All language subtitles for The Detectives s04e01 The Great Escaper

Not now, old son.

Not now.

You won't get far in that thing, mate.

Come.

Close the door, Louis.

I presume this is some sort of joke.

No, Derek, not a joke.

You can't be serious.

Well, I'm very serious, sir.

You really do want to be assigned new
partners?

Yes, sir.

But, I mean, you two, Briggs and Louis,
you go together.

Like Torville and Dean.

Like sickness and diarrhoea.

Not anymore, sir.

Not since.

Since what?

We'd rather not say, sir.

Not here.

Not now.

Maybe not ever.

I see.

See? See? How can you see?

You think you can trust someone? Then
the two -faced leopard changes its

turns tail, stabs you in the back and
kisses Veronica on the water dispenser.

So all this is about a woman?

No, sir.

Veronica.

Come here, Al!

Do you get a grip? Don't get a grip on
his throat!

I've seen this sort of thing before.

The eternal triangle.

A few coquettish giggles, pretty face, a
well -turned leg, firm high breasts,

straining with the starched white linen
of a WPC's uniform.

That's all it takes to turn good mates
into bitter enemies.

Jealousy, terrible thing.

There's a big green -eyed monster over
there.

And he's laughing at you.

He's looking at you.

Yes, I'll split them up.

You may not be able to see that green
-eyed monster, but I can.

Oh, yes.

We're old friends.

We're old sparring partners.

He's been in my home.

In my bedroom.

He slept with my wife, that's fine!

But I'll tell you both something.

Us three are going to defeat that ugly
old monster.

And do you know how?

Harpoon?

Big stick, stout nylon string?

No. We're going to tough it out.

We're going to stick together.

We're going to enter that dark tunnel of
jealousy and come out the other end.

What I'm saying is...

Request refused.

Sir. I want you both on the 10 .30 train
to Durham to pick up Roderick Spanner

-Clark, a .k .a. the Great Escaper.

He's as slippery as an eel.

So I want both of you handcuffed to him
at all times.

Together.

Lads. Lads.

You can run, but you can't hide.

Well,

obviously, that doesn't count.

What?

4 -0. 4 -3. 4 -0! 4 -3! 4 -0!

You officially said it. Gentlemen,
please.

At the moment, I have a severe headache,
and my heart condition is such that

even a minor irritation causes me
grievous bodily pain.

So could we please come to some
accommodation concerning the score in

tournament in a more adult and
reasonable way?

Thank you.

Four all.

Four three.

Four all.

Four three.

What was it the desk sergeant said?

Smallest wrist on a male that he'd ever
seen.

Four all.

Doesn't seem a lot of trouble to go to,
does it, eh?

Teeny tiny little girl handcuffs.

Special handcuffs, specially made up by
jewellers using special tiny tools.

And powerful magnifying glasses.

Look,

handcuffs come in a range of sizes.

Large, medium and small.

And do you need a mess?

What are you doing?

Push off, you little beggar. Where are
you going, old man?

I do apologize, gentlemen. I'm afraid
I'm feeling rather unwell.

Come on, you've been in there long
enough. Come on, let's give it to this.

What are you doing?

Find out.

What?

they did this at Hendon.

The day they gave us the official police
procedure with what to do. Say, we got

stuck on a Yorkshire Moors handcuffed to
a dead escapologist and a British Rail

laboratory door.

I'm freezing and I'm knacked and I've
cut me blooming elbow as well.

Got any soap in there?

This is a British rail car, then.

Well, at least you got something to
read.

Shit on the villa.

Not exactly Dickens, is it?

David Briggs, heart, Veronica Wagstaff
forever.

You wrote that, didn't you?

You wrote shit on the villa.

Point. I mean... Nothing's forever, is
it? Nothing's forever with Veronica

Wagstaff. Normally it's more like four
seconds.

Don't you talk like that about my
girlfriend.

Your girlfriend?

I am officially barring you from ever
saying her name again. Her name, in your

mouth, is like shoving a tender white
dove into a box of kippers.

All right, all right.

Let's have a truth.

Barley. That is, until I'm not attached
to a corpse and you're not wearing the

biggest, least charming charm bracelet
in the world.

Let's find a phone.

But first, I am going to answer the
call, nature.

Wagstaff. Veronica.

Ugh.

Cottom.

What do you mean they weren't on the
train?

Beautiful, isn't it?

I mean, lots of people do this for fun.

What? Carrying dead bodies on bog doors.

No, walking on the moors.

They must be completely bloody insane.

No wonder Yorkshiremen are such
miserable gits.

My grandad was a Yorkshireman and a
farmer.

A Yorkshireman and a farmer?

He must have been a laugh at Christmas.

Oh, he was.

He used to come round dressed as King
Edward.

He used to tackle me in my nativity
play.

In the end, put a shotgun in his mouth,
blew his brains out.

Farmers always do that up here.

Apparently in Yorkshire, they sell
shotguns in a variety of flavours.

What's the matter?

Your thin little wrist starting to ache?

It's bound to happen, isn't it, when you
think about it?

You take a mighty -ass farmer, you stick
him out here in the middle of nowhere,

give him a loaded shotgun.

What else are you going to do to break
the monotony?

You either buy a Filipino wife from a
catalogue or you shoot yourself.

Or someone else.

Aye, yeah, well... They're all a bit mad
up here.

And armed.

You ever seen that film, Deliverance?

And the cord was pulled where?

The middle of North York Moor.

The nearest town's about 30 miles away.

I thought it were kids walking about.

I thought old Spanner was past it.

He was a terror in his day.

Almost hated coppers.

But he's out there now somewhere.

Torturing them.

Are you going to organise a torch party?

Yes, I suppose so.

My back's not going to take much more of
this, you know.

What?

He made a noise.

They do that.

Dead bodies.

What? It's escaping wind.

And the muscles contract.

I was talking to this mortician once.

Apparently, sometimes a long time after
they die, these bodies suddenly sit bolt

upright. And there's this terrible
moaning noise.

Well, you'd know all about moaning,
wouldn't you? Having slept next to

Hey, look down there.

Light.

The last thing we want to do is to
terrify some little old lady.

So let's take everything one stage at a
time.

I'll go first with me bog door.

And then I'll follow on with me dead
body.

See?

Now we're getting somewhere.

Probably wondering.

Big dick.

Father.

Father

says,

come in.

Come, Robert.

All is well.

Nice place.

Wipe your feet.

Ah, Fathom.

Fathom. Quiet, father.

Sorry about that.

He's not very well.

To be fair, he's not going to get any
better.

He's dead.

Ah!

Yes. Er, Heath, erm...

He said, I'm Dave Briggs, pleased to
meet you. This is Bob Louie.

This is obviously the lavatory door from
the Durham Express.

And if we could just use your phone,
we'll be away and out of your hair.

Are you going to wash the hair?

Father wants to know if you'd like him
to wash down the body.

Only it's just on the pigs and he hasn't
changed yet.

Back on our thanks to your father, but
access and egress to a phone will be

fine. What makes me think that they
wouldn't have a phone?

Fax? Email?

Moodle? Computer linked to the
information superhighway?

This is a pig's heart.

What have you got there?

The dog will follow the scent from that.

Get down there, then.

We can't.

We have to. I'm not staying here.

We go out there, we'll freeze.

Dave, he's got a gun.

I've told you, they've all got guns.

They use them like Prozac for
depression.

Even on the Yorkshire Moor, that
gentleman has to be considered a proud

eccentric.

He's a big Viking, for God's sake.

I bet he hasn't slept with a woman since
decimalisation.

Nor have you.

He's got a gun.

Anyway, I have.

Hard to say.

In their eyes, we are two very
attractive young ladies.

Don't be ridiculous.

I'm telling you, the young one keeps
staring at me.

They're harmless.

They're just a bit rough and ready.

Yeah, the old man's rough, and I think
the young one's ready.

I'll talk to them.

So, lovely here, isn't it?

Eh? No telly, no radio.

Simple, healthy lifestyle.

Sitting in the dark, staring into space,
oiling your shotgun.

This is what they used to do in the old
days, before the old red goggle box came

along, eh?

And killed... Killed the art of
conversation.

You don't play the banjo, do you?

So, Seth, I think I heard the word pig.

Have they gone to feed them, perhaps?

Not to feed them.

No.

This way, lads. Come on, keep up. Come
on, move it, you lot.

What's he doing?

Custardion. Oh, no, no, no, no, no.
Honestly, no.

You're too late.

He used to do it with his teeth.

Tell your father.

Up and... Quiet!

What did he say?

Father says he's glad your handcuffs are
off.

Because you're going to need both hands
free for a little game we're going to

play.

concept of this game, is it? It isn't.
Nah, because they're two playing cards.

The cards have got to be... Oh.

Forget it, father.

You win.

Keep on winning like this and you'll
have enough bullets to shoot yourselves

every day for a fortnight.

What have you got now, father?

He's got names for all his bullets.

There.

He just has his girlfriends.

He takes them to bed with him.

Puts them under the bedclothes.

And he unscrews them.

Yes, well, living on your own, you need
a hobby.

I mean, you, father.

At least they're more reliable than real
women. They don't go off without

telling you.

Well, that was the verdict from the
Icelandic jury.

Perhaps we should hear it from Katie
Boyle in English.

Father wants to know if you'd like a
drink.

What have you got?

Lots.

What of?

Drinks.

Go on, I'll have one.

And I'll have one.

And I'll have one.

And he'll have one.

Hey!

That's Dizzy and Johnny!

Shut up.

And up against the wall, all of you.

Looks like a farmhouse.

We'd better check it out. Come on, lads.

You, give me the keys to your car.

Car?

My dear sir, I will guess that if these
two ever did stumble across an internal

combustion engine, they'd probably
sacrifice a sheep and worship it.

I bet you four shotgun cartridges that
the Flintstones do not have a car.

I don't have a car.

Thank you.

Father just know.

What do you say to your stupid old git?

I probably did.

Move!

Now you.

Tea.

Car.

Tea.

So this is.

It were 1956.

The pigs hit the car keys.

Good little runner, is she?

Aye. Used to be.

Used to run the whole farm, brother.

Still work!

Stay back, all of you.

Dave, you leave him alone.

He is the only friend I've got.

Father says he's your friend as well.

Give me that gun. Stay back. Careful,
Briggs. It's all right, sir.

He won't shoot.

I know exactly what I'm doing.

Oh, God.

It's like that film, The Blue Lamp,
where Dixon and Doc Green face his down

Humphrey Bogart. He says... Come on,
son.

Hand over a gun.

Don't be silly.

Dave, I've seen that film as well.

Come on, me old chum, you old cock
sparrow.

Dave, I've seen that film as well, and
he does shoot him.

He does.

He doesn't. He does?

He doesn't! Oh, God.

He does!

He doesn't! After him!

Bob, speak to me.

Bob.

Bob.

Bob, Bob, Bob, Bob.

He's dead.

He's really dead.

Bob.

You can't leave me.

Not like this.

I didn't really sleep with Veronica.

Honestly, I didn't.

No, I was just jealous because you'd got
a girlfriend and I hadn't and I wanted

to split you up and... It was you she
really loved.

Take that bastard out of my sight.

Let it all out, big fella.

Father says he loved him too.

He says it's lucky the shells in that
shotgun

were Dolly and Daisy.

They couldn't hurt anyone.

They were full of pig's blood.

Pig's blood?

So you never did sleep with Veronica?

And she really likes me.

I only said that because you were dead.

And you said you loved me. I don't love
you.

I hate you.

For God's sake, admit it, both of you.

You two were made for each other.

Now, give each other a manly hug.

Come on!

Let anybody come between you again.