Original subtitles

What'll I do when you're a bum?

We should give Dorian a key.

Dorian's in Zurich with Marcus.

Well, who's that, then?

I don't know what's wrong with my X -ray vision.

I think I'd better see a doctor.

No need for sarcasm, thank you very much.

Who's the man?

Well, ask him what he wants.

Well, it's late.

Could be a rapist or something.

It's not late. It's just gone half past eight.

Oh, what are you saying?

Rapists don't clock on till ten, is that it?

Answer the door, Sharon.

Oh, you answer it.

I can't answer it in me pyjamas.

If it is a rapist, the judge will blame me.

Assistant, aren't they?

Well, he's seen you now, hasn't he?

Go and answer the door and leave the chain on. And if he does attack you, you

keep him busy while I escape out the back.

Sarky care.

sorry to trouble you. I wondered if I could have some water.

Water? Yes, my radiator.

Sprang a leak.

I mean, I fixed it.

I need to replace the water I left.

Oh, uh, a jugful would be enough.

That'd be great, yeah, thank you. Hang on.

Sister's just getting you water.

Thank you very much.

I couldn't possibly use your loo, could I? In case of the most urgent need.

Otherwise, I wouldn't ask.

Of course you can. Thank you.

Straight ahead.

Are you mad?

He's all right.

Anyway, if he needs water for his engine and his colt shop, why don't he just do

a jimmy in his radiator, eh?

Kill two birds with one stone.

He's all right.

You can tell.

He's nicely spoken, well -dressed.

Oh, right.

And if he was a rapist, he'd have it written on his front, wouldn't he?

Save confusing people.

Or a striped jersey and a big bag marked Swag so we'd know he was a burglar.

You'd be paranoid, Shell.

Thank you.

Here's your water. Ah.

Right, I'll bring the jug back in a sec. Thanks very much.

OK.

Nice, isn't he?

Yeah, for a rapist.

Well, this wine's all gone.

What do you mean it's all gone?

You drank it.

I don't know, they just don't last like they used to.

Any good?

Afraid not.

Went straight through?

Yeah, I know what you mean, mate.

I couldn't possibly use your phone to ring the AA, could I? Yeah, help

Thank you very much. I know someone else who should phone the AA.

Would you like a glass of wine?

Well, I'm driving.

I hope.

But, yeah, a small one, yes. Thank you very much, very kind.

Where are you going?

I forgot to feed Godzilla.

She shouldn't have gone on about Dorian like that, saying she's sex -mad.

Well, she is. No, she ain't. Oh, of course she ain't.

Oliver reads T -Total, Imelda Marcos likes going barefoot, and Cyril Smith's

anorexic.

Look, what I mean is, she is keen on younger men, and she ain't faithful to

Marcus, but she's not man -mad.

Oh, is she?

Well, what is she then, Trace?

Dead keen on bedroom ceilings, is she?

A plasterwork freak, is that it? Look, I just reckon you're out of all the

slagging door enough like that to someone we hardly know.

I mean, I don't know why it was so interesting in the first place.

What are you doing tomorrow, then?

Going to visit Chris, actually.

What, in prison?

Well, he's hardly likely to come round here, is he?

Yes, in prison.

Well, why? What's brought this on?

Oh, I don't know. I see this problem about prisons the other night.

You know, three to a cell, no privacy, slopping out.

I just started to feel sorry for him.

That's why I'm going to see him.

It's going to be difficult, though, just sitting there talking to each other.

Never used to do that when we were married.

Well, cheese and onion. I hate them.

I know.

Look, I'm a bit worried.

What about? Well, we've got this new geezer in our cell, Graham.

Yeah? Well, she, er... Well, three of us in her little cell, all day, nothing to

do. You talk a lot.

Well, you would, yeah.

I mean, three men, together.

Look,

you can imagine what we talk about.

Yeah, same as what women talk about.

Eh? Oh, yeah.

Well, I suppose they do.

Only men, you know.

Men.

Well, they go into detail.

Yeah, like women do. You know.

Things.

Yeah. Just things.

What do you talk about?

In fact, to tell you the truth, Chris, that's all we do talk about. In great

detail. What?

You mean, er... You know.

That's all right.

Gordon Bennett.

So, what's this bloke Graham going on about, then? Oh, asking about all the

different ways you do it.

Oh.

Not a lot to talk about in your case, then.

He's just talking like you do, you know.

Who with, how often, what you do, what you'd like to do.

Yeah, so?

Well, then, all of a sudden, he starts getting personal.

What, he tried to own with you?

No, not that.

No, he started talking about money.

Asking all sorts of questions.

All sorts.

Just like being down in Nick.

I reckon he's a DA.

DA? DA. You know, what I'm saying.

DA. Oh,

yeah, yeah, right.

Or a spy.

They use them in prison, you know.

Yeah. To find out about, well, if you know anything that's going down.

If you've got cash stowed away.

Do they? Oh, yeah.

Inside and outside prison.

So, uh, if anyone starts asking you anything, or if the police start asking

any questions... Police?

No. All I'm saying, if they did, you know, if anyone asked you anything,

anything at all, you don't know nothing, right?

I don't know nothing.

Oh, well, there you are then, no problem.

What is there to know? Nothing, nothing.

What could I know?

Nothing.

Only Daryl and me being in the same job.

Yeah, so?

So, I don't want to let him down.

Well, how could you let him down?

Look, all I'm saying, I don't know all of Daryl's financial arrangements, do I?

No, so?

So, I just don't want to arouse suspicions. What suspicions? Nothing!

Nothing.

Look, just drop it, will you? Drop what? I don't know what you're on about.

Look, nothing!

Look, it's just doing me head in being banged up next to a grass.

I keep thinking I may have said something which could lead to something

done I don't know nothing about.

That's all.

Are you sure they're you spies?

Yeah, of course.

Why?

You been talking to anyone?

You'd be daft.

Of course not.

I just been bought a posh lunch.

Have you? Who by?

Charles Fitzroy. That bloke that broke down the other night.

Where'd you meet him?

Just bumped into each other in the ice street.

He's a spy.

What?

He's a spy.

Trace?

Do you know, it's a funny thing.

I thought he was.

Did you?

Yeah. It was little things.

Like how he kept taking photos with his fag lighter.

How he kept radioing home with his watch.

And when he took his jacket off and I saw his shoulder holster had Made in

Russia on it, I was sure he was wrong.

You've had a few vino rothos gone down your scrag just in a time and chance.

I feel a bit woozy.

Never mind woozy.

What you are, my girl, is rat -arsed.

Now, do you think you could come down to Earth for a moment so we could discuss

a very important matter?

Yeah, of course, Shell.

Only I don't think we should talk in here.

Why not?

Because I expect the kitchen's bugged.

You know, walls have ears.

Oh, sorry, shall.

All right, come on, tell me about this Charles Fitzroy being a spy.

When he come in here that night, right, he did nothing but ask questions.

Well, he was interested.

I mean, why would he be spying on us? We ain't got no secrets.

We've got a big secret, Trace.

How did this ad get paid for?

Well, I don't know. They all never told me.

Look, if you wanted to find that ad, you'd put a spy in the prison.

They have.

What? That's what Chris told me. You're joking.

I ain't.

Now, your Daryl did two things for a living, right?

He put up conservatories and he knocked over banks.

An unusual combination of occupations by anyone's standards.

Look, it's very important which of these jobs paid for the AS.

Because if it was bought with the proceeds of crime, you and I could very

find ourselves moving to Cardboard City.

I can't believe he's a spy.

Why not?

All he did was ask questions. Yeah, it was mainly about Dorian, though.

Yeah, well, he was going round the average a bit, weren't he?

I mean, he's hardly likely to say, excuse me, is your husband a bank

he buy this gap with stolen money, is he?

He was boxing clever, Trace.

Where's the milk?

Eh? Oh, it's in a bag I left out front.

I put it down to get my keys out and the handle broke.

There's a police car out the front.

What? And look.

Shell, there's coppers everywhere.

Quick, out the back. Where are we going?

Anywhere. Give us time to think. Well, what for? We ain't done nothing.

No, but you're there always.

What do you want to do? Put your foot in it with the old bill and get him

another 12 years, eh? Oh, my God.

Come on.

Oh.

Oh, God, I've got to get me keys.

we living off, Trace? The 25 grand dough hidden inside of his jag.

Oh, my God.

Exactly.

Look, where did he get that money from? I don't know. It was just money.

Could be kosher.

Trace, if you've got 25 grand kosher, you do not stuff it into a tubeless

believe me.

What did you do with it? Put it in the building society for the interest.

Oh, well, that's it, isn't it?

They found it.

And now they want to know how you suddenly got 25 grand.

Oh, good. The bag I left at the front.

They'll know we're here. It will look suspicious if we don't answer.

Police, open up.

Oh, what are we going to do? We'll know what I'm going to do. What? I'm going to

panic.

Say it was left here. What?

Say your auntie died.

Well, won't they check?

Well, if they do, we're screwed anyway, aren't we?

What, are we going to say that we had a puncture in the jag and some kind man

stuffed it with fibre so we could drive it home?

Why are we going to say we didn't open the door straight away?

Um... I'll say you're upset because of your bereavement, and I was hoping it

weren't nothing important.

Wish me luck.

Good luck.

Police! Anyone at home?

Can I help you? Good day, madam. Inspector Dracoff, Metropolitan Police.

hoping you could help us with our inquiries. You are Mrs Tracey Stubbs?

No, she's through here. Follow me, please. Thank you, madam.

Oh, Tracey.

I'm sorry I was so long answering the door. Only Mrs. Stubbs' auntie's died.

She's very upset.

I was hoping not to have to trouble her. Oh, I'm sorry to hear that, madam.

They

were

very close.

Dear me, this lady is your employer, madam?

No, she's my sister.

Oh. I see.

So she was your auntie as well.

I'm very upset as well.

Well, I'm very sorry to intrude just now, madam, but I'm afraid we need to

you a few questions.

It's in connection with a financial investigation we're making.

See the money she left me. Don't make up for it.

Well, no, quite.

I mean, the 25 grand I got left by her don't mean nothing to me.

We got left?

We got left. What I put in the Kent and Essex Building Society.

Bonus bill to extra high interest rate.

I've got the book somewhere with the number.

No, no, no, don't worry about that, madam.

It don't go nowhere till all's making up for her loss.

She was a wonderful woman.

Always by me, gobstoppers.

Always taking me down the pie mash.

Always frying me up when I was little.

You've already paid this money into the building society, madam? Yes.

I thought it was the safest place.

When did your aunt pass away?

Well, you see... I had assumed that it was a very recent bereavement. Well,

old Aunt Ruby.

It was a very long and difficult illness.

She knew her end was coming, so she gave us the money weeks ago.

She insisted.

Insisted. Absolutely insisted.

One ear was not taking it. False was too.

There was no way we couldn't take it. Made us take it. Insisted.

We never had no option.

Yes, I think I get the picture, madam.

And then... Then she finally died.

Last Thursday.

She died last Thursday, but the funeral was yesterday.

Funeral was yesterday.

Oh, it was a lovely ceremony.

No flowers, donations to charity.

Poor old Aunty Gloria.

Gloria? I thought you said that... Poor old Aunty Gloria was very upset.

She had a funny turn at the graveside when Aunty Ruby was lowered in.

Yes, well, I was hoping, madam, you could tell us where your neighbours, Mr

Mrs Green, were.

That's why you're here, is it?

That's right, madam.

Well, you don't want to talk to us, then?

About anything else?

No, madam.

Oh, right.

Can I see a cup of coffee, then? Oh, no, I know. I should say, would you like a

drink, officer? And you say, not when I'm on duty, madam. And we all have a

cup of Rosie Lee, eh?

She has terrible mood swings since Aunty Ruby died. Gloria. Ruby died.

Um, they are in Zurich, you say?

Yes, that's right.

So, what's it all about, then?

Well, actually... About the Cook case.

The Julian Cook case? The ones in all the papers. Oh, yeah. Yeah, right.

Yes, I was on the Nine O 'Clock News and News at Ten last night, as a matter of

fact.

We saw that. When was you on?

In the camel suit with the blue striped shirt tie with duck song.

Talking to Martin, Martin Lewis.

I remember you.

Yes.

You looked really smart.

Oh, well, when one is in the public eye, one must make an effort.

Oh, well, well, fancy that.

This businessman who's fiddled millions and now he's shopping all his mates.

Well... Yeah, I remember.

He's a DA.

A what?

You know, farming slang.

DA grass.

Oh, yes.

Well, actually, he's helping us with our inquiries.

And that was you on the telly and all.

Afraid so.

Here, Chase.

Inspector Draycott's on that case of that crooked businessman that made all

people bankrupt and that. He was on the telly last night.

Never. He was. We saw him.

With Martin Lewis.

Oh, yeah.

I remember you now. Yeah.

You had that tie on.

With production.

Must be great to be famous.

I'll be in the hall, sir. Yes.

Yes, wake in the hall, would you, Philip?

Drake, isn't that a good picture of Mr. Drake? Oh, yeah.

That's my Herbie Frog suit.

I got it in the sale, of course.

It's a big case, this, isn't it? Oh, biggest of its kind in my lifetime.

Makes Ernest Saunders look like the Winslow boy.

Well, I best you off.

No, that's all right. You can keep that if you like. I've got others.

Oh, thank you. I tell you what.

Little souvenir.

Tracy and... Sharon.

Sharon.

By the way, why do you call a grass a district attorney?

Duck's arse, sir.

Well, to be honest, I didn't enjoy it much.

Well, it's difficult, isn't it? Being thrown together with someone you hardly

know.

Dorian was with her husband, Cheryl.

That's what I'm saying.

Oh, I see.

Sharon's been sleeping in the knife drawer again.

So it wasn't much of a second honeymoon, then? Oh, no.

Marcus was far too busy with work for anything like that, so I took myself off

skiing every chance I got.

I didn't know you skied, Doc. I don't. I hate anything athletic.

but I simply love the gear.

So I took a few canters down the nursery floats so I could collapse into the

arms of those hunky instructors.

I do love situations in which one could be helpless, don't you?

You are hopeless, Doris.

You are a complete traitor to the women's movement.

As far as I'm concerned, Sharon, the women's movement is what you do with

pelvis.

To school, then, Dor? Oh, don't be so vulgar, Tracy.

Oh, so you didn't. None of your business.

Well, yes, I did, as a matter of fact.

His name was Horst.

He was a simply gorgeous Austrian with blonde hair, bulging bicep, and... And

what? A stunning French girlfriend who turned up on the last day. Still, nice

while it lasted.

Oh, God, there's that awful policeman. What exactly happened?

They surrounded your air store.

There was old Bill everywhere. But why?

Marcus hasn't done anything wrong.

Oh, come off it, door.

Marcus was the accountant for all these blokes with his cookman shop.

I mean, it does look suspicious. Well, an accountant who doesn't look

isn't trying.

What happened to that cook bloke, Trace? Two years in full dopen prison.

Two years?

He nicked millions.

Well, he's a knob, isn't he? And he's in a soft prison.

Oh, and Chris nicks a few grand and they go down for 12 years of stopping out.

He nicks millions and he gets two years in an holiday camp.

Yes, but it was fraud, wasn't it? I mean, it's not crime like criminals do,

it?

Well, don't be silly. You know what I mean. I mean, you can't put a man like

that into that sort of prison.

Of course you can.

Just because Chris and Daryl are working class, they're stuck in a tiny cell

with two other blokes and a bucket in the corner.

It's class, isn't it?

What it boils down to is if you're posh, you're excused, Bucket. It's certainly

not class.

You wouldn't believe how common some of the crooks I've met at dues with markers

are. Dreadful little low -class cockneys with polyester clothing, Japanese

hatchbacks, cottages in Essex and everything, perfectly revolting. If they

weren't making you money, you'd cross continents to avoid them. It's certainly

not class.

Well, what is it, then?

Well, it's very difficult to talk about it with you two. You're so involved.

It must be very hard for you. I do understand that, but you've got to see

difference. What difference?

They both nicked money.

Only this cook bloke nicked more of it, that's all. Yes, but he didn't threaten

anyone with a gun.

People weren't about to get maimed or killed. They were just going to have

money removed.

Unthinkably dreadful, but not physical damage.

I'm sorry.

I really am. But your husbands used guns.

Well, I was all for avoiding it, Trace, being armed, right?

I was going to have a cucumber in a bag kind of thing, a banana in my pocket and

a carrot stuffed down my trousers.

That way, I reckon if I did get nicked, I was going to look pretty silly and

cool, trying to make out I was robbing this bank armed with a loaded banana.

I mean, it's bound to work, isn't it?

If you were looking at a geezer and you've got a stocking and gloves on and

you're looking dead hard and you're pointing a bag with something long

it... And he'd say, give us the dosh or I'll blow your wink off. I mean, even if

it does cross his mind that all you're holding is 18 inches of shrink -wrapped

salad dish.

It takes a very confident geezer to call you bluff, doesn't it?

Eh?

The faintest twinge in his goolies, and he's chucking the money at you like it

was a mafia wedding.

So what happened then?

Well, stress happened.

I started thinking, what happens if I come across one of these have -a -go

merchants? You know, plenty of them about, God knows.

He snatches me bag off, and here I am looking like a Julie Green giant in an

excited condition.

Alarms going off, people jumping on me, and nothing to defend myself with but a

bag full of green grocery.

Well, I was losing sleep over it.

Me nerves were going something chronic.

So Chris says, well, we'll take shooters to wave about, we just won't load them.

And I thought, yeah, that's all right.

And then he says...

let's just stick blanks in so if anyone does have a go, at least we can make a

noise and scare them off.

Well, when we come to get the blanks, they was out of them.

Said they'd have to order them, take three weeks.

You know what it's like, these geezers down the trade counter, they don't want

to help you.

So we stuck real ones in.

Just for once, you know.

The sort never got changed.

We didn't have a shot that one, Trace.

It's just policy.

Daryl. What?

When you come home... Yeah?

Will we be all right?

Financially?

Oh, yeah.

We're sitting pretty dull.

I've got endowments, pensions and all sorts maturing. All kosher.

Really? Really.

We'll be nicely set up, don't you worry.

Might be able to get a nice little cottage in Essex, eh?

I've been crying.

We gathered that girl. What's wrong?

Some viper.

Some gutless, snipey, bum -faced, slimy little lick -spittling toad has

told this verminous, rat -brained journalist everything about me.

Everything? Making me out to be some kind of sex -mad man -hunter.

This is tomorrow's colour supplement for the Sunday.

The Sunday!

What is it, Trice?

It's an article by a journalist called Charles Fitzroy.

Is it?

I've never heard of him.

The story behind the story of the top people's accountant.

It's all about the private life of Marcus Green. Well, exactly.

Marcus hadn't got a private life.

So the reptile has written about me instead.

Well, you can't blame him, can you, Dor? You've got more than enough private

life for the two of you. Well, what's Mark going to say when he reads this?

He'll think I'm some kind of man -mad promiscuous trollop.

Oh, you are, Dor.

Shut up, Tracy.

I don't want my husband knowing about me. I mean, this man has been on to Luke

and... and... everyone.

Blimey, he must have been busy.

It's all done with such...

Slimy innuendo. I mean, fancy Luke kissing and telling.

But there is some evil little weasel round here who has shocked me.

I have scoured that article.

And I have found a clue as to who the festering little rat is.

And you are going to help me find them and scratch.

What's the clue?

They live in this road And?

They've got a dog called Godzilla