All language subtitles for babylon.1e02.dvdrip.x264-haggis

Armed police!
Occupants of the house show yourself.

Armed police! Armed police.

Come out and hold your hands in the air.

Oh, please help me.

Knife down! Get that knife down now.

Drop the knife. Drop it or I will shoot.

Gun down. Get that gun down.

Get that gun down now!

Oh!

End ex. Okay, everyone,
that completes the morning exercise.

Robbie. Talk me through your inaction.

I dunno... I weren't looking for that.

If that was your final exercise,

right now you'd be back in the TSG
faster than you could say,

"I let a man get shot because
I'm a dopey twat."

- Yeah, yeah, but...
- You let me know if you need a hand

with anything else. I could pop round later,

cut your sausages up into little pieces.

There you go.

I've got to be honest with you, Liz.

- It was weird hearing from you.
- It was weird calling you.

You know you never actually
broke up with me?

- Pretty sure I did.
- No, we stopped talking

and then the next thing,
you've moved to San Francisco.

Well, in my defence,
I would say that moving 5000 miles

is in of itself a kind of
unambiguous form of break-up.

- Is that how far it is?
- Approximately.

So, what's it like? The cop shop?

Well, everyone's a racist, we're all corrupt

and at night we lock ourselves
in the holding cells and fuck each other.

Yeah, come on, cut the bullshit.
Tell me, what's it like?

- I came for the challenge.
- Uh-huh.

Taking the dinosaur
and teaching him how to drive.

But it's not making some lvy League prick
another five million dollars after tax,

we serve the people, and yes,
he is not always perfect

but it is something to get out of bed for.

Saving an institution.

Plus I have a thing for uniforms, so...

You said, "He"?

Figure of speech.

So, you've settled in.

You're making friends
and influencing people?

Granger, if I was making friends
do you think I'd be calling you?

You seem vulnerable.

I might be interested in exploiting that.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.
I am so not okay with that.

Liz, I'm not going to peer-pressure you,

but this is why you have no friends.

If you're thinking to yourself,
"That looked delicious,"

you'd be absolutely right.

Ripped By mstoll

Did you get my email?

- Which email? There's two.
- The second one.

I sent the first one halfway through
so I sent it again.

There's one labelled "lgnore".

It says "lgnore" in the subject
and "The other email" in the body.

So read the one marked "lgnore"?

Is this a bad time?
Because we can reschedule.

There's a gossip piece in my favourite rag.
I want a retraction.

What is it?

It doesn't matter what it is.

It's bullshit and I want a retraction.
Can you take care of that for me?

Sure. I'll deal with it.

Good.

So, the email. Talk me through it.

Who makes more content than we do?

Who generates more news

or more footage than the police?

And what do we do with it?

We give it away.

We give it away to news outlets

who chew it up and spit out the facts

and serve up their own slobbery
mess to whoever is still listening.

Sit down.

The Metwork. Our own news division.

We keep our content, we turn it into news

and we put it out there ourselves.

We shut out the press
and go directly to the public.

- It's a website?
- It's a news network.

Like BBC or CNN,

but exclusive to us.

Sounds like state TV.

The evening news from North Korea.

Kim Jong-Un doing a piece on funny pets.

No, we hire proper journalists.

They have a degree of latitude,

but I set the agenda
and there is only one rule.

We get it wrong, we air it.

We get it right, we air it.

This is how we rebuild the trust.

Crunch that down into a couple of pages.

I'll raise it personally
at the next MOPAC meeting.

- Sounds good.
- Nice work, Liz.

An interesting idea.

Catch you later.

- You look tired.
- You've got sperm on your lapel.

- So, what is it then?
- It's nothing. I think Warwick's all right.

But also, you know, he might not be.

Well, like what? Shooting up Sainsbury's?
Massacre in the meat aisle?

Nah, nothing like that.

We got him to shoot a horse

and he definitely seems a bit sharper,
a bit more on it.

What are you saying, Tony,
'cause it sounds to me

like you're saying that Warwick's a bottler.

- I never said he was a bottler.
- Johnny No-Shoot with his big floppy Glock.

Boss, I've done my bit.

- I've passed it up the chain.
- Well, if you really want to pass this

up the chain let's sit down
and put it down on paper.

Occupational health, let's do it properly.

Ah, doesn't matter.

I'm talking shit. Forget it.

The stuff I used to see
when I was doing nights.

I shit you not, I could write a book.

The amount of fingerings.

West End, Saturday night,
girls getting fingered left, right, and centre.

And you could tell they were loving it.

What about you, Davs?

Like a bit of fingers?

Nobbo. I am a lady of taste and decorum.

- Of course I like a bit of fingers.
- Hmm.

What do you reckon?

- Bit petty.
- Good on the board though.

Get those arrest numbers ticking over.

For God's sake, boys and their high scores.

What, you don't wanna beat Two Unit?

Yeah, of course I wanna beat Two Unit.

But I wanna do it the right way.

I'm here for the big fish, not the minnows.

Hey, talking of minnows.

Clarkey, hung like a tadpole.

And his balls are like frogs' balls.

- Are we going?
- Yeah, we're going.

Excuse me, lads. You got a sec?

Oh, it's not really a good time, mate.
We're late for kick-off.

What you got there?

It's a baguette. What's it look like?

Oh, a comedian, eh? Very funny.

Can I ask you to step up
against the wall, please?

Oh. Oi!

- Get down.
- Oh!

- Easy does it.
- Get off me, man.

So we have the "Initiatives on Policing
Conference" on Tuesday.

Po-Com. Yes, it's very much our Glastonbury.

Yeah? Well, it's a stage

and it's gonna have Richard on it,

so I wanna get out in front
of as many stories as possible.

Batten everything down, square it all away.

A despot, rounding up
the stray dogs before the big rally.

Kind of. Yeah.

So what's on the radar?

Coroner's verdict's due on "Taser Guy."

- Remind me?
- Some coke-nut, took 50,000 volts

in a pub toilet and his heart imploded.

Boo-hoo.

The Times online has been sniffing
around the armed robbery spree.

- Let's get on that.
- Speakers at the Conference.

Deputy Mayor's due to give
a speech just before Richard's.

Ah, bummer. Bad support act.
That's gonna bring the whole vibe down.

Any idea what our good
friends over at City Hall

might be planning on squirting
in our eyes this time?

We're pretty sure they're going to
take the opportunity

to float the idea of corporate sponsorship.

Jesus. That hoary old clagnut.

I don't know. Ads on vans, cash in the bank.

I think we should be open to it.

Seriously? Police sponsorship?

What, "This kettling was brought to you
by Morphy Richards?"

No, you're right, Finn.

'Cause it would be a mistake

to explore alternative sources
of funding at this point.

Liz, this is the thin end of the wedge.

And the fat end,
that's the end they're going to use

to prop open our bum cheeks
while we're being fucked from behind

by the privatization lobby.

12:19 and we're making references
to anal rape.

Okay, well, if we're all done here.

Did you find the gossip piece on Richard?

Yeah. Eventually. It's tiny.

Richard makes a speech
every year at the passing-out parade.

He talks about Northern Ireland,

a fire-bombing near Cookstown.

He saved three people.

Only now they're saying
he didn't save three people.

- He only saved two.
- That's it?

Well, he's still a hero.

He's just 33 percent
less of a hero than he thought.

I can't ask for a retraction on this.
It makes us look fucking coconuts.

He gets a bit like this about things
that mention him by name.

We just file it in a special box
marked, "Richard's Massive Ego."

Fine. Let's sit on it.

Do you love women, Robbie?
Is that why you can't shoot them?

Oh, come on, I just hesitated, that's all.

So you'd do it, then? You'd shoot a woman?

Hell, yeah, mate. I'd fuck a woman up.

Jesus, what are you, a wife-beater?

Nah. Only if it was the right thing to do, innit?

Operationally.

Anyone else you can't shoot
that I should know about?

What about plumbers?
Would you shoot a plumber?

- Of course I'd shoot a plumber.
- A child?

Hesitation, just been shot.

Well, it depends on what he was doing.

He's holding a gun at another child.

And the other child's
holding a gun back at him.

- That wouldn't happen.
- No?

You tell that to my mate
who works up on Merseyside.

I don't know about you, Rob.

- I don't know if you've got the edge.
- I've got edge.

- I'm all edge.
- Well, we'll find out soon enough,

'cause today's the big one, Robbie.

It's final drill. I call it "The Badger"
'cause it's basically one big cull.

Robbie, mate, all right?

Oh, look what the wind blew in.

It's you, the fucking by-stander.

- Who are you?
- Matt Coward. Rough Collar Productions.

Well, if it's tough guys
shooting guns you're after

then you've come
to the wrong place, eh, Rob?

- Hello, mate. Come on.
- Yeah, yeah, I'm on it.

Two cans of Lilt and a Twix.

Yeah, what was it again?
Two cans of Lilt and a what?

And a Twix.

- How you doing?
- Amazing, thanks.

20l20 vision,
top of the shop for verbal reasoning

they tell me what to say,
I tell it right back to them.

Sweet. You up for doing a quick interview?

Film this if you want.

It's me mugging you off.

It's not a "spree," Liz.

They're not skipping around London
with a shopping trolley.

"Spate."

A spate of armed robberies.

We have the Policing Conference this week

and I am keen to avoid any difficult headlines.

Okay. We'll just stop all crime.

It's fine because I've got a hotline
to the robbers.

I'll tell them to take the day off,
they can go to Alton Towers.

Charlie, I don't want to tread on your toes.

Oh, don't worry, you wouldn't reach.

I'm sorry, how do you mean?

Do you have enormously tall toes?

It's a priority, Liz.

One of my many priorities,
like taking guns off the street

and finding out who killed the funk.

Charles, this is a big story.

A run of bank jobs? It makes us look inept.

I'm not asking you to catch them.

It's very difficult catching criminals. I get that.

But anything you could do to help

would be greatly appreciated.

Get me Armed Response.

There's been five
in the last six weeks.

They seem to have a thing
about branches of Santander.

Maybe they've got something
against the Portuguese?

It's Spanish.

Santander's Spanish.

Nando's is Portuguese, Banj.

All right, Professor Chicken,
same difference.

Look, we've had some heat
from upstairs on this one,

so any downtime, I want you parked up

outside your designated branch
as a visual deterrent.

That's your lot.

Bank robbers? What is this, 1971?

Who are the suspects,
the fucking Bay City Rollers?

Some arseholes been watching The Sweeney.

Why would you rob a bank, anyway?

- You wanna do a Gala Bingo.
- That is the dream.

Warwick. Can I have a quick word?

You okay?

Yeah, I'm fine.

Need a shit, but then I'm always like that

before I get in the car
and start getting shot at.

You... Got much planned
this weekend?

I dunno.

I...

I got you a sausage roll,

and any time you need to talk about stuff.

Whatever.

All right.

Yeah, have you got a return
on that name check, over.

Just pulling it up now. Two seconds.

Uh-oh. Look what I just found
in the spice rack.

What's this then, an eighth of fennel?

Just write me up, please.

Give me a ticket or whatever,
it's not even mine.

Can you just confirm that name,
Jason Delgado?

That's the one.

Does the name Grant Delgado
mean anything to you?

Shit.

Yeah, roger that.

Davs? Quick word?

You were right. He was holding.

His dad's Deputy Mayor.

Grant Delgado. That's his son.

Which one?

- The black one.
- Right.

I mean, he was running away.
I had to tackle him.

And we definitely saw him
with the joint beforehand?

Yeah. Definitely. Both of them.

Look, it's an eighth. Probably less.
Is it worth the headache?

So we let him go
'cause we're scared of his dad?

No. We give him a gypsy's warning.

Clip round the ear and, "On you go, son."

I think we need to run this one upstairs.

I'm not gonna dress this up, Sharon.

- I'd like to tase you.
- Mmm?

We've had a tasing fatality,
which is obviously tragic,

but what compounds the tragedy
is that the results of the inquest are due

on the day of the Policing Conference.

Oh, great. Maybe, could you tase me then?

On stage, in front of a room full of my peers.

Let off a confetti bomb as I hit the ground.

A practical demonstration
in front of the press.

It kills the story stone-dead.

Come on, you know that
Charlie would eat this up.

He'd be out in front of the cameras
with a target painted on his chest,

"Tase me, tase me!"

You know why? Visibility.

You are the invisible woman, Sharon.

Get tased. Be seen.

Oh, so now you're doing me a favour?

Wow, thanks, Liz. Big pals.

- I'll think about it.
- Mmm-hmm.

I heard you've been in pitching big ideas
to Richard without me.

Metwork.

Great name.

It's funny, Finn, I found a work-around.

It basically involves me shutting my eyes
and pretending you're not alive.

A news network? It's a vanity project, Liz.

It's a 25 foot high statue of Liz Garvey
made out of cat-shit and tin-foil.

You are obsolete technology, Finn.

You are a solar-powered fax machine.

Fuck you.

Have a great afternoon.

Sir, we've just had word,

TSG are saying we've just picked up
Grant Delgado's son.

Possession of a Class B.

He's currently being detained
awaiting further instruction.

We brought it directly to you.

No need to involve the PR team at this point.

Yeah, reading between the lines,
I think they're awaiting our input.

What's that, Tom, I can't hear you.

You want me to speak up?

I don't want you to speak at all.

I don't even want you to be here.

I want you to collapse your spine like a squid

and disappear through
a fucking crack in the window.

Did anyone see you come in here?

I've got Greg from the Home Office
due in five minutes

and you two brainless schoolgirls
come prancing in here going,

"Guess what I know? Guess what I know?"

Well, I don't want to know what you know.

Jesus, Charlie, have you had
your head turned again?

Taking your eye off the ball?

Go on, get out, the pair of you.

And waft this eggy stink out with you.

Hopwood just gave me a sausage roll.

What for?

Either he's shagging my missus,

or someone's had a word with him.

What, me?

Oh, yeah. Yeah, yeah.

'Cause I always go round talking about you
because I'm so obsessed.

Are you always this paranoid
when men buy you sausage rolls?

What about Tony?

Has he said anything to you?

Oh, I dunno.

No, not really.

Um...

He's been a bit concerned about you.

You know, just getting
your head back in the game.

Don't spit, do not spit.

Well, what am I supposed to do with it, then?

Swallow it.

- Are you kidding me?
- Yeah, roger that.

They're washing their hands of it.
It's our call.

Just saying.

- He still gets a bollocking.
- Yeah.

And instead of four hours of paperwork
we're boots on the ground.

Right, that's it.

You're under arrest, the pair of you.

But, it was an accident.

Yeah, I've got something wrong
with my stomach.

- We need a van, Sergeant.
- Oh, great.

I've got two here

- that need running down to the station.
- Oh, shit.

- All right?
- All right?

- Can you do us a favour?
- Hmm?

Will you spar with me?

What's this, like when
your uncle wants a tickle-fight

- because really he wants to touch you up?
- Nah.

It's just they're ragging me.

"Robbie Fucknuts, can't shoot a woman."

It's starting to get inside my head

and I know it's stupid,

but I'm second guessing myself.

What if it's a woman on the exercise?

Robbie, this is fucking 101,

it's not the person, it's the intent.

It doesn't matter if it's a lollipop lady
or your mum.

If they've got a Glock, you pop-pop-pop.

You'd shoot your mum?

You wouldn't?

All right. I'm going to come at you.

Some point during the day
I'm gonna come at you.

If I've got a weapon, then you attack.

And if I don't have a weapon, then you don't.

All right, yeah.

Thanks.

But in no version of this
do you get to touch my tit.

Clarkey.

Nice arse.

I tell you the best thing to do,

work until you're 59, then die.

The family gets a lump sum,
the missus gets a widow's pension.

Everyone's a winner.

- Do you want to play a game?
- What sort of game?

We used to play it on car journeys
when we were going on holiday.

It's called "Who's The Cunt In The Car?"

Let me guess, was it your mum?

I'll go first.

Banjo, are you the cunt in the car?

No.

Now you've got to ask me.

Warwick, are you the cunt in the car?

Nope. That's weird, innit?

'Cause there's definitely a cunt in the car

and if ain't you and it ain't me...

You all right, Tony, mate?
Are you feeling all right?

- Yeah, not bad.
- 'Cause I'm fine,

thanks for asking. I'm just fucking peachy.

Shall we play again?

Banjo, you start.

You know when you have a big idea

and you wake up the next morning

and you're like, "What is this shit?"

Total opposite of that.

The more I think about it
the more I realise how huge it is.

Yeah. It's huge.

I'm super excited.

We're just knocking around options,
reprocessing Grant Delgado's son.

Which are Paddington Station or Maze Hill?

We arrested the Deputy Mayor's son?

It was an operational matter.

Until it became a press matter, which is now.

Well, Paddington's a bad idea.

I mean, there's a back-log. It'll get jammed up.

Yeah, Maze Hill does seem
to make more sense.

Bearing in mind we've got
the Policing Conference next Tuesday.

Maze Hill.
Famously leaky Custody Sergeants.

I'm not sure Metcalf's
working at the Maze any more

so we may have to give them a helping hand.

He's a child.

He's a minor, and we're leaking his name?

Okay. Liz, you're putting words in mouths.

Smearing a child?

- Is this really who we are?
- It's just possession, Liz.

It's a column on page six.

This is a friendly reminder
to our friends at City Hall.

It's Roy Keane,
straight through the back of you.

"Welcome to the Prem."

I think bearing in mind
the backlog at Paddington,

we're all agreed that Maze Hill
is the preferred option.

Richard, could I have a word in private?

Thank you, everyone.

So, organise a coffee?

With respect, I am getting a little tired
of being the angel on your shoulder

every time the shit starts to fly.

In three days' time that bleating crow's
anus is going to stand up there

at my conference

and he's going to posit
a bright shiny new future

where this grand old institution
is forced down onto her knees

to start sucking corporate-sponsorship dick,

and before you know it,
every copper in London

will be running around
with a fucking Umbro helmet

and a McDonald's logo on his back.

So we're sacrificing children now
for the greater good?

Why don't we just paint ourselves
with chicken blood

- and burn him out front?
- I have a son, Liz.

I don't like this either.

But this story is going to break eventually.

If his name gets out there in three days,

it's no good to me.
If it gets out there today, he's sunk.

We're on the same page, Liz,

but we need to work together.

I need your big ideas, that's key,

but I also need a little elbow room.

Okay.

The gossip piece.
Where are we on the apology?

I read it. I think we're really splitting hairs.

Liz, yesterday I saved three lives.

Today I saved two. Tomorrow I'll be
a balloon-popping meth-addict.

My name is my currency.

It's the stack of 50 Ps I use
to keep the metre running.

This matters.

You're right.

I'll fix it for you.

- Matt Coward.
- Matt, it's Miles.

- What are you up to?
- Nothing.

Just rattling around the flat.

- Watching TV. Bored out of my brain.
- Change of plan for tomorrow.

We'll get Leon to roll with the transport lot

and I want you to get with the frogmen.

Amazing. Frogmen.

I'm so jazzed. I've never been so jazzed.

I'm DJ Jazzy Jeff.

Just get the footage, Matt.

You never know, they might dredge up
something fucking interesting.

I mean, they won't find a body, God forbid.

They never do. That's what they dangle,

but it never happens, thank the Lord.

But you might get a domestic pet
of some kind.

What's that noise?

Just watching Reservoir Dogs again.

See you later, man.

Thanks, mate.

Rob.

No cameras.

Just a coffee, as mates.

- Grant, Richard Miller.
- Richard?

I'm seeing you at conference?

God knows what I'm doing
with my speech.

My assistant's done a draft,

which means I'm gonna have to do a new draft
and take out all her jokes.

She seems to think I'm Lenny Bruce.

I'm calling you as a courtesy.

It's a private matter, and I thought it best
if it came direct from me.

Okay. Sure.

Jamie, hi. It's Finn.

Now, I don't know where you heard this from,

because it certainly wasn't from me.

Grant Delgado's son's been arrested.

Right.

When? What for?

Possession of a Class B substance.

Around an eighth of grass.

It was deemed to be
sufficient grounds for arrest.

Right.

So, what's the next step?

Well, we've had to notify his parents

which has obviously
been done with great sensitivity.

We'll charge him and then he'll be free to go,

so you can head down
to Maze Hill station to collect him.

Okay.

Well, thanks for letting me know.
Appreciate that.

No worries.

No worries at all.

See you at the conference.

Richard, is he okay?

He's fine.

Savour that one, guys. Drink it in.

That'll keep us warm
on those cold winter mornings.

That was invigorating.

I should go down to the station
to deal with Grant when he arrives.

Absolutely. Extend him every courtesy.

This isn't personal.

Shall we play another game?

Oh, you know what, Warwick?

Yeah, I had a word with Hopwood.

- About what?
- About nothing.

Stuff, just keeping an eye on you, as a mate.

What, so you think I'm a bottler?

No.

God, no. Look, me and Banj were talking.

Oh, so you're in on this and all?

- What? No. Piss off, Tony.
- No one's having a go at you, mate.

Nah, course not, you just think I'm a pussy.

Ah, no one called you a pussy.

No, not to my face,

'cause you prefer going behind my back,
like a fucking woman.

You busy prick.

Fuck.

Armed robbery Whitechapel High Street

blue Peugeot 207 travelling eastbound.

Cash-box taken from van, no tracking device.

Yep, yep. Trojan 131 on it.

So what about your Neil?

- What about him?
- Big scary ARV man.

I bet he's well hung.

Big fat dong like a rubber bullet.

Right up your guts.

You want me to tell you about Neil's penis?

'Cause I can show you some photos
if you're that interested.

Oh. Oh, Neil. Oh!

Is that your baton?
It feels more like your battering ram.

Ooh. Oh, go on, bang my back door in.

We only do anal on Sundays.

It's a religious thing.

What are his balls like?

Bit like the ones you've got on your forehead.

Oh, yeah. Get them resting on your chin.

Little gonad beard.

It's not a goatee, it's a scrotee.

Neil's nice, big, weighty balls
sitting on your face.

Give it a rest, Nobbo. Yeah?

Ooh.

# Clarkey loves Davina #

I've just had enough of this in my ear all day.

Do you love her?

Do you have dreams about her?

Do you wanna take her to the cinema

to see a film with Colin Firth in it?

Piss off.

Maybe I just don't have it.

I'm like a dog with no teeth.

It's you or him. That's all you've got to think.

Hunger Games, right?

There's a KFC bucket, me against you,

you better believe I'm slitting your throat
for a chicken wing.

Really?

Shit, man, that's... That's a bit cold.

I thought you media types
were all soft little bellies.

Nah, law of the jungle.

Sometimes you gotta do
whatever it takes to get ahead. You know?

Dog eat dog.

Yeah.

Yeah, you know what, you're right.

Thanks.

Shit. Oh, my God!

That was amazing! Wicked reflexes.

Are you all right? Well, well,
in a way that's a bit of a result, right,

because I didn't even hesitate.

But, also, are you okay?

- I've gotta get a photo of this.
- Yeah, come here.

This is what happens when
you mess with the big dog.

Yeah, big man, yeah.
Punching a girl in the face.

I can't help it, it's just natural instinct.

But, but seriously, are you all right, though?

- Come here, let me have a look.
- Get off me.

They're sending someone down
from upstairs.

They just want you to walk them
through your report.

Yeah, no problem.

Shit, man. Get that dog off me, yeah?

You did search his trainers,
didn't you?

Another three baggies in his shoe.

That takes us up to five-eighths in total,

which is approximately, sorry,
I'm just trying to convert it into metric.

Then he's been a very naughty boy.

Three baggies.

It's possession with intent.

I mean, that's worth a knock on the door
and a sneaky look under the mattress.

- What's the address?
- About 17 grams.

Oh.

156 Tadmarton Road.

Same address as mum and dad.

So now we're raiding
the Deputy Mayor's house,

two days before the Policing Conference?

Bit of a sidebar. He's making a complaint.

Says we split his chin open.

Jesus Christ, this was supposed to be
a slap on the ankles,

not a nail bomb down the back
of his fucking pants.

Then fine. 17 grams.

We say it's personal use.

It's a little on the heavy side
but it's a valid call.

Charlie, this is out there.

Is this out there?

Which means right now
every fascinating prick with a blog

is watching me, eyes like a hawk,

with his big fat fingers on the keys.
And what then, huh?

I'm the bent copper handing out
grubby favours cosy little reach-arounds.

His son's a dope dealer. It's a ruiner.

- He's over.
- And if he's not,

he's a wounded bear with an arrow
sticking out of his eye

and he's gonna to break into my house
and eat me in my pyjamas.

Shall I reach out to Grant as a courtesy?

Oh, yes, Tom, that's brilliant.

Let's start phoning the criminals
before we raid their houses.

You might wanna hide the guns, fellas,
'cause the boys are on their way round.

Let's just do it quickly and quietly.

Make sure Liz is up to speed.
I need her on this.

Mr Delgado, could you comment
on the arrest of your son?

I don't know what you're talking about.

Well, based on the quantity
of cannabis we requisitioned.

Which we dropped on the ground.

As you can see from the detritus.

We made the decision
to instigate an arrest.

Anything else I should know?

One of them farted.

- Farted?
- Aggressively.

It was an act of aggression.

Whether or not it's an assault.

I mean, well, it was a nasal assault.

Right. And is that a separate charge or...

The fart won't be in the report.

It's a detail.

Liz, I've got the Deputy Mayor for you.

- Nasal assault?
- What?

Where are we on the gossip piece
on the Commissioner?

Oh, I've been digging.

I've tracked down two guys
that he saved. Not the third.

Do you think Richard's lying?

Honestly? I don't know.

Mr Delgado, I wanted to come in personally

to make sure that this is taken care of.

Oh, you don't mess about, do you?
You've got the press out there already.

I can assure you, whoever is out there
has nothing to do with me.

Business as usual down
at Scotland Yard then, is it?

Same shit, just a nice new shiny wrapper.

Oh, God. Stop, stop.

Can you control your dog, please?

Right, fucking get off my leg.

Control your dog.

Right, she's Head of Comms,
can you move it along?

I'd like to take my son now, please.

Yes. Let me get you an update on that.

Well, you dodged a bullet there, Liz.

- You big druggie.
- Yeah. Funny.

Blue Peugeot.

Is that a 206 or a 207?

It's a 206.

It's a 207.

Well, it looks like a fucking 206.

All right, lads. Here we go.

Yeah, we got a blue Peugeot 20...
I don't fucking know,

blue Peugeot travelling Eastbound.

Yeah, that's it, mate.

You keep swerving 'cause that'll lose us.

Fuck's sake.

Lights are flashing.
Move out the fucking way.

Fuck, fuck!

They've triggered the smoke pack
on the cash box.

Absolute nob-clowns.

- Ah, shit. Ah.
- Go, go, go, go, go!

- Armed police!
- Armed police! Armed police!

Get out of the way. Armed Police!

Armed police, stop! Move, fucking move!

Fucking stay down!

Fucking stay down!

Get down on the ground
and drop the weapon!

I'll tell you what.
Why don't you shut the fuck up?

Warwick!

- Don't come any closer, silly-bollocks.
- Warwick!

Warwick!

Drop the fucking weapon!

Warwick!

Warwick!

Ha-ha! You fucking nutter.

Did you fucking see that?

Good job, man.

Warwick? Warwick?

Don't call this a comeback.

Return of the Mad Man.

Wozza the Warrior. The Viking of Hounslow.

Jesus, Warwick. Christ's sake.

My head's gone. I'm fucked.

All right, mate. Let's just get you out of here.

I'm fucked.

Come on, man.

Ah, come on.

Thank you, everyone. Updates, Finn.

Sharon. I hear you're doing a... Tasing?

That's a good move.

I just want us to get the message out there.

- You know, reassure the public.
- Yeah.

You're not worried about
evacuating yourself?

- No.
- No?

No, no. The likelihood is marginal.

Well, it's pretty brave.

All them cameras about.

I had a look at Liz's email.

Metwork, the news idea.

Interesting. Tighter control of the press,
a better handle on the agenda.

Yeah. My only worry is your exposure.

I mean, do you really want to be
the Commissioner who shuts out the press?

Because if you stick your head
in the hornet's nest and shout,

"Fuck hornets," you are liable to get stung.

Finn, I know this doesn't apply to you
because you're a good man,

but I don't like backstabbing.

I think it's a wanker's game.

How about you?

Absolutely, sir.

Excuse me.

Yep?

Can someone kindly tell me
what is going on with Grant's son?

Because I have a very angry man
on my hands

and I am running out of chit-chat.

Yeah, change of plans.
It's now "Possession with Intent to Supply."

- We're searching his house.
- Are you joking me?

Finn, I have the Deputy Mayor down here

eating soup
out of a fucking vending machine

and we're off raiding his house?

I've got to dash. I'm just in with Richard.

We're thrashing out your Metwork idea.

All the best.

# Clarkey and Davina, sitting in a tree

# F-U-C-K-l-N-G #

At least we know he can spell.

Is that right, what you were saying in the van
about you and Neil?

What, like, "Anal on Sundays,
dong like a rubber bullet?"

'Cause me and Sandy, we, we don't.
We've stopped.

Yeah, we don't do it any more. 'Cause of us.

Oh, right. I didn't realise it was like,
one or the other sort of thing.

So you are?

I don't know.

Well, yeah, sometimes.

Right. Nah. That's just good to know.

But not loads. You know, just like...

I mean, we're not at it all the time.

I don't really want to know, thanks.

Shall we get going?

So you lure me down here,

and meanwhile you're off terrifying my wife?

- Are they still out there?
- There's seven or eight, plus a camera crew.

For God's sake. It's amazing.

Your ability to screw me over
knows no bounds.

This really is a 360 degree shafting.
So, yeah, kudos.

Trust me, this is not
how I run my communications.

Is that right?

We could arrange for a car

to collect you from the rear entrance.

What would you do?

I would go out the front.

You're the law enforcement administration,

and that goes double for your own home.

You are gonna come down hard,

but there isn't a household
in the country that won't relate.

And I would praise the police to the heavens

for bringing this to your attention.
And this is why London works.

You're wasted over there in the swamp.

You do understand that?

Oh, and Richard Miller,

he's like an iceberg.

It's what's below the surface
you need to worry about.

But you're a smart girl,
you'll figure that out. Hmm?

Nice to meet you, Liz.

Safety off!

Armed police! Knife down!

Knife down! Drop your weapon! Drop it!

Get down on the floor!
Look at me! Look at me!

Fire!

Nice one, Robbo. You nailed it.

I did it. Matt, I did it.

This is what happens when
you mess with the big dog.

Yeah, big man, yeah.
Punching a girl in the face.

In two days' time, this man will be armed
and on the streets of London.

The pin has been pulled from the grenade.

Thank you so much
for stepping in so last minute.

Sharon's just feeling a little bit iffy.

No. Glad to be of service.

I was under the impression
Liz might be present?

Oh, she got caught up in something.

Right. And pretty sure
I know the answer on this one,

but bearing in mind the associated risks,

might it be advisable for me

to wear some kind of absorbent pad?

- Not like a nappy?
- No, not a nappy, no. God.

Um...

Something in that wheelhouse?

It feels like it's slightly bumping against
the reassurance vibe.

No. Totally.

Couldn't agree more, actually.

Couldn't agree more.

I shall hold on tight.

Okay, if we're all ready?

Okay, sir. Brace yourself.

Taser. Taser.

Down he goes.

Clean, simple.

And, as you can see totally immobilised.

Any questions?

Mr Delgado, how do you
feel having a stoner for a son?

I'd like to thank the police
for their robust response.

We like to think of ourselves
as the law enforcement administration

and that goes double for my own home.

So he'll be grounded?

Well, that's just for starters.

Once he's been interviewed and processed

I'll be taking him home and then
we'll sit down together as a family.

I've got my binoculars out, Richard.

I'm watching you.

And I've got my little pad and my pen.

So keep an eye on the papers,

because I think they could be
very interesting for you

over the next couple of weeks. All the best.

See you at the conference.

Absolutely. Look forward to it.

Well, he's upset, but I don't think
we're going to have a problem.

We tracked down Kevin McSorley.

- What did he say?
- He was there the night of the firebombing.

- He backs your story.
- Great.

Let's get him on the phone,
I want to put his statement out tonight.

He was working out
of security services at the time.

He's very sorry, but he can't go on record.

I wrote the two-pager on Metwork.

Take a look, see what you think.

Yeah, I've been thinking,

we're going to need to park that.

I've got enough people
trying to chew my bollocks off

without marinating them
and firing up the barbecue.

Is this coming from Finn?

It's not happening, Liz. No website.

Let's not get pouty.

Okay. Point one.

It is not a website, it's a news network.

Point two. We do not park it and move on.

I am trying to dig this place out

and you keep shooting holes in my bucket.

You know what?

I want this idea.

And I want Finn gone,
and if you won't back me, I walk.

When you throw mud, we all get dirty.

My name, my reputation,
we're all sinking in this swamp together.

It's been a difficult day
for Deputy Mayor Grant Delgado

since the arrest of his son
was leaked to the press.

But the consensus appears to be that
he has escaped significant political damage.

Even the Home Secretary, with whom
he's had a notoriously strained relationship,

has come out in support,
saying that the Deputy Mayor

came across in public statements
as a family man

doing what any family man would.

Don't.

Look. Pack it in.

What, really pack it in?

I said get off.

Ripped By mstoll