All language subtitles for Sleepers.BBC.1991.S01.E02

Once upon a time, a secret room was
discovered in the Kremlin, revealing

two agents have been missing for 25
years.

How's that grab you?

Sounds totally implacable.

It's probably true.

Yeah. Who the hell is this?

It's Vladimir.

Vladimir Valensky.

What is the significance of Al's
wingless wonder?

Good old Bobby, good old Nobby.

We think these two young men are agents.

I don't want to go back any more than
you do, but I'd rather go in than have

them come and get me. I don't want my
family put at risk.

Look, I don't even know where Eccles is.

How the hell are the KGB going to find
you?

It's them.

I know it's them.

Right.

Hold it there.

Wakey, wakey. Relations showing.

Come on, Boris.

Get out of your pit, Ivan.

Party's over, comrades.

God, I am here. I thought I was
dreaming.

Identification is positive.

They are Zelensky and Rublev, filmed
here in 1966.

And there is no records of these agents
ever returning to the Soviet Union.

Then what the goddamn hell is going on
here, Major?

The KGB is supposed to inform us of any
covert operation in the UK.

We knew nothing about this either.
That's the whole point.

It seems to have been a completely
unauthorized operation.

Is there any significance in these
banners?

Charlton Peters Morb.

Her name's the England team?

Yes, I've checked.

But you might have.

The question we have to answer is, are
these two agents still here?

Well, lost for a quarter of a century on
an island of 55 million people.

Shouldn't be too difficult to trace.

I discovered both defendants doing a
funny sort of dance along the towpath.

A funny dance, Constable?

Yes, you know, a sort of a Cossack
dance.

Kicking their legs about and that.

I asked them what they were doing and
Coward replied, we're the Moscow State

Circus, Squire. And knocked my helmet
into the canal.

In my opinion, this sort of behaviour
has become only too common recently.

In the hitherto quiet shires of England.

And although you pair don't appear to be
the usual lager lout, a more

appropriate term might well be vodka
vandal.

Mr. Albert Robinson.

That's right.

They're all the same men.

He'll have been out gallivanting last
night if I know out about it. Well, he

always rings me, ma 'am. He could like
that.

What? Oh, right.

Well, thanks anyway.

No answer from his room?

Probably means he's lying comatose in an
alcoholic stupor.

Yes, of course, he got distracted last
night and never came back.

They've got it wrong.

The fee's not booked in there.

I told you.

First you turn up with a gun to kill me,
then you land me with a criminal

record. I wish you'd ever phoned me. I
also wish you had the simple common

to sling the transmitter years ago. How
many more times? I didn't and that's an

end to it.

When you get back to wherever it is you
come from, you better forget you ever

knew me. Don't worry. If they make
contact again, I'm going straight to the

police. Will you keep me right out of
it? That's typical of you, isn't it,

Sergei? Horns were a selfish bugger. I
mean it.

Completely. A million to one shot if
they ever find us, but if they do,

on your own, sunshine.

I'm so ashamed.

Drunk and disorderly at my age.

What's all this?

I'm going to need a big place.

Your very nice house manager picked me
up.

Of course he did. You seem to be able to
organize anything you want.

And I bet if they're still out there,
you'll find them.

I hope so. That's my job.

What about your private life? Is that
the wrongest move?

I hardly know that it's the time to
discuss it.

Work, not work. Work, work, work.

Stop. If Dorian ordered the film to be
shot, shouldn't you be asking him what

it's all about?

Moscow doing that?

He still refuses to speak any other
language.

My English is fine.

Kamraz Zorin.

You have a guest.

The KGB yet again.

Seems they have nothing better to do
these days.

Okay.

My English is pretty best.

Don't you worry, my fine fellow.

We know you are sending Zelensky and
Rublev to English in 1966.

We are finding film about them at World
Cup final.

What do you think of that, my fine
fellow?

Do you think the good doctor will allow
me slabber?

which is to slaver or drivel, to be
slobber or be slobber, to gobble

and grossly.

And with the added bonus of a triple
word score, I -M -B -E

-C -I -L -E.

Imbecile, my fine fellow.

Waste of resources, if you ask me.

I've got two staff plowing through
records of every Soviet citizen who's

the UK in the past 25 years.

I, uh, I noticed the Gorky play at, uh,
Sparpican.

I've had quite a respectable review.

We're entitled to tickets.

Do you like to come?

Odd that they were supporting England.

Odd that they were there at all.

Victor is having another look at which
one might spot something.

Yeah.

I'm telling you, I'm watching it right
now.

It's crystal clear and it's in focus.

Yeah, well, of course, it shows the
disputed goal.

That's the whole goddamn reason that I'm
calling you.

Oh, she gets me back.

Had a leaky nose on the way down.
Surprised you got to hear it all.

Look, it may not be a Maserati, but it's
been a bloody good runner, has this?

Yes, I'm sure it has. Now, look, I don't
want to be personal, old chap, but this

is goodbye to the capital G, all right?

I had hoped you might have grown up a
bit in the past 20 -odd years, Sergei.

Sergei is dead, and we never met.

Ciao.

Bloody hell.

Excuse me.

Do you know if Chelsea won last night?

The game was cancelled.

Follow me.

It's rather silly, all this cloak and
dagger stuff.

Are you sure you're not having me on?

Thought so.

A leper doesn't change his spots,
George, nor does the Russian bear.

Great chess players, the Ruskies, never
make a move without an ulterior motive.

Any idea what the meeting was about?

The quality is a bit iffy.

The directional mic seemed to be playing
up, sir.

To be of any use to my programme, it
must be the broadcast quality.

It is, and it definitely shows the
incident.

I'm more involved than a crystal clear.

All I got, I'm afraid, sir.

Hmm.

Found out who he is? Name's Alan West, a
television producer.

BBC? No, the other side.

So not necessarily a lefty.

Got a beard, though, I see. He produces
sport.

Soccer, mainly.

Anything else known?

There is one thing that could be
relevant.

He spent time in Russia.

Worked on the Moscow Olympics.

Did he, by heaven?

Yes, yes, yes. This is beginning to look
interesting.

Goddamn traffic.

This lousy city needs a network of ten
-lane highways driven through it. Yeah,

it's a bitch.

Now, give me an update on Grishna.

Kind of hard to say, sir. She never goes
anywhere.

You're telling me she ain't been out of
that dump yet? Not even once?

Now, let's get this straight.

What's the first thing any red broad
always does as soon as you hit town?

Get their ass down to Harrods in South
Motley Creek, right?

Affirmative, sir.

I don't like the smell of this.

You got any bright ideas?

All we know is that she's an English
language expert with a technical

background. And word has it she's going
places.

Shit!

I've only been there for 30 seconds.
What the hell's the matter with you

people?

So, she hasn't been shopping once.

Something sure as hell's going on.

I love London, me.

When our Walter was alive, we used to go
down for a weekend in June.

Trooping the colour and that.

Of course, we weren't on no union
expenses, so we couldn't afford to stay

swish hotels.

They weren't that swish?

What, the Kensington?

Sounds pretty posh to me.

They had their own jacuzzi and
everything.

Now it's a grand.

What were the beds like?

You managed to get a good night's sleep.

As you do a duff.

I don't know. What a palaver of a bloody
duff monkey.

I'll get it back, will I? Don't worry.

You definitely know this bloke who went
off with it then.

Oh, I... Did he stay at the Kensington
with you as well?

Uh, yeah.

Funny.

Because when our Sandra phoned the
hotel...

The last bear said she'd never heard of
you or your union booking, let alone

blokes running off with monkeys. Ma 'am.

Right, yes, it's just that I'm rather
keen on a quick sale and I'd appreciate

swift evaluation.

Excellent.

OK, I'll arrange access.

Bye.

Ah, that's got them moving, Morris.

Let's see if we can wake up those dozy
bastards at British Telecom, shall we?

Well, I thought I'd got a bite, and then
I realised it was snagged on something,

so I waded in with my knife.

Expecting to find what?

I don't know, an old bike or something.

There's all sorts in there, you know.

Ah, but not many of what you caught, eh?

No, when I fixed it out, I found it with
an old radio transmitter.

But no ordinary one. This was a bit
special, wasn't it, Brian?

Yeah, this one was Russian.

In fact, a recently dumped Soviet radio
transmitter in British territorial canal

water sounds a sort of thing James Bond
might be involved with. Doesn't it,

Brian? Indeed.

The British seem to have the most
peculiar attitude to the news. Now, that

monitored off a television program in
the Midlands.

Did they show the transmitter?

No. Where is it now?

According to them, the police still have
it.

I'm trying to get one of our local
spooks to check it out.

I'd like to go to myself.

No way.

It's outside your restricted travel
area.

Isn't there anyone you bribe to handle
all that?

It doesn't work like that around here,
honey. It's most important I investigate

it. Now forget it.

You're almost certainly being watched.

You step foot outside of Greater London
and they'll bust your ass.

A seething cesspit.

A shrieking asylum where they don't know
a bottle of Chateau Latour from a

bucket of Harvey Wallbanger.

You recognize that?

Yeah, it's vaguely familiar.

Ah, should be.

It's how you once described Wall Street.

Actually,

I'm not a fan of the old place. Come on,
you hate that hellhole almost as much

as I do, Jeremy.

You want to leave this green and
pleasant land to go to the New York

There must be a very good reason.

Is there anything I should know about?

I'm just getting a bit stale.

I need to change, a new challenge.

Don't bullshit me, Jeremy. No, it's very
simple, Barrows.

I see my future in the States.

And I prefer to stay on the Hamilton
Fairchild team, but... Look, this is all

very sudden, and you're not going to
railroad me into a quick decision.

Don't bring the walk, you see.

He wanted some fresh air.

Fresh air?

The summit up, Sandra.

Ma 'am, please leave it.

Your dad never did the dirty on me once
in his life. God rest his soul.

But his brother Eric and that piece from
Hancock's... Well, everybody knew what

was going on except your poor auntie
Doris.

You had to feel for her.

It's not another woman.

It's the right age, love.

There's plenty of young lasses down in
that brewery wouldn't mind a ding -dong

with a married man.

And they don't give any thought to the
happy hearth and the home they might be

wrecking. Oh, ma 'am, please do shut up.

Why do I listen to you?

If we're caught here, we'll certainly be
expelled.

Don't worry.

And I'm really grateful to you, Igor.

Your initiative won't go unnoticed with
the directorate. I can assure you.

It won't go unnoticed with Chekhov
either.

He'll have my guts for darkness.

What a strange expression.

Relax!

No one will know.

I don't want to know. Just say so.

But I rather enjoyed the other night.

Well, so did I.

The earth moved and everything.

Serena?

Call Marcus Fielding, apologise and
cancel me for bridge tonight.

Do I give any particular reason?
Goodbye, Serena.

A little bird tells me you've had an
audience with Barris.

Really?

Must give Serena the bullet one of these
days. She's worried about you, Jeremy.

We both are.

Sweet of you. Quite unnecessary.

Come on, you look terrible.

Serena says you're not eating properly.

Something's obviously wrong.

All right.

None of my business.

Quite.

No use smiling at me, young lady.

You journalists are all the same.

It's under lock and key until some
buffing chappy from London has given it

once -over.

But it's such a good story.

It would make an amusing item for our
readers in the Soviet Union.

Don't get me wrong.

I'm all in favor of glasnost and all
that.

It's just I've had my orders, see?

Thank you for your help.

I'll go and interview this... Brian,
anyway.

One thing getting in the local rag,
he'll be tickled pink if he gets into

It's been quite a rushing week round
here, one way and another.

Sorry?

Sorry I didn't phone you, but, well...
All right.

We were out boozing, and I didn't want
to call you up sozzled.

That's the top and bottom of it, aren't
we?

Well, lie now, but...

I can read you like a book.

It's a lot of pus over nothing, then. It
all started that night you went out

without a word and you didn't come back
till dawn.

I was churned up about the strike and
that.

No, Albert.

Something else is up.

Not death, you know.

Tell me straight.

Are you seeing another woman?

Yeah.

Is that what you think?

Oh, what am I to think? You won't be
honest with me.

Never, never.

The day I look like another woman will
be the day our phrase is over.

There's only ever been you, Sandy.

You're everything to me.

Everything.

I still want the truth, Albie.

I still need to know.

She breaks cover, comes all the way out
here, buys a newspaper, and then pops

into the local police station.

What the hell's going on?

Omaha to Kansas, Hogan's back in play.

Get in! Get in!

I told you this would happen.

It's the blood of a gay egg.

For Christ's sake, Rich, fail the first
time she goes out! You got two cars, six

personnel, and you lose her.

They caught us cold, sir. I don't
suppose you're any closer to figuring

the hell is going on.

Sir, we've got air bases in that sector
of the country. I don't know whether

you've noticed, Richfield, but we have
air bases all over these godforsaken

islands. Sir, she brought a newspaper in
the village. There may be some

significance in that. Go on.

Amaze me.

All right.

It's a copy of the Huntington and North
Hampshire Bugle, sir.

The what?

I should never have left the Marine
Corps.

These are delicate times, for God's
sake.

It was stupid, provocative, and clumsy.

But essential for my operation. I don't
give a damn about that!

How the hell is the Home Office going to
take it when they hear that the KGB has

been cruising around Northamptonshire
playing hide -and -seek with Uncle Sam's

goddamn flying circuits?

I lost them, sir. There was no real
incident. Cut off!

You consider yourself lucky that I don't
expel you myself.

I can understand your anger, but the
risk was more than worthwhile.

What?

Some radio ham dumps his... Crummy
Russian set in the canal because it

work? Oh, that's a big deal. Hold the
front page.

And these vodkas and Coward and
Robinson, they're clearly English.

Obviously just a couple of assholes
clowning around.

Yes, it may be a coincidence, but I
insist it's followed up.

Why, oh, Grishina.

You're a million miles away.

You're following up your goddamn self.

They met again, sir.

This time, Playwright handed over what
looks like a can of film, sir.

Really? I think it might be some sort of
Soviet attempt to infiltrate the

British media, sir.

From what I've seen on the box, they
achieved that years ago.

Very good, sir.

Is it a bit chilly in here, or is it me?

I fired off a memo, but apparently the
boiler's likely to be on the blink all

morning, George, so get on with it.

Oh, right.

Their target this time seems to be
sport, rather than current affairs or

sir. Very odd.

Indeed, but Playwrights Contact
currently produces a programme called

Scene. Never watched it? No, sir.

But I've put in a requisition for media
surveillance to video it for us.

Well, let's hope that fodding machine's
working.

I don't know, George, how the outfit's
going to potter.

Listen a little.

Can our department spare anybody to go
to North Ends to take a butcher's at

old radio found in a canal, I ask you?

Who the bloody hell do they think we
are?

time. The tea's ready.

How long has that car been outside?

That's when small is coming, sir. Soon,
I told you.

You don't need to snap it, sir.

I'm sorry, little one.

We'll see you, I promise.

Whatever the general trend is doing,
there's always a market for quality

property. Well, I bow to your expertise.

I just hope we can place it soon.

I only wish I could afford it.

Look, why don't we have lunch together?

Maybe I could give you a few tips on how
to become a wealthy young woman.

I'd love to.

Excuse me.

And the owner, by the way, is extremely
dishy.

Unfortunately, he doesn't come with it.

But you're going to have a square meal
tonight, like it or not.

Oh, well done, Alison.

You should have known there'd be a
queue.

Forget it for tonight.

Let me take you for a traditional
British curry. You'll love it.

Look.

The boss is right.

Cossack dancing does not make Mrs.
Calvin Robinson into KGB agent.

That does need some curiosity.

A company director from London and a
shop steward from Lancashire.

Getting drunk together in a small
village miles from anywhere.

Nothing about the English and drinking
surprises me.

And they do their Cossack dance on the
very banks of the canal where a Soviet

radio transmitter happens to be found.

At the academy we play the game.

Finding the hidden words.

Within words.

Jeremy Coward.

Albert Robinson.

Incredible.

Disgusting.

Yes, sir. What can we do for you?

My name is Vladimir Yefimovich Zelensky.

I am an illegal immigrant, a citizen of
the Soviet Union and an

agent of the KGB.

I have come to surrender myself to the
British authorities.

Thanks, I really enjoyed that.

Pretty basic, Nosh.

Full of the corner, as my mother would
say.

Didn't see you as a cuddly toy person,
Jeremy.

There's probably quite a few things you
don't know about me.

I think I'd better wash up and leave you
to it.

I really shouldn't have gone to all this
trouble.

You may not want to hear this, but I did
it because I happen to care about you.

I care, because somewhere behind that
pebble -smooth performance is a

fundamentally decent man who desperately
needs to touch another being.

Not just screw them.

Touch them.

Coffee? Hmm?

I want them away from the house.

Away from me wife and kids.

And I want a guarantee that my family
will have 24 hours protection if

necessary. All right, all right. Now,
hold on. Just hold on.

I've got a unit on its way.

And let's just first ascertain who the
occupants of the parked car are and what

they're doing outside your house.

God's sake.

How many more times?

The KGB.

I'm an agent myself. I know them
anywhere. Sit down.

Please.

I just want to clarify a couple of
points.

Now, your name is Vladimir

Yefimovich Zelensky, and you're a Soviet

agent.

Yeah.

Well, can you enlighten me as to why
you've got a broad Mancunian accent, you

live in a council house in Eccles... And
you've got three kids named Gary, Wayne

and Sharon.

Please.

Just get them away from me, family.

Police. Department of Social Security.

Right.

On your feet, comrade.

We've got enough on our plates holding
together the tattered fabric of decadent

Western civilisation without comedians
like you wasting our time.

Your KGB hit squad are in fact the DSS,
keeping an eye on your next door

neighbour.

What? Who's apparently claiming to be
disabled and unfit for work at the same

time as putting in a ten -hour day as a
scaffolder.

Are you sure?

Course I'm bloody sure!

Like I'm sure your real name is Albert
Robinson, not Nikita bloody Khrushchev.

Like I'm sure that you were nicked last
week in Northampton for D &D.

And like I'm sure that if you don't get
out of here right now, I'm going to kick

your arse from here to breakfast time.

Now out!

Now! Before I throw the sodding book at
you!

You're having a bad dream.

Sam, I'm all right.

Right, that's it. Didn't get back till
the early hours. Hardly slept a wink and

you haven't touched your breakfast.

I'm not going home like that, you know.

When you get back tonight, you and me
are going to have a straight pork.

I want it out in the open. Whatever it
is!

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Very ingenious,
Kostov.

And I suppose you think the sun shines
out of Major Grishin's ass.

No, sir, but I do think she's on to
something.

Okay, okay.

What does it mean?

If Coward and Robinson are, in truth,
rubly offense, Yelensky, then it means

they're still working together as a
cell.

Doing what, for God's sake?

The analysis is that they're a long
-term...

Sleepers.

Well, it appears they've assumed the
botched radio contact from Moscow was an

activation signal to start their
operation.

An operation that was secretly hatched
off back in the Cold War.

Yeah, I know that.

But I need to know what is happening
now.

You've got two mavericks out there on a
rogue operation that would cause great

embarrassment to the Soviet Union.

That's what's happening now.

Okay, this is the way I see it, sir.

Major Grishnus, an electronics expert.

She's been sent over by the Reds because
they've lost some extremely valuable

communications hardware.

Which a Soviet field agent accidentally
drops into the Grand Junction Canal.

Jesus H. crashed this thing.

Sir, the accident was that somebody
found it.

Now, it would be high -tech.

water -resistant, and probably put there
for security purposes.

Sir, there's a simple way to check this
out.

The hardware is currently in the
possession of the British police.

I ain't turning this over to those
devious sons of bitches that MI5 wasn't

suggestion, sir.

What is your suggestion, Richfield?

I would like you to authorize...

covert operation to liberate the Russian
transmitter.

Sir.

You want me to give you permission to
burglarize the Northamptonshire

Constabulary?

Affirmative, sir.

I think you feel better.

Do you mind if I take my coat off, sir?

I'm finding it a little sticky in here.

By all means.

The concept of thermostatic.

seems entirely beyond those cretins in
boiler mittens.

So, fill me in.

Well, sir, the only thing I can
definitely say is that playwright has

ever since filmed to this TV producer. I
mean, presumably to show on his

programme. Yes, and his programme,
Soccer Scene, gets very high ratings

socioeconomic groups C3.

And C4.

In other words,

lager louts and hooligans.

Yes, baffling, isn't it? Not to me,
George.

English soccer hooligans have long been
a national disgrace.

Every time those fans misbehave, it
reflects very badly on our country.

That's true, sir.

What if the Soviets...

via programs like this, are using
television to orchestrate this violence

and undermine our system.

It's a bit far -fetched, sir.

Millwall fans being whipped into a
Moscow -inspired frenzy by Peyton

Don't be flippant.

When you've been in the service as long
as I have, you'll learn that nothing but

nothing is far -fetched.

Yes, sir.

Sorry.

I want to know exactly what it was that
Chekhov handed over. Get on to Special

Branch and arrange a discreet tiptoe
into the studio and a quiet peek at this

film.

Bloody obvious what's going on.

It's left here for another woman.

Under the deep insidiousity of faith.

It's been an orphan that does it.

They don't have feelings like we do.

I'll wring his bloody neck when I catch
up with him.

I have done my best to provide for you
and the kids.

I've seen a solicitor.

Everything is now in your name.

It's best now that I go.

And you never know who and what I really
am.

I sure can't figure it, but I'm not
going to stand in your way.

I talked to Marvin Borkoski.

He suggests you two have dinner together
when he's in the UK next week. Thanks,

Barris. I appreciate that.

But if there's anything shady about
this, I'll have your ass, Jeremy. No,

no. Don't worry.

I really am very great.

Hello, Jeremy.

Old chap.

Old chum.

How the devil are you, my fine fellow?

Catch you in the restaurant, won't be a
tick.

Why can't you stand on your own two
feet, you selfish bastard?

We're going to the home office, Sergei.

It's the only way.

All right, we'll go to them.

Convince them who we are.

What then?

Have you thought about that?

It's better than waiting for a KGB.

Oh, don't be so bloody naive.

They'll either lock us up for the rest
of our lives, or they'll hand us over at

some sodding Glasnost deal.

Or they'll make us work for MI5.

For crying out loud, our lives will
never be our own again.

I can't sleep, Sergei.

And I've started dreaming in Russian
again.

Let's forget.

Little messiah knickers.

I am taking over.

I want these guys found.

That's top priority.

Everyone on it we can spare, okay? Sure.

There's literally hundreds of people
called Albert Robinson in Lancashire.

But a lot fewer Jeremy Cowards in
London.

Yeah, yeah, I know that.

But photo surveillance is already
secretly snapping all the Jeremy Cowards

can find. Now you keep them at it,
Kostov, understand? Sir.

KGB may have lost these guys, but the ID
is going to find them, right?

Right, sir. Right, you better believe
it.

Thanks very much.

Come on.

How much you pay for that? Fifteen
pounds. Bit bloody steep for spamming,

It's not spam. It's called salami.

Look, why don't you do what I'm doing?

Go home, don't panic, and tough it out.

If you're not panicking, why have you
changed your phone number? Sensible

precaution.

How did you trace me to my office, by
the way?

Close compartment of your Maserati.

Ferrari. Posh Italian car.

You left the American Express letter in
there with the address on it. Shit, of

course.

I hate to admit it, Sergei, but talking
to you has cheered me up a bit. Oh,

golly good.

Pass the oregano, would you?

Ory what?

Why don't you let me carry the basket?

I mean, you know what you want. I don't.
I would carry the basket. It's all

right, it's all right. No, I'll do it.
I'll do it.

I'll carry it. If you're going to
squabble, I should get one each.

Look, why don't you go home and stay
there?

Oh, I can't live a lie.

Can't deceive Sandra anymore.

I've left home for good.

What plans have you got?

I haven't really thought.

I suppose I could stay at your place
till I sort something out. No, no,

absolutely not. I've got a question.
Why? I positively don't want you

near my place. I'll give you some money
for a hotel.

How much do you want? I don't want any
money.

Excuse me.

Well, camera work's dreadful.

Boy, do they capture the goal.

Just coming up.

Don't move.

Special branch.

We have a warrant.

Well, unless it's Jeremy Coward. He's
put on five. Don't have his nose broken

several places. I think we'll pass on
this one.

What have we paid these assholes for?
This one's West Indian, for Christ's

Good evening, comrade.

I'm sure you intended to let me know you
were having those taken.

No matter.

The photo lab technician was sweet
enough to let me look them over first.

You haven't seen this set yet.

Physically, he hasn't changed a great
deal.

But agent Sergei Rublev, first director
at KGB, has become Jeremy Cowart,

executive director, Hamilton Fairchild
Investment Bank.

One down, one to go, I think.

For what it's worth,

I didn't deceive you when I told you I
loved you.

I loved you when we first met.

I love you now.

I will always love you.

I hope one day you and the kids will get
over this dreadful thing I've done to

you.

Goodbye, my darling squidgy face.

Forgive me.

But yes, wherever I am, and whatever
happens to me, I will

always be thinking of you.

You've got a lovely home, Sergei.

I will say that.

Not exactly a home.

Morris tells me he can't stand the
place.

Ah, well.

He's being sent back up north in the
morning, where he belongs.

What's your poll tax like here?

A solid Tory borough.

It's very reasonable.

Aye.

Bloody fiddle more like.

Of course it is.

I think we should stay off politics,
don't you, comrade?

All this new market economy.

They'll be getting the poll tax in
Russia next.

To go with all the other Western
goodies.

Unemployment, drugs, quiz shows.

It's extraordinary the way things are
changing over there, though.

Don't you think?

It's fascinating.

I've watched it all in a very detached
way.

I realised I was looking at it like an
outsider.

An Englishman, in fact.

Yeah.

I know what you mean.

There's lots of things I loathe about
England, of course.

The litter.

The small -minded jinker with them.

The snobbish.

Class -ridden institutions.

You seem to have done all right out of
the class you joined.

Nonsense.

And don't slosh that Remy about as if it
were a glass of brown ale.

Frightful little oik.

What was it?

Beef bourguignon for me tea.

Drop of French brandy to wash it down.

I don't know, I'm born.

Sergei? Is there anyone in this block
claiming social security?

With 400 grand a pad, perhaps we all
should be.

I got an awful feeling this time it's
not the DSF.

What do you think?

Bugger.

Looks like Dr. Daniel Knightsbridge.