All language subtitles for The Detectives s03e03 Art Attack

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?