All language subtitles for Track03_Life.On.Mars.S01E05.720p.BluRay.DD51.x264-TG7

Oi, referee! Are you blind?

- Right, hold on.
- What d'you think I'm doing?

Back of the net!

- Did you see that?
- Definitely offside.

You're nicked, sunbeam.

Chris, take him away, charge him.

Oh!

I'll do it.

I'm arresting you for
the theft of a motor vehicle,

resisting arrest and driving like a div.

You're not obliged to say anything
unless you wish.

Anything you may say
may be taken in evidence.

Little sod.
Should bring back National Service.

Take him away?
Teach him how to kill people?

Didn't do me any harm.
Teach him some manners.

Oi! Referee!

Has anyone ever told you you
need glasses, you dozy git?

- Next time, I'll run you over.
- Guv! Think you'd better take this.

Plod have found a body
in Trafford Park.

Er... Can somebody help us?

Leave him. Weediest
kid always stayed in goal.

Come on!

Chris, you're being a div. Get in.

My name is Sam Tyler. I had an
accident, and I woke up in 1973.

Am I mad, in a coma or back in time?

Whatever's happened, it's like
I've landed on a different planet.

Now maybe if I can work out
the reason, I can get home.

(Woman) Is he dead?
What happened to him?

- (Woman #2) Terrible, isn't it?
- Oh, it's terrible.

Get him out of here! Get out!

Colin Clay, number eight, Heathfield
Road.

- I think it was a heart attack.
- Then it must've exploded out of his arse

There's blood all down his back.

- What's up with you?
- I've got a cold.

- Stabbing?
- If it was, I couldn't find a hole.

Well, it was very cold last night...

May have delayed rigor mortis.

And I can smell alcohol.

So I'd say about 1 1 .30.

How d'you work that out?

Chucking out time.

I found this.

United.

Well, whoever did it...

at least he had a decent motive.

He's a City fan.

Shall I let his old lady know
she can join the singles club?

No, I'll do it.

Hi. Is your mum in?

Mum!

I'm a police officer.
Can I have a word?

- What is it?
- I'm afraid it's your husband...

I'm sorry.

(Mrs Clay sobs)

Ryan?

I'm gonna get off now.

Will you look after your mum for me?

Promise?

Will you find out who killed me dad?

- Yes, I will.
- Promise?

Doesn't take much working out,
even for you.

Right, let's start by bringing
in all known football hooligans.

Get their names and addresses,
find out where they were last night.

Get Ray to breathe on 'em.

This doesn't bear the hallmarks
of a football-related attack.

United are playing City on Saturday.
Some poor sod always gets a kicking.

But that's just it. He didn't.

If this was about football,
he would've had serious injuries.

He's dead. That's quite serious.

Colin Clay wasn't beaten up.

He didn't have ''Georgie Best is a
tosser'' written on his forehead.

Nothing I saw suggested he died
because of which team he supported.

That's because you don't
know this city like I do.

I wanna to talk to his family,
his friends and his workmates.

- Find out if there was another motive.
- You do that, Sherlock.

If that doesn't work,
try the butler. Maybe he did it.

I'll bang up a hooligan by lunch.

(Sam) ..if you think of anything
that might help us...

I really can't. I didn't know him.

Hello, love. DC Skelton.

(Sam) You didn't see anyone suspicious
on your rounds?

No, I never saw anyone.

- What now, boss?
- Let's go back over the statements.

It's essential we take
a methodical approach...

Allow me to re-phrase the question.

(Hunt) Bloody hooligans. Waste of space.

Had us scratching our heads for a while.

His clothes were covered in blood,
but only on the back.

If it wasn't for that,
we'd never have found it.

- Found what?
- There.

Just above the hairline.

Puncture wound. I'll go in
and have a proper look,

but my guess, it punctured
the cerebellum.

Knife?

Too small.

- What then?
- Your guess is as good as mine.

All I can tell you is it was no more
than three inches long.

The skin
is serrated too, on one side.

Some kind of hunting tool?

Maybe.

And there were no other injuries?

None I can find.

- No fractures or bruising?
- Nothing.

- Nothing to suggest a beating?
- No.

It was here, wasn't it?

Ryan...

What you doing here?

Does your mum know where you are?

She's crying with loads of people
around her.

Come on.

Let's get you back.

Everyone wants me to cry, but I can't.

You don't have
to cry if you don't want to.

I tried pinching meself really hard.

You can't make yourself feel
something you don't.

I feel bad and that, but I didn't
see him much. Only weekends.

- Why's that?
- He drove lorries around.

Oh, course he did.

- Wayne's dad died too.
- Who's Wayne? Mate of yours?

Best mate.
He lives with his auntie and uncle

'cause his mam
ran off with the insurance man.

Is your dad dead?

No, actually. No, he's not.

- You're lucky.
- Yeah.

- Do you live with him?
- No, not any more.

To tell you the truth,

I'm not sure where he is.

Dad promised to take me
to the match on Saturday.

- Can't somebody else take you?
- Not without me dad.

(Crowd cheering)

We scored, Sam, did you see that?
Did you see that goal, Sam?

(Annie) Someone smells nice.

- New aftershave?
- Long time no see.

That's because
I've been avoiding you.

I've got these for DCI Hunt,
copies of the statements

from the door-to-doors.

Oh, I'll take them.

- So, how you been?
- OK. You?

Yeah, good.

No more funny stuff?

- ''Funny stuff''?
- You know, the whole...

time travel,
out-of-body experience thing.

Well, I went to see Dr Who, and
he prescribed me some pills, so...

I can't work you out.
You're either mental...

Or?

Or you just use that stuff
as a chat-up line.

Make yourself sound interesting.

''Please shag me, I'm in a coma''?

There's no need to be rude.
I was just saying.

Sorry. If it was a chat-up line,
would it work?

No chance.

This stuff from the alley...

Forensics been through it yet?

Yeah. Nothing there.

What's that?

A blakey.

What?

Stops your shoes wearing out.

Was the victim wearing these?

No sign of blakeys. No markings.

You carried out the interviews
in the pub, didn't you?

- Yeah.
- What colour was the carpet?

Mm...

it's hard to say.

Try.

Er... Sort of...

reddishy purple.

- I think I've got something.
- Number for the clinic's on the board.

I've just been reading through
the door-to-door reports.

And?

A woman at number 32,
50 yards from the murder scene,

heard a man's voice.
She thinks he was shouting ''Carl''.

So?

What if it wasn't Carl?
What if it was Col?

What if me uncle had tits,
would he be me auntie?

If it was Col,
that means he knew the murderer.

Then I found this
in the sweep from the alley.

It didn't belong to the victim,
and there are carpet fibres in the spikes.

Burgundy, same colour as
the carpet in the Trafford Arms,

where he was drinking last night.

What are you saying? Whoever killed
him, followed him out of the pub?

Yes.

Which means it wasn't
football-related.

It's a United pub. You wouldn't
find a City supporter in there.

Also, his wallet wasn't touched,
which means it wasn't robbery.

This wasn't mindless violence.

Someone had a motive.
Otherwise, why else follow him home?

You're barking up the wrong tree.

- Why?
- Because according to Chris,

all those people you spoke to
have all said the same thing.

Colin Clay was a good bloke,
salt of the earth.

- But...
- Right. Was he in debt?

- No.
- Was he shagging somebody else's wife?

- No.
- Was he someone who would pick a fight?

- No.
- So what was the one thing

that might have got him killed in
Trafford Park,

coming out of a United pub, two
days before the match against City?

Or is that question too difficult?

You have no evidence to back that!

And neither have you.

The difference is I trust my guts,

and they're telling me
this was about football.

Which means that
we should be worrying about

the thousands of United fans

who are looking
for revenge on Saturday.

All the more reason to prove it
wasn't a City gang who did this.

Look... What if I had more evidence?

- How?
- Let me go undercover.

No.

Gain their trust. Find out who
he was drinking with last night.

Find out what happened in
the pub before he left.

- No.
- Oh, come on.

Let me show you how clever I am.

- Just one shift in the pub.
- N...

In the pub?

Ray? Go and arrest the landlord
of the Trafford Arms.

- What for?
- Think of something on the way.

Listen up.
Einstein's come up with a plan.

He thinks Clay's killer was drinking
with him in the Trafford Arms.

He also thinks there was a motive
apart from football violence.

- So we're thinking, what, inside the box?
- Outside.

Yeah, that an' all.

So...in a bizarre twist of fate,

the landlord was
arrested this afternoon...

..on suspicion of cattle rustling.

We'll refuse him bail
and keep him locked up for a bit

so that we can get into the pub
tomorrow night and work a shift.

That way we can dig about a bit.

So we're going undercover
in a pub?

(Sam) The brewery have agreed.

As far as the punters are concerned,
the undercover team will be...

temporary manager and barman.

So who's gonna do it?

I have volunteered myself
to lead the operation.

Einstein here will be coming
with me as barman. Questions?

Can I have a tab?

Not on your wages. Anyone else?

Right. We go in tomorrow night.

And as I'm risking my
personal safety in a boozer

full of United scum...

..Ray, I want a full
backup plan worked out.

Oh, and there's a sweepstake on
Ray's desk for Saturday's match.

I've got 2-0 City.

- Hey, we're gonna need a plonk as well.
- What?

You can't run a boozer
without a barmaid.

No, I really don't think...

Good. Keep it that way.
Make sure she's got nice tits.

Er, just a thought...

Do either of you know
anything about running a pub?

You want me to teach you
how to work a bar?

Now?

We start tomorrow night.

How hard can it be? You do it.

I can teach you how to pull a pint.

The bonhomie
associated with the profession

may take a little longer.

We'll settle for
whatever you can give us.

Two brown ales, a Double Diamond,
gin and tonic, and a port and lemon.

One ten.

Four brown split, two Campari
and a Dubonnet and lemonade.

Two quid.

(Sam) One sixty.

It might be in your pub,
but in mine, it's two quid.

And one for meself.

Cheers.

What can I get you?

- Well, I could ask you the same thing.
- Eh?

Didn't I say?
She's our new barmaid for tomorrow.

- Oh no...
- Looks like it could be a long night.

- Have you done this before?
- That's why I got chosen.

I was a barmaid for six months
before I signed up.

That and my nice tits, apparently.

- What?
- Nothing.

Eighteen and a half pence.

- Haven't you forgotten something?
- Oh, yeah...and one for yourself.

Thank you very much,
don't mind if I do...

- Ta.
- Hey, it's a piece of piss this.

Snowball, Raymondo?

(Thin Lizzy: The Rocker)

♪ I love to rock 'n' roll

♪ I get my records at the Rock On stall

♪ Sweet rock 'n' roll

♪ Teddy boy you got them all! ♪

(Test-card girl)
Why did you promise him, Sam?

Daddies always let you down, don't they?

(A girl screams)

(TV hums)

(Milk float engine hums)

Hiya.

- Going to see me mam?
- Er...no, I'm meeting someone in the pub.

- This is Wayne.
- Hiya, Wayne.

He's gonna get the bloke
that killed me dad.

Don't stay out too late, eh lads?

Things might kick off later.

Right, what we're looking for

is someone who had
a dispute with the victim.

They might have witnessed
a heated exchange,

or sensed an atmosphere, anything.

- OK.
- Gene?

Don't you mean Guv?

- We're undercover.
- He's right.

Gene.

Right. Let's get set up,
and hope they're a talkative lot.

Oi, you. A word.

- Were you in here two nights ago?
- Gene.

Wait here.

D'you understand the concept of
''undercover''?

- Too direct?
- Little bit, yeah.

Yeah.

This, erm...shirt and jumper,
it's a nice combination. Well done.

- Right, chicken and chips twice.
- Two pans, and a big tub of dripping.

So what do you want?

Olive oil would be nice.

Er...coriander.

- It's a herb.
- This is Trafford Park.

You got more chance finding
an ostrich with a plum up its arse.

Haven't got any plates.

Well, you're a smart lad.
Use your initiative.

Chicken and chips twice.

Over here, mate.

- What's this?
- It's chicken in a basket.

Where's me plate?

You don't need a plate,
it's in a basket.

Word.

Chicken...in a basket?

You told me to use my initiative.

Right, let's see
how good you really are.

Two oxtail soups.

Food's off.

- Yes, mate?
- Pint of brown split.

Where's Frank?

I don't know... I think he got into
a bit of trouble with the police.

Brewery sent us down
to cover for him.

Nothing to do with Col, is it?

- Col?
- The bloke that were murdered.

Oh, er...no, I don't think so.

Did you know him? Col?

Everyone knew Col.
He was a great bloke.

Who'd kill someone because of
which football team they supported?

- Think that's what it was then?
- That's what the papers are saying.

- Read it if you like.
- Cheers.

Look at that.

See? What'd I tell you?

Just 'cause it's in the papers,
doesn't mean it's true.

It's in black and white. You just
don't like admitting you're wrong.

I'm not wrong.

What have you found out? How
much lemonade to put in a tart's Dubonnet?

Give it a chance. We've only just started.

- Well, we'd better get a move on.
- Yeah, and remember...

All right, the softly, softly approach. Yeah.

He didn't pay his tab.

(Mouths)

(Hunt) I arrested him three months ago
for assault.

Did you have to hit him?

I thought it were a good idea,
just before he said,

''Hello, Detective Chief Inspector.
Fancy seeing you here.''

Well, we can't leave him here.

He'll be fine.

OK then, Sherlock...

you've got two hours to
show me how clever you are.

How well did you know him then?

There will never be
a woman prime minister

as long as I have a hole in my arse.

Did yous come down here a lot?

- Cheers, mate.
- Same again.

How was the food?

Oh, it was great, yeah...apart from
vinegar going through the holes.

- Pete, innit?
- Pete Bond, yeah.

- Sam.
- Must be weird, that.

Going from one pub to another,
covering for other people like.

Is a bit, yeah.

So, where was your last pub, then?

It was, er...other side of town.

- What was it called?
- The Nelson.

Round the back of Harper Street.
D'you know it?

No.

- Cheers, Pete.
- Cheers.

All right, Pete.

Yes, lads?
- Four pints of mild

and two brown splits, please, mate.

- You going to the match?
- Yeah. You?

Can't. I'm working.

That was a nasty business
the other night.

He were a top bloke.
Couldn't believe it.

A mate of yours? A good mate.
City lot have got a lot to answer for.

- Is it right, what they say in the papers?
- I do.

They're gonna get what's coming
to them tomorrow. We all owe Colin that.

Time to liven things up a bit.
Hard to keep your story

straight when you're pissed.

You ask my missus.

- I'm not sure that's ethical.
- It's not. It's vodka.

Pete...who's that?

That's Coxy.

Said he was a mate of Colin's.

Yeah, they got on OK.

He's been dying to get stuck
in to the City boys all season.

Looks like he'll get his chance now.

- Noisy lot.
- I know.

They're the only ones we
haven't talked to properly.

D'you want me to try?

No, I'll do it.

All right, lads. Bobby Charlton
on the score-sheet tomorrow?

- Fancy Lou Macari meself.
- Is that right, pal?

Right then, whose round is it?

They're not exactly friendly, are they?

- Oi!
- You're not their kind of people.

- Come on, let's go.
- Is that right?

And who is ''their kind of people''?

Me.

♪ Oh, when the Reds go marching in
Oh, when the Reds go marching in

♪ I wanna be in that number

♪ Oh, when the Reds go marching in ♪

You look like a man wishing
he was elsewhere.

Sorry, Pete, I was miles away there.

- So, going to the match tomorrow?
- No, I doubt it.

- You're missing out.
- I went a lot when I was younger.

- United man?
- Oh, yeah.

Once a Red always a Red.

All those people, all coming
together for one thing.

And most of them you've
never seen before,

but if they're wearing red, you're mates.

Makes you feel like you
really belong to something.

I can't remember the last
time I went to a match.

I think it was...

I think it was about now.

Now, this time of year.

- So, why d'you stop going, then?
- It just sort of happened.

Bet you miss it, though.

I never really thought about it,
but yeah, I suppose I do.

You should come back.

Once a Red, always a Red, remember?

- Pete! Your go, mate.
- All right.

Let us know if you fancy it.

Get the old blood pumping again, eh?

Still nothing?

Who was this bloke,
St Francis of Assisi?

No one will say a bad
word against him.

I'm gonna get some air.

(Continuous beep)

(Rhythmic beeping)

- You killed me dad!
- Get off!

- I'm gonna kill you!
- Get off me!

- You killed me dad!
- Get off me!

- Hey! Hey, hey!
- Get off!

Wayne... Wayne!

(Wayne) I didn't do anything!

- What's going on?
- It were him.

I saw it in the papers.

- Saw what?
- That City lot killed me dad.

Even if that's true, it wasn't Wayne.

- He supports City. I hate him!
- Ryan...

it doesn't work like that, mate.

What if it had been a City fan
that had been killed?

Would that have been your fault?

You can't rip lumps out of people
'cause of which team they support.

- They killed me dad.
- No, they didn't.

Well, who did, then?

I don't know.

It don't matter.

If you break your promise.

That's what grown-ups do, innit?

I used to go to the football
with my dad.

Every Saturday, watch United.

It was the only time of the week I got
him to myself. Know what I mean?

Course you do. Just me and me dad.

Then when he left...

..I never went again.

I'm not either.

The thing is, mate,

if you stop doing all the things
you used to do with your dad...

..you lose him all over again.

And that thing that
you're feeling now,

it'll never go away.

I really miss him.

I know.

♪ We love you United

♪ We love you United ♪

There's gonna be trouble.

If there is, call the station.
Backup's on standby.

Oi! Can I have a word?

As long as the words are ''It's my
round'' and ''What are you having?''

- Now!
- Sorry, lads, Tinkerbell here needs a hand.

Be back in a minute.

What the bloody hell do
you think you're doing?

I'll tell you what I'm doing, you little prick.

I'm getting me hands dirty.

I've come here on your say-so,
even though I know you're wrong.

While you're asking what colour
underpants Denis Law is wearing,

I'm doing some bonding, on the
off chance that you're not

as stupid as you might look.

- I thought you were drunk.
- Yeah, well think again.

'Cause I could drink every one
of them toerags under the table.

How d'you think I became a DCI?
You think they give away badges?

No.

Right, well let's finish what we started.

If I want a bollocking for drinking
too much, I'll phone the wife. Are we done?

- Yes, Guv.
- Good.

♪ I wanna be in that number... ♪

They're a lively lot, aren't they?

They haven't got a brain cell between them.

So what's he like then, this Coxy?

The local hard nut.
At least he thinks he is.

Right! Let's have a drink!

(They cheer)

- Get 'em in, Lovely Bumps.
- Yeah, come on, get 'em in, love.

Keep your hands to yourself.

Here's to cracking a few
heads tomorrow! Come on!

- So...do we know who got Colin, then?
- You what?

Colin. Who's in the frame?

The City lot, who else?

Dunno, I erm...heard it might not be.

- From who?
- Someone.

Whoever it is, is talking out their
arse. You didn't even know Col.

Hey, he's a Red,
and that's good enough for me.

It was City lot, lads, eh?

And they're gonna get what's
coming to them tomorrow.

So, what's the plan then, lads?

I meet you tonight and suddenly you
wanna know all my business?

- What's your problem?
- People sticking their noses in things.

Hey, hey. Come on, come on.
We've all had a drink.

What's wrong? We're just
having a friendly little talk.

Who said that you were my friend?

Why are you so interested in
what I do or what I don't do?

Are you a copper or what?

Forget it, mate. If they
don't want to chat, forget it.

Right. Piss off, the lot of you.

- You what?
- We're shut.

- You've just ordered more drinks.
- Drinks for my mates. You aren't one.

Are you leaving,
or am I throwing you out?

What, all of us?

Right, then. Come on, who's next?

- You've got some guts.
- Enough to take on you bunch of girls.

Come on, Coxy.
It's a big day tomorrow.

Just have a drink, eh?

Yeah, we ruck between ourselves,
we'll all get banged up and miss tomorrow.

What say we have another
drink then, eh?

Come on, Gene, shake his hand.

Get the beers in.

Your mate's got some balls.

If they were any bigger,

he'd need a wheelbarrow.

- Aren't you gonna join us, sweetheart?
- Maybe later.

- Looks like you've made a new friend.
- Slimy git. Mind you...

he wears the same aftershave as you.

I don't wear aftershave.

(They cheer)

Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink!

(All) Go on! Go on!

- How is he?
- Oh, he's OK.

- He's just pretending to be drunk.
- Really?

They don't give away DCI badges,
you know.

Smart-arse.

You'd better sit him up.

Oi! We've made you some coffee.

Up your arse.

Come on, drink this.

- Smells like shit.
- And you smell like a brewery.

Maybe we should walk him round.

I don't think we'll get any
sense out of him tonight.

Sir? Did they tell you anything?

I know what you're thinking...

Really?

You think I'm pissed.

- Now you come to mention it...
- (Muffled) Well, I'm not.

I...am...

a professional...

police officer.

So we got nothing.

Seeing as your daft idea didn't do anything
but take our eye off the ball,

I'll have to start dragging
in the hooligans again.

- What good will that do?
- It's the only choice we've got.

Even if they don't know anything,
it might stop somebody getting killed.

Hiya.

Look, I'm er...

I'm still gonna try
and keep that promise, OK?

It's just...
it might take a little bit longer.

Are you going to the match?

You've got your scarf on.

It isn't mine.

It's me dad's.

Me mum wanted to throw it away
after what the papers said.

I'm only wearing it
'cause I can smell him.

Hang on...

We found your dad's scarf
in that alley.

He was wearing it.

I've got it at the station.

He only wore it match days.

- So he wasn't wearing it?
- No.

- You sure?
- Yeah, he only had one. This one.

Chris!

Malcolm Cox is on the list of people
drinking in the pub that night.

I want you to check for any
previous convictions for assault.

Annie!

Move!

- Smell that.
- I'm sorry?

Smell it.

- Kinky.
- Please.

- Well?
- Well what?

When you dropped off those reports
the other day, you said I smelled nice.

Is this what you smelt?

Yeah, so?

I don't wear aftershave.

No, but you talk gibberish.

In the pub last night, you said Cox was
wearing the same aftershave as me.

Yeah?

- Is this it?
- I suppose so.

Right...

The lads in the pub said
that Malcolm Cox was spoiling for a fight

with the City fans but none
of the United fans were interested.

- So?
- But now they are.

- So what's made them change their mind?
- Go on.

This scarf was found at the scene
where Colin Clay was killed.

Now, I've just come
back from his house.

This scarf wasn't his.

I think it belonged
to whoever killed him.

- Yeah, but it's a United scarf.
- Exactly.

And whoever dropped it
was wearing the same aftershave

that Malcolm Cox was wearing.
Smell it.

Yeah, him and two million others no doubt.

- Hi Karate.
- Cox has 8 convictions for assault.

I found out that bit.

The weapon that killed Clay
was three inches long

and serrated on one side.

When you squared up
to him last night,

Malcolm Cox put his keys
through his fingers like that. Keys.

I think that's what killed Colin Clay.

A ready-made knuckle-duster
that the police would never spot.

So you think Cox killed Clay?

All makes sense.

I doubt he meant to kill him,

but he thought that by
attacking a United supporter

and making it look like it was City
fans, United fans would back him.

All went wrong. Clay died.

If we can prove that,

we can stop the hooligans taking over.
Kick-off's in two hours.

- So the City fans are innocent?
- Yes.

In that case, I approve of your
findings. Have you got an address?

- (Man) Who is it?
- Milkman.

All right, lads. What's happening?

You're nicked.

Mind the bloody paintwork.

New scarf?

Where did you go when you left
the pub the night Clay was killed?

Home.

- Can anyone vouch for that?
- Me cat.

You're quiet.

I'm just waiting for the Boy Wonder
here to get bored,

then I'm gonna bounce you
round the walls.

- You followed him home that night.
- Prove it.

So what, you thought you were
just gonna beat him up a bit,

and everybody would blame the City boys?

Come on you Reds!

Had to be somebody well-liked,
didn't it?

A nice bloke, just to get
everybody angry enough?

That's bollocks.

So someone shouted out
his name, he stopped.

Giving you the chance
to sneak up behind him,

punch him in the back of the head.

Is that what happened?

He asked you a bloody question.

Only you used your keys,
though, didn't you?

Like this?

Just like you were gonna do last
night in the pub, d'you remember?

He must've gone down
like a sack of spuds.

- I don't know what you're talking about.
- You got scared and ran.

I was at home.

So scared you dropped
your scarf. The other scarf.

- I didn't kill anyone!
- And that scarf is now in forensics.

- Foreign what?
- A bloke with tweezers

is pulling out little strands of
hair and skin from the fibres.

And what are the odds
it's gonna be your hair, Coxy?

We're gonna see to it you get life.

I told you, me scarf was nicked.

You were seen wearing it the night
he was killed!

Juries love that.
Makes 'em feel like Columbo.

- No! You've got it wrong!
- One more thing.

Missing a blakey?

Malcolm Cox, I'm arresting you
for the murder of Colin Clay.

- You do not have to...
- I didn't kill him!

Who did, then?

You do not have to say anything
unless you wish...

- It was an accident!
- Did you hit him?

- Did you hit him?
- No!

- But anything you...
- It wasn't me!

- ..will be given...
- It was Pete!

It was Pete's idea.

No one wanted to take on City.
He was in the pub that night. He said

if we beat up a United fan,
it would bring them round.

- Pete Bond?
- We only meant to rough him up a bit.

He was the one that showed me how
to use the keys. It's his trademark.

I just went along to help him.
We were just gonna rough him up,

but when Pete hit him, he went down.
I didn't know what to do, so I ran...

Peter Bond.
Where can we find him?

(Sam) Right. The United faithful

are still blaming the City fans
for the death of Colin Clay.

As you can imagine, the Blues
aren't too happy about that.

So in one hour, both sides are gonna
meet at the old textile factory

behind the shops in Leeming Road.

Now this is gonna be bigger and
uglier than any pre-match scrap

you've ever dealt with before.

- So let's get a move on.
- Come on, you heard him. Chop, chop.

- Where's Ray?
- He phoned in sick. Flu, he said.

Right, come on, load up!

Phyllis, at one o'clock, I want you
to call the local radio stations

and tell them we've
found the man who killed Clay.

- What for?
- Just do it. And be sure to tell them that the

killer was a fellow United supporter.

We might save someone
from getting a kicking.

Shouldn't this lot be wearing
protective clothing?

You what?

You know,
visors, shields, stab vests?

They've got helmets.

Come on, hurry up, they're
waiting for you.

Come on!

OK. Wagons roll!

Everyone sit tight.

There.

OK, let's have 'em.

Wait.

Bloody hell.

All right lads, tool up.

Have you got anything?

No.

Good luck. Go! Go!
Go! Go! Go! Go! Go!

Yes!

So you thought you'd come
to the match after all, Sam?

I'm a police officer.

What's your problem?

- You are.
- D'you know how long I've waited for this?

- I'm not interested.
- None of them would have it.

So you you beat
up a United supporter

- to get them on side?
- They had no bottle.

What was it you said to me, Pete?

''Once a Red always a Red''?

It's football!

You know nothing about football!

Peter Bond, I'm arresting you
for the murder of Colin Clay.

You are not obliged to say anything
unless you wish to do so,

but anything you do say
may be given as evidence.

- Prove it.
- I have.

Oh, piss off.

This is the buzz, man.
This is what we do.

It's the game.

I used to go to football with my dad.

United and City fans used
to walk to the match together.

Our next door neighbour, he had
a City flag up in his window.

Kids used to play
together in the street.

Red and blue.

And then people like you came along,

and you took it away from us.

A good punch-up's all part of
the game. It's about pride.

Pride in your team.

Being the best!

No, it isn't.

This is how it starts.

And then it escalates.

It gets on the telly
and in the press.

And then other fans from other clubs
start trying to outdo each other.

And then it becomes about hate.

And then it's nothing to
do with football any more.

It's about gangs,
and scumbags like you,

roaming the country, seeing
who can cause the most trouble.

And then we overreact,

and we have to put up
perimeter fences,

and we treat the fans like
animals.

40, 50,000 people, herded into pens.

And then how long
before something happens?

Eh?

How long before something
terrible happens,

and we are dragging bodies out?

I thought you were a United man.

You killed somebody.

It went wrong.

I was just gonna give him a kicking.

He's dead.

That's mine!

This doesn't belong to you.

This belongs to decent people.

People who work all week, and take
their kids to the football on a Saturday.

People like Colin Clay.

You all right, boss?

Lock him up.

You sure you don't want a beer?

No, you go on. I've got
something I need to do first.

I'm ready then.

What for? An apology.

Eh?

Was this or was this not
a football-related crime?

Was the murderer drinking
with him in the Trafford Arms?

Don't try and wheedle out of this.
I'm right. Admit it.

We caught him because I
convinced you to go undercover.

All you were doing was dragging
hooligans in.

Still about football!

- Not the way you're thinking.
- Still about football!

You will just not be proved wrong.

- You know, that's very childish.
- No, it is not.

- Yes, it is.
- Is not.

Is!

Hang on, I thought he had flu.

Sergeant!

Come back here, you
skiving little git!

Tensions between Manchester United
and Manchester City fans were eased

after police revealed the identity
of the man believed to be responsible

for the murder of a United fan.

Earlier today, a fellow United
supporter was arrested on suspicion.

This report now from David Noble....

- Hiya.
- Me mum told me that you caught

the bloke that killed me dad.

I promised you, didn't I?

Do you know anyone that wants this?

What is it?

It's a ticket for the match.

Do you remember when I told you
about my dad?

I was wrong never to go
to a match again.

Hey, you never know, maybe one day...

me and you can go
to a match together.

I'd like that.

So would I.

But for now, I've only got
the one ticket, so...

Have you got anyone that
can take you down there?

Hang on, isn't that your mate?

- Is that his uncle?
- Yeah.

It looks like they're going.

Go on.

Thanks, mister.

All right, Ryan. How are you, son?

(Men chanting) Come on you, Reds!

Come on, you Reds! Come on, you Reds!

Are you excited about the match, Sam?

Come on, you Reds! Come on, you Reds!

Come on, you Reds! Come on, you Reds!

♪ I wish I knew how

♪ It would feel to be free

♪ I wish I could break

♪ All the chains holding me

♪ I wish I could say

♪ All the things that I should say

♪ Say 'em loud

♪ Say 'em clear

♪ For the whole round world to hear

♪ I wish I could share

♪ All the love that's in my heart

♪ Remove all the bars

♪ That keep us apart

♪ I wish you could know

♪ What it means to be me.... ♪

- Sam?
- Mum.

I've given my consent to turn off your...
to turn it off.

No, mum. No!

This afternoon, two o'clock.

(Phyllis) Someone's taken hostages
at the Manchester Gazette.

All we know is that he's
given us a deadline.

(Phyllis) Someone dies at two.

- (Hunt) You're not in charge, Tyler.
- The bloke with the gun is.

We'll draw him out.
Then we'll kill the bastard.

Nobody dies today.