All language subtitles for Peaky.Blinders.S05E04.720p.WEB.x265-MiNX[eztv] eng

You've both met bad men before.

The man we're about to meet is the devil.

Michael Gray.

You lost all your cousin's money
in America, playing the fool.

And poor old Arthur Shelby

is afraid his wife will never return.

There's a bullet, and

on it is carved the name "McCavern".

If it's war you want,
it's war you shall have.

I've been talking to the Friends.

One of the Friends is a man.

He would die without his eyes.

These hands belong to the devil!

By the time my baby draws its first breath,

you and I will be done.

And you will be king.

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Happy or sad, Tommy?

Mr Shelby.

My bullets ache to get
inside your tinker head.

# Up to our knees in Fenian blood

# Surrender or you'll die

# We are the Brigton Derry Billy Boys. #

You know, it's a pity.

I was looking forward to killing you.

You're at the back of a long queue.

My white flag is a flag of truce.

Yours is more a flag of surrender.

Whatever you say, Mr McCavern,
the colour is the same.

The outcome is the same.

I believe we've friends in common.

We should postpone our war.

Your brother left me a hand grenade.

He sends his apologies.

You left me land mines.

For which I too apologise.

Then peace it is.

Your message said you
wanted to seal our truce

with some business.

Since we're men of similar
interests and distribution networks,

I thought we might use
our temporary settlement

for our mutual benefit.

You stand in a yard full of
scrap metal and stolen goods,

and you talk like a politician.

No, nothing here is stolen, Mr McCavern.

Charlie simply finds
things before they're lost.

The nature of the deal is
explained in my proposal.

I've booked you a suite
at the Midland Hotel.

If you need anything in this
city, just mention my name.

So you want to impress me, Mr Shelby?

Isiah.

Also in the envelope is a cheque for £500.

For your wife. She can use
it to buy a black dress,

rent a black horse with black feathers,

to pull a black carriage
with your body in it,

should you break the
terms of the white flag.

Now, please, enjoy the city
it's my honour to represent.

This week, I've managed
to get to the people

at York and Lincoln City. I mean,
they're the teams that are losing.

I got to them.

Right, go on. Go on, take your time.

Mm.

I got to the goalkeepers,
they all said £5 is enough.

I, erm...

I've written to the, er,
people at Tranmere Rovers

because the phone you put into
my...into my house stopped working.

-So I'm going to need another one of those.
-OK.

Once we've got that fixed, hey,
then we'll have all the names

and numbers of the First Division referees.

-The First?
-Yeah.

Ah, shit, shit, shit, shit.

Come on, come on, come on.

Listen, listen to me. Come on, now.

No need for that. Hm?

Yeah.

We need you to find out what they like.

You know, what gets them going.

Cos a lot of them are comfortable.
A fiver's nothing to them.

We need you to find out what
they really like playing.

Yes.

See, cos we can offer them that.

Oh, yeah. Shelby Company Limited,

we can offer them all the
lovely things people like.

Hm?

We can also offer 'em protection
from the things they don't like.

You ever touch my family...

...ever...

York.

Lincoln. Hm.

Tranmere Rovers. Hm?

Mm-hm.

-Bye, Finn.
-Goodbye, brother.

Shit.

It's all right, Mrs
Connors. You can carry on.

It's just me brother.

So tell me how it happened?

They were sleeping downstairs.

And then my husband came home...

...drunk from the Marquis, even
though he just lost his job.

We don't have any money.

Anyway, he came to bed.

But downstairs, they
must have heard a noise.

They woke up.

They started, er, calling out.

They woke my husband up, and...

...when he's drunk, you don't wake him up.

And what happened then, Mrs Connors?

He, erm...

He...

He went downstairs.

He killed them.

Strangled them. All three of them.

And you've, erm... You've...you've
brought their bodies

here today with you?

Proof, Mr Shelby.

Their singing was the only
pretty thing in my life.

I don't care my husband beats me...

...but not this.

Mrs Connors,

we have your address.

We will speak to your husband.

My brother here will go to
the Bull Ring market today,

and buy you three new goldfinches,

and have them delivered to your door.

The same colours and, you know, feathers.

The new ones I will call
Thomas, Arthur and Finn.

That'll make him pause,

even when he's drunk.

Good day, Mr Shelby.

You take care, Mrs Connors.

Bye.

I don't know how you do
this, Tom. I really don't!

You learn things, Arthur.

That woman has only two rooms downstairs.

Her husband has lost
his job and he beats her.

And yet, the thing that brings her

to see her Member of
Parliament is songbirds.

Now, that's politics, Arthur.

It's not for me.

Anyway, look.

That list of losers.

How much have we made on the football?

Ten grand this week.
Finn...showing promise, Tom.

Maybe we should put him on
the tracks. Just a thought.

-Finn?
-Yeah?

-Your lunchtime delivery.
-Bring her in.

Tommy, the next fella
wants to see both of you.

-Do you know his face?
-No. He's Chinese.

Chinese in our pub?

Tom...

All right.

Slowly, Micky, let him in.

Three little birds, eh,
Tommy, Finn and Arthur.

Mr Thomas.

Mr Arthur.

My name is Brilliant Chang.

Brilliant Chang is dead.

Perhaps.

Sometimes I wonder,

"Is this heaven?"

Doesn't smell like heaven...

...so I would say I have survived.

-What happened to Maggie?
-You don't like me?

I like everything.

I like fucking everything.

You should answer the phone, Mr Shelby.

Micky, bring that phone here now.

Hello?

Arthur! Arthur!

I sent a woman with a gun to
your youngest brother's office.

-All right, Finn.
-Right, right.

What the fuck is going on?

Do you want to die again, Chang? Huh?

Good.

The guns are pointed.

Now we are all concentrating.

The moment is now pure.

Purity is not necessary.

Displays are not necessary.

They said, "Tommy Shelby.

"That door will need some kicking down."

When you walked through
that door, it was open.

You don't need to do
anything to get my attention.

Now, what exactly do you want?

Do you have a match, Mr Shelby?

Anything happens to my brother, Chang...

...you die.

If you die here today, we'll
bury you face down with no hands.

-You'll go straight to hell.
-I don't care about rituals.

I am a rationalist, Mr Shelby.

Well, tell your friend on the phone

to put her gun down, and
we can all have a talk.

Hold your fire, brother!

Hold your fire!

I'm all right.

She fired into the ceiling.

Finn's all right.

Finn's OK.

Give me your order! Mm.

Give me your order, Tommy! Yes or no?

At ease.

I said, at ease.

May I take something
from my pocket, Mr Shelby?

That is the purest opium that
has ever arrived in Europe.

No salt, no flour, no lies.

Pure truth.

Came off a ship called the
Capital, out of Shanghai.

Docked at Poplar a week ago.

The stevedores were held at gunpoint.

Chinese unloaded the cargo
by the light of lanterns.

A foreman at the dock estimated
there was seven tonnes of the stuff.

I made a note at the time.

I spoke to that particular foreman

and I worked out that

seven tonnes of pure opium
crystals would be worth...

...approximately, £1,190,000

on international markets.

The big crash. Hm?

Wall Street.

Now we all keep our ears
open for opportunities.

-What the fuck is going on?
-What are you playing at?

Finn, we are conducting
a piece of business.

She had a gun to my fucking head!

But your trousers are dry.

You didn't piss yourself.

-He didn't piss himself, Arthur.
-Well done, Finn.

You had a dispute with a lady
and you didn't piss yourself.

And Arthur here tells me we
should put you on the tracks.

-Going to be a good day for you after all, Finn.
-Give me that!

Hey!

Always have your whores
searched at the door.

If I see that bitch on the
street, I'll fucking cut her.

Yeah, all right. All right, come on.

This is a gift, Mr Shelby.

A gesture of goodwill.

I'll throw it in the canal.

Canals are the idea. Right, Chang?

I'm sorry for calling the meeting here,
but the location is part of the deal.

What fucking deal?

How does it feel to be
barefoot in the mud again, Pol?

It makes me feel young. What fucking deal?

Four boats. Four days.

Up the Grand Union from Poplar to here.

Half the cargo is coal
and underneath the coal,

pure opium crystal.

Opium?

I vote against it.

They can't use trucks
because the Chinese drivers

get stopped by the police.

They need to get it out of London because all
the warehouses are being searched by Customs.

The seven tonnes is
bound for San Francisco,

but the outward ship doesn't sail
for seven days, from Liverpool.

They need somewhere safe to store it.

All we have to do is take it up the
canal and keep it here for a week.

We don't fuck with the Chinese,
though, Tom. Dad always said it.

Ask yourself, would he turn down £250,000

to drive four boats up the canal

with no prospect of inspection?

I vote against it, Tom. Hm.

-Mmm.
-Polly?

£250,000.

That's half of what
Michael lost in Chicago.

I will ask him to take
charge of this business.

Michael's position will be
reinstated in the company?

His period of quarantine would be over.

Think about it, brother.

Four boats sailing up the cut,

smelling of wood smoke and bacon.

And which one of Charlie's
Gypsy didicoy friends

do you trust, Tom, eh, with
a cargo worth £1 million?

I've already made provision.
I'm needed at a meeting.

Let's vote.

Those in favour.

Motion carried. Arthur, tell
Charlie we need four boats

and four tonnes of coal
before it gets dark.

They sail south tonight.

And don't forget to go to the Bull Ring

and get them three songbirds, Arthur.

Yes, Tommy.

Fuck!

What have you heard, Pol?

The man you cut went to the police...

...but we dealt with it.

Is she with him?

If she was, it would be your fault, Arthur.

But they say his face is so
badly cut he's hard to look at.

So I would say not.

I would also say it is
time to give up on Linda,

find someone else...

..who might be able to put your fires out.

I can't, though, Pol.

I fucking can't!

And that's it.

That's it.

Whisky?

Thank you, no.

For reasons I can't divulge, I
need to keep Jimmy McCavern alive.

But I've already got a time
and a place for the killing.

You see?

A little alleyway by a shipyard canteen.

A girl called Karen, who hates
him, who will give him up.

I have the sound of cranes and
winches to cover the gunshot.

I've got a Bentley to get me away.

The war with the Billy Boys is postponed.

We've made peace. We're
going to do business together.

When that business is done, he's all yours.

You can avenge the death of
your son in any way you see fit.

You mean when YOU say.

When you check that
little stopwatch you've got

that controls the turning of the Earth.

Yeah.

And then you will marry,
and you will settle.

Marry? Marry who, Mr Shelby?

Just let me understand you.

Do you mean that Polly
is part of this deal?

Yeah.

Well, Holy Lord God, Tommy Shelby OBE,

does your vanity have no limits?

I believe it is called
"the ego" these days.

-I read books.
-You sit on your throne and you instruct Polly Gray,

who is of far richer blood than you,

as to when she can and
when she can't marry.

Oh, no, she instructs herself.

She has her own strategies.

And we are of the same blood.

She will marry you, but only if you agree

to postpone any attack on McCavern

until this business is done.

So she is some young Gypsy
bride that's yours to give away.

Young she is, when she's
barefoot on the cobbles.

What about a dowry, then, Mr Shelby?
If it's going to be done in the old way,

well, you know, you throw in
a few coloured ponies or...

I'm having an event at me house.

You are invited.

Polly will be there.

There will be candles
and violins and dancing.

Polly wants you to
propose in the proper way,

and then she will give you
her terms of acceptance.

Inviting you for this
purpose was Polly's idea.

-You can't read?
-I don't read.

-It's Swan Lake.
-Ballet? -Yeah.

Apparently, it's about love.

Polly says that, for now,

love must defeat revenge.

...As a result of the greed and the excess

of a small number of bankers, financiers

and other feckless gamblers.

This comprehensive document,

pleading for Government intervention
in all areas of economic life,

represents not just socialism,

but a new breed
- of National Socialism.

And I believe... I believe
that the leaders of my own party

have been very foolish to reject it.

How on Earth did you get a ballet company

to come to your bloody house?

It's an independent dance company

dedicated to bringing ballet to the people.

We share a philosophy.

I'm a patron.

I also gave them a lot of money.

Oh.

And this date

is your wife's birthday.

Yeah.

The party is for her.

And she likes ballet, your wife?

Why wouldn't she?

It's just...

Well, you see, I did
some research into her.

Into her past.

If you want to buy her a
gift, she likes diamonds.

Now that we are going to be
conquering the world together,

we need to have no secrets.

We should know each other's weaknesses.

Your wife has led an interesting life.

It may even be possible that,
as a younger man in Birmingham,

I came across her.

My friends and I would sometimes go
to nightclubs in the south of town.

Well, if you recognise her,

maybe you can talk about old times, eh?

Maybe, if we have met before,

your wife and I could even
renew our acquaintance.

I am invited to stay the night, yes?

I too have done some research, Sir Oswald.

Yeah.

I researched your wife and
your wife's younger sister,

and your wife's stepmother, Lady Curzon,

all of whom you are fucking.

If such things were to
take place on a narrow boat,

the Church would get involved.

But...

...it's not happening on a narrow boat.

No. It's taking place in your
apartment, in your country house,

sometimes even in your office

here in the House of Commons.

So no secrets. And, yes,

yes, you are invited to stay the night

with whichever member of
your family finds favour.

Now, if you don't mind,
I was about to leave,

I need to lock up me office.

Actually, I will come alone.

In society, you are
judged by your hospitality.

I will expect adventure.

Such rogues we are, aren't we?

Sing like songbirds in the House.

And then, afterwards,

relieve ourselves in the
bodies of whomever we choose.

Two men for whom forbidding is forbidden.

It should be quite the party.

You have to listen to
the voices that you hear.

Do what they tell you to do.

You don't even have to rub the
lamp any more to summon the genie.

It wasn't the blue stone, Tommy.

It was you.

It was you.

Who is it?

It's Tommy's car outside.

It's him. I'll get it.

What's happened?

Nothing's happened. I'm all right.

Come in.

Do you want a drink?

-No.
-No?

No. I have some information
for the intelligence officer...

...on conversations with Mosley.

He's planning to put forward
proposals on building works.

He, erm...

He wants the Communists to
consider his new party as fraternal,

which means his activities are now
part of your official remit? Yeah?

Mr Shelby, it's 2am. You can
make your report any time.

-Why don't you stay tonight?
-No.

I'll leave you two to...

Yes, goodnight.

I stood on a bridge tonight, Ada.

And I looked down.

And Grace was there...

...but she was still alive.

Tom, have you still been taking laudanum?

The fucking name of the
barge was The January.

Our dad's boat.

The boat I was born on.
We've never got nothing.

We've never got nothing.
And we never fucking will.

Dr Brooke said that you never
arrived for your appointment, Tom.

No.

There's nothing in his books
of any use to a man like me.

They talk about guilt.

Eh?

Guilt! What fucking guilt?

-The black barge.
-No. No, that's not it.

That's not it. He had it right.

Mosley had it right. He said,
"Forbidding is forbidden to us.

"We can do anything. Nothing can stop us."

But there's a part of me
that is unfamiliar to myself.

And I keep finding myself there.

And only The January can get me away.

Will you at least try
the doctors again, Tom?

Well, then at least throw away your opium.

It's that that causes the visions.

Just...throw it away.

While it's there, it's a temptation.

How much have you got left?

Seven tonnes.

-Seven tonnes?
-Yeah.

I'd hate for it to run out, Ada.

You do me a favour?

When that kid of yours arrives,

keep it away from me.

A fucking ballet.

He wants to impress someone.

And I'm invited?

You and Gina.

Why?

Because he wants to give you
the chance to come back properly.

-Coal haulage?
-Yeah.

Tommy wants you to reopen those
books and become managing director.

So I've come back from
Detroit to become a coalman?

The first delivery is
bound for San Francisco,

but if it works...

...Tommy thinks he can find
distribution for it here.

And this, erm, this coal...

-...is it snow white?
-No.

Golden brown.

Fuck.

This is your opportunity, Michael.

There is more money in this than there is

in all the other parts of
our business put together.

Tommy knows what opium does to people.

Tommy knows what whisky does to people.

He got an OBE for selling it.

I'll speak to Gina.

You'll what?

I will consult my wife.

Your father ran this business for a bit.

1901.

And he shipped coal. Real coal.

Just coal.

And his fingernails and his eyelids
and his ears were black with it.

And the merchants would
offer them one price

and then only pay half,

because they could.

And that was wrong, Michael.

Run your hands through it,
get it under your skin...

...and then see if Gina will
let you lay a finger on her.

I think golden brown is more to her taste.

Especially when you tell her how
much money you're going to earn.

Now we're in business
together, I should ask,

which foot do you kick
the ball with, Mr Shelby?

I have no religion.

Some nights, I wish I had.

He's kin?

Yeah.

And the simple fellow?

He's a lot less simple than
you might at first think.

Do you trust them?

Right. So I take a boatload.

No.

Ten sacks to start with,
so you can test the market.

Then we'll deal in boatloads.

Cash payment on loading.

£10,000.

For that amount, it'll have to be a cheque.

I don't take cheques.

It'll be a cheque.

I will take a cheque

if it's guaranteed by our
mutual friend in London,

Mr Mosley.

Well, who would've thought
I'd be doing business

with fucking Gypsy Catholic scum?

Yeah, who'd have thought, eh, Charlie?

Who would have thought it?

Aye, but you're OK.

Yeah, I'm only OK until I'm not OK.

Then I'm really not.

Delivery in seven days.

Cheque guaranteed.

Won't your Chinese friends expect
the seven tonnes that leaves London

to still be seven tonnes
when it reaches Liverpool?

You leave that to me, Mr McCavern.

Oh, you mean you're bold
enough to skim the Chinese?

You have some kind of
death wish, Mr Shelby?

An evening with a tribe of Gypsies.

When you've unpacked, there
should be a girl laid on for you.

Mr Shelby is a socialist,

and believes in equality
of service for all classes.

According to the invitation,

there'll be an interval at nine o'clock.

Say that you're feeling
tired, and we'll leave.

Well, if you see a duke, introduce me.

My God, at last!

Something you like about England.

Gina, I've been made an offer.

To come back into the company.

Michael, we agreed,

the baby will be born
in New York. Remember?

The job is haulage.

Supply. Transport.

Opium.

-Tommy has made contact...
-Tommy!

Tommy has made contact
with Chinese suppliers

who have plantations in the Afghan hills.

Pure grade.

We will take delivery and
ship it all over Europe.

You mean heroin?

Yes.

And how much would you make?

Conservative estimate, three
shipments a year from Shanghai,

seven tonnes each,

stand to make approximately £1 million.

Per annum.

The company will make three.

We could go to New York whenever we wanted.

On our own fucking plane.

-We always have to come back, right?
-Yes.

For £1 million a year, we do.

What happens if you get caught?

Tommy has friends.

If the ship gets stopped,
it'll be the Chinese who hang.

Think about it, Gina.

When we move into our house...

...our room for entertaining
will be twice this size.

Will it, now?

The magazines say that

it's all straight lines
and simplicity in the 1930s.

Deco is dead.

We'll be able to afford
dukes and duchesses.

And maybe...

...maybe a princess or two.

And the painting on
the wall will be of you.

Because Tommy Shelby will be gone,

and it will be Michael
Gray arranging the ballet.

Where will Tommy be?

Where he wants to go to most.

Ah.

There.

A lord.

Actually, I think Mr Mosley's a baronet.

Where the fuck is Tommy, anyway?

Tommy...

My house.

My wife.

We'll let 'em wait.

Sir Oswald.

Do I not get announced?

Mr Shelby asked me to tell you

that he's busy with the
catering preparations

and will be joining you shortly.

In the meantime, and while you're waiting,

we have opium, cocaine and brandy.

I don't use opium or cocaine,

and brandy is for after dinner, not before.

I also have a list of options
for the end of the evening.

You'll notice that the
maids wear name tags.

We hired them specially...

...for those guests staying the night.

All things are available...

..except the ballerinas.

And who, might I ask, are you?

I am a queen amongst the Romanies.

And I too am unavailable.

Lizzie.

There's something I didn't
tell you about this evening.

Something about our guest.

Mosley.

It's possible that...

...that you've met him before.

Before when?

Before you became who you are.

Would you even remember him?

Would he remember you?

All I remember is, I
drank too much champagne.

And I wasn't taking cash.

Lizzie...

There's a pile of bodies...

...floating by.

Let 'em go, Lizzie.

Let 'em go.

So that's why you brought me in here.

To lay your claim.

Yeah.

Well, it's a start, I suppose.

He lays a fucking hand on you,

he will be meat for Johnny Dogs.

You were indisposed when I arrived.

In society, you greet a guest,
you don't leave them hanging...

...looking around like a fucking dog.

Before we join the others, I have
some business. I need a signature.

By the way, your brandy
before dinner thing amuses me,

but none of the maids are of interest.

And I despise the use of drugs.

Your strategies are very transparent.

I'm involved in a transaction
with Jimmy McCavern,

your acquaintance from the north.

I have no idea who you mean.

I don't trust him. He
wants to pay by cheque.

I need your signature as a
guarantor on the transaction,

should his cheque fail to be honoured.

The sum is £10,000.

And what is it he's buying from you?

A gin distillery.

He's buying me old one.
I'm buying a new one.

Hmm.

So not only is the truce holding,

but you two are actually doing business.

Yeah. But I still don't trust his cheques.

If I sign a cheque guarantee for this man,

it is proof of a connection
between me and him.

Something you could later use against me.

Why would I want to move against you?

You're curious about my weaknesses.

And you've learned it's not cocaine,

not maids.

But now you will learn my weakness
is a tendency to trust people.

Do you have a pen?

Mr Shelby.

I know you had no classical education,

but I just realised you are the
perfect balance between the gods

Dionysus and Apollo.

Irrational frenzy controlled
by reason and self-reflection.

Do you know the work
of Friedrich Nietzsche?

-No.
-Freud?

-Yes.
-Ah.

There.

Your guarantee of trust.

Now, perhaps you could introduce
me to your wonderful wife.

So, did you know?

What?

Oh, that tonight's special
guest might have fucked you

when you were a nightclub hostess?

Yeah.

Lizzie, if we were to
strike from our guest lists

every man in Birmingham who you...

-Yes or no?
-Fucking yes.

Shit.

Sir Oswald, this is my wife, Elizabeth.

Lizzie, Sir Oswald Mosley.

Since we all appear to know,

and since knowledge is permission,

I'm sure, Mr Shelby, in the
spirit of our honest relationship,

you won't mind me saying

it was a bottle of champagne
and an evening well spent.

Actually, it was an evening wasted.

For the champagne and brandy you bought me!

As I recall, it was the
booze that put you to sleep

a little prematurely.

Ladies and gentlemen, the
dance is about to begin.

Mr Mosley!

A toast, if I may.

To the end of our deal,

and the beginning of something more.

Happy birthday, Lizzie.

This way.

Polly Gray, Gypsy queen,

will you marry me,

a poor commoner who loves you?

Let's fuck before the swan dies.

I heard there was a family occasion.

Look, I'm sorry, Linda.

That animal inside me,

it comes out and I can't stop it.

Fuck, Linda.

Without you, I c...

Come inside, please.

His name was Frederick.

All we ever did was talk, Arthur.

He just listened.

And now he has no face.

He's as ugly on the outside
as you are on the inside.

May you Peaky Blinders all rot...

...in fucking hell.

Arthur...

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