All language subtitles for Inside No. 9 - 05x01 - The Referees A .RTN.English.updated.Addic7ed.com

Jesus Christ!
Sorry, Ref.

The door was open.

What can I do for you, Mitch?

Well, I'm just checking with
you

if it's OK for me to be
pitch-side during the match.

You know, get the crowd
going and everything.

Not during the game, no.

Pre-match, half-time only.

It's just that Rovers have
brought Scotty the Shrimp.

I thought we could get a bit of
play-fighting going, you know?

In jest, like, have a laugh.
No, I can't allow it. I'm sorry.

I'm not having the players
distracted by

a six-foot prawn knocking
seven shades of shite
out of a...

..whatever it is you are.

This is not America, Mitch.

I understand.

Hey, it's your last-ever game
today, isn't it?

It is, yes.

Well, I just want to say it's been an
absolute privilege to work with you.

Fantastic.

And may the best team win.

Indeed.

I'd give it a minute
before you go in there.

A few, er, pre-match nerves.

Well, it's a big game, isn't it?

It is. When I worked
at the San Siro,

showers with a separate door,

and it had a self-lowering
lavatory seat.

You felt pampered.

You're really early. What time
is it?

I like to be fully uniformed
before the captains' meeting.

Gives me that extra degree of
authority.

Most definitely. I've known
some refs slumming round

in sweat pants with a beer
in their hand

at 20 to three like they're at
a family barbecue.

No, you're one of the pros, Martin.
A role model. I've always said it.

That's why you've lasted
as long as you have.

Thank you, Brendan,
I appreciate that.

Was that Mitch I could hear
just now? It was.

I've never seen him out of that
costume.

Do you think he could be
a St Bernard?

Well, I was thinking more
chipmunk, but you might be right.

They have got the shittest
gym here I have ever seen.

My ex-wife's got a better
treadmill in her utility room.

Well, admittedly the
facilities are a little tired,

but if United win promotion
today, that's all gonna change.

That's a big if.
At the San Siro,

they had a treadmill in the
officials' changing room,
and someone came round

every 20 minutes and replenished the
towels. It's the little touches.

Where's Oggy?

Where'd you expect him to be?

Stuffing his face at the
vending machine.

We only had lunch two hours ago.

I mean, the captains'll be here
any minute.

We've got to synchronise our
watches, go through the team
sheet...

Shitting Nora!

Sorry, Phil.

That was me. There's no Glade.

Did a rat crawl up your arse
and die?! Pre-match nerves.

You're the fourth official.

What have you got to be nervous about?
Holding up the wrong numbers on the board?

Yeah, you may joke,
but that has happened.

Barry Crop once accidentally
signalled for 56 minutes'

added time at a Sheffield derby
game. And it was on Sky.

Took him a good few months
to live that down, I tell you.

At the San Siro... All right,
Brendan, give it a rest,

for fuck's sake!

Sorry.

I'll just, er, go and squirt a
few drops of Aramis in the pan.

See if it'll help, er,
dissimilate the odour.

You shouldn't speak to
Brendan like that.

I heard he's being considered
for the select group next
season,

so you could be
working under him.

Is that how you see the
assistants? Under the referee?

I thought we were a team?
We are a team,

and that includes the fourth
official.

If we don't respect ourselves,
how are we gonna get respect
from the players?

He's so boring, though, Martin!

He is boring, yes.

And that's a very good quality
in a referee.

He's anonymously
competent, and that...

..takes guts.
Brendan hasn't got any guts.

He's dropped them all in there!

Right, well, I think that's, er,
taken the edge off it.

Anyway, if anyone should be
nervous, it's me.

Just seen Howard arrive
with half a dozen Qataris.

They've come to cast their
eye over me for 2022.

You don't think it's because
it's one of the biggest games
in English football?

Well, yeah, there is that.

But if it goes
well for me today,

I could be running the line
at a World Cup, Martin.

Imagine being able to flag
Neymar offside.

We are not the story, Phil.

We are neutral officiators.
Never forget that.

Yeah, whatever. If I'm not back in 20
minutes, phone for the fire brigade.

He has got a lot to learn,
that one.

Are those City pants, Brendan?

No!

Clean on this morning.

City. Yes, well we're away
at Preston today.

Should be good for a point at
least, don't you think?

Consolidate a play-off place.

You know my thoughts about team
colours in the changing room.

Yes, but it's the last day of the season.
What with us being City fans...?

Take them off, please.

Of course.

Sorry, Martin.

It's been a good season for
us, but, er...

..without the investment, you
know, you can't really compete.

Still, if we win today,
we might finish third.

We've always been the
bridesmaid, never the bride.

True.

Without that cash we'll never be up
there playing with the big boys.

If I had a pound for every time
I'd heard you say that, Brendan.

You all right, boss?
How you feeling?

Hey, it's filling up
out there, you know.

You can cut the atmosphere
with a cake slice.

Sorry.

Have you warmed up, Oggy? Yeah.

I did hot yoga in the bath
this morning. I am serious.

Don't worry, boss.

I'll do me stretches.

Where's Phil, anyway?

Doesn't he normally lead
the ref-aerobics around now?

He's shaving.
Yeah, I bet he is.

Bloody Sky's here.

He'll be doing a back, sack
and crack wax, knowing him.

Hey, 20 quid he gels all his
hair up like Gareth Gates.

No betting, Oggy!
You've been warned before.

Only joking! Christ, Martin!

Well, it's not a joking matter,
is it?

What's up with you? This is
meant to be your retirement.

Biggest game of your career.

You should be relishing it.
I am relishing it.

Well, tell your face. It's longer
than one of Brendan's stories.

No offence.
None taken.

We don't all enjoy ourselves
in the same way, Oggy.

All right.

So, goalie for United,
number 1, Charlie Evans.

That's nice and easy.

Back four - Ripley, Price,
Clyne and Cox.

They're your solicitors,
aren't they, Brendan?

Er, midfield is that Polish one
whose name I can never pronounce.

Dzierzanowska.
That's him.

Looks like two bad hands
at Scrabble.

And up front, Calvin Cooke!

I hope you've got his number,
boss.

How d'you mean?

Well, he's got a temper on him.

A lot of inner demons,
from what I've heard.

Well, he'll be here in a
minute, so you can find out

for yourself, can't you?

Right, can we synchronise
watches, please?

We don't have to do that.

It's not Mission: Impossible.

I've got 14:02 and 52 seconds.

Er, six minutes past two...

And let's synchronise, please.
56 seconds, 57...

BEEPING Hang on, hang on.

I can only put this one
forwards, it won't go back.

For God's sake!
It's three o'clock kick-off,

quarter to four for a pie
and a piss,

ten to five, final score
and get first round in.

It's not rocket science.

Fuckin' lukewarm water and
the shampoo's like dog spunk.

Why hasn't this club
got any money?

Hey! They're like a old bra -

no cups and crap support.
I thank you!

They had Aveda products
throughout at the San Siro.

It's like a boutique hotel.

Do we know if Sky are showing
this in 4K or just in HD?

I don't know. can we just...
There you go!

What did I tell you? 20 quid.

Worried about your bald spot,
Phil? Fuck off, Oggy!

Can we
synchronise watches, please?

Hey, I saw you on the
treadmill earlier

practising your backwards
running.

Bullshit.
It's true!

He practises running backwards doing
his Collina face so he can get

a nice big close-up on TV.

No, it's so I can get better
peripheral vision.

It's better than you chugging up
and down like Mr fuckin' Creosote.

Is that right? Mr
Creosote? Guys, please!

If United win today, they get
automatic promotion
to the Premier League.

With merit payments and TV
rights, that's a huge windfall.

150 million, according to
The Mirror. Exactly.

And if Rovers win, they avoid

relegation into the lower
leagues and financial oblivion.

So it's up to us to work as a
team to ensure a fair result.

You know, it's going to be
tense enough out there

without you two glaring at
each other across the pitch

like Bette Davis and Joan
Crawford.

He started it.

"He started
it." I don't care!

We have to be beyond reproach
in every decision we make.

So show some professionalism.

Calvin, come in.

Is Nico with you?

Haven't seen him. Oggy,
go and get Nico, will you?

Tell him he's already three
minutes late for
the captains' meeting.

And you, go and do your
manscaping, or whatever it is
you do in there.

You, check the match ball.

I want it 12.5 psi.

Yes, Ref. Sorry.

What's this?

Retirement card.

What, from you
or the whole team?

What do you think?

Hardly going to be walking around
with my own card for you, am I?

So, big game.

Yeah. Yeah.

How you feeling?

I'm OK.

Can I kiss you?

What happened to your rules?

Please.

It's a big game for me as well,
you know.

So now...
..you've just gotta give us

a couple of penalties, right?

I'd love it if I could.
But I can't.

Not even if there's tugging in the
box? Don't even joke about it.

If the PGMOL ever found out...
You're retiring!

Yeah, but it's my reputation,
isn't it?

Not to mention the legal
consequences.

I mean not just for me,
but for the club!

Martin, nobody's gonna find out.

Relax.

I've got your back.

I love you.

Nico, nice of you
to join us.

Right, now, I want a good
clean game

with plenty of flow and all the
focus on the football.

Everybody on that pitch
knows the laws of the game.

And if we stick to that, there's
no reason we can't have a fitting,

dignified, trouble-free end
to the season.

Understand?

The referee's a wanker!
The referee's a wanker!

Get him under
control, you flaming animal!

Oggy!
He chucked a bap at me!

A what?
A bap! A bacon bap!

Who did? That Polish one.
Dirty bastard.

Dzierzanowska?
Yeah, that's him.

Flaming animal! I want his
name in the book.

If you can frigging spell it..
You're bleeding.

No, it's just ketchup.

What should I put
in the report, Martin?

Just put, "Food thrown in tunnel."
We'll see what the damage is later.

At the San Siro, the ushers
escorted you all the way
down the tunnel.

And we had our own
espresso machine.

This was before they became
commonplace. They're more
ubiquitous than kettles now.

Where's Phil?
He got collared by Mitch.

He was trying to show him
video replay on his phone.

Well, he shouldn't be
looking at that! I know,

but Phil is a pro. I'm sure
he can handle himself.

Did you notice how he went
and picked up the match ball

soon as you blew the whistle?

The he just stood there
with his chin up

waiting for the Steadicam guy
to circle round him?

Oggy's right. That's not
protocol.

He wears eyeliner, you know.
No, he doesn't.

Yes, he does!

Did you not see him when
they had

that minute's silence
for Butch Wilkins last year?

It was running all down
his face!

Linesman Minnelli, they
called him.

It was a goal, wasn't it?

It was a clear goal.

There wasn't a hint of offside?
Not a chance.

I think what they were
contesting was the throw-in.

Don't look at me.
I was six foot away.

That was a throw-in all day,
every day.

Did you see it?
No, I was on the far side.

And you're sure
it was a throw-in?

May God strike me down.

It was 18 inches off the line.

What, in or out?
In!

I've just seen the replay.
Shit!

Nah, that's impossible. I saw it
cross with my own eyes.

You should have gone to
Specsavers, then,
shouldn't you?

Calvin wanted to talk to you

but I told him he'd have to
wait until after the game.

Yeah, well, quite right. It's only
half-time, for goodness' sake.

Anything could happen yet!

What did he say?
He's fuming!

Mitch the fuckin' Meerkat
keeps on showing everyone
the footage on his phone.

What do you mean, meerkat?
He's an otter!

How can he be an otter?!

Otters are mustelids with tiny
ears.

All right, David
fucking Attenborough!

I always thought he was a tadpole,
but it never sat right with me.

It'll blow over.

Yes. I don't even think
Mitch knows what he is.

No, I mean the throw-in!

It's just one of those
decisions, isn't it?

You know, some go for you,
some go against you.

During the season, they just
even themselves out.

No, I don't...
I don't think they do.

What time was the goal?
Er...

..27 minutes.

Which means the throw-in
was at 26 minutes, right?

Well, I don't know. I don't time
every throw-in, do I?

Well, somebody does!

Don't they, Oggy?

What are you on about?

Martin, can I have a word?

No, no, if you've got something
to say, let's say it here.

All right.

In-play betting.

Every corner, every goal,

every free kick - you can bet
on anything these days.

I know what in-play betting is!

Right, so if a betting syndicate
from the Far East, say,

could guarantee exactly what time
a throw-in would be awarded to

a certain team, well...

..a small fortune could be made.

Are you making an
allegation here?

He's talking out of his arse.

It happens all the time in
Italy. In the San Siro...

Will you stop going on
about the shitting San Siro!

You were a backup referee at
an under-14s friendly in 1992!

Under 17s.

You didn't even get on the pitch!
Envy eats nothing but its own heart.

What?! How come you know
so much about it?

Because I was approached
to take the same bung.

15K if I awarded Rovers a
throw-in at exactly 26 minutes.

Easy money, the guy said.

But I told him no way.

Well... that's just
a coincidence.

Big fucking coincidence.
You see -

this is why we need VAR as
standard. Then we wouldn't
be in this pickle.

Not now, Brendan.

Did you take that money, Oggy?

I need you to tell me
the truth now.

Now, I can call the police in
here, we can have this game
abandoned.

It was only a throw-in!

I didn't think it would matter
that much either way.

My giddy aunt,
I am not hearing this!

I didn't know they were gonna
go and score off the back of
it, did I?

It was a foot and a half in!

I panicked!

They said if I didn't comply,
something bad would happen to me.

What, they'd unplug the
vending machines?

Martin, please.
It's your last-ever game.

I'll split the money with you.

I-I-I'll give it to charity.

Just don't dob me in it,
please!

Just let me think, will you?

Why did you do it, Oggy?

We get treated like shit
week in, week out.

Spat at by so-called fans,

abused by players, managers,

then the pundits weigh in
and...

..suddenly your kids
are getting bullied at school.

That's no excuse, Oggy.

What the fuck is going on
with you lot today?

Have you seen this footage?
Calvin, you cannot be in here!

There's no way that that's over
the line. Look. Look!

We're not permitted to see that
footage until after the game.

Are you kidding me, Martin?
Are you fucking

kidding me?!
Please, Calvin.

Where is he? Where
is he?!

I'll rip his fucking head off!

Mitchell, out! Linesman?!

Call yourself a linesman?
Have you seen that?

You could drive a fuckin' bus
through that gap!

Martin, you have to say
something! Come on, man!

At least send him out there
to apologise.

What, so I can have food
thrown in me face again?

You'd enjoy that, wouldn't
you?

You'd eat it, you fat git!

Say that again, you...

ALL YELLING Say it to my face!

Go on, say it again!

Go on!

What are you doing?

You're off!
You're out the game!

You can't do that!

You can't do that. He can't
do that, it's half-time!

Course he can.
Brendan, tell him!

Law 12. The referee
has the authority to
take disciplinary action

from entering the field of play
for the pre-match inspection

until leaving the field of play
at the end of the match.

This is a conspiracy!

You should be whipped, the
lot of you! Martin, you can't.

If I meant to show him the yellow
card, I can change my mind, can't I?

You've already booked him once,
Martin, it's a dismissal either way.

I want him red-carded -
violent conduct!

Yeah? Well, it's nothing to do
with you, is it, knobhead?!

Get him out of here!

Get my head!

Martin, you can't...

Not in this match, not today.
Please!

Well, I'm sorry, Calvin.
It's the laws of the game.

So, you know,
it's a straight red.

A straight red?

Well, that's the only straight
thing about you, then, isn't it?

You've sucked my cock for the last
time, Martin, do you understand?

You're pathetic.

Don't call me again!

The referee's a
wanker! The referee's a wanker!

The referee's a wanker!
The referee's a wanker!

The referee's a wanker!

The referee's a wanker!
The referee's a wanker!

The referee's a wanker!

I'll put all that
in the report, or...?

Just put Number 9, Cooke,
dismissed for violent conduct.

Martin...
Don't.

Just don't.

What are we going to do
about... the other thing?

Did you report that approach
to the FA, Phil?

Course not.

I was scared of ruining my
chances for the World Cup.

Right, then, in that case
we just...

..make things even.

Martin, I don't think...

If the opportunity comes to give
United a goal, I'm going to take it,

be it an offside or a penalty
or whatever,

and I want you lot to back me
up. Do you understand?

It's just about being fair
and proper.

Sorry, but how is that fair
and proper?

If he hadn't awarded that
throw-in to Rovers,

they wouldn't have scored and it
would have been 0-0,
wouldn't it?

So we're just evening things
up.

Whoever wins after that,
well, good luck to them.

This is... highly irregular,
Martin.

Are you're sure that...

..your judgment hasn't been
coloured by...

..you know?

By what?

Calvin.

The fact you just suc...

Sent him off.

I've done nothing wrong.

My whole career has been
above board and by the book.

Yet you're about to gift a goal
to United.

My conscience is clear.

Now, if any of you want to report
what's happened and go to the FA,

then say so now

and we'll stop this game.

Well?

We'd better get back out there.

The crowd are going to give
you some stick, Martin.

That's nothing I can't
handle.

Gentlemen, let's get out there

and restore some sanity.

There's all sorts of reports
coming out of Wallis Park

at the moment, where the match
between United and Rovers

was abandoned 12 minutes
from time.

Let's go to our reporter there,
Eamonn Travers.

Eamonn, is the picture
any clearer yet?

No, John. As you say, rumours
spreading here like wildfire.

There have been allegations
of match-fixing,

collusion with the officials,
and even, shall we say,

a personal relationship between
a key player for United

and the referee
Martin Rutherford.

The trouble started, well,
it started in the first half

with that controversial goal
for Rovers

and the mysterious dismissal
at half-time of the United
captain Calvin Cooke,

but it was compounded by an
extraordinary second half

which saw Rutherford award a frankly
ludicrous penalty to United,

which was missed,
and ordered to be retaken,

not once, not twice,
but three times

until Kirby scored to level
the game.

This led to a mass brawl on
the pitch, five red cards...

The press are going to have
an absolute field day with this.

Are you kidding?
They already are.

Robbie Savage has just been
on, tearing us to shreds.

He even had a go at my hair, which
is the pot calling the kettle black.

How's Martin?

He's shaken but philosophical.

I think he's aware his legacy
is somewhat tarnished.

Somewhat? He's the Lance
Armstrong of football referees.

He's fucked himself.

Not... anatomically.

Or professionally, as long
as we all stick together.

He can't be blamed for them
players fighting like that.

Brendan, he gave a penalty
for a handball

against the goalkeeper!

Well, he didn't know it
was the keeper, did he?

What, the one in the big
bright red shirt with gloves on

leaping through the air like
Superman?

I think even Arsene Wenger
might have spotted that one.

He was trying to even things
up.

Just cancel out Oggy's mistake.

We are going to stand by him,
aren't we?

Well... like I say.

He's fucked himself.

They want to speak to you
next, Phil.

Is Howard there?
Yeah.

And the police.

It's a criminal matter now,
apparently.

Christ.

Are the Qataris still here?

You mean the Arabs?
I didn't see any.

Fuck's sake!

If this costs me my World Cup
spot...

I've always liked you, Phil.

You know that, don't you?

Not in a Martin and Calvin
kind of way,

more like professional....

..respect.

You won't dob me in it,
will you?

Please.

He's going to tell them
everything, isn't he?

Course he is.

He'll sing like a canary on The
X Factor to save his own skin.

You'd better get yourself
a solicitor, pal.

Whatever happened to
"What happens in the ref's
room stays in the ref's room"?

Nah, different game now.

You know when the rot set in?

When they started putting
us in coloured jerseys.

Back in the day
you were the Man in Black.

Big characters like George
Courtney. Keith Hackett.

Yes. Men to be feared.

Then the television money came in
and they demanded more colour.

Pinks, greens, burgundies.

We look more like Showaddywaddy
than football referees.

Sports entertainment.

No, it's all about the money
now.

As you well know, Oggy.

And that 15 grand won't take
you very far through the courts.

I don't even think it was
an eastern betting syndicate.

I think it was just one man
putting a voice on.

Now I think of it, he
sounded more like Benny Hill
doing Mr Chow Mein.

All right, boss? How's your
eye? Looks painful.

Yeah, stings a bit, you know.

Where's Phil?

He's... He's giving his
statement to...

..to Howard and the police.

Well, bang goes my pension,
then?

I don't think they can, er,

hold you entirely responsible,
Martin.

You did it in the spirit
of fairness.

No, I did it...

I did it for love.

Has Calvin been around?

No. I believe his agent
whisked him away.

He'll be wanting to get his
side of the story

in the Sunday papers
before all the rumours start.

Yeah, of course...

He's a good lad.

If there's any way of keeping
my name out of it,
I'd appreciate it, boss.

Yeah, of course.

Well, I'll do what I can.

Thanks.

Hey, er, give my love
to the San Siro.

Heh!

In bocca al lupo.

Good luck.

Come in.

Hi.

I just want to apologise
about earlier, you know.

Things were said
in the heat of the moment.

There's no hard feelings,
Mitch? I understand.

Get carried away, we do,
don't we?

About 22 blokes chasing a
pig's bladder around a field.

Well, the game's nothing without
passion and we should never
apologise for that.

Thanks. Er...

Anyway, look,
I just wanted to let you know

that the place is crawling
with press out there

and they all want to talk
to you.

They're saying all sorts of nonsense
about you and young Calvin.

I don't believe a word of it,
mind you, now,

but when you leave, you know, you
ought to use the back entrance.

Exit.

That's the one. Not the...

All right.

Er, hey!

You're a City fan, aren't you?

Er, yeah, yeah, for my sins.

Well, if it's any consolation,
you had a good win today,
you know, Preston.

Well. Every cloud?

They've also said
they're gonna dock us points,

by the look of things,
because of all the fracas.

You think so?
Well, you saw it out there.

I mean, it was brutal.

They're already calling it
"The War of Wallis Park".

Gary Lineker, he's been on
Twitter saying that it
would be morally wrong

if we were promoted.

Yeah, but he's into refugees
and all that malarkey.

So he shouldn't be listened
to, really.

He's an interfering do-gooder.

Yeah. Never professionally
booked, though? That
takes some restraint.

You know what that means, though,
don't you? We get docked

and we're gonna go down
to third place.

And that means you lot, City,

you're gonna get promoted
instead of us, you know?

�150 million quid right up
the shitter!

No offence.

Well, that would be something.

Anyway, you know, I just
wanted to say it's been
a real pleasure

to work with you over the years,

and it's a shame it had to end like
this, really, isn't it, you know?

Football?

Bloody hell.

Mitch, can I ask you a
question?

Yeah. Yeah.

What creature are you?

What, this?

Absolutely no idea.

I know I look a right See You
Next Tuesday in it, but, er...

you do anything for your
club, don't you?

I suppose you do, yeah.