry on with your bloody Meccano kit.

What? We are here to see Hayden Smale.

No, that's him.

That's him over there.

But you must be gentle with him.

Geniuses hate to be disturbed.

You two wait here.

I'll speak to him.

Oh, and please, do be careful.

Tell you what, mate.

Your decorator's crap.

He's spilling it all.

He's not a decorator.

It's like those pollocks we got back at the office.

were just saying, me and him, it's like a painting we got back at the, uh,

office.

Hey, you got a license for this radio?

Yeah.

license for that weapon could you two please get out of the way I'd like to

see my model

It smells somewhere a little less problematic.

Yes, sir.

You see, it took so much out of me. So very much. A theft is always a

terrible trauma when it is one's own personal creation.

Mortals such as us can only guess.

So, what exactly was it that was stolen?

It was a mixed media piece.

A visual account in three parts of the futility of the war in the Balkans.

Perhaps you'd like to make a note, Louis?

Sir.

I drew that.

It's him.

So what exactly was this a painting of?

Painting? Drawing, then. I don't paint. Paint is for fascists. Hitler painted.

Gently does it, Briggs.

It wasn't a painting.

It was a piece of installation art.

Right, then.

Perhaps you could give us just a little clue as to what it looked like. It was a

large glass fish tank.

A fish tank?

A large glass fish tank.

And in it was a tin of South African peaches and a pair of maracas.

Sounds very decorative.

Both suspended in two gallons of my own personal urine.

Urine. My!

Is he taking the... It is a common, nice and contemporary avant -garde to

create masterpieces using their own bodily fluids.

This is all very well, sir. I mean, I know things are slow in the fine arts

squad, but aren't we a bit overman for the theft of a fish tank?

Especially one that he's been using as a mobile carzy.

Is it worth, anyway? Could it be worth more than... £25 ,000?

It was insured for 25 ,000 pounds.

Mind you, if you flogged it on the Japanese market, we'd get double that.

Hang on.

He has a Jimmy in his goldfish bowl.

It's worth 25 ,000 pounds?

Funny old business, the art world, isn't it?

The next time he sees it. I don't imagine there's much hope of recovering

piece. Don't you worry, Mr. Smales.

You have two of my finest detectives on your side.

Good.

Good. Well, I'd better be popping back to the studio.

Hang on. What? Before you go, you wouldn't be thinking of popping to the

lavatory.

Something doesn't smell right about this.

Listen, I can do a bit of digging, see what smells is up to. What do you want

to do, sir?

Now we know what it looks like, I think we can do this our own way.

As you wish.

Yes, sir.

We may be operating in your world, but there are one or two shortcuts that only

coppers who work the mean streets know about.

Yeah, like that one behind the library when they finish the roadworks.

Right then, sir.

Just, er, you pop off and we'll see who gets the speedboat.

We might even give you a ride in it.

So, what do we do?

What do we do, Bob?

We wait.

What for?

Don't know, really.

£25 ,000 for two gallons of urine.

That means in about 15 minutes, this pint could be worth... Two gallons

by 16, that's £1 ,562 .50p.

For one pint.

That's club prices, that is.

£2 .90, please.

Bargain.

We have something to celebrate.

How does 30 ,000 pounds sound to you?

After half. Of course.

Thanks to me, my dear. He thinks you are the best thing in Warhol.

Well, I am. He was a bloody fraud as well.

No, no, no, no. This is not fraud.

It's simply a matter of supply and demand.

Well, the police won't see it that way. I've already had a couple of detectives

round to the studio. I met them.

We need to worry about them.

No collector will ever be able to...

I told you all we had to do was

wait.

Oh, not whispering Walter, huh?

Are you mad?

We've got to start somewhere.

We don't need the local graft on there.

The villain's not likely to come from round here, is he?

Urine isn't exactly in demand on this estate.

The lifts are full of it.

Here they come.

They're looking for some information, lads.

We're looking for a goldfish tank full of urine.

There's a drink in it for you.

Goldfish tank, you say?

Full of artist's piddle.

Wait, fish tank.

Midland Bank.

Artist's piddle on the fiddle?

No, no, it's a real fish tank.

With a tin of fruit and some Spanish maracas in it.

OK, OK, give us a chance.

Spanish maracas.

Safe crackers.

Tin of fruit, tin of fruit. Don't tell me.

Tin of fruit.

Fruit and veg.

Ron and Reg, I'm with you.

I think he's hopeless.

I think you're right.

Hey, I'm not leaving this.

There's 800 quid with you.

Here, Beckett's packed two more.

Look at Warner. He's racing away.

Where was he transferred to?

The House of Lords car park.

Anyway, stuff.

Points make prizes.

I'm off home. OK, Bob.

Going for your pint?

Pint?

Er... No, no, I think I'll just stay here for a bit, you know.

Just tidy things up a bit.

Tidy you up?

Yeah, you know.

Tie up a few loose ends.

I'll wait.

No, no, no, no, no, Bob. You trot off home, you know. I'll just... I'll just

potter about.

Just do it.

Do what?

Process the out -of -date tax disc.

The Ferrari outside the studio?

I don't know what you're talking about.

That little notebook's been burning and all in your jacket all day. You couldn't

wait to get back here and put another notch on the board. I am just doing my

job, Bob.

Fighting the forces of evil.

Another little brownie point.

The brownie -nosey Griggsies.

Yeah, that's what it is.

They're a one -man police, don't you?

Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah.

Bloody hell.

What's the matter? Repetitive strain injury?

That Ferrari belongs to Keaton Smiles.

I'm not surprised.

I'd buy a Ferrari if I could flog me piddle for 25 grand a circuit.

There's a CRO against his name.

Smails. Hayden Matthews. Three convictions. Credit card fraud.

Property fraud.

Stolen cheques.

Deception and handling stolen property.

Still here, gentlemen.

Just tying up a few loose ends, sir.

You know how it is, though, your work a bit... Yes, interesting character, this

smell, isn't he?

I could never understand why Brian was getting so hot under the collar about

him. Who, sir?

Now I do, indeed I do. It's clever, very clever.

Of course, I'd never have suspected if it hadn't been for Huey.

You can come in, Huey.

You've met Briggs and Louie, haven't you?

Did you manage to get the melon off the end of that bloke's neck?

I left it there. It said something.

It's no sort of record, but it was Huey here who finally put all the pieces

together and he's agreed to help us tie the case up.

I wouldn't normally grasp, but the money that guy was making... Huey has agreed

to help us smuggle you two into the studio tonight. You'll be hidden, and if

Huey is right... You'll hear the whole thing unravel in the morning.

Well, we were just about to go on, so... Points make prizes, Louis.

There's ten in it for each of you for this.

Huey, do you have the necessary ingredients?

Aye.

My nose, it is tough.

It's a little messy, my friend.

Artists' studios are expected to be messy.

Au contraire.

I find artists' studios almost intoxicating. Yes.

Speaking of which, let's have a glass of wine.

That'll be good.

But the wine's over here.

And you say that the police are satisfied that there is no collusion. My

man, the two policemen they have assigned to this case have the IQ of one

Damien's dead sheep.

Well, shall we have the official unveiling?

Perhaps it's time to show us the full extent of your appreciation.

And, of course, a small price to pay for jeeps.

Not so fast.

I cure the dead sheep, eh?

Okay, Dave, let's get him.

points apiece, I think.

What happened to Ken?

Very good.

Well, yes.

But did he talk?

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