All language subtitles for George Gently S07E03 Gently Among Friends.DVDRip.NonHI.en.BBC

Will you get us a drink, pet?

Circulate, all right?

Enjoy yourselves.

All right, Craig?

Get me a drink.

Oh, easy!

Excuse me.

Right, I'm just going
to say a few words.

- Really?

All right, everyone,

gather round.

Scottie's going to
say a few words.

- Turn it off!

Can we have you on
the dancefloor, please.

Where is he?

Peter?

Peter! Come on, man.

Little Peter Magath.
Where is he?

Ah, there he is.
- Go on, Peter!

Now, little Peter
may not have been

the smartest kid in the village,

but he was the slowest.

- I've got short legs.

We used to think,
Michael and me,

that Peter had been
dropped on his head as a kid.

I had.
- We felt sorry for him.

We worried about
your future, Peter.

"How's little Pete
going to manage?"

We didn't know you
were going to end up

one of the richest
sods in Newcastle.

Did we, Michael?
- No idea at all, Scottie.

Should've paid more
attention, then, shouldn't they?

Oh, they're only jokin'.

- Mm, hilarious.

Now, when Peter
came to me and said

"I'm going to make
my fortune layin' pipe,"

I thought he wanted
to be a gigolo.

What's a gigolo, Scott?
- Ask Michael.

Gigolo, that's right!

Michael thought
tonight was fancy dress,

so he's come as
a Danish porn star.

Have you finished?

The pies have come.

Not yet.

Our mate Michael,

the best-dressed
Bolshevik in Newcastle.

We're all grateful to him

for standin' up for our right

not to have our
rubbish collected.

Used to be I was talkin' rubbish

or he was talkin' rubbish.

Now, the whole of
Newcastle's talkin' rubbish

'cause we can't
get it collected.

- Hear, hear!
- Scott.

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

All right, seriously.

I love Peter Magath.

- Aw.

Just like I love Michael.

Lifelong friends.

I love that Peter's an original.

I love that he had a
vision of what he could be

and he pursued it,
even when we laughed.

I love that he
has faith in others.

Maybe even in me.
- Aw.

God knows, the world
needs people like that.

Peter!

- Peter!

Right, music.

♪ Yeehaw ♪

♪ Yeehaw! ♪

♪ Yeehaw! ♪

♪ Yeehaw! ♪

Whoo-oo-oo-ah!

- ♪ Yeehaw! ♪

180 council dustmen

have gone on strike

for a higher basic rate of pay.

Fears that the moldering rubbish

might become a
health hazard mounted

following reports
of rat sightings.

The markets disgorge

their daily
collection of garbage

onto the growing mess.

But the dustmen were adamant

they wanted their
basic wage upped

from £15, 9 shillings
a week to £20.

The dustcarts
stayed in the depots.

The general opinion was

that the whole business stank.

He's got wooden
splinters in his head.

Body was discovered
just after 7:00, sir.

Sergeant reckons
he was a jumper.

Really?

- Well, there's been
a few of them, lately.

Aye, they pulled two out of
the Tyne already this month, sir.

- Well, if he was aiming for
the river, he was a bad shot.

Debt, unemployment.

Is this where they found
him? He hasn't been moved?

No, sir.

- There's no blood around him.

He was dead when he hit.

Have we got a name?
- Well, we've got his wallet,

but there's no ID.

There's no money in it,
either, so, robbery, maybe?

We've got this.

It's a receipt for a pawnbroker.

Couple of betting
slips from the dogtrack,

and a note that says

"Gwendolen Howard, 5:00
Wednesdays." Who's she?

- Gwendolen Howard.

Sir! Sir, we're a
bit shorthanded

with the bin strike.

I need to release
men to other duties,

if you don't absolutely
need the scene sealed.

- It's a crime scene, Sergeant.

No, no, no, you
heard him. Seal it.

Sorry.
- Dawson pawnbroker.

Chance to get yourself
a decent suit, John.

She died of leukemia.
Left me her watch.

I'll be with you
in a tick, gents.

Thank you.

What was your gran's name, son?

Uh... I just called her Granny.

I would've called her
Glamorous Granny.

This is a Rolex.

Look, I-I just need the money.

I'm sorry, son.

Mr. Dawson has very strict
rules about these things.

I'm not sure that this
really belonged to your gran,

may she rest in peace.
- What are you trying

to accuse us of, like?
- Being stupid.

How are you today?

- Champion.

I'm sorry about the smell.

The working stiff normally
has all me sympathy,

but this set of work-shy
bastards, I could crucify.

I've got rats.

- We'd like to speak
to Mr. Dawson, please.

He's not in at the moment.

Perhaps I can help ya?

Are you buyin' or sellin'?

Agh.

There is no Mr. Dawson.

It's just a name I can
blame when I have to say no.

People can get...

What's the technical word?

Arsey.

Anyway, how can I help ya?

- Can you tell us who
you issued this to, please?

I can try.

Here we are.

6733.

Gave the name of T Dan Smith.

- T Dan Smith.

Aha, that's what it says here.

- So, T Dan Smith,

until recently,
leader of the council,

has fallen on hard times?

Well, probably not.

Some people aren't comfortable

about using their
real names, you know.

Not just the thieves.

There's a lot of shame
in fallin' on hard times.

Sad.

- Yeah, I can see the
tracks of your tears.

Aren't you supposed
to take their identities?

I'll tell Mr. Dawson.

- I can do a full
audit of this place, sir.

Maybes get it shut
down, you know.

- Eh, and I thought
we were gettin' along!

What was pawned?

Four weeks ago, and
all on the one ticket.

- All this?

Aye.

He said he'd be
back for all of it.

Mind, they all say that, like,

but I believed him.

- And all this
is definitely his?

No question in my mind.
- Well, if he's

half-inched anything,
I'll be back to see you.

- Oh, well, now,
I'm torn, aren't I?

I mean, I don't want
stolen goods on me hands,

but if it's a chance

of meeting you
again, Sergeant...

- Your T Dan,

what's he look like?

Ooh... 40ish.

Short dark hair.

Bit taller than you.

Beautiful skin, soft blue eyes.

- How much you
give him for this lot?

£42.10.

It's a hard life, innit?

There you are.
- Thanks, John.

There's no
missing-persons report

matching the dead
man's description;

the pathologist hasn't
got anything, yet,

and won't have until tomorrow;

and we've got no
Gwendolen Howard

on any of our files.

- Makin' progress, then.

Don't shoot the messenger,

Insp Bacchus.

She never irritate ya?

No.

Our man's not a thief, John.

That pawnshop bloke
could've sniffed out a thief

a mile away. We
watched him do it.

He's pawning the family silver.

This is a man with a wife

who's got rings and necklaces.

At least, she did have.

So, where is she?
What's she waiting for?

It's dead.
- Right. How do you know that?

Because there's no dial
tone, that's how I know.

We've noted that
you've been cut off.

Well, why have we been cut off?

Anita Magath.

Anita, Jo.

Is my husband there?

Tommy Cary?

Aye. I've got me
license, just not on...

- No no, you're all right.

We just want to know

if you know who this belongs to.

Aye, I know him.

He put a pony on the third race.

Doesn't happen very often.

He chases his bets.

Makes us uneasy.

It's like watching
'em jumpin' off a cliff.

Is he? Jumpin' off a cliff.

When you take the money,

you try not to think about
the look in their eyes,

but, aye, there's
some you feel sorry for.

- Was he one of them?
- Jimmy.

What, is it an addiction?

Most people bet for a laugh,
but some can't stop laughin'

'til they've emptied
their pay packet,

and that's when
the cryin' starts.

Bills to pay,

bairns goin' hungry
at home, angry wives.

Certainly keeps those
guys busy in that window,

I can tell ya.

- Who are they, loan sharks?

I'm not really in a
position to judge.

- Did our man use them?

I don't know. I suppose.

Always managed to find a
bit of money from somewhere.

Do you know his name?

Aye. Said his name was...
- T Dan Smith?

- No, Richard. Richard Grainger.

And when you find
him, tell him there's still

£2.10 to come back on that.

Aye, he won't be collectin' it.

Off the cliff?

Something like that, yes.

It's all part of
the job, pet lamb.

- It isn't, actually.

I had to do it.

- Oh, please don't tell me
this is character-building,

'cause you're living
proof that it's not.

I could have you
disciplined for that.

- Go on, then.

Lovers' tiff?

Right, guv, there's
three Richard Graingers

in the Newcastle area.

One is four years old, one's 78,

and the other one

is alive and well and works
at the Ministry in Longbenton.

So, the dead man's
not from the area, then.

Do I amuse you?

What, is this that T
Dan Smith blokey again?

What, he's called Richard
Grainger, now, is he?

Are there any
chocolate biscuits, pet?

What? What's funny?

Grainger Street, Grainger
Town, Grainger Market.

Yeah?
- Richard Grainger.

He pretty much built
Newcastle about 100 years ago.

- I knew that.

Local knowledge,
John. Can't beat it, eh?

The dead man's obviously
got a sense of humor.

He was interested in
how the city was built

and then he names himself
after two different blokes

who are known as Mr. Newcastle.

I'll just go and, uh,

chase up those choccy
biscuits for you, ah?

Still irritating you, then?
- Teeny bit, yeah.

Lab report, sir.

What?

- He's lost his voice, sir.

He's got a cold
or flu, or summat.

Chest infection.

Thanks.

Just be happy.

Three skull fractures.

Injuries to the legs
and upper body.

Injuries are consistent
with a heavy, blunt force.

Could've been caused
by a fall. Blah blah blah.

Multiple bruises
and lacerations.

Victim was beaten.

Wooden splinters found
in the skin and on the body.

Well, we saw them.

Good examiners, in't they?

Blood alcohol level: .293.

Surprised he could stand up.

No condition to
defend himself, was he?

So, who is our Mr. Newcastle?

Well, let her in, Peter.

Anything?

- Have you spoken to Michael?

Michael's not
answerin' his phone.

What happened to your face?

- Have you called the RVI?

What was Scottie

doin', exactly, the
last time you saw him?

Gettin' a taxi, I think.

We were all stotious.

Jo, maybe youse
should go back home

and wait for him
to turn up there.

- What?

Look, Jo, if you think Scottie's
done something stupid,

you should be
callin' the police,

not standin' here, starin'
at me after 36 hours.

- Something stupid?

Like what?

Phone's still not workin'.

Can I use yours?

Police, please.

This way, please.

Sir?

Which one's the wife?

- It's the woman
in the cream coat.

Who's the other two?

- The bloke is Peter Magath,
the dead man's best mate;

and that's his wife, Anita.

Aye, look. Have you
seen the state of his face?

They don't seem
especially close, do they?

She called in,

saying that she was worried
about her missing husband

and feared for his mental state.

Her description of her husband
matches our man exactly.

- I'll take them down.

No, no. Rachel,
you take her down.

Sit with her.

Watch her face and remember
everything that she says.

Afterwards, assuming
it is her husband,

bring her back here
and, if she wants to talk,

let her talk, but
don't tell her anything.

And, afterwards, you
bring her back here

and I'll come and find you.
- Um...

What?

Do you not think
she has the right

to know her husband
was murdered?

No. No one has a
right to know anything,

'til I know who
killed Mr. Newcastle.

We work for the
dead, not the living.

Off you go.

Are you sure she can manage
it? She's never done it before.

- Only one way to learn.

Are you ready?

Is this your husband,
Mrs. Parker?

- I-I mean, yes, it's
Scott, all right, but,

just the shell of what he was.

What he used to be.

I'm sorry, Scottie.

- All right.

Where did you find him?

- I, uh, I don't
have any details.

How did he do it?

- Do what?

Kill himself.

- I'm afraid I don't know
anything about his death.

Don't know much,
for a copper, do ya?

Are you the tea lady?

When did you last see Scott?

Night before last,
me birthday party.

Happy birthday.

- Thanks.

Was it?

What?
- A happy birthday.

Well, I was 40.

Who wants to be 40?

I wouldn't mind.

Were you there, Mrs. Magath?

'Course. We were all there.

Us, Jo, Scottie, Michael.

Michael?

Michael Woodruff.

Who's he?

- Michael and me were
Scottie's best friends.

Since we were all kids.

Where can we find him?

- Organizing the bin strike.

Oh, that Michael Woodruff.

Good news for rats.

- Do you think we
could take Jo home now,

assuming she's
identified the body?

Although it might not be him.

No, it is him.

You seem to be...

What?

Are you suspicious,
or something?

No, though I wouldn't
mind finding out

who took a lump
out of your face.

Oh, this. Oh, it's, heh,
hijinks at the party.

Michael started smashin'
chairs over our heads.

Why was that?

Pissed. Wanted to
see if they'd break.

You know, like in the pictures.

Like Lee Marvin
hittin' John Wayne.

Did they?

Yeah.

These are wooden chairs?

Aye, wooden chairs.

Tell me more about this party.

Oh.

- It was at our
restaurant, Pete's.

Oh, the American one?

Ah, right, ah. I've
heard that's good.

Do you own that?
- Aye.

No, we both own it.

Right. Near the cathedral?

Yeah.

Mighty fine ribs.

We should go.

Just near the High Level?

Yeah.

Here's some tea, Mrs. Parker.
- I don't want a cup of tea!

Jo. Jo, it's all right.

Could you just...? Thank you.

Come on.

It's all right. C'mere.
- Where's me bag?

I've got it. I've got it.

It's okay. It's all right.

Shock.

- To be expected.

Yeah.

I'll need a list of all the
people who were at your party.

Also, the staff
who were present.

I don't understand, Mr. Gently.

My friend has
taken his own life.

We need time to deal
with this as best we can.

Why are you askin' for lists?

I'm sorry. Didn't I
make myself clear?

Scott Parker was murdered.

So I'll call round
the restaurant

for that list about
7:00, all right?

I'm not always there.
- Be there.

Bring your wife.

Guv, there's
something very wrong.

That woman is weird.

In the mortuary, first,
she said it isn't Scott,

just the shell of
who he used to be.

And the next thing,
she's bangin' on

about how her car got stolen
and how her house got burgled.

- Were they?

Well, I don't know,
but I can find out for ya.

And I think she said
"I'm sorry, Scottie."

- I'd like you to get to know
her over the next few days.

Meanwhile, we'll need everything
that we can get on Pete Magath;

Scott Parker; and this
other guy, Michael Woodruff.

- Right.

Ohhhhh!

Let's not forget: there
was no money in his wallet.

It's as likely to be a
street robbery, if anything.

Nah. There was a ferocity to it.

Street robbers,
they hit you once,

they're gone.

I think there was hatred
in this, a loss of control.

Gentlemen.

Looking for Michael Woodruff.

No?

Michael Woodruff?

- What are you
looking for him for?

That's our business.

What's he done wrong?

Who says he's done
anything wrong?

This strike is not illegal and
we are not disturbin' the peace.

- It's got nothing
to do with the strike.

It's about Scott Parker.

I'm Michael Woodruff.

What about Scottie?

I'm afraid he's dead.

It's all right, lads.

Gone.

Just like that.

Did you see him leave the party?

Was no party, by the
end, just the three of us.

Then, just me and Peter.

What time did he leave?

- I don't even know.

2:00?

Where had everybody gone?
- Party ended pretty quick

when Scott started
smashin' the place to bits.

Was he angry, or summat?

Aye, smashin' chairs
and the usual crap.

Peter and me tried to
stop him, but he was...

What?

He was uncontrollable,
off his head.

- Was this the game
where you were trying to see

if the chairs would break,
like they do in the Westerns?

- Eh?

That's what Pete Magath said.

Ah, well, Peter.

Peter's the nicest
bloke in the world, man.

Trust him to put
a nice gloss on it.

The bloke

was smashin' up
his restaurant, man.

Could Scott be violent, then?

Yeah.

Not headbanging violent, but...

Scottie felt the world
was against him.

Take that resentment,

mix it with a couple
of bottles of bourbon,

and it's goodnight, Vienna.

Next day, he's
full of apologies.

There's no next day, this time.

Was he suicidal?

Nah.

Well, you seem
very sure about that.

- All he talked about
was the future, man.

His head bulged with
his plans for the future.

- What sort of plans?

This place, Newcastle.
- Ah, right.

He wanted to rip it
down and rebuild it.

- Like Richard
Grainger and T Dan.

His heroes.

Promise us one thing.

You'll not let anybody con ya

into thinkin' Scott
Parker took his own life.

What was your last
sight of him on that night?

Staggerin' away
from the restaurant,

2:00 in the morning,

blood on his head
from hittin' the wall,

cursin' us, cursin' the world,

cursin' God, cursin' the sky,

singin' at the top of his voice.

Which direction?

Towards the High Level.

- Scott had no money
on him when he died.

Scottie never had any money.

Now, I know you don't
think he's a jumper,

but could he have been so drunk
that he got himself into a mess

and fell off the High
Level, you know?

What was he singing?

Um...

Oh, it was that thing, uh...

"Five Bridges."

Gemma?

Gemma!

Gemma!

You all right, John?

- Yeah, never better.

Is this all part of
the celebrations?

- Yeah. Me in the
middle, Scott on the left.

We were 10.

- Michael Woodruff was
desolate about his friend's death.

I'm sure it's the same for you.

I'm very sorry.

- I don't think I'll ever really

get to grips with it all.

Was this one of the things
that was being smashed, then?

Ohh. Where did this take place?

- Just where you're standin'.

Oh.

You cleaned up a bit, have ya?

- Aye.

Why else do you pay cleaners?

Not opening tonight, then?

Mark of respect.

Here's your list. Much
good may it do ya.

- Thank you.

Will the names of the
cleaners be on here?

No, but I'll provide
them separately for you,

- if you really want them.
- Yes, please.

Have you always been in
the restaurant business?

No. I started out as a laborer,

installing pipe for
the oil refineries.

Anita thought we could
do it cheaper ourselves, so,

I borrowed some money,
set up my own company.

Are you an engineer, then?

Nah. I'm just lucky.

Lucky that you've got a
wife that's so encouragin'.

If you want to
say "pushy," say it.

Opening this place
was my idea, as well.

How were you able
to do it so cheaply?

The pipes.

Nonunion labor.

Yankee oil companies loved it.

What did your friend
Michael Woodruff think

about that?

- See, that's the wonderful
thing about lifelong friendships:

you don't have
to like everything

about someone you really love.

- Like it didn't matter
that Scott was violent?

Who told you that?

Michael Woodruff.

Michael should shut
his face, now and then.

Michael doesn't
think it's suicide.

Yeah, he rang me.

Why are you playing
games with us?

You tell me murder, but you
ask Michael about suicide.

Well, why don't you tell me
why you assume it was suicide.

That's what Jo thinks.

So Scott Parker's wife thinks
that he's committed suicide,

but she doesn't call the
police for almost two days.

Don't you think that's
just a little bit odd?

Well, she is a bit
odd, let's face it.

Nita.

Have you seen the way they live?
- Nita, that's not...!

I'm sorry, I think the
woman's borderline insane.

I've always thought it.

Not the best of friends, then.

God, no. She hates me.

- Why?

Because I've got what she wants.

And everything I got,

I got through hard
work and being savvy

and everything she got,
she got on the never-never.

And where did that
get Scott Parker?

At the foot of the High Level.

I'm sorry, gents, I
think you're dead wrong.

I think he had a million reasons
to chuck himself off a bridge.

A million.

That's all you're
going to get out of me.

Ask Jo Parker, if
you want the rest.

Are you withholding information?

Yeah.

Arrest me,

you jumped-up,
smarmy-faced little shitehawk.

Are you finished?

No.

So, what was your last
sight of Scott Parker?

- Weavin' his way down the road,

with blood down his shirt,
where his head had hit the bar.

Or a chair smashed
over his head.

Cursin'. Singin'.

- Yeah, those were pretty
much the exact same words

that Michael Woodruff
used, except you're sayin'

that Michael started
smashin' chairs,

where he was
sayin' it was Scott.

Well, maybe...

- Nita, you weren't
there, remember?

Does it matter, who
smashed the first chair?

Yeah, I think it does.

Oh, well, I'm sorry!

I can't remember.

We were all completely pissed.

All right.

One more question.

Does the name Gwendolen
Howard mean anything to you?

No?

Right, then,

just the names and addresses
of the cleaners, please, pet.

"You don't have to love

everything about..."
- No.

"You don't..."

No, no.
- "about someone you like."

No, that's arse about
face. "You don't have to

like everything about
someone you love."

It's almost the definition
of their friendship, innit?

Something strong that
they had between them

all their lives,
growin' up together.

Anita's a bit of
a mare, in't she?

Took a shitehawk to
point it out, didn't it?

To shitehawks everywhere.

To friendship.

- To friendship.

God bless you.

- You can't bring
yourself to tell me

what's wrong with ya, can ya?

Here we go.

- Why have you not shared
it with me, if we're friends?

Guv, your hands are shakin';

you keep droppin'
things on the floor.

- Oh, leave it out.

All right.

John, this is the way I
deal with things, okay?

Besides, look.

- It's gone?

Well... Yeah, gone,
maybe for good.

Good.
- Yeah.

I bet you can't do this.

- Oh, here we go.

Very good.

Ohh! Yes.

Oh, I am the king!

Slow. Slow.

I, um...

I've just come to
say night-night.

I'll pop in on Mrs. Parker
tomorrow, like you said.

Yeah.

You do know you've got...?

Yeah.
- Yeah.

I don't think she has
any respect for me.

So your house was burgled
last month, Mrs. Parker?

Broke in through the back.

- And they took mostly
jewelry and the television?

And a canteen of cutlery.

Silver.

Did you make a claim?

- Aye.

The loss adjustor
came last week,

so we should get
some money back.

Not we, I.

And your car was stolen as well?

Are you on your own here,

Mrs. Parker?
- Yeah.

Do you work?

- No, not anymore.

Used to, though.

No children?

No. I had a lot of
miscarriages in my 20s.

At the finish, I had
a hysterectomy.

Oh, I'm sorry.

So, what will you do now?

I'm sorry to have
to ask you this:

was Scott worried
about anything?

Money?

The thing with Scott is
that he was so positive.

"Keep your eyes on the prize."

- And what was the prize?

Change, modernization, progress.

Is there anybody you
can stay with for a while?

- Anita.

Peter and Anita.

I'll give them a bell.

When me phone's back on.

Well, I could give them
a call for you, if you like.

I can manage.

I've got to go out

in a minute.

Right.

Have you got
business here, gents?

- We are waitin' for
Mrs. Parker to leave.

We have an arrangement
with her until she goes.

- Right. And who
are you, please?

Sorry.

There we are.

- Estate agent.

What, she's sellin' the house?

- The mortgage was
foreclosed a month ago.

Repossession?

Mrs. Parker's allowed
to live here until it's sold,

but she doesn't own it anymore.

She's a little bit fragile?

We don't show buyers around
when she's in, at her request.

She goes out.

So, they were completely
broke, weren't they?

- The burglary, the car theft?

Frauds, I think, sir.

I think they got
desperate to keep afloat.

Well, we know where
the jewelry went.

- Hmm.

Hey, maybe the mare was right:

a million reasons for him
to chuck himself off a bridge.

So, where'd all the money go?

Where is this place?

It's up near the university.

City Vision Developments.

Maybe he put all of his
money into his business.

Last company accounts
showed 25 employees.

I've told Jo to meet us there.

Can I just say?

I've got a lot of respect
for the both of youse,

if you don't mind us sayin'.

I mean, I had no idea that you
were in a circus act together.

Eh, is this supposed
to be Newcastle, this?

It's not going to happen, is it?

Scott always said it would.

He wanted to buy up all the
warehouses along the quayside,

as they fell into disuse
when the river trade fell off.

He could always
see ahead, Scottie.

Did he buy those warehouses?

No. He couldn't afford them.

What he did buy was
land near the Town Moor.

That was his phase
1, redevelopment.

Borrowed from banks
and investors to do it.

But the council
rejected his plans.

- Would they not give
him planning permission?

Nobody would help him.

Banks wanted their money back.

And the investors?

Them, as well.

- So, what was the argument
against redevelopment?

I mean, I'd like to see
this sort of thing happen.

Who wouldn't?

- Plenty of people.

Stick-in-the-muds.

People who think development
should be not-for-profit,

owned by the community.

Unions, for instance.

Michael Woodruff's union?

Michael's voice was the loudest.

Does he know
you're in his chair?

He said I could.

I was lookin' for
somewhere quiet.

I thought you were out.

- Teacher's pet.

What is it you're doin', anyway?

Swottin' on this exam.

Or tryin' to.

Sergeant's exam?
- Yep.

Ah.

What'll you do,
if ya don't pass?

Fail.

What'll you do, if you fail?

What'll you do if
you fail, Rachel?

Well, I'll do it again.

Do you mind?

Sorry.

Ahem! Gwendolen Howard.

Gwendolen Howard.

Did you ask Jo Parker if she
knew a Gwendolen Howard?

No.

Why not?

- Because maybe I thought
she had enough on her plate,

without me puttin'
the idea in her head

that her dead husband was
shaggin' summat on the side.

Right, okay, but
Confucius said that

we serve the dead, right?

Not the livin'.

I'll ring her.

She doesn't have a phone.

Inspector, sir, please,
will you not do this?

It's not funny.
I'm really stressin'

over this exam!
- All right, all right.

Yes, I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

Good luck.

I mean it.

- Thank you.

Ahem.

Gwendolen Howard.

Hey, that's a slash.

It's "Gwendolen/Howard".

Rachel.

Rachel!
- Right.

Pass us the A to
Z, man, will you?

A to Z, quick. Come on.

All right!

Right.

Gwendolen/Howard.

I reckon it's a place.

- It's not.

Do you want to bet?

10 bob.

You're on.
- Gwendolen Road. Page 54, 1E.

Road crosses Howard
Street, Cowgate.

H-h-h-h-hey!

Hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo!

Eh? Look at that.

Eh, local knowledge,
you can't beat it, ah?

You owe me 10 bob.

- That's me dinner tonight.

Well, you shouldn't bet
what you can't afford to lose.

"Gwendolen/Howard,
5:00 Wednesdays".

Why not?

Can I come?

Nope. You got your
exams to sweat over.

Go on, son. Get
yourself aboard here.

Right.

You, Percy Street.

Oi, son, up for a
bit of graft, are ya?

Go on.

All right?

- Come on. Come on. We're busy.

Right, wagons roll!

Lovely, lovely. Good man. Right.

Your lads are
doing all right here.

See you later, son.

- Rat! Rat! Rat!

Hiyah!

- Go on, stamp on the bugger!

Hey!

- I'm not payin'
you to catch rats!

Hey, let them strike as long
as they want, eh, bonny lad?

That Michael Woodruff, they
call him the friend of the rat.

Good for business, I call him.

- You ever come across
Michael Woodruff?

Just the once.

Old man, what are you doin'?!

We're not takin'
out washers, man!

Just the stuff that stinks.

Howay, then, come
on! Clear up here!

Youse can all start drinkin'
your pay, ya lazy bastards.

There are issues of privacy.

I can get a court order.

Yes, I thought
you might say that.

Both accounts, I take it?

Mrs. Parker's, first. Mm-hmm.

Basket case.

Like lending money
to Bangladesh.

Debt, debts,

unauthorized withdrawals,

bouncing checks,
missed deadlines.

How much?

- At the last
count, as of today,

£4,648, 10 shillings,
and fourpence.

- You've loaned all that

to a woman without a job?

Her husband is her guarantor.

Not anymore, he's not.

No, but he was.

I thought Scott was a good bet.

'Til the Planning Department
holed him below the waterline.

Mm. What'd she spend it on?

Oh, come on.

Bookmakers.

Jo would bet

on two drops of water
going down a window.

Do you think your
bank was prudent,

using its customers' savings
to finance reckless gambling?

- Oddly enough,

that's exactly what
Regional Head Office asked.

Oh.

- Yeah, next time you see
me, I'll be flying through the air

with me trousers on fire.

Scott must've had
other investors.

Who were they?

Right.

Thank you.

What, man?

It's for you!

Eh?

- It's for you.

Hello?

Rachel.

Sorry, Mr. Gently.

Go and see Jo Parker again.

Those investors in City
Vision lost a lot of money.

Right.

Scotch, please.

I went to see Scott's
bank manager.

Did ya?

Yeah.

How did it feel,

to lose so much money
because of Scott?

Shit, actually.

No no no no no.
On the house, Neil.

- Oh. Oh, thank you.

Yeah, must be hard

to come to terms with
something like that.

Nah, it's the risk you take.

Investing's a bet.

You don't bet what
you can't afford to lose.

Did Scott Parker
take that advice?

No, Scott didn't.

No, Scott lost everything
he had, and more, didn't he?

His ship went
down with all hands.

You still tryin' to call
it murder, Mr. Gently?

His head was full
of wooden splinters.

So's my face.

Look, I've admitted
to you what happened.

Michael's admitted
what happened.

Scottie walked out
of that door alive.

Do you know about Jo
Parker's gambling habit?

Oh, yes.

How?

- Five hundredth time
Scottie blagged us for a loan,

I made him tell us where
all the money was goin'.

Did you tell Anita that you
were paying Jo's gambling debts?

I mean, Anita and Jo

don't get on, I know, but
what about Anita and Scott?

What about 'em?
- They like each other?

Everybody liked
Scottie. Everybody.

Did Scott like your wife?

What's not to like?

How long ago

did the ship go
down with all hands?

- Four months.

What caused it?

- No plannin' permission.

But you and Scott
still owned the land.

Surely, it had some value.

Not while there was
no plannin' permission.

It was hard, seeing Scottie
get that decision reversed.

He went about things
all the wrong way.

The committee saw through him.

He couldn't even keep up
with the rent on his offices.

Too busy, keepin' up
with Jo's bad debts.

- Were you angry
with him about that?

Nah. It was Scottie.
That's what he was like.

No point being angry
with him. Thanks.

He spent a fortune
on these unnecessary

drawings and models made

by these fancy
architects from Sweden.

He was even talkin' about
chuckin' another bridge

over the Tyne, as if there
aren't enough of those already.

This all had to be paid for
and I got sick of forkin' out,

so, he borrowed,
on the property.

What, he used property
that was partly owned by you

as collateral for his own debts,

as well as his wife's?
- Yeah.

Did you give him
permission for this?

No.

Did your wife know?

Bonny lad.

Don't say I never gave you nowt.

Mine's a pint.
- Cheers, gaffer.

Good man.

All right?

Where do ya dump it?

On the tip. Where else?

I'll wait on, though,

'til the pickets have gone home.

After dark?
- Aye, too bloody right.

How'd you find out
about us, anyway?

A friend of mine's
done it before.

Scottie? Scott.

Might use a different
name for the taxman.

Richard Grainger.

Oh, Richard, aye.
Canny enough lad, like.

Bit talkative, always
bangin' on about bridges.

His hands were soft.

I knew he needed
the money, ya know.

Mind, he could
fight, if he had to.

Hey, get in. Cheers, lad.

That surprised us.

What do you mean?
- You know you asked us

about Michael Woodruff?
- Aye.

The one time I come
across Michael Woodruff.

Hey, what a bastard he is.

Hey up, lads.

Get out of here,
ya bloody scabs!

Eh, man, we've got a
legitimate day's work here.

Not round here, you've not.

All right, pack it in!

Come on, now.

Right, move!

Go now.

Scottie.

All right, ladies.
Nowt to see here.

Aaaagh!

- Go on, Michael!

Get 'im!

Ah!

Aghh!

- Just stay down.
Just stay down.

Scottie!

What're ya doing this for?!

I've got nothing!

I'm on my knees, Michael!

I'm on my knees.

I got nothing, man!

I got nothing.

I am nothing!

Right. Well done, mate.

Oi.

- Look at that.

Come on.

Aye, he could fight, all right.

Never seen anybody else

fight Michael
Woodruff to a standstill.

He was obsessed
with bridges, you know.

He used to say "They're
not an invitation to leave.

They're a door opening.

A new bridge is a new way in."

He loved the High Level,
for its dark grandeur,

but he adored the Tyne Bridge
for what it said about change.

He used to point up, where
it comes into Newcastle.

"Looker, man, Jo.

Were they afraid of change?

Were they afraid to take a risk?

They smashed through the
most beautiful Georgian houses

to inject the A1 straight
into the heart of the city."

That's the Scott I married.

And are you the Jo he married?

What time is it?

It's quarter past 6:00.

You have to go.

I've got some
people coming round.

- All right, okay. Well...

Well, maybe I'll pop in
on you tomorrow, eh?

- Yeah. I'll see youse tomorrow.

Right.

- Where you goin', pet?

I'm goin' to see Mrs.
Parker. Any objections?

- She's a bit busy,
at the minute.

Come back in half an hour.

- Ahem.

What's going on here?

Who are you, like?

- Looker,

no one's forcin' her to do this.

There's worse ways to
pay off your debt, ya know.

Forcin' her to do what?

Nobody asked her to
borrow money off we.

Forcin' her to do what?

- Rachel.

Jo, are these men
harassing you, pet?

- No. Have an arrangement.

Now just go away and
leave us alone, will you?

- Jo. Jo!

How often does this happen?

Wednesdays.

Is it... It's just
your friend, or...?

Both we.

- And how long
will it go on for?

'Til her slate's clean.

Do you know her
husband died this week?

No, I didn't know that, like.

Seemed like a canny lad.

What, you knew him?

- Yeah, he would
come and complain,

asked if we'd
wait for the money,

usual sort of stuff
you get, ya know.

He knew?!

Hey, pet,

you better spend some
time in the real world.

There's a cold wind
blowin' out here.

- Yeah, these were
the clowns we saw

at the dogtrack, sir.
Do you remember?

Do their alibis stand up
for the night of the murder?

Yes.
- Then we're not interested

in them.
- Oh, sir, come on, man.

It's 1969, not 1869.

Why should a woman have
to sell herself to these pigs,

just 'cause she owes them?

Rachel, if she's
not being coerced,

what do you think I can do?

What law has been broken, eh?

Meanwhile, I've got to
catch her husband's killer.

John!

- Right, let's serve
the dead, ah?

To hell with the living.

Find out where they drink.

What do you think
gives you the right

to attack men goin'
about their work?

Isn't their work, is it?

It's our work.

They're scabs and I
batter them whenever I can.

It wasn't really an official
strike, though, was it?

It was a wildcat strike.
Are they really scabs?

Sorry, you've brought us in here

to discuss me union's
rulebook, have ya?

Do you hate scabs, Mr. Woodruff?

With every breath in me body.

Did you hate Scott Parker, then?

Ahhh, that's why I'm here.

How did you find out about that?

I'm a detective.

Nah. Nothing could ever
make me hate Scottie.

Well, somebody did.
He was beaten to death.

- Have you any idea who did it?

I cannot tell youse who he
walked into on the High Level,

but I can tell youse the
world is turnin' nasty.

There's some really bad
people out on the streets.

We noticed.
- Eh, you could spend your time

chasin' them round
the block, stead of me.

Do summat useful.

Well, I'll look into
it, after me tea.

How about that? So come on.

Who started smashin' up
furniture on Saturday night?

Scottie.

- Why?

I don't know. He was pissed.

Whose head got the first chair?
- Peter's.

Then what?

- Peter smashed
one over his head,

got his own back.

Then I smashed one
over Scottie's head,

then they both smashed
chairs over my back,

'cause they
thought it was funny.

Then Scottie smashed
one round Peter's face,

then he staggered into
the bar and hurt himself,

and that's when blood got
spilt and that's when we stopped.

And it was just the
three of you present?

Was that a yes?
- Yes.

And you have no explanation
for this extraordinary behavior?

Aye. And I've give
youse it twice: alcohol.

"Alcohol. Hijinks.

We all love each other so
much, we couldn't possibly

hurt each other,
even with a chair leg.

We're just three
mates havin' fun."

You know what?

I don't believe a word of it.

Your mate was beaten to death.

- I don't know what
else to say to you.

Well, try answering this, then:

why did your union veto
Scott's redevelopment plan,

his City Vision?

You really don't understand
the political process,

do ya?

We were one voice among many.

Now, that's not a veto.

It's democracy.

I'm sure you lot
were in favor of it.

'Cause whenever
there's a struggle

for democratic rights,

the cops are always
on the wrong side.

He needed your support.

You refused to give it
to him. Why was that?

Because, analyze the
so-called vision and guess what...

It's just another piece
of property speculation

designed to make
a few guys rich.

Oh, guys like Scott
Parker and Peter Magath.

See, I don't understand why
you bothered hangin' around them.

You despise
everything they stand for.

- Like I told youse:
you don't have to like...

Yeah, no, yeah, no. I've
heard that one before.

So this guy that you loved,
this guy that you wouldn't hurt,

you beat the shit out of him

'cause he's trying to earn
3 quid to pay his bills, right?

And, now, he's in a fridge,
with his name tied to his toe

and his skull smashed
in three places.

How many times did you
hit him with that chair leg?

Once.

What about Peter Magath,
how many times did he hit him?

More than once.

How many?

Three times.

Maybe four.

Rachel, it's your
exam today, innit?

- Yes, sir.

Well, good luck.
Not that you need it.

- Thank you, sir.

Knock 'em dead, Rachel.

- Thank you, sir. Insp Bacchus?

That pub

- you were askin' about?
- Yeah.

It's the Printer's
Pie in Jesmond.

Right. I'll give it a go.

- Give what a go?

They've got an Aunt Sally team.

So she said "I'm
not doin' it twice."

Hello, lads.

You fancy a beer tonight?

- Aye.

Yeah.

- Companies House
sent this over, sir.

Thank you, Peter. Hang on.

Can I call you back?

I will.

Gem, let's talk about it.

Right.

Half a dark, please.

Ta.
- Ta.

Could I have a quick word?

What about?

Spot of bother that
I've got meself into.

Somebody said you
could help us out.

Who said?
- Bloke called Tommy Cary

at the dogtrack.
- Oh, Tommy, yeah. Yeah.

Financial bother, is it, um...?

John.
- John.

Yeah. I lost me job.

I've taken a few too
many liabilities at once.

And a bit of bad luck.
- Aye, a bit of bad luck.

Knows when to
turn up, doesn't it?

Yeah, just when you
least want it, usually.

What are you lookin' for, John?

£250.

- Over what period?

Um...

Well, I'm...

I could probably
just get it back to ya

in two months...
Three, at the most.

It's £350 after 2 month
and £450 after 3 month.

Well, I'd probably feel more
comfortable with three months.

- Confident about
payin' us back, John?

Oh, aye.
- 'Cause we're professionals.

We will take your car. We will
take your house, if necessary.

I rent.

- Just so you know what
you're getting yourself into.

This man.

I've watched him take
the rings off the fingers

off a bankrupt's wife and
smile when he's doin' it.

Well, I tell you what:

leave the rings, take the wife.

She's the bad luck, is she?

Aye, it's not going well.

What's she called?

Gemma.
- Good-lookin', is she?

It's always the good-lookin'
ones that bring trouble.

She's... she's a real beaut.

Oh, yes!

That's trouble.

- That is trouble.

Yeah, we'd like
to help you, John.

Oh, fantastic. Great.

That's great, lads.

Could I ask for a bit of
help now, for tonight?

- Like an advance?

Yeah, yeah, we can do that.

Have you got any identification,
proof of address, anything?

Not here, John.

We've got to be a bit discreet.

£20 notes suit you?

That'd be perfect.
- There's a yard out back.

Meet us there,
couple of minutes.

Right. All right.

Thanks for everything.
I really appreciate it.

It's a big weight off me mind.

- Well, we like to
help people, John.

There's a cold wind
blowin' out there.

Aye, I know. I'm
all right now, eh?

I've got me longjohns on.

Tosser.

Hey, what's going on?!

Oh! Ah!

Oh!

Stay down!
- Oh!

Eh!

Agh!

All right, lads.

That's it.

Well done. See ya tomorrow.

- This is your only warning.

Jo Parker is
protected, from now on.

You go anywhere
near her, ever again,

and you'll regret it
for the rest of your life.

Do you understand?

You go home,

get any agreements that
she entered into with ya,

and burn 'em.

They won't be
botherin' her again.

- You frighten me,
sometimes, Insp Bacchus.

Me? I'm just a pussycat.

Morning, sir.
- Morning, Harpo.

How'd it go, Rachel?

Oh, yeah, how did it go?
- All right, I think.

I think. Fingers crossed.

- You'll get the result
you deserve, Rachel.

Well, if she does,
she can always resit.

You just couldn't
resist it, could you, eh?

Is he in?
- Yep.

Rachel, sit in.
- Really?

So you knew he was skint.

You knew he was desperate.

I knew he was skint.

Did he ask you for money

on the day he died?

Yeah. So you're
telling us, for instance,

that you didn't know that
he was so short of money,

that he was pawnin'
his wife's jewelry?

Aye. Anita noticed
the jewelry had gone.

Yeah. Your wife
noticed it, so you knew.

- Yeah.

How many times do
I have to bail him out

because she's a
pathological gambler?

I don't know. I'm askin'
you what you knew.

I mean, were you
aware that he took work

as a casual laborer,
workin' as a scab,

collectin' rubbish bags?

What?

Which led to a public
fistfight with Michael Woodruff.

You're makin' that up.

Those two are like brothers.

- Yeah. I had a
brother like that, once.

He knocked seven
sorts of shit out of me.

Or were you aware that
their debts were so severe

that Jo Parker is being
physically harassed

by loan sharks?

No.

No, I didn't know.

I'll find a way to help her out.

Well, that's very nice of you.

So, we're agreed
he was desperate.

You didn't know. Or maybe
you didn't want to know.

Now, this all kicked
off on the night

of your birthday party, yeah?

I wanted to help him.

- What stopped you?

Or maybe it's a case
of who stopped you.

'Cause your wife
isn't particularly keen

on Jo and Scott Parker, is she?

You leave Anita out of this.

I'll leave your wife out of it

when you tell me the
truth about what happened.

- The party had finished.

Me, Scottie and Michael
were havin' one for the ditch.

Cowboy shit, phony.

Ha!

Phony, phony, phony.

Oh, he's off. Heh heh.

Like you, Peter.

Yeah, smile, Peter.

Nicest bloke in the world.

You know what?

You're empty, man.

Empty life,

empty marriage.

Look, I think we'll
call it a night, yeah?

Right, we're closed now.

- Oh, Michael,
Peter's stopped smilin'.

Why's that, you think?

- Come on.

I'll take ya home.
- No no. What did I say, ah,

that wiped the
smile off his face?

Was it the bit
about the marriage?

Ooh!

All right, Pete.

- Ah, you're just drunk.

I'll call you a taxi.

Yeah, taxi.

Taxi-i-i!

This phony!
- Ah, very clever.

Phony cowboy shit.

- Scottie! Put that chair...

You want a piece of that?

Eh!

Come on, then.

End of story.

- So it wasn't three
drunken boys having fun

and it had nothing to do with
John Wayne and Lee Marvin.

It was about
Scottie lashin' out.

At me and at Michael.

What did he mean by
your "empty marriage"?

He wanted to lash out at
Anita as well. He was angry.

That was it.

That's all it was.

Look, if the taxi firm

had answered the phone,
if he'd got home safe,

if he hadn't died that night,
we'd all be friends again.

All this would be forgotten.

You sure?

Well.

I wonder if Scott would've
forgiven you for this.

Yeah.

It's a transfer of land
ownership, isn't it?

The land that Scott bought
for his vision of Newcastle

and failed to get
planning permission for.

You and your wife invested in it
and, when the bank foreclosed,

you had the right to
buy it, which you did,

at a knockdown price,
leavin' Scott with the debts.

It's a hard world.

Yeah, well, it's a
nasty world, isn't it?

Especially when you
consider the following:

there are three
directors of this company:

you; your wife;

and Michael Woodruff,
the man whose loud voice

scuppered the
planning application

upon which Scott
Parker's dreams depended.

You all shafted him.

Perhaps it's just as
well he never lived

to find that out.

Go and pick them up for
me, would you, please, John?

And, Rachel, go
and get Jo Parker.

- Right, sir.

You'll find Michael at my house.

So when did Scott first
tell you about his scheme?

- It was at Pete's Bar.

I've just had these plans
drawn up from the architects.

Here, have a look at that.
- You're spendin'

on architects again, man.
- No no, look at this.

What I loved about Scottie
was he had this infectious,

naïve belief in the
power of architecture,

public planning;
changing the cityscape,

and thus people's
lives, for the better.

Streets in the sky,

houses made of,
ha, sunlight and steel.

Yeah, I had to love him for it.

All mad, of course.

Pie in the sky.

Made no sense, as
a business venture.

So why did you invest?

Because the
astonishing thing was,

somehow, Scottie, with
all his barking-mad ideas,

had managed to get a piece
of prime development land

for a pretty good price.

He couldn't pay for
it, unfortunately, but,

that didn't seem to matter
because, in some way,

it couldn't go wrong, you
know, as a business deal,

with the right people in.

- And the wrong ones out.

He had a chance, the
chance of a lifetime.

He could've been
rich on his share,

if he'd just been willing to

modify his plans.

Bin them, you mean,

in favor of yours.

Go easy on Anita and Michael,
when you see them, Mr. Gently.

They're in love.

When we were
kids, the three of us,

Scottie was the strong one,

somehow, the leader.

I was the troublemaker,
always in fights.

What makes ya?

Where does it come from?

I got chucked out of
the Cubs on me first night

for laughin' at the
National Anthem.

Why?

How did I know I
thought it was funny?

- Don't forget your meeting
at the Town Hall, sweetheart,

or you'll get drummed
out the Brownies as well.

- Yeah, there's plenty of time.

Gonna have ya again before I go.

- Oh, are ya?

Don't I get a say?

Nah.

Lovely.

Peter was the cow's tail,

always hangin' behind.

- Why are ya tellin'
us this, Michael?

Because

how is it, all
these years later,

I more and more get the
feeling I'm part of some plan

Peter's got worked
out for us all?

All his life, people have
underestimated Peter Magath.

And, now, it's
Insp Gently's turn.

Oh, ignore it.

It'll be somebody
sellin' insurance.

Police!

Jo?

It's Rachel!

Jo?!

Havin' a bit of trouble
locatin' Mrs. Parker.

Your wife and Michael
are on their way.

Since there's a
reasonable chance

you could be facing a
charge, by the time we finish,

I'm reminding you of
your right to a solicitor.

- No, thanks.

Oi!

- Can I have some bacon, please,

and some eggs.

And those
cigarettes. Jo. All right.

Go upstairs and wash your face,

put some smart clothes
on, and brush your hair.

We've got to go
down to the station.

Jo,

those men, they won't
be botherin' ya anymore.

So you can forget about them.

Right, take a seat, please.

They're to have no
contact with each other

and none with Peter Magath.

Same goes for Mrs.
Parker, when she gets here.

Were they in bed together?

Think so.

Sir.

It's come back.

There's two lads
just arrived, sir.

- Oh?

Why didn't you mention
this two nights ago, Neil?

Didn't think.

Didn't think, or wasn't
told what to say?

You both work for
Anita and Peter Magath.

Is that just a
bloody coincidence?

No, that's why we were
in the area, wasn't it?

We left Pete's Bar
at about 20 to 1:00.

Mr. Magath locked the
door behind us and then,

we went over the bridge
to a lock-in in Gateshead.

Got there about 1:00.

We stayed there
for just over an hour

and then came back the same way.

When we were crossin'
the High Level again,

about half-past 2:00?
That's when we saw him.

And you're telling
me the same story?

Aye.

- So you both saw

Scott Parker, alone, alive,

and on his own two feet,
on the High Level Bridge

at approximately 2:30
on Monday morning?

Is that what you're telling me?

What'd you say to him?

We said "Goodnight, Mr. Parker."

And what did he say to you?

- Nowt.

Just stared into the parapet.

He had blood on his head,
but he was standin' up straight.

And you would both be prepared
to repeat this story in court,

where to tell a lie
is called "perjury"

and carries a prison sentence?

Write it down.

Done us up like
a pair of kippers.

So, what do we do now, just
let them all go home again?

If you'd like to take a seat.

A man is dead.

And between you,
you four people,

supposedly his
nearest and dearest,

are responsible for that death,

however it came about.

Yes, and I know that I may
never know exactly what happened.

Mrs. Parker,

your addiction to gambling

ruined his finances and
led him into desperation

and yourself into what
amounted to prostitution.

Mrs. Magath,

there was no love lost
between you and the dead man,

I know that, so, at
least, in your case,

it was simple greed,

not hypocrisy, like these two,

his so-called best friends.

You betrayed and cheated a
man that you'd grown up with

and you must carry
that on your consciences

for the rest of your lives.

Assuming, of course,
that you have consciences.

But it's my opinion that
one or both of you killed him.

But, two witnesses
have come forward,

both employees of
the Magaths, heh,

who are prepared to swear

that they saw Scott Parker
alive, if not exactly well,

after he left Pete's Bar
on that Sunday night.

That being the
case, Mrs. Parker,

I will inform the coroner
that I now have no objection

to releasing your
husband's body for burial.

Jo, do you want me
to take you home?

- Oh, no, no, I'll take Jo home.

Jo, is that okay?

Come on, then.

Merciful Father

and Lord of all life,

we praise you that we
are made in your image

and reflect your
truth and light.

Above all, we rejoice
at your gracious promise

to all your servants,

living and departed,

that we shall rise again

at the coming of Christ.

- Which one of them
actually did it, do you think?

We'll never know, John. Will we?

Phony, phony, completely phony.

He's off. Heh heh.

Ha!

Like you, Peter.

Look, I think we'll
call it a night, yeah?

Right, we're closed now.

- Oh, Michael,
Peter's stopped smilin'.

Why's that, you think?
- Come on.

No no. What did I say, ah,

that wiped the
smile off his face?

Was it the bit
about the marriage?

Ooh!

- Ah, you're really drunk.

I'll get ya a taxi.

- Yeah, taxi-i-i!

You shut it now, Scott.

I've put you down once.

Don't make us do it again.

You're right, mate.

You're right.

I said phony!
- Ah, great!

Phony, phony.
- Scottie.

Crap! Come on, then! Ahh!
You want a bit, Michael?

- Hey!
- Come on, big man!

Stop bein' a bloody idiot!
- You want a piece?

Come on, then.
- Eh, man.

We thank you for the
life of your child Scott,

for the love he received from
you and showed amongst us.

Above all, we rejoice
at your gracious promise

to all your servants,
living and departed,

shall rise again...

Enough!
- Come on, then.

Scottie, stop!

- Ah! Ah!

And we ask that, in due time,

we may share with our
brother that clearer vision

when we shall see your face
in the same Christ as our Lord.

We now commit his
body to the ground.

Earth to earth, ashes
to ashes, dust to dust.

In the sure and certain hope

of the resurrection
to eternal life.

Good, glad you like it,
'cause Anita and I both

see this very much

bein' Scottie's legacy.

Don't we?

- Very much, very much.
It's what he would've wanted.

And we're going to make sure

Jo benefits as well, aren't we?

We're family.

Ugh!

You had a brother.
- Hmm?

You said you had a
brother, used to thump ya.

Yeah. Died in the war.

In action?

Yeah. Well, ha ha, diphtheria.

He was my best friend.

Until I met Isabelle.

No.