All language subtitles for Hot Metal s02e06 Unleash The Kraken

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If you were a gentleman, you'd see me to
the door.

No.

Well, reporters from the sun aren't
gentlemen, are they?

They're not even human beings.

What have you found out about Hitchcock?

Oh, piss off.

But the fact is that any news
presentation will always be selective,

open to allegations of bias. You can't
please everybody.

Of course, I suppose the conventional
image most people have of a tabloid

is of some fat racist slob with an
Australian accent.

Marvin Doney, you are sub -editor on a
well -known nameless newspaper. How

accurate is this? Oh, totally
inaccurate.

And may I say, we're not at all racist
on my newspaper.

We merely like to give our readers what
they want. A bit of spunky, harmless

fun.

Harmless fun?

I suppose that was harmless fun two
months ago, was it, during the French

trade war, when you said the Sherman
tank with a page three half -wits to

in a live share accident blew up an
orphanage and killed 27 children.

Oh, come on, mate. French children?

And what about... the Crucible last
week, giving away Elvis Presley's

as a bloody bingo prize.

If it wasn't for your newspaper plumbing
the depths of bad taste in the first

place, we would have to sink to those
levels just to stay in the market. Bad

taste? Coming from the bloke who whipped
out his plonker on a kid's TV set.

I did not whip out my plonker.

I was in a state of nervous anxiety.

Very difficult situation. There's no
issue here. Turn that racket off, for

sake, and get back to work.

Go on, Maggie.

Uh, well, I'd like some big jigsaw
puzzle, really.

First of all, we've got a high court
judge, Sir James Hitchcock, whose family

are all found at home one morning with
the throat caught.

Well, Hitchcock's gone. Three weeks
afterwards, we still don't know where he

Next... The woman who's been seen in
Peckham, Linda Copeland, is also found

dead. So is her canary.

And so, a few days later, is Hitchcock's
dog.

Well, that's seven deaths.

Five people and two animals.

What about this story? It's all the work
of aliens. The one that Spam wants to

print out.

And that started with a Mr Kevin Pooley,
who lives opposite the girlfriend.

He reckons he saw some big creature,
like a yeti, near her house, which

Huge footprints in the fresh cement.

After which, a guy from the US Air Base
at Redway Sun, a lieutenant, Scott

McKenzie, said he picked up signals from
some kind of UFO near the judge's house

in Hertfordshire.

If only I could get back inside the
house.

That'd be breaking and entering an
illegal trespass.

Be bloody careful.

to introduce a special guest this
morning, Lord Gilbert, who is Chairman

Royal Commission, currently looking into
standards and practice in the British

press. I suggest we make him welcome.

And then carry on exactly as we would do
if he weren't here.

Now, tomorrow's splash. I thought we'd
lead with the new ideological schism

segregation policy in South Africa,
backed up by... A four -page report on

prospects of a solution to the
internecine political divisions in

Excuse me.

I'm ever so sorry, everyone. I seem to
have stumbled into the wrong room by

mistake. I was looking for Russell
Spam's office.

Good morning.

Oh, it is you, Russell. Are you feeling
all right?

Never felt better, Dickie. Thank you.

The centre spread will, of course, be
the review of modern prison policy. Is

prolonged incarceration corrective?

or does it generate a recidivist
mentality among fenders?

Can you get me the first aid, nurse?

I think Mr Spam's having some kind of
fit.

I'm fine, Dickie, honestly.

Now, pictures on page three, of course.
We have the tits. Jack?

Yes?

Together with the report on
ornithological health hazards posed by

-disruptions of ozone dissipation.

Russell, what's going on? You coming up
with a story about Princess Diana

becoming a cannibal?

After she was seen eating a jelly baby?

Oh, by the way, Dickie, I don't think
you've met Lord Gilbert here, Chairman

the Royal Commission on the Press.

Mr Lipton?

I wonder if you could spare me and my
colleagues a short interview.

And by definition, any news presentation
will always be selective.

You can't please everybody.

Yes, I heard you trot that one out on
television.

And I was about as impressed by it then
as I am now.

Mr. Lipton, can you honestly say that
since you took over, the Crucible has

published one single story of benefit to
society?

Oh, yes.

Hundreds. Name one.

Well, there's the, uh...

Possibly not.

We are currently working on an extremely
important experiment that I am

confident will have far -reaching
implications for Western democracy.

Yes, what is that?

I can't say at the moment. We

haven't gathered all the evidence yet.

Thank you very much indeed for your
help, Mr. Lipton.

Yes, and in any case, we also... Thank
you, Mr. Lipton.

How pleasant it is, Lord Gilbert, to
have this little tête -à -tête before

go to press with your committed report.

Something has to be done about declining
standards in the media.

I will be honest, sir. It's going to
make grim reading, if I might quote from

our conclusions so far.

The Commission has found the tabloid
press consistently guilty of factual

inaccuracies, misquotations,
tastelessness, vindictiveness.

sensationalizing trivial issues and
trivializing important issues.

Evasion of privacy, sexism, racism,
jingoism, sadism, lurid exploitation of

and violence, and so on and so on. I
believe your committee is divided as to

solution. Yes.

Two of our members favor the setting up
of a new press tribunal with powers to

penalize offending newspapers and, if
necessary, sequestrate their funds.

The other two, while critical of popular
tabloids, feel it's up to the editors

to be more responsible without the need
for statutory controls.

Which leaves you with the casting vote,
Lord Gilbert, one which I'm sure would

in no way be influenced by any offers of
remuneration from interested parties.

You appear to have dropped the key to
your brand -new Porsche.

I don't have a brand -new horse, Mr.
Rathbone, nor have I any desire for one.

Excuse me.

I think further dialogue between us
would be inappropriate.

Good day.

Any good day, old girl.

How do we know that Maggie's murder
story is going to be anything special?

do we know it isn't going to be just
another judge who went completely loopy

didn't know what he was talking about?

The High Court's full of them.

We could just give up one big
responsible story that benefited

I honestly believe it would tip the
balance against this press tribunal they

want to set up.

Oh, we're all against the idea of a
press tribunal, Dickie, but there are

methods of stopping it.

other methods.

Well, suppose this Lord Gilbert were
suddenly to be discredited in some way.

Suppose Greg Kettle happened to find
some dark guilty secret. Greg Kettle?

have you got that man up to now? Relax,
Dick. He's just making some routine

inquiries. That's all just routine
inquiries.

Oh, this is...

That's about it on the confidential
police records, I think. Nothing to go

there. Onward, I think, Jez, to the next
one. What's going on here?

Scotland Yard drug offenders, 1987.

How on earth did... Just checking a few
files.

Using Jez's gizmo here, we're able to
hack in via the phone to various

records. Hack in? What...

You're certain it's been confidential
records? So far, we've done the Scotland

Yard drug squad, vice squad, parking
offenders, BBSC, inward revenue,

undischarged bankrupts, and, of course,
the major credit rating files.

There we are. There's the L's, you see.

Good Lord, there's my name.

I'd like you to raise your Barclay card,
limit.

A thousand?

You put that back. OK, Greg.

Register of companies coming up now.

Complete inventory of all UK company
directors. Right.

Let's see if he's here.

Lord... Lord... Ah,

there we are. Lord Gilbert.

Director of something called Regina
Recreates.

Sounds promising.

Right, if you'll excuse me, Mr Lipton, I
think this firm could do with a little

visit from Her Majesty's Press. Cheers.

And no funny business, Greg or else.

I don't suppose you could get my name
off the Reader's Digest mailing list.

You from the customs and excise bin? Not
exactly, but our powers are very

similar.

Open up this one, if you would. Oh, no,
my boss says you can't open any of these

boxes without a search warrant. Quite
correct.

Have you got one?

Sorry?

Er, no.

All right, I'll overlook it just this
once. Go on.

Thanks.

All addressed to mail.

Order customers, I see, in plain
wrapping. What's in these pots? Well,

different things, really.

Oh, bugger it.

I'll set them all on.

You,

uh, take your coffee?

You huffed out on the stairs back there.

I guess it was the shock.

Is that really Judge Hitchcock in that
bed?

He's like a corpse. What's happened to
him?

What the hell's going on around here?

Copy deadline in five minutes, Dickie.
Where's Maggie's blockbuster story now?

She promised she'd phone in.

That isn't going to happen, Dickie.

Our only chance to maintain the... The
freedom of the press lies there in your

hands.

The secret shame of Lord Dildo.

Lord Gilbert, chairman of the Royal
Commission on the Press, is secretly the

director of a firm that turns out kinky
sex appliances.

The faux -faced peer who wants to clap
down on our saucy fun is himself an evil

porn merchant...

I mean, if you...

were suddenly to find out that ludovic
kennedy was secretly running a brothel

plymouth you'd never take did you see
seriously again now would you

maggie how did it go did you get
anywhere

yeah oh boy well the

murdered family of judge james hitchcock
were killed when a deadly virus

developed by american scientists for
german warfare is escaped from a U .S.

base.

The virus has been secretly deployed by
the United States throughout Britain

without the knowledge of the British
government and in direct contravention

the existing world ban on biological
weapons.

Zetatoxin 100 is probably the most
lethal germ in the world.

It was genetically engineered in the
States for military use.

It spreads instantly through the
slightest physical contact, interferes

nerves and muscles, and within an hour
or two, you're dead.

Well, three or so weeks ago, a US truck
carrying supplies of this stuff to

Redway Sands had a smash -up, and a load
of the sealed tube spilled out onto the

roadside.

Now, one of these was never found until
Hitchcock's dog went sniffing round the

bushes.

Hitchcock took the tube home, rang up
the airbase to tell them what he'd

and then... Went off to spend the
afternoon with his floozy in London,

the tube with his wife. And the germ
escaped?

Well, the seal must have cracked during
the smash -up when the Americans arrived

with their yeti -look suits.

All they found was four dead bodies.

But Hitchcock had also caught the virus.

Yes, but for some reason it didn't take
immediate hold. He became a carrier

without developing the disease.

So without knowing it, he sentenced his
girlfriend to death that afternoon.

She must have died just after he left.

Along with her pet canary.

Well, the dead animals really should
have given us a clue.

Anyway, when Hitchcock got back, the
Americans carted him off to the airbase

where he couldn't spread the germ any
further.

Then, to divert suspicion, they took a
knife to everyone's throat to make it

look like the work of some kind of
psychopath.

Well, there never were any aliens.

Mackenzie made up that UFO story on the
spur of the moment.

Where's Hitchcock now? Still at the
base?

Until this afternoon he was, but it
seems that after three weeks in his

the Zeta toxin's finally taken hold.

He's on the way out.

He asked if he could go home to die.

Of course, the American top brass said
no, but Mackenzie, well, he felt the

whole thing stank already and it was the
least he could do.

So he snuck him back there today and
he'll stay with him until, well...

He probably won't last another 24 hours.

Well, I think it's goodbye to Lord Dodo,
Russell, don't you?

OK, Maggie, bash it out fast as you can.
I'll need quotes from the Air Base, the

US Embassy, the MOD.

This will mean a complete overhaul of
country and the spread. It's him,

Mackenzie.

Hello? Miss Troon?

Jesus, I don't know what's happened.

He's gone.

Well, I left him upstairs in bed while I
went to the john, and when I came out,

he's just gone.

I don't understand it.

Gone? But he wouldn't have had the
strength to walk.

It's Hitchcock. He's left the house
still carrying the virus, for God's

Russell? Yes, Mr. Lipton? I think you'd
better look at this. Front page of

Tomorrow Morning Sun.

Exclusive, we seize the hacking judge.

Murder man.

hunt ends as our lads nab the beast of
the old bay in a dramatic 11th hour

commando style raid last night crack
reporters from the sun tracked down and

seized judge james hitchcock and his
evil lair in hartfordshire bringing him

back to whopping to await arrest by the
police 27 journalists on the sun are

horribly killed after contact with a
lethal virus

The man they kidnapped, missing judge
James Hitchcock, dies in hospital.

The full scandal of how American forces
smuggled illegal biological weapons onto

British soil.

And in Washington tonight, the president
calls an urgent meeting of his staff to

find out whether or not he had any idea
what was happening.

In the wake of today's sensational
disclosures by the Crucible, the Royal

Commission on the Press comes down
against statutory controls.

Their verdict?

The tabloids must be left free to put
their own house in order.

I think it's clear that the Daily
Crucible, under my aegis, has

itself as a pioneer of probing
journalism.

And I can assure the British public
that, following the very sensible

by Lord Gilbert's Commission on Freedom
and the Press, that from now on,

integrity and responsibility are
assured.

And careless inaccuracies are a thing of
the past.

Mr Lipton.

Thank you.

Now we move on to our report on the
booming trade in mail -order sex

Nancy Wingate went to visit a man who
manufactures these bizarre marital aids,

Mr Gilbert Lord, of Regina Requisites in
London.

Ladies and gentlemen, I come here
today...

Not to gloat over the hideous and
horrific deaths of the editorial staff

rival newspaper.

For gloating over hideous and horrific
deaths is the dose of clap in the

of men.

Nor does it afford me one jot of
satisfaction to observe that large

the British public, in their ignorance,
have decided to stop buying the sun.

believing it to be contaminated with the
deadly virus that killed its

supporters. There is no evidence
whatever to support such a ridiculous

idea. And now, as the marble doors of
this special memorial

tomb close for all eternity, let us pray
for the 28

departed colleagues of this...

Fine, distinguished newspaper.

The oration was one of your very best,
Mr Rathbone. A banquet for the eardrums.

Thank you, Russell.

Incidentally, I thought it was 27
bodies, not 28.

No, no, definitely 28 bodies. The man
who arranged them in the tomb told me

quite distinctly. Oh, right.

By the way, have you seen Dickie around
at all?

Not since he collapsed in a dead faint
from heat exhaustion earlier this

afternoon, sir.

Oh, well.

I expect he'll turn up.

Tell me, any news on the Princess Diana
story?

Well, Greg's interviewing some cannibals
now, sir, rather than professional

comics.

Oh, excellent.

and a story with some sordid sex appeal.

Someone's secrets we have grabbed.
Famous bags that we have stabbed.