All language subtitles for The Detectives s05e07 Go West Old Man

Guess who?

Billy!

It's me, Frank, your kid brother.

Billy!

You always did like surprises.

If at any point in the next hour either
of you feel stress, Bob, Dave, I want

you to breathe in through your nose.

Push your tummy right down into your
bottom.

Hello, stress.

Goodbye, stress.

OK?

Hello, stress.

Goodbye, stress.

That's good.

And remember, I...

care. So don't fight me.

Let's get started.

October 2nd, 11 .15am. I'm Tom Reid, the
Metropolitan Police Trauma Counsellor,

and this is taped evidence for the
inquiry into the disappearance of

Superintendent Frank Cotton.

Let's kick off with the night it all
started. The night a routine D Division

stakeout went wrong and suspected armed
robber William Connors.

Was shot.

Bob.

Well, I didn't actually see anything.

I had my eyes closed.

I always close my eyes and stick my
fingers in my ears when there's guns

off.

I've got this thing about big bangs.

Someone threw a firework into my pram
when I was a baby.

Oh, no.

I wouldn't mind, but it was my mum who
threw it.

Dave, what about you?

Well, it's all a bit of a blank, really.
It was dark.

It was up a tree.

It was a plum tree.

And afterwards I was a bit numb.

After I'd spent two hours sitting on a
couple of squashed plums.

Well, as someone who was involved in
the...

shooting incident.

How did you feel when you were told that
it was you two who were going to have

to tell William Connor's mother that her
son had been killed?

I mean, I'm sort of guessing that it
wasn't something you really wanted to

was it? No, no.

We're partners.

We like to be mature about these things.

Well, I ain't doing it.

The paper is a stone.

Right. Loser tells her he's dead, winner
gets the chipset. No arguments.

No better three. No crossing your
fingers behind your back. Ready?

One, two, three, scissors.

Now what?

Let's do it again.

One, two, three, scissors.

One, two, three, scissors. Will you stop
doing scissors?

Will you stop doing scissors?

Stupid! paper or something. If I do
paper, you'll do scissors and then I've

it. I won't do scissors, I promise.

All right, I won't do scissors.

OK?

One, two, three, scissors!

I say, hello, Mrs Cox.

And then you say, what are you going to
do with your spare room? She says, I

haven't got a spare room. Then we both
say, you have now, your son's dead.

How long has it been since you did
anything like this?

Not since I was in uniform.

I was never very good at breaking bad
news.

Just shouting, your dad dead, through
the letterbox and running off. Got me

hot water more than once.

Well, the coldness of this, she's got a
weak heart as well.

So perhaps we ought to break it to her a
bit more gently.

Well, he was an armed robber.

She must have expected something like
this to happen someday.

Hey, hey, that's good. That's good.

How about we start off something like
this?

Mrs Connors, as you know, your son was
involved in a very dangerous profession.

The most dangerous profession in the
world.

Well, apart from coal miner and circus
lion tamer.

That's good.

That's very good.

Bizarre, but good. Even better.

OK, what have we got?

Mrs Connors, hello!

Did you know that... Since the demise of
the British coal industry... And since

circuses have, by and large, stopped
featuring large animals like lions...

Except in places like Poland.

Since then, armed robbery is
officially... The most...

Dangerous profession in the world?

No, in Britain. Sounds like we've done
our own work. Then while she ponders

fact, we hit her with a big one.

No wonder your son's dead.

In the end, we decided to stick to
procedure.

Gain entry, make polite chit -chat, and
then subtly find a way to introduce the

topic of sudden death.

Whatever you do, don't laugh.

When we saw how frail she was, we knew
we couldn't tell her we were coppers

straight away.

So, who are you?

Us?

Me and him?

Where?

From the council.

The council?

Oh, have you come about the rat?

Yes.

We've come about the rat.

It's about bloody time.

He's the size of a pony. He comes up
through the rubbish chute straight into

kitchen.

Come here and I'll show you his teeth
mark on the... Wait, Mrs Connors.

Did you know that officially being a rat
is the most

dangerous animal to be?

So it is little wonder, then, that the
rat is dead.

Dead? Yes.

Dead. We shot him last night.

You killed him? Oh, that's the most
marvellous news.

Wait. Wait, Mrs Connors.

That may be good news for you.

But what about the rat's mother?

You see, Mommy Rat is sitting in her
cosy council

flat when suddenly, knock, knock, it's
two glum -looking ferrets from the

Riverbank Council.

They've come to tell her that her
little... William Rat...

has been shot dead in a back garden in a
course of investigation into a series

of post office robberies.

Hello, Mary.

I'm sorry, the front door was open.

Father, what are you doing here?

I just heard.

I can walk straight away.

Did you tell her the news?

Indeed they did, Father. Isn't it
wonderful?

I know he was one of God's creatures,
Father, but I was sick and tired of

clearing up his droppings.

I think we'll leave this in your capable
hands, Father. Come on, Bob.

Yeah.

Like we said.

We stuck to procedure.

Did it by the book.

Hey, you know, for two guys not trained
in trauma therapy, well, wow.

I mean, woo -hoo!

That's incredible.

It must have been around about this time
that you were beginning to notice that

things were sitting heavily on the
shoulders of Frank.

Hello, stressed.

Goodbye, stressed.

That's good, that's nice.

Now, apparently, since Frank was in
charge on the night that the stakeout

wrong, he blamed himself for William
Connor's death.

Come in.

Now, did you notice anything strange
about his behaviour on that day?

Er, done that, sir.

We've, er... We've told Mrs Connors.

A bit of tact, a pint of strong tea
always does the trick.

Sir?

Freddie was his name.

Sorry, sir.

I was just thinking.

Thinking back to when I was a little
boy, in those days, the co -op still

horses for the milk.

What, instead of cows?

Freddie, me and my brother Bill, we
played cowboys and Indians. We pretended

was our horse.

Every morning, Freddie pulled that milk
float up the hill.

He was just too old.

He just couldn't get it up anymore.

And you know what they did to Freddie
when he became too old to please the

housewives?

They put him out to grass.

Two weeks later, he went lame.

And they shot him.

Do you want us to inform the relatives,
sir?

Frank blamed himself for the shooting
because he thought he was getting too

for the job.

We tried to reassure him, didn't we,
Dave?

Oh, yeah.

We said, at his age, fatal errors at
work and chronic impotence are the least

you can expect.

He said, at least you don't smell a wee.

So it was the next day you found out
that Frank had gone missing.

You must have been very worried. So you
want 50 quid that he's in a bed and

breakfast somewhere on the south coast?

Florida is from 11 to 1. We've got 5 to
2. You what?

You got it.

Yes, yes.

Right, face down in the Thames it is.
Yeah, I'll hold.

OK, what we got?

That was a tonne on Malaga from the
Murder Squad Christmas Fund. And I've

200 quid on Beachy Head from the Fraud
Squad. How are they paying?

Check. Forget it.

Superintendent Cottam, 10 ,000 guineas,
handicapped sweepstakes. My name's Bob.

How can I help you?

Commissioner!

Canada?

OK,

come on. Let's loosen up a bit.

Now, what I'm seeing is two guys in
trauma.

Two very good coppers in a vortex of
pain and regret.

You've just been told that Frank, your
air -saps father figure for all these

years,

had just run away to Canada.

Now, why Canada?

Because his brother lived there.

Or was it maybe because Canada
represented his childhood, the Wild

freedom of the wilderness, that wild
child that lives within all of us?

No, it was definitely because his
brother lived there.

But was it escape? Or was it exile?

Was he living in paradise?

Or was it purgatory?

It was a place called Bison Breath
Creek, actually. You're fighting me,

Great.

Then the commissioner, God square in his
uniform, instructs you to spit in his

eye. You knew that Frank needed kind
space, herb tea.

But the commissioner, that great marble
statue with a huge dominant male

penis... He asked you to go to Canada.

And hunt him down like a common
criminal.

Yeah.

Canada.

Him and me.

All expenses paid.

And despite that very real, very
masculine bond of love you had for

you agreed.

You said yes.

We said.

We called the case Operation Maple.

Except we changed that, didn't we, Dave,
to Operation Linda Lovely Legs, after

the nice hostess who gave us that
snuggly blanket.

When we got to Calgary, we found it was
a leapy, dusty cowboy town.

We checked into a little B &B, dropped
off our bags and decided on a plan of

action.

All we had to go on was the name of the
town and a tourist map of some old

abandoned gold mines.

Right, let's get this over with as quick
as possible and then we can start our

holiday. Why don't we just phone him
from the bar?

Ah, he's put us on the phone.

According to this, he's not even on a
road.

What's that black line there?

We first realised that finding Frank
wasn't going to be easy when we met the

ticket collector on the train.

Tickets, please!

Tickets, please.

That's two for Bison Breath Creek, then.

Bison?

It's been run.

He's a ticket collector. Surely you've
seen a ticket before.

Thirty years I've worked this line, and
we never, not ever, has

anyone ever got off the train at Bison.

Daddy, I made it. I got the whole
collection.

Am I getting the impression that where
we're going is a bit off the beaten

track?

Pretty soon, we're in the heart of the
Canadian Rockies.

I have to admit, the scenery took our
breath away, didn't it, Bob?

Reminds me of Cannon Hill Park.

Or Amsterdam Men's Swimming Pool.

It was tough going in them mountains.

But luckily, we'd had the foresight to
wear specially designed SAS -style

outdoor survival clothing.

When we found the sign to Bison Breath
Creek, we were deep into grizzly bear

country.

We also had to look out for cougars,
mountain lions and packs of ferocious

timber wolves.

Out there in the wilderness, you have to
sort of blend in with your environment.

Attain a kind of inner stillness.

Works in England.

Do you remember when we booked that
holiday in cars at the last minute?

The one that Noda recommended?

Yeah.

And do you remember that strange mixture
of fear,

surprise, anger and misplaced optimism
we felt

when the deck chair attendant moved his
change pouch and we saw that he was

naked?

And he realised that Kikinos nudicus was
Greek for nudist colony.

I'm getting the same feeling now.

Without the misplaced optimism.

Hey, people!

Come on in! We're having a party!

Welcome to the finest saloon in Bison
Breath!

Well, at least he isn't naked.

Dear God.

Well, sure is a hot day out there today,
huh, fellas?

What are you going to have, whiskey?

Well, at least the king's arms, they
move the dirt about a bit now and again.

Yeah, sure is cold today.

Boy, freeze the balls off a mule, huh?

What can I do for you there, fancy
pants?

Well, I'll... We'll study the menu a bit
longer.

Well, don't take all day. I'm really
busy. I've got a lot of customers to

What are you doing?

Wes said he'd like two nice cold beers.

Beer? Is that all right, Wes? You want a
beer? Yes, he does.

There you go.

Hey, have you got any miniatures left
from the plane?

Miniatures? No.

Didn't we have one left?

I drank it on the train. You were
asleep.

Oh.

Thanks very much.

Well, this is lovely, isn't it?

Have you seen that deer's head over
there?

Where? Over there.

What about it?

Just nice, isn't it? Nice deer.

Oh, that's not a deer. That's an elk.

This is not whiskey.

It's whiskey.

It's tea.

Whiskey. It's tea.

Sure seems like whiskey. Tea.

Whiskey. It's tea. It's whiskey.

Oh, that's tea.

Whiskey. It was tea.

It was whiskey.

Well, I remember when we were kids, you
were always a sheriff.

I was always the deputy.

And that sheriff's badge you had, the
one you thought you lost, you didn't

it.

I stole it.

Here it is.

Sorry, Bill.

No need to apologize, Frank.

Who are you?

Name's Jack.

Folks call me Rattlesnake.

Frank. Frank Cottam, Bill's brother.

My daddy owns the land from here all the
way up to the mountain.

Old Bill used to pay me rent.

Oh, you mean you want me to... The only
rent Bill ever paid me was a good cup of

coffee and a few stories about the Hell
East End.

Well, I think I can manage that.

So do you know a bloke called Bill
Cottam?

Apparently he pans for gold round here.

Sure. That's Bill sitting right over
here with the bar tea boys. Bill, say

hello.

It's getting quite busy in here today,
isn't it?

Oh, yeah, it's always like this on a
Friday night. You know, we have the

wrestling, followed by the drink the
spittoon competition.

That's when the fun really starts.

So, Edsel, you strange man, this is
whiskey.

Yeah.

Do you have any tea?

Tea? Boy, everybody's asking for tea
today.

Sure, we've got tea. We've got tons of
it.

Maisie, tea for two in the crush bar.

Crush bar.

All right, whose dog is that?

Maisie, tea for two.

You, Maisie, wait over here, love. Give
us your answer.

We're dying of birds down here.

You want something, boys?

Hello, Maisie.

I'm Dave. This is my assistant, Bob.

We're from London.

We would like two teas, please.

You came all this way just to make fun
of my pa.

I'll get your tea.

This is the life.

Just like old Bill.

You're a born cowboy.

So did he make a living?

There's more gold in my grandmother's
teeth than there is in that river.

Why?

There's worse things to do with your
retirement.

You retired?

Sort of. I left England in a bit of a
hurry.

Don't you have any family back in
England?

Truth is, Jack, I came out here because
I wanted to get away.

Understood, Frank.

You know, Bison Breath's a small town.

Want me to look out for strangers?

I don't think anyone will manage to
track me down here.

More coffee?

Yes, sir.

Two teas.

Oh.

My sweet colonial prairie flower.

This sure reminds me of home.

Those long summer afternoons on the
croaky lawn back at Mama's castle.

It sticks out a bit, Mama's castle in
the middle of a great big council

Let me see.

Oh, poor thing.

OK, so he got stung by a wasp.

He gets these allergies, you see.

He's allergic to daft things like
kettles.

Rabbits.

Scuttling.

He's no good trying to help you.

He's probably allergic to your perfume.

No, honestly, you're supposed to wear
special gloves when you touch him.

You know that thing old women get?

Thin bones, not enough milk during the
war.

Osteoparenthesis.

He's like a member of the Russian royal
family.

Sheds his skin like a snake.

Hornets around here are real bad.

Sure, they look pretty.

But they've got that nasty sting in
their tail.

Edsel, that's real beer.

Oh, yeah.

That's Jack's beer. Nobody else can
touch it. Hey, Maisie!

Jack here!

Edsel, Eddie Baby, this rattlesnake
Jack, does he as a rule actually drink

beer or does it tend to evaporate over a
period of weeks? Oh, he drinks it all

right.

By your demeanour, are we to imagine
that he hasn't made his entrance yet?

Oh, yeah, he's still tying up his horse.

And so, Wes wants a word. What?

What? But, Jack! Oh, Wes!

Don't put your nose cream in the end.

Bullets is real! Yeah, just as you like
it, nice and cold.

Howdy, stranger.

Amazing!

Hey, Jack!

Hey,

Jack, here's your rent.

Yeah, Jack's daddy owns the saloon.

Owns the whole town, as a matter of
fact.

I think that's all.

Hey, I think Davy wants to be here.
Davy?

He hasn't been the same since the
whorehouse burned down.

It might be safe, Jack. What a wonderful
town you have here.

Yes, it's just like Nuneaton after a
direct hit from a cruise missile.

What brings you fellas out here?

We're looking for a bloke called Frank
Cotton.

His brother lives around here.

You mean old Bill Cotton?

Sure. Yeah, he lives about two miles
from here by the Spray River.

I'm glad you talked to him. He's
collecting my rent.

But, Jack, that's impossible.

Bill... He's fine.

Just fine.

Didn't see no brother, though.

Just old Bill.

All alone.

Hey, why don't you guys go out? See him.
Sure, he'd like some company.

Well, Maisie, I gotta go.

I'd really use a sink back here.

Frank, you've got trouble.

Trouble? Two guys.

One about this high. Real pain in the
ass. Now they're thin. Looks like a

ferret. Has this really strange accent.

I don't believe it.

Have they gone mad?

Listen, Frank. They've sent Briggs and
Louie. It's okay.

I got an idea.

Hey!

Hey!

Hello. I'm D .C. Briggs. This is D .C.
Louie. You must be... Bill!

Bill Cullen.

Old Bill.

You're Old Bill.

And we're Old Bill.

OK.

So where is he?

Who?

You know who we're after.

Your brother, Frank.

I don't know.

Is he here? You sure?

Yep. Anything you say may be taken down
and used in evidence against you.

Well, I don't know.

If he

is here, you'd be doing him a favour by
telling

us.

We realise Frank has had his problems,
but he won't solve them by running away.

You see, Bill, your brother has been
through the mill a bit lately.

He doesn't know this, but his wife's
been having an affair with a senior meat

buyer from the local Sainsbury's for
about a year now.

Poor old super.

Thought he was getting best knuckle end
every Sunday because his wife won the in

-store raffle.

But no, it was meat for treats.

He can't blame her, apparently.

According to the canteen gossip for the
last couple of years, he hasn't been

able to, um... You know.

And to cap it all, he now blames himself
for killing an unarmed man.

With good reason.

So if you see him... We'll be in town.

Oh, and don't mention his dog, Bluey,
whatever you do.

He loves that dog.

When Frank left, it died of a broken
heart.

Send him to us.

We'll look after him.

We're here to help.

Well, if he isn't here, where the hell
is he?

500 quid down the swanee. We had 500
pounds on this.

We'll keep it to ourselves.

At least until we've got a bit of a tan.

He was a funny bloke, Bill, wasn't he?

Hardly surprising, living out here for
30 years with nobody to talk to except

Edsel and the odd curious elk.

He didn't say a lot, did he?

Probably forgotten how to talk.

White Tarzan.

He hasn't even got Jane, has he?

He hasn't even got that chimp.

What was he called?

Cheetah.

No, that was Daktari.

I wonder what he does for sex.

Same as us, I suppose.

Non -stop, one in her bed, sex romps
with imaginary spice.

Mind you, according to that, he's been
dead since 1995, so who cares?

According to what?

According to that thing on his grave.

Pathetic disguise fooled us. I knew it
was you. I recognised the smell of your

hair restorer. Eh? Eh? It penetrated
through your beaver musk. All right, all

right, so you found me. Now what?

Look, I'm not going back on this, are
you?

What are you going to do, sir?

I'm going to prospect for gold like
Billy did.

Something I've always wanted to do.
Something I've always dreamed of.

But, sir, your brother did that for 30
years and he couldn't even afford a baby

Belling. I like cooking over an open
fire.

It's all part of the fun.

But what are you cooking, sir?

I'm starving.

Fish.

Caught it myself this morning.

Well, what we don't eat we can always
take away in a doggy bag, eh, Bob?

And that's another thing.

I'll have a much healthier diet out
here.

That free meat on Sundays was making me
fat.

Tucking my trousers in all places at all
times before I left.

Talking about touching trousers, sir,
I'm sorry about letting on about the

from Sainsbury's. Oh, I've known for
years.

You don't get routinely waved into the
eight items or less queue with a full

trolley unless your wife's having an
affair. Remember that.

Yes, sir.

I'm sure she's worried about you, sir.
The only thing she's worried about is my

insurance policy.

Well, what about us?

We're worried about you. The whole
division is. I've never known the bloke

anxious to find out who's won, find out
where somebody is.

And then there's the commissioner.

He asked us personally to... The
commissioner is only worried about the

reputation of the force. He's not
worried about me.

Nobody worries about me.

Sir, your stickleback's on fire.

OK. OK.

I see a man in pain.

I see a man adrift in the wilderness.

I see a man impotent in the face of the
Grim Reaper. What? Have you met his

wife?

You see, Bob, the super's problem has
got nothing to do with shooting cons.

It's about manhood.

It's about his age.

Think of your body as a map of Britain.

Your chest is Chester, your bum is
Broadstairs, and your head is the

Or in your case, more particularly, the
Isle of Egg.

You can't even get a drink of pig in
water in this town.

As a young man at the height of your
passion, your manhood points at Preston.

As time passes, it points at Prestatyn.

In middle age, it's Aberystwyth, if
you're lucky.

Swansea, if you like a drink.

Good job.

In later years, when you're fully
aroused and you find Percy pointing at

Portsmouth... Well, you can pump it all
you want. It still won't come.

Not good.

They found Bill's grave.

That's too bad.

People stick around?

Of course they will.

They're on holiday.

And they're on expenses.

Frank, your brother, well, he was like a
father to me.

And any brother of the guy who's pretty
much my father is my brother.

Wouldn't that make me your uncle?

What I'm saying is that you want those
guys to run out of town.

I don't want any rough stuff.

It's up to you.

What I mean is they're both pathological
cowards.

Just a threat might do the trick.

It's a long shot, Bob.

But it's our last chance. This place
must sell beer.

The owner of the Last Chance Saloon is
also the owner of the No Chance Offer.

What can I do for you fellas?

We'd like 12 cans of lager, please,
preferably with a widget and photos of

in bikinis on the side.

Hey, want to try some Bison Creek
moonshine?

Moonshine? Yeah.

You want some?

Is it strong?

Try it.

Do you make this yourself?

Don't make it.

Falls from the sky.

What? You mean rainwater?

Yeah. That's 21 years old.

Hey, I got some melted snow out back if
you want some.

And that's when I'll come in.
Understand?

Yeah, I understand.

Mr Rattlesnake, could we have a word?

I'm listening.

Well, we haven't been having much luck
on the alcohol front lately.

Our holiday is turning into a sort of
mythological quest for beer.

And, well, you know your special
supplier beer behind the bar that no

touch except you?

And seeing as how we're visitors to this
wonderful country of yours... And we

all live in the Commonwealth and share a
queen.

Maybe. Give the boys a couple of beer.

Brilliant.

Now, I thought we are getting someone.

Dave, you don't think we've got a drink
problem, do you?

Not anymore.

Cheers. If you want anything else,
stranger, I mean

anything, you'll have.

After we've had a couple of beers, we
could go for a walk up the mountain.

Might see a moose.

Or we could go pony trekking or
something.

The scenery round here is simply...
Breathtaking.

Stop doing that.

Sorry? You're making a fool of yourself.

Well, she started it.

You stop it now.

I'm not doing anything.

Oh, my God, she's coming over.

pocket, or are you just pleased to see
me?

No.

Actually, it's my inhaler.

I'm allergic to tree pollen.

I told you he was a freak.

Two friends. Now, hang on a minute.

Hey, who are you shoving? I'm shoving
you.

Jack, remember the last time you got all
fired up and jealous?

Remember those two guys from this job?
Sure, I remember.

They died with their boots off.

Any man who messes with my maze, he has
to answer to me.

Oh, you guys.

I want you two out of my town by sunset.

Either that.

Meet me in Main Street, high noon
tomorrow.

Bring your shooting eyes.

Oh, that'd make my day.

Look at the images.

Look at the images of manhood.

I see you two, your manhood challenged.

Fighting primeval urges to kill, wound,
conquer.

I see a cowboy in smooth leather chaps.

Skin. Thunder, hard, oiled.

Sorry. So what did you do? Did you rise
to this challenge to your manhood?

No, we ran off to find the super.

This is definitely his horse.

What's Rattlesnake Jack doing with a
super?

How do you think they've gone? Oh, they
would stick around.

Well, here's to you and Maisie.

Sounds like they've put on quite an act
out there.

The super.

The little Quisling.

I think revenge is called for, don't
you, Bob?

Yes.

Let's make some funny noise. Let's
pretend to be bears. That'll get him

Yeah, that's a good plan, Bob.

But revenge is a dish best served old,
isn't it?

Good night, Frank.

See you soon, Jack.

And thanks.

My pleasure.

Our plan was simple.

We waited until sunrise when the super
went panning for gold.

Then we got into the shack and rummaged
through old Bill's wardrobe.

The minute Frank set eyes on us, he knew
we planned to turn a fire on him.

That'll snake the act.

Hope you don't mind, sir, but we've
borrowed some of your brother's clothes.

And his guns.

Lads. Lads, this is ridiculous.

Our minds are made up, sir.

We're not leaving here until you agree
to come back to London with us.

Either that or we leave this town in a
pawn box.

Thanks. Louis, you're a coward.

Where I come from, that's fat and tall.

You come from Cheadle.

Look, maybe the sun's got to you.

You can't do this.

Look, sir, we're doing this for you.

We're doing this because the Met always
gets its man.

And anyway...

We want you back where you belong.

Rattlesnake Jack!

You never...

It's noon, Jack.

We're waiting.

What the... Come on down, Jack.

Reckon it's a good day to die.

What the hell are you guys doing?

I'm the Manchester Mongoose.

And I'm the solely old secretary bird.

The secretary bird, it's a big bird in
Africa.

It eats snakes as well.

I saw it on the television.

Look, guys, I think we have a sort of
misunderstanding here.

What the hell do they think they're
doing?

They mean it.

Go! Go ahead, Jack.

Make your play.

Now, guys, come on. This has gone far
enough.

Stay out of this, little lady.

Look, guys, we can talk about this.

Say, Bob, I reckon this guy is yellow.

I reckon he's a greenhorn.

He's a yellow greenhorn.

I ain't yellow.

Oh!

I can call him whom a yellow greenhorn
has made him see red.

Colourful critter, ain't he?

I don't have a gun.

So you give in, then?

Yeah, I give in.

You admit you're a coward and we win?

Yeah. You admit that Canada are crap at
soccer and that... Basically, you're

just big, girly Americans with a silly
twig on your flag.

Here you go, Jack.

Little bullet hole.

One of us runs off, and the other
apologises.

Which one?

One, two, three, scissors!

Thanks, Louie.

Put down those scissors.

I've decided.

If you two were prepared to risk your
lives for me, maybe there really is

something worth going home for.

It must have been hell for you out
there.

It must have hurt you two a lot to see a
man you'd always looked up to humbled

like that.

Yes! Yes!

No wonder you both applied for early
retirement.

You got any plans?

Oh.

Usual.

Retired coppers, no real qualifications.

We found a little pub. It's in the
middle of nowhere.

Sure, sure.

Yeah, the old man's retiring, the
daughter's getting married. It's a bit

at the moment.

A bit of imagination could turn out to
be a little goldmine.