All language subtitles for Boardwalk Empire S01E05 Nights in Ballygran 1080p Blu-ray

(DISTANT CLATTERING)

(MEN CHATTERING)

MAN 1: Two more.

What do you say, Charlie?
Give me a hand here, huh?

- All right, roll it down. Easy now.
- MAN 2: You got it?

MAN 3: I got it, I got it.

Roll it down.

MAN 1: All right. Keep it going.

As far as I'm concerned,

they can take St. Patrick's Day
and sell it for scrap.

Dad says it's 'cause you hate being Irish.

I love being Irish.

What I hate is the yearly display
of crying, arguing,

and public drunkenness that goes with it.

Centuries of loss. We're a sorrowful people.

Maybe it'll snow.

Good morning, Mr. Thompson.

NUCKY: Good morning to you.

Would you care to order some breakfast?

No, Martin. Thank you.

Who am I, the Forgotten Man?

I beg your pardon, sir.
Would you like something?

No.

How come they ask you about breakfast
and I got to raise a stink?

I live here. It's a courtesy.

- You got to live here to get served?
- I'm a big tipper, Eli. Okay?

You act like it doesn't mean anything.

Because it doesn't.

The Celtic dinner, we're moving it up to 7:00.

Why so early?

The Civil War vets,

one of them snored over
the Attorney General's speech last year.

You don't got to be old for that to happen.

You think you can do better?

Actually, I was thinking about
saying a few words.

- What for?
- Some electioneering.

Those reformers are looking to replace me.

I don't think a speech is a good idea.

It's a captive audience of the
biggest pooh-bahs in the county, Nucky.

Who are there to celebrate their heritage,
not be bored by your palavering.

I've been practicing,
taking lessons at the YMCA.

It's an important night, Eli.

Bad enough I have Dad to look after.

I don't need you upsetting the apple cart, too.

I want to say my piece.

Fine. Daniel fucking Webster.

The widow Schroeder.

The widow Schroeder.

Mr. Thompson, good morning.

I was just on my way to your office.

Some soda bread.
I thought you might enjoy it.

It's from an old family recipe.

You can leave it with the bellhop.
He'll see that I get it.

I'm sure for your birthday
you received many fine gifts...

I'm late for a meeting, Mrs. Schroeder.

But thank you.

- Not a bad looking woman.
- My life's complicated enough.

Jesus! Did they even
wash these things from last year?

I was Baby New Year in '17.

Even the diaper was second-hand.

There's blood on this.

Captain Haddock's.

Some wiseacre tossed him off the Boardwalk.
He landed face first on an ashcan.

Fuck this.

No more leprechauns, no more cupids,
no more goddamn elf costumes.

Kiley, Green, you're up.

- What's with you?
- I'm done, Carl.

We all are. No more midget shit.

Midget shit's what they're paying us for.

Not boxing. That's a show at least.

We're talking about this nonsense!

This fucking Celtic dinner.

It's degrading.

Yeah, not to mention having those drunk
assholes put their filthy mitts all over you.

What am I supposed to tell Nucky?

- He's depending on us.
- Yeah?

Let him wear a leprechaun getup.

(IN FOREIGN LANGUAGE)

See how he likes dancing around like a fool.

MAN 1: Fuck him!
MAN 2: Yeah.

What if I can get us a raise?

- How much?
- Double.

I'll tell him we want 10 bucks a man.

I might do it for $10.

10 clams for a few hours' work?

(IN IRISH ACCENT)
Where's my fucking shillelagh?

JIMMY: Making a mess of this.

That's okay. I like the smell.

Oranges in the winter? Huh?

From California?

Long trip.

A couple nights in a sleeper car,

and then you're there.

Wading up to your waist in the ocean.

I love you.

-(DOOR SLAMS)
- What was that?

Someone shut a door.

I'm not going to let anyone hurt you, Pearl.

Doc says you're doing good.

Does he?

But you got to leave it alone.

It itches.

That's good. It means it's healing.

Did your leg itch in the hospital?

For a while.

But not anymore?

No. Now it's hitting all six.

You're so handsome in your new suit.

Everything's going to turn out fine.

You'll see.

How about that? As fresh as it gets.

Any more laudanum?

JIMMY: What happened here?

Poof

Don't be stingy.

It's opium, not a milkshake.

It's like the sun just came out.

(BLOWING SOFTLY)

Come on, George,
it's the busiest day of the year.

St. Paddy's or no, with Prohibition,

we're in uncharted territory.

So it's dead reckoning then. (LAUGHS)

To the Irish.

They drink when they're happy.
They drink when they're sad.

I drink to forget, but I can't remember what.

Well, it ain't just the micks.

My entire ward,
the speaks are packing 'em in every night.

Everybody wants
what they ain't allowed to have.

Psychology.

Whatever it is,
they can't keep the booze on the shelves.

Hidden under the shelves, you mean.

I'm going to need to up my order.

- You hearing this, Captain?
- I'm going to need an extra boat.

- FLEMING: Hey, deal me in, will you?
- When do you shove off?

The stroke of midnight on the sea of green.

FLEMING: That from money or beer?

- How we fixed on that anyway?
- NEARY: Green beer?

Food coloring came today.
They're dyeing it as we speak.

Make sure that dinner's supplied.

Going to need those poor Celts
well lubricated,

so they can get through
Eli's re-election speech.

- What speech?
- Didn't you hear?

- He's Daniel Webster now.
-(ALL LAUGHING)

- Yeah, you made that joke already.
- NUCKY: It's true!

He's taking Dale Carnagey lessons.

To the great orator.

Go on, give us a sample.

Fuck you. There's your sample.

Ah, the Irish, they're a surly lot.

FLEMING: Well, give him a drink.

BOYD: Some green beer.

Yeah, well, in a couple of days
the town's going to be swimming in it.

They can drown for all I care,
so long as they pay.

And pay they will, Nucky,
through their pug Irish noses.

(SINGING)
Oh, Nucky boy, the cash is coming

Right from their hands into your bank account

(ALL LAUGHING)

MRS. McGARRY:
None of us was so naive as to believe

that Prohibition would end all drinking.

Mrs. Schroeder, how nice to see you again.

I was beginning to think you were ill.

No. Thank you for your concern.
I've been working.

Who's looking after your children?

A neighbor woman.

I've asked Bettyanne Mulhaney
to share with us

an incident related to her by a relative.

Mrs. Mulhaney?

I received a letter

from my cousin Martha in Nebraska.

One of her neighbors,
the widow of a dairy farmer,

had fallen on hard times.

"With six children to feed,
temptation got the better of her.

"So she decided
to mix up some gin in her bathtub,

"using a formula she'd gotten
from a farmhand.

"The idea being
they'd sell it in town for a profit."

The Devil's elixir.

WOMAN 1: Yes, it is.
WOMAN 2: Sinful.

WOMAN 3: Devil.
WOMAN 2: Sinful.

"She mixed some water with juniper berries
and denatured alcohol,

"let the mixture set
while she went off to fix supper.

"As she did,
her little one got in to the alcohol,

"poisoned herself dead."

(ALL GASPING)

IRENE: Right here it's the same thing.
Illegal stills everywhere.

I passed by Ettinger's.

All those men at the counter
drinking from coffee cups.

Well, you know as well as I
it's not coffee at all.

Ettinger's isn't the only place.

There's Abe Klein's too.

It's clear. The local authorities lack the ability
or the inclination to enforce the law.

And with our numbers dwindling,

we have to work even harder
to capture their attention.

IRENE: I heard Doc Holland
is writing prescriptions for whiskey.

You don't even have to be ill.

It's a disgrace is what it is.

MRS. McGARRY: Ladies, please.
With all this clatter

I'm not hearing what we might do about it.

A rally at the parade.
Get out there marching like the old days.

MRS. McGARRY:
Marching is all well and good,

but we need to stop the alcohol at its source.

This morning I saw barrels of beer,
dozens of them,

being loaded into a garage behind my home.

This is what I'm talking about.

Perhaps Mr. Thompson could be of help.

(SCOFFS) The sheriff?

His brother, actually. Enoch. He's a friend.

(WOMEN MURMURING)

Which is to say he's been of great assistance
since my husband passed.

Well,

perhaps you could arrange a meeting.

I'd be happy to try.

ROTHSTEIN: "Professional baseball
has reached a crisis.

"Charges of crookedness relating
to last year's World Series are emerging

"with a well-known New York gambler
at its center."

It doesn't mention you by name, does it?

It does everything but.

(CLEARS THROAT)

Speculation, innuendo,

and if I remember my law school Latin,

a steaming pile of horseshit.

Is that the legal term?

You had a meeting with some
washed-up ex-boxer.

- So what?
- Abe Attell.

Followed by a very public dinner

with Sleepy Bill Burns at the Astor Hotel.

Is it a crime now for a fellow to eat dinner?

The dinner was innocent, Counselor.

But for dessert
he pitched me on fixing the World Series

by bribing the players on the White Sox.

A scheme which you
threw cold water upon immediately.

Isn't that correct, Mr. Rothstein?

It certainly is.

Then, there you have it.

And what do I do about this article?

You do nothing, Arnold.

You get mud on your trousers...

Or horseshit?

Or horseshit. You don't rub it off.

You let it dry. You let it set a while.

Then you brush it off nice and easy.

The World Series was months ago,
Lawyer Fallon,

and the horseshit hasn't dried yet.

(DOOR OPENING)

- Why are you hovering?
- Carl Heeley wants a word.

Who?

What does he want?

Just a quick téte-é-téte.

How's your dad?
Will he be at the dinner this year?

Can we just skip to the "by the way"?

- Beg pardon?
- Every day people come in here, Carl.

Dozens of them. They ask after my health,
my family, my goddamn goldfish.

Inevitably there's a "by the way."

Then they tell me what they really want.

- Well, that's not what I...
- Carl, I'm busy.

You'd be doing me a huge favor.

Me and the boys want a raise
to work the Celtic dinner.

Absolutely not.

Nucky, $5 a man is just not enough
for enduring that kind of humiliation.

Dancing a jig in a leprechaun outfit?
You call that humiliating?

- What do you call it?
- Show business.

You don't mind beating the tar
out of each other every night in that ring.

But these drunks are twice our size.

They get really rough
and they think it's funny.

How much do you want?

$10 a man.

What's that, $3 afoot?

It'll be a lot easier this year.

With Prohibition, there'll be no booze.

Come on, Nucky. I only look like a child.

Suppose I figure out a way
to give you an extra $12,

and I get to save $12 myself.

- I'm listening.
- There are eight leprechauns, right?

Eight times 10 is $80.
Tell your boys the best you can do is $7.

Then it'll cost me $56. I give you an extra $12.

That leaves me paying $68,

which is $12 less than
the $80 you originally wanted.

- I don't know, Nucky.
- Dinner starts at 7:00.

Tell your men
to be dressed and ready by 6:30.

I have another meeting waiting.

Hello, ladies.

Mr. Thompson,
thank you so much for seeing us.

Not at all.

Did you enjoy the soda bread?

Pardon?

Oh. Yes, very much. Thank you.

May I offer you something?

Thank you, no.

Mrs. Schroeder has seen something
she feels compelled to tell you about.

Oh?

Yesterday morning,

an entire truckload of beer barrels
was loaded into a garage behind my home.

A man who looked familiar,
but I couldn't really place him,

was supervising the delivery.

Why, that's outrageous.

I saw it with my own eyes.

I'm sure you must have been appalled.

I was, quite.

I'm afraid my birthday party
must have been quite difficult for you,

at Babette's, the nightclub.

I was making a delivery for the dress shop.

It was quite a celebratory atmosphere.

Some champagne and whiskey
may have even been drunk.

I'm sure your class of acquaintance
drinks only in moderation.

If they drink at all.

Mrs. Schroeder,
thank you for sharing this information.

Eddie, get the sheriff on the phone.

You give the details to my brother,

and we'll shut down that garage
before the tide goes out.

Mr. Thompson, we are grateful as always.

I truly do appreciate it.

This isn't a personal favor, Mrs. Schroeder.

Yes, I realize that.

Mmm-mmm.

Come on, eat a little.
You can't live on laudanum.

Watch me.

(KNOCKING ON DOOR)

- Hey, Johnny.
- Hey, hon.

How you feeling?

Swell.

Jesus Christ! She's fuckin' ruined.

Come on, it's not that bad.

If she was a filly, they'd shoot her.

I know you took a shine to her,
but she gotta go.

She hasn't even had her stitches out.

This is a cathouse, not the Hotel Sherman.

She don't earn, I don't earn.

What if I cover it?

$100 a day?

- She makes that much?
- She did.

She got till Friday.

(DOOR OPENS)

So what did he want?

Nothing.

Scalcione's out sick.

He wants me to work the door.

(SIGHS)

I'll take the soup now.

-(TRUCK CHUGGING)
- MAN 1: Come on, bring it back, bring it back.

A little more, a little more.

All right, good. Stop, stop!

Go ahead.

MAN 2: Easy! It's going to fall on me.

MAN 1: I got it, I got it.

Now let's start unloading. Come on, guys.

All right, one at a time.

MAN 2: All right, coming down, coming down.

MAN 1: Come on,
don't get ahead of yourselves.

Good, good. Ma'am?

What are you doing?

We're unloading this truck.

Unloading it?

We got to tint it green by tomorrow.

For St. Paddy's.

Who is in charge here?

Boss?

Mrs. Schroeder, right?

Mr. Neary.

Like a soft night in Wicklow, isn't it?

I couldn't say. I'm from Kerry.

Ah.

The lofty peak of Carrauntoohil.

Did Mr. Thompson not speak with you today?

About What?

Your business here.

We'll be out of your hair by tomorrow.
Most of this stuff is for the Celtic dinner.

Listen, fellas, you've got to keep it down.

People are trying to sleep here.

What say we pour you off a growler
for St. Paddy's? Hmm?

Compliments of the city?

(I'll BE WITH YOU
IN APPLE BLOSSOM TIME PLAYING)

(MUFFLED CHATTERING)

NUCKY: Neary, my boy! Nice of you to join us.

(MEN LAUGHING)

I am terribly sorry.
Mr. Thompson is not available.

He knows I've been waiting.

He has some urgent business.

(CHILDREN CHATTERING)

NELSON: 101 Arctic, 23 cases of bourbon,
eight cases rye.

316 Adriatic,
15 cases blended Scotch whiskey.

90 Baltic, 11 cases gin.

Mrs. Schroeder.

Good afternoon.

I'm intruding.

You are not.

This is my colleague, Agent Sebso.

Margaret Schroeder.

Ma'am.

Is the post office in charge of Prohibition?

No, ma'am.

You said I should come to you
if I had information.

Roll down your sleeves. Put on yourjacket.
Bring Mrs. Schroeder a chair.

Go outside and block the entrance.

On the street behind my home is a garage.

Yes?

It's full of beer barrels.

How many?

Quite a large quantity.

Could you give me an estimate?

Ninety three?

What's the address?

2727 Caspian.

The Hiawatha Garage.

Right out in the open.

You will close it down, won't you?

When would you like me to do that?

Immediately. Children can see it.

There are now 117 pins here.

Each one marks a location in this city

where alcohol is being warehoused,
distilled, or sold.

They operate with impunity,

and I do not possess the resources
to shut even 10% of them.

I understand.

Then you'll also understand
that every one of these pins taken together

amounts to nothing.

Here on the south shore of Brigantine
and here in the back bays of the inlet,

boats unload liquor sailed down from Canada,
up from the Caribbean, across the Atlantic.

It is watered down, mixed with poisons,
and sold illicitly

by a growing class of criminals for whom
murder is a means of doing business.

Some of the victims
are no better than killers themselves.

Others are just unlucky.

They are shopkeepers, schoolteachers.

One was a baker's apprentice.

Do you mean to be cruel, Mr. Van Alden?

No, ma'am. I mean to be honest.

And what of the law that creates the criminal?

That's the law you've just asked me to enforce

for the safety of your children.

Unless I misread your intentions.

I've been lectured to a great deal today
by men who speak boldly and do nothing.

- I'd like to leave now.
- Who else lectured you?

Why should that be your concern?

Because you don't want to tell me.

Will you arrest me in the post office?

Not unless you've committed a crime.

Mr. Neary.

Mr. Neary lectured you?

Mr. Neary owns the garage.

James Neary,
the alderman from the fourth ward?

I don't know his first name.

What do you know about him?

He works for Mr. Thompson.

AL: Now they're frisking people?
After they already shot up the joint?

JIMMY: Better late than never.

(PIANO PLAYING)

It's like the horse after the barn door in here.

After the horse.

What?

You close the barn door
after the horses are gone.

- That's the expression.
- That's what I said.

No, you said...

Look, it doesn't matter.

Fuck the horse. Torrio don't like headaches.

I think he's already got one.

Those mick bastards,
we should hit them tomorrow.

And they'll be soused off their asses
for St. Paddy's.

Is that what Torrio wants?

You start worrying about
what other people want,

you'll go batty.

(PIANO STOPS)

(PEOPLE GASPING)

MAN: What happened to her?

Hi, boys.

Who wants to buy me a drink?

Pearl, what are you doing?

I'm working.

I got to earn my keep.

You don't have to work today, honey.

Go on, get her out of here.

Come on, let's go upstairs.

I need morejuice.

- I'm going to make you some right now, okay?
-(MEN LAUGHING)

What's so funny?

Nothing. Someone told a joke.

Jimmy?

What, sweetie? What? What?

Who's going to love me now?

Relax, dear.
It's the best thing when they're overtired.

You should have asked me.

When James was that age he used to
work himself into such an impossible state.

Whiskey and milk were a godsend.

Do you think she's attractive?

I don't have much time for movies right now.

I remember how that was.

Of course, I used to have the girls around
to help babysit.

Jimmy never wanted for feminine attention.

I have to meet my friend. She's waiting.

Well, see a movie, dear.

We're going to take some air
on the Boardwalk.

The night before St. Patrick's?

There tends to be a lower element abroad.

We'll be very careful.

I'm sure you will be.

You could be free, you know?

Beg pardon?

You're an attractive girl with artistic leanings.

The painting and all.

Waiting for a man you're not married to,
who may never return.

I have a child.

I'll raise him.

What?

You go off, have your youthful adventures

and I'll raise Tommy.

You'll raise my son?

Think about it.

Talk it over with your friend.

I don't need to think about it.

What kind of thing is that to say?

I didn't mean to offend you.

I just assumed that you'd be open
to a different sort of arrangement,

bohemian that you are.

I'm not open to it at all.

Well, the more fool, I.

No need to keep your friend waiting.

IRISH TENOR: (SINGING) [Wish I was

In Carrickfergus

Only for nights

In Ballygran

I would swim over

The deepest ocean

The deepest ocean

For my love to find

But the sea is wide

And I cannot swim over

-(LOUDLY) Where's your brother?
- I don't know.

- What?
- Dad, Carrickfergus.

Oh, what do I give a shit?

...I wings to fly

If! could find me

A handsome boatman

Where the he” were you?

The boys were using my sash to play Tarzan.

Where were you?

Every year with this.

For I'm drunk today

ALL: And I'm seldom sober

A handsome rover

From town to town

Ah, but I'm sick now

My days are numbered

So come all ye young men

And lay me down

Duncan O'Connor, everybody!

Bravm.!

Thank you, Mayor Bacharach.

God bless America
and God bless the Emerald Isle.

Fellow members
of the ancient order of the Celts,

welcome, one and all,
to our annual St. Patrick's Eve dinner.

As is our custom,
I'd like to turn over the festivities

to Atlantic County's esteemed Treasurer,

that proud Irishman, Enoch Thompson.

When do I get to talk?

They're here to enjoy themselves.
Is it really necessary?

MAN: Hear, hear, Nucky!

Good evening, gentlemen.

This being an election year,
with your kind indulgence,

Sheriff Eli Thompson has asked
to say a few words before we get started.

-(MEN GRUMBLING)
- So this one's going to talk now?

Thank you, Enoch, Mr. Mayor.

Have a drink.

MAN: Your hands are shaking.

Friends, Romans, and Irishmen...

Lend me your beers!

(MEN LAUGHING)

Tomorrow we will celebrate our patron saint,
the beloved St. Patrick,

he what drove the snakes out of Ireland.

MAN 1: That's right!
MAN 2: Hear, hear!

Today I submit for your approval

that he should have drove the English out!

ALL: Yeah!

My friends,

it wasn't a famine of nature
that killed our forefathers.

It was a famine by Cromwell!

- Hear, hear!
- That's right!

And now,

in our own time
the murdering Brits are at it again,

slaughtering the heroes of the
eastern rebellion in Kilmainham Gaol!

- Pearse and MacDonagh!
- MAN: That's right!

Eamonn Ceannt and Jonah Clarke!

Thomas, you idiot.

What's he know? He was born in the States.

Of course. Yes, Thomas.

You speculating that those of us born here

are less committed
to the troubles back home?

I'm saying I've seen things
with my own eyes in Dublin.

By what right do the English
suppress our brothers across the ocean?

My district alone
raised over $2,000 for the fight.

I held a fucking line against the Brits
with nothing more than a fire poker.

It's my sons who are fighting and dying.

With arms we provided.

MAN 1: Up the rebels!
MAN 2: Up your asses!

By no right at all, gentlemen...

(MEN CLAMORING)

You're going to have
a fucking riot on your hands.

-...our brothers across the country!
- Say that again!

Gentlemen, we here in the United States, we...

Sheriff Eli Thompson, everybody!

You remember that.

So sit down!

What do you call an Irishman
who doesn't swear?

A mute.

What do you call an Irishman
who doesn't drink?

A corpse.

What do you call an Irishman
from Atlantic City?

It doesn't matter where he's from.
You call him an Irishman!

-(ALL AGREEING)
- MAN: Erin Go Bragh!

Now let me hear those pipes.

The little people.

They've been to the end of the rainbow,

and they're here with the pots of gold.

Where's the green beer?

Not this year, Assemblyman.

But it's a goddamn tradition.

NUCKY: The Feds found our stash.

JIMMY: You got to go easy
on this stuff, okay?

- Bad girl.
- Not bad, just go easy.

We should go down to Chinatown for a bowl.

What did I just say?

But it's so much better when you smoke it.

Palm trees and sunshine.

We'll do that, I promise.

Tell me a story.

- About what?
- You.

- Something happy.
- Uh...

Okay.

Well. I was... What, seven?

What'd you look like?

Like I do now. Smaller.

Hair down to here.

- No.
- Yeah.

My mother thought it looked aristocratic.

Everyone else just thought I was a girl.

(LAUGHS)

Anyway, there was this man, Mr. Lancaster.

He was worth a few dollars,

so my mother figured
she could get him to marry her.

He had a sailboat.

Make it a yacht.

Sure, a yacht.

On the 4th of July,
he took us boating, my mother and me.

She was in a white tea dress
and a Merry Widow hat.

Mmm.

She was beautiful.

She was. She still is.

We sailed past the lighthouse
up along to Brigantine,

where the pirates used to hide.

Mr. Lancaster showed me
how to use the mainsheet,

put me at the tiller.

I steered us into Little Egg Inlet
like I'd done it my whole life.

We tied up at Egg Island.

We went ashore.

My mother told me to go away for a while.
I was used to that.

So I ran around pretending to be a pirate.

And when it was okay to come back,
Mr. Lancaster dug a pit in the sand,

loaded in some coals to roast the lobster
and the corn he had brought,

and we just ate like kings.

When the sun began to set,

Mr. Lancaster told me
to go get this box from the boat.

(IMITATING) "And be very careful."

Inside was stars and stripes he said
that his father had carried at Gettysburg,

which had to be true 'cause
there were bullet holes on it.

So we stuck the flagpole in the grass,

and we sang.

(SINGING) My country, 'tis of thee...

(HUMMING)

With our hands on our hearts,

we watched the fireworks go off
all the way down the Boardwalk.

We sailed home under the moon.

My mother was combing the sand
out of my hair.

That was a good day.

Tell me he married her.

Sure, he did.

Happily ever after.

Shit! God damn it.

Somebody's going to really have to
take care of you.

I should wash this.

Kiss me.

Get yourself cleaned up, lover.

(GUNSHOT)

(THUDDING)

(ALL MURMURING)

(WOMAN SCREAMING)

(BAGPIPES PLAYING)

Thank you. It's great to see you again.

There's a time and place, Eli.
You have to know your audience.

Give them what they want, huh, Nuck?

Isn't that what your book says?

The Dale Carnagey?

- Why don't you take a break?
- Why?

Because I'm trying
to help you and you're drunk.

And you're not?

Oh, that's right.

(LAUGHS)

This is the one night of the year
you don't drink.

These men, Eli,
these kingmakers you wanted to impress?

You may not think so,
but they're judging you every second.

And when something good comes along,
an opportunity,

they remember the man
who showed good form.

The whole thing's a game, isn't it?

It's so easy for you.

Well, I'll keep at it.

Maybe one day I'll lie as good as you.

It's "Lie as well as me," you dolt.

You want to be taken seriously?
Then learn how to fucking speak.

So the leprechaun looks up at the blonde
and says,

"It may be yellow, lady,
but it's sure no pot of gold."

(DOORS BURST OPEN)

Nobody move!
United States Bureau of Internal Revenue!

MAN: This is a private party!

This is a raid.

- What the hell is this now?
- Easy, Dad.

Do you have any idea who these men are?

This is a private party,

and the mere consumption
of alcohol is not illegal.

Now I'm an attorney,
and the Volstead Act clearly...

Would anyone else care to interfere with
the court-appointed duties of a federal agent?

(GUN COCKING)

Stand down.

Anybody tries to make a run for it,
shoot them.

I have an arrest warrant.

James Neary

of 1222 Chelsea Avenue,
Atlantic City, New Jersey?

You are Mr. James Neary?

Yeah.

I have witness testimony that you knowingly

and willingly stored and transported
intoxicating liquors.

A direct violation of the Volstead Act.

- No, I don't know what your...
- Stand up!

You're under arrest.

This assembly is over.

This establishment will be shuttered.

Gather your belongings and disperse
in an orderly fashion.

REPORTER 1: Mr. Neary, how much liquor?

REPORTER 2:
Is there anything you want to say?

- Just one more picture.
- Was he selling alcohol?

- Who else is in there?
- How many are being arrested?

Any comment, Mr. Ward Boss?

WOMEN: (SINGING)
All ye who love your country

Against the drink should stand

Behold against this traffic

Your country's greatest foe...

You going to do something about this,
Sheriff?

Let word and deed and ballot

Proclaim that drink must go

Stand up for Prohibition

Ye patriots of the land...

MAN: Let's go.

All ye who love your country...

Go home to your families!

Bugger off, you harridans!

NELSON: Disperse, all of you.

Behold against this traffic

Your country's greatest foe

- Lock it up.
- Move along.

Proclaim that drink must go

Stand up for Prohibition

Ye soldiers of the Lord

Put on the gospel armor

Great night for the Irish, big brother.

I'm sure you made quite an impression
among your Republican friends.

Go home to your wife, Eli.

IWill.

Where are you going?

What the fuck was that for?

(CARRICKFERGUS PLAYING)

(BANGING ON DOOR)

(BANGING CONTINUES)

Who is it?

Nucky Thompson.

Mr. Thompson?

Is there something you wanted?

I've no time for games, Margaret.
No interest in them.

Margaret?