All language subtitles for 44.Inch.Chest.2009.1080p.BluRay.H264.AAC-RARBG

- And meet Switzerland's
very own real, live rock star.

- Mmm.

What is this, Archie?

- That?
Mulligatawny, king of soups.

- Mmm. Nice.

- Put hairs on your chest,
that will.

- Panorama's on soon
after the news.

David Dimble-bimble-by,
your favorite.

Oh, there's my mobilius.
Excuse I.

Hello?

Y- y-yeah.

Col?

- Just come...

- Colin, what's happened?

- Hello.

Hello, Arch.

Yeah.

- Col?

Col?

Come on, mate.
You can't lie here forever.

- Come on, mate, cheer up.

It might never happen.

- Hurry up.

Get in here, Pop.

- Tosser.

- Oi! Oi!
Sit down!

Concentrate on your snails.

- Get in, you cunt!

- Cuckoldry.

Cuckoldry, terrible word.
Terrible thing.

Is he up to it, d'you think?

- Oh, he'll do it.
He'll do it.

He'll kill him.
He's got to, ain't he?

He just needs a bit more time.

That's all, you know.
Get over the shock.

He'll do it.
No question.

- Well, give him my regards.

Send my condolences.

- Yeah, I will.
I will, Bigg.

I'll pass 'em on.

- Meredith, eh?

Meredith.

- And Mal and Peanut and me.

- Meredith.

- How's̶―how's Rosemary, then?

- I don't know.

Ask her.

- Hello, Rosemary.
How's you, then?

- I'm all right, I suppose.

Thanks for asking.

Is he looking after you?

Keeping you in sausages, innit?

- Who? This cunt?

You're joking, ain't ya?

He opens another tin of chum,
I'm gonna bite his bollocks off.

Charming.

- Well, I'll̶―I'll catch you
later, then, Biggu.

Bye, Rose.

- Toodle pip.

- Fair do's, the guy's hurting,

but fuck me.

- I know. I know.
It's mental.

- Shit happens.
Deal with it.

- How's your hand?

- Throbbing like fuck.

He was on the phone to me
last night,

hour and a half, woke me up.

- Yeah.

- Oh, "cunt" this, "cunt" that.

Reckoned he couldn't sleep.

Pissed out of his brains.

Talking a load of cobblers.

He doesn't know where he is.

- I been there.

- No, not like this, mate,

not like him, not like Colin,

not like Colin Diamond.

Ah, believe me,
you should have heard him.

Fucking hell.

On and on,
telling me his fucking dreams.

Get this, he's in a phone box,

only it isn't a phone box.

It's her cunt.

- It's her what?

- That's right, her cunt,
with teeth.

Oh, no-no-no-no, pardon me.

Let's get this right.

Not teeth; Dentures.

- Dentures.

- That's right.
Her cunt's got dentures.

- Jesus Christ.

- And they're snapping,
clacking at him̶―on him.

Nibbling his arse.
Biting his balls.

I mean, I'm trying not to laugh.

I'm knackered.

Half past 3:00 in the morning,
hearing all this shit.

- Fucking hell.

- Ah, that's right,
and it goes on.

It goes̶―a door opens.

In walks a cock.

That's right.
You heard.

Yeah, that's right, a cock.
In walks a cock.

And it's massive.

It's not his.

Guess whose.

That's right.

Oh, fuck's sake.

Oh, then, yeah―
then he's on a plane.

All right, he's having
his dinner, club class,

and he's dressed as a clown.

Oh, yeah, big red nose
like Ronald fucking McDonald.

And then―

And the waitress
comes up the aisle

and starts whacking him
in the back of the head.

Oh, you make sense of it, mate.

I mean, it's fucking tragic.

- He needs pulling back.

He's on a slippery slope.

Better watch him.

Dressed as a clown?

- Yeah, fucking Coco, mate.

- Hello.

- Old man Peanut's vodka, innit?

- Ah, yeah.

- Taken a sizeable lump
out of that lot.

- You can look at me, you know.

I'm not invisible.

- Who said that?

You all right, son?

- I'm bearing up.

Archie, I'm bearing up.

- Yeah, well,
it's never easy, mate.

Never easy.

- Give us a fucking drink.

- Oh, yeah, here you are, mate.

Brandy, doctor's orders.

What you staring at?

- You're amongst friends here.

Don't make this more difficult
than it already is.

Hear me, Colin?

Look at me.

- Go on, mate, be brave.

- Yeah.

Well, I got to, ain't I?

- That's the stuff.

- Yeah, that's the spirit.

- Can't believe it.

I still can't believe it.

I just can't fucking believe it.

- Yeah, well, it's unbelievable.

Like a bad dream, innit?

Can't believe it.

- Where's old man fucking
Peanut?

- I'm fucking here.

That's where he is, cunt.

- Sorry, Pop.
We wondered where you was.

- Don't "Pop" me.

I'm fucking here.

Well, give us a fucking drink.

- D'you want me to pour it
for you?

- Give it here!

Tosser.

How is he, all right?

- Yeah, he's all right,
ain't ya, Colin?

Yeah.

- You get it together, you cunt.

You hear me?

Hey?

Get it to-fucking-gether.

We can't have this.

You was a fucking disgrace
last night.

Inept.

Tonight, the kid gloves are off.

Show some fucking backbone.

You're a man.
Fucking act like one!

- He'll get there.
He'll get there.

- And the bloodied slave
rose to his feet,

thrust his hand
into his defiant chest,

tore out his own heart,
threw it at the aggressor,

saying, "Free from bondage."

Free from fucking bondage,
you cunt!

- Yeah, you're right, Pop.

- Fucking right, I'm right.

Fucking right,
I'm fucking right.

It's the strong
who shall inherit the earth,

not the fucking weak.

- Yeah, you tell him.

- Not the fucking weak!

- Yeah, well, whatever.

This thing's
got to be finished tonight

'cause I'm busy tomorrow.

- You break every other
fucking engagement,

every other fucking engagement.

This takes top priority
above everything, everything!

Till this is done and dusted,
put to bed, laid to rest,

nobody does fucking nothing
but this.

This is where we are.

Here. Now.
This.

Where's fucking Meredith?

- He's late.

- Late?

Late?

No such fucking word.

And I'll tell you this,
if Brighton Billy―

God rest his tortured soul―

had ever caught anyone
being late,

he would've cut
their eyelids off,

stuck 'em in a fucking sack

with a snake, a cockerel,
and a dog,

and chucked 'em
in the fucking sea.

Charming.

- That was how it was.

And believe you me,

once he'd made up his mind,
that was it.

That was it.

Nothing could sway him, nothing.

No surrender.

Immovable, he was, immovable!

A mountain.
A fucking colossus.

You hear me, Colin?

- I just can't believe it.

I can't.

Anybody want any crisps?

- Salute.

- You're late!

- So sue me.

God.

Fuck me.

Déjà vu.

You enjoying those?

- Fuck off.

- So what's happening, kittens?

- More of the same.

- How are you feeling today,
Colin?

You look terrible.

- He's good.

He's fucking strong.

- Oh, that's good.
That is good.

He don't look it.

- No, he's all right.

- Yeah, better than he was
last night.

Here, Meredith,

I bumped into Biggy Walpole
this morning.

He was asking after you.

- Was he?

Now, that's funny.
He hates me.

- Does he?

Didn't seem like it.

- Is he a poof and all?

- Not sure.

Is he, Arch?

- Who? Biggy?

I don't think so.

- Arch doesn't think so, Peanut.

- Ha.

- What was he wearing?

- Don't know.

A jacket?

- I get waves...

- Jacket, eh?

- Up and down.

- Tweedy.

- I mean,
look at the fucking state of me.

- Tweedy, eh?

- All I ever did was love her.

Maybe I loved her too much.

Maybe that's it.

Liz?
It's me.

I'm home.

Here he is.

He's bearing gifts.
Look.

Look what I got you.

Avril's been at it again,

fucking up big style.

She's useless.

Almost cost us a sale
on an XKR Jag.

Fucking hell,
last week the Saab,

this week the Jag.

I gave her a verbal warning,

told her if
she didn't buck up her ideas,

she'd be out the showroom.

I'll stick her desk in
the backyard beside the khazi.

Liz, love, what's wrong?

What is it?

What's the matter?
What's up?

What's happened?

- Colin.

- Liz, love, what's wrong?

- I'm so sorry.

- What you sorry for?

What you―
what you sorry for, Liz?

- I'm sorry, Colin.

- So you said.
You've said that.

I've got that.

What you sorry for, Liz?

You're scaring me, Liz.

- I've met someone else.

- What?

You're kidding.

- I'm sorry.

- Someone else?

I- I don't understand.

I've just come in
through the door,

and now I'm...

Now I'm, um...

Met someone else?

I know what you're all thinking.

"Poor Colin.

He's pathetic."

You can say it.

I can take it.

Well, you can all fuck off.

Sling your dirty hooks.

Sorry to have inconvenienced you
and all that,

but your services
are no longer required.

Snakes.

Laughing at me.

I might look like a cunt,
but I'm not fucking stupid.

- No, it's her
that's stupid, Col.

It's Liz.

- What do you know about her?

What do you know about
what it means

to be fucking married?

You still live
with your fucking mum.

- Oi.

- This is why Loverboy
must be killed.

This is why she must be killed.

Do this to a man?

Jesus fucking Christ almighty.

Fire and fucking sword.

It's unforgivable.

De-fucking-plorable.

Look at the man.

Where is he?

Look at him.
He ain't there.

Someone else.

Fucking shell that is, if that,

sad, empty shell.

Hurts your fucking eyes.

Can hardly look at him.

Make you weep.

Oh, mother of God,
they will suffer.

Oh, yeah, they will suffer.

That is my promise.

They will fucking suffer.

- I'm sorry, Arch.

I don't know what I'm saying.

I'm cracking up, mate.

- That's all right, mate.

Forget about it.

It's understandable.

- Here, Colin,
this'll cheer you up.

Have a guess
how much I won last night.

- Fucking suffer.

- Have a guess.

- How much you win?

- Well,
when I left here last night,

I was buzzing.

I was on my way to
the Buckingham for a quick one.

None of you wet willies
wanted to come.

And guess who I bumped into.

- Meredith!

- Tippi Gordon...

- Off his fucking face,
pumping, zooming.

Pupils the size of a sixpence.

You up for it?

Are you with me?

Night of it, beauty boy?

You up for it?
Boys' night out?

- He was on his way
to the Grenadier,

invites me along.

I like a line the size
of a fucking Toblerone.

Oi, bumface, here you are.

- Get your nose stuck into that.

- Go on, then.
What'd you win?

- £40,600 is what I won.

- Fucking hell.
- Fuck me.

- How?

- Well...

We were fucking about.

So I bet Tippo five grand

he can't win
six grand in a minute.

- I fucking can.

- Go on, then.

Smacks six thou down
on the black.

Red, cunt.

Double or quits.

- He bets black.

- Black! Come on!
Come on, you cunt!

Come on, come on, come on,
black.

Come on, then, red.
God!

Double or quits twice.

- Bets black.

- Come on.
Come on.

Black! Black!
Come on!

Red, cunt.
Double or quits.

- For the third time.

Only this time, he bets red.

- Now, come on, come on.

Come on, come on, come on!

Come on, oh, yeah, yeah.

Come on.

Black!

- Cunt, cunt.

- Meredith.

- "You are a cunt.

"Here's your £40,000.

Thank you very much.
See ya."

Well, for a giggle,

I've had £400
on the pontoon table.

Splat blackjack.

Lovely.
Six to four.

That's me done.

Fillet steak, couple of spuds.

Last drink, large calvados.

"Home," methinks,
"Get me a cab."

Over the bridge.

Bung him a nifty.
"Ta, gov."

Wipe my feet, cup of cocoa,

into me Jim-jams, lights out.

Ain't life grand?

- You mean you didn't stop off
at the poofs' club?

- No, Peanut,
since you so kindly ask,

I did not go to the Clayton,

not last night,
but I shall be there tonight

later on, looking for
some hot male action.

Is that all right with you?

- Don't fucking start, you two.

- Putting your one
in another man's bum.

Sodomite.

Buggerer.

- Peanut, what I choose to do
with my 91/2

has got fuck-all to do with you.

- It's disgusting.

Man with man.

- All right, all right.

- Fucking smarm.

- All right!

I've loved you too much,
haven't I?

That's what I've done wrong.

Driven you away, driven you
into the arms of someone else.

That's what I've done.

Suppose I deserve it; Must do.

Who'd have thought it, eh?

That you can love someone
too much?

I just don't understand
what I've done wrong.

You're gonna miss me.

You've made a mistake.

You're gonna―
you're gonna miss me.

You're really gonna miss me.

And in a couple of days' time
when it all sinks in,

oh, you'll regret that.

What an error.
What a boo-boo.

You've messed up.

Boy, have you messed up.

And y-you know what?

When you realize
how silly you've been,

how impulsive,
how feminine you've been,

you’re gonna come
running back to me

with your tail between your legs

begging me to come back to you.

And will I?
Will I?

No, not on your Nelly.
No, no.

No.

Hang on, Colin.
Hang on, old son.

You're lying to yourself.

'Course, you'll take her back.
'Course, you will.

I'll take you back, Liz.

I'll forgive you,

'cause that's
what overlovers do, you see?

They―they overlove.

They love too much.

- It's not working between us.

Well, it's not working for me,

and it hasn't been working
for a long time.

- That's because you haven't
been doing your bit, Liz.

You haven't been doing your bit,
you see?

Love is like a garden,

and in order to keep it
looking beautiful,

you got to do the weeding,

and you haven't been doing
the weeding, Liz.

It's because you're lazy.

You're―
you're a lazy lover, Liz.

And now the garden is overrun.

It's a jungle, innit?

We're lost in the jungle,
and we can't see each other.

- I don't feel like that, Colin.

I don't feel the same as you.

I just want to get out.

- Well, fuck off, then.

Go on, get.
Fuck off.

I'll be all right,
you selfish bastard.

I ain't gonna stop you.

Get your stuff and leave mine.

I'll attend to that.

You fuck off, you horrible cunt.

You're a traitor.
I hate you.

- Well, if you're gonna
start calling me names―

- Don't you―

a nasty, unfaithful cow who
sucked another man's bell-end―

tell me―fucking tell me
that I'm calling you names.

Who is he?

- Does it matter?

- Who is he?

Tell me the cunt's name.
I want to know.

- He's just a guy.

- Oh, just a guy.

He's just a guy.

Not a bloke?

Not just a bloke?

He's a "guy."

He's a cunt.

I'll cut his cock off
when I find him.

- Stop it, Colin.

- Oh, that's right.

Stick up for the cunt,
'cause you're on his side,

side of the "guy."

Well, let me tell you
something, Liz,

and mark my fucking words,

I will tear the flesh
off his face with my teeth

and stick it
in your fucking handbag.

- Right, that's it.
I'm going.

We'll talk later.

- Where d'you think
you're going?

You ain't going nowhere.

You think you can say that to me
and just go?

Leave me with that?

Stick a bomb in my brain
and just go?

Well, you can't.

Tell me his fucking name.

I caught her
right on the fucking chin.

Her head...
bounced off the door frame.

She fell, looking at me.

- Good boy.

- Good boy.
Not good boy.

Not good boy.

I hit her so hard.

I heard her teeth rattle
in her fucking head.

She was laying there.

She wouldn't look at me.

"Tell me.
Tell me," I said.

"Tell me his fucking name."

But she wouldn't look at me.

- Well, she wouldn't, would she?

She couldn't, could she?

- Too ashamed.

- I grabbed her by the throat,
punched her.

"Tell me."
Punched her.

"Tell me his fucking name."

She said it.

She told me.

- Just like that?

- Brazen fucking audacity.

- Cheeky cunt.

- Taking the piss, mate.

- Just like that,
right in the heart.

- Ay, yi, yi, yi, yi.

- Straight in the heart.

- You hearing this?

What you've done?

What you're responsible for?

You proud of yourself?

Was it worth it?

All this pain?

- Fucked his wife.

Fucked his fucking wife.

You fucking wife-fucker, you.

You fucked his fucking wife,
you wife-fucking cunt.

Another man's wife.

You stupid?

Are you fucking thick, you cunt?

Fuck another man's wife?

You don't do that.

You do that, it ends in this.

This.

This is where it ends.

You listening?

Are you hearing me?

Shitter.

Little shitter.

- You should have got
your own fucking wife to fuck.

- You're in deep shit, mate.

You're in
the worst possible place

a man can find himself.

When d'you wanna do this,
Colin, eh?

Come on.
When we doing it?

Come on.
It's time, innit?

Get it fucking done.

What d'you reckon, eh?

Come on.
My blood's fucking up.

What we saying?

Yes? No?
What?

Col?

It's up to you, mate.

You're the one in the cunt hat.

- It's about time, Colin.

- Get the fucker out here.

- Well?

- I got to find her.

- Well, don't look at me.

- What age is Liz, Arch?

- She's 42.

- Ah, 44.

- Fucking hell,
she looks good for 44.

- How would you know?

- Peanut, would you like me
to spank your bony arse?

- Gorgeous woman.
Glamorous.

Vivacious.
Sparkling.

- You're not wrong.

- Beautiful face.

- Oh, lovely.

- It's a shame.

- That it is.

- She could be anywhere!

- Nah, that was Tommy Yardley,
stouter of the two.

He couldn't drive.

- Never stopped him, though,
did it?

- Beard?

- Yeah, that's him.

- Poof?

- No.

Who are you thinking of?

- He's thinking of Faraday.

He's been dead years.

- Faradau.
He was all right.

He was a gentle giant.

- He was only 5'4".

- I fucked him back in the '80s.

I'm telling you,
he was a gentle giant.

- Did ya?
I didn't know that.

- Well, you do now.

- He was a very shy man.

I liked him.

- No, it's not that cunt
I'm thinking of.

It was that other cunt,
the cunt with the ears,

pen and inked
something terrible.

- That's Dougie Clark,

the human stink bomb.

- I got a bone to pick
with that cunt.

- You can't get close enough,
though, can you?

- No, not without a gas mask.

- Ain't he heard of a bath, eh?

An invention called a bath?

Can you imagine
under his foreskin?

- Oh, fucking hell, please.

Gonna make me sick.

- You wouldn't go there for
your summer holidays, would you?

Imagine that.
Fuck me.

- Just a time when we―

It ain't as if we didn't fuck.
We did.

Only just last week,
last Thursday.

I mean, she wanted to.

She instigated it.
She came.

Aye, she did.

In fact, I didn't,
but it don't matter.

That's not what it's about.

It's about being close,
about warmth,

about being
a normal married couple.

I mean, why would she do that?

Why flush it all down
the fucking toilet?

Why?

What a waste of time, energy,
everything.

What's it mean?

I mean, surely marriage
is something.

I mean, what's it all about?

I mean,
what's the fucking point?

21 fucking years,
good times and bad,

down the fucking plug hole,

up the fucking Suwannee, eh?

I mean, what are they gonna say?

What am I gonna tell 'em?

I mean, what does one
tell the children?

Fucking hell.

Mu poor babies,
your mother's a whore.

I can't bear it.

I can't breathe.

I'm serious.

- Colin, stop it.

- I can't.

Can't breathe.

- No, you're just panicking.

- Help me.

- Calm down, mate,
just calm down.

You'll be all right.

- Someone!
- Just breathe.

- Is he all right?

- This is shameful.

Get a grip, you cunt!

- Mercy.

- Colin!

- Colin.

Look at me.

- That's it.

That's it.

- Yeah, talk him down, Meredith.

- You're all right, mate.

You're all right.

That's it.

Easy does it.

Fucking hell.

- Listen to me.
You're all right, all right?

You're all right, right?

Listen to me.

You're a good man.

Got that?

Never forget that.

Cling to that.

You listening to me?

You've done nothing wrong.

You've been wronged.

You're in the right.

Remember that, right?

Right, now, there's characters

like that handsome,
young macho boy.

- Easy. Easy.

Characters like that
will come along to test you,

to make you doubt yourself,

to hate yourself,

to turn your life upside down,

but it's times like this,
you find out who you are.

You listening to me?

You getting this?

- Yeah.

- Listen to me.

You don't disgust me.

You're not pathetic.

You're not weak.

You're normal.

You're human, and humans hurt.

Right?

- That's right.

- Have you had this, Meredith?

- Me?

No, but I'm quite lucky.

I'm not―

I'm different to you.

I don't share your emotions.

I don't love like you do.

Maybe I should be a family man,
but I'm not.

With me, sex is sex,
no more, no less,

cold, hard, dark, and sweaty,
sudden, excessive.

When I shoot my wad,
I leave the room.

Put mu coat on,
and I leave the room.

No thank-yous.

No "I really enjoyed that."

I leave the room,
and I don't go back.

But I can afford to do that.

I've got that luxury
'cause I'm charismatic.

People are drawn to me.

Now, maybe I'm cowardly,

but I choose to live my life
without entanglements,

without turmoil.

With me, it's the five Fs:

Find 'em, follow 'em,

finger 'em, fuck 'em,
forget 'em.

But you possess
different qualities, Colin.

That's what makes you you.

You're more
sharing "stroke" caring.

Your capacity to love
leaves you vulnerable,

but you should be proud of that.

It means you care.

You should be proud.

- Proud?

- Proud, that's what
you should be, proud.

- Why?

- 'Cause that's what
you should be.

- Proud, you fucking pilchard,
proud.

Have a bit of pride.

- What would you do?

- About what?

- Well, everything,
mu situation.

- Well, I'd prioritize.

I mean, if it was me,
he'd be dead already.

- Yeah, but if you was me?

- That's a big leap for me,
Colin.

- Please, try.

- I'd toss a coin.

Heads, I'd skin him alive,

find her, do the same.

- And if it was tails?

- That's the hard part, Colin.

- No, I couldn't do that.

I mean, how can I do that?

I mean, let him go.

No, I don't think I can do that.

- Let's hope it's heads then.

Who's got a coin?

- You're a nasty bastard,
ain't ya?

- Am I?

- I got a 2p.

- Hang on, Colin.

A long 'un says it's heads.

- All right, you're on, yeah.

- Yeah, I'll have some of that.

- Nasty bastard.

- All right, go on, Col.

- Squeeze her tits, did ya?

- How was that?

- Do the trick, did it?

Get her going?

- Hand up her skirt
inside her knickers?

It's all right, innit?

- Loverboy.

- Wanker.

- Get it out, did ya?
Give it a rub?

- In the noddy?
On the bed?

- Spit and polish?

- I bet.

- Cop a feel?

- David Copperfield?

- Nice and wet, was she?

- Do you like that?

- You make me sick.

- Use a banana?

- Blimey O'Reilly.

- What's your secret?

Old Spice?

- Splash it all over?

- Now you're talking.
A little bit kinky.

- Oh, yeah, golden shower.

- The erotic world
of Jacques Cousteau.

- So what was it, then?

Eyes meet across the room?

Crashing waves?
Fireworks?

"I think I love you."

"Will you marry me?"

"Oh, darling, forever."

Bollocks.

Bum her, did you?

- Oh, dear.

- Kama Sutra?
69?

- 99 Flake?

- Lickety split?

- Lick it. Lick it.

- The ol' Vaseline?

- Nice and easy.

- Playboy.

- Arsehole!
- Playmate!

- Cunt!
- Fucker!

- Polaroids?
- Bombay roll?

- Ah, that's handy.
- Pearl necklace?

- That looks nice.

- Terrible thing to do.

- Rock-hard Hudson.

- Upstairs, downstairs?

Round the back?

- Bull's-eye.

- You're a bit of a boy,
ain't ya?

Bit of a fucking boy?

- Stud.

- That's 20th-century Casanova

sitting there in a plastic bag.

- Certainly is.

- Right rascal.

- Didn't use a candle, did ya?

Don't tell me that.

- He didn't, did he?

- Fucking did!
- Fucking hell!

- Not love eggs?

That's awful.

- The man's a love machine.

- She's a mother!

That's somebody's mother,
you idiot.

She's got children.

- She's a wife!

Can't be off gobblin'!

- She's got a grieving husband.

That's him.

That's Colin.

- You've ruined him!

- He's a husk.
Nothing left of him!

- He's shattered.

You've shat on him, you shit.

- That's his missus.

That was his missus you diddled.

That was Liz.

That was his Liz!

That was his Liz you fucked.

That's Mrs. Diamond,
Mrs. Colin Diamond.

A married woman, you berk!

- And you a fucking waiter.

A fucking waiter!

A fucking frog waiter!

You cunting spunker.

You sorry fuck.

You'll be fucking sorry.

You thought yesterday
was something.

Today's gonna be something else.

Yesterday was nothing.

I've been home, had a bath,
had a kip,

something to eat,
watched a bit of telly.

I got a life.

Been down the pub, had a laugh.

I had a drink.
I had a dance.

And you?
You stink.

Locked in a fucking wardrobe.

Chucked in like a puppet,

like an unwanted toy.

You sack of shit.

I'm rolling up me sleeves.

Say your fucking prayers.

- I want to be alone with it.

- Is that a good idea?

- Yeah, all right, Col.

We'll leave you alone for a bit.

Why not?

We'll have a fag in the passage.

- You dare get emotional.

You dare get emotional.

Don't you dare.

Leave that out.

You hear me?

You kill him quick,
and you're a cunt.

Got it?

- Peanut.

- Remember, he had your wife.

Nice and slow, boy.

Nice and slow.

- You thinking, ain't you?

Under that stupid bag,
thinking away.

I can hear it,
hear your brain whirring.

Well, let me have a stab
at what you might be thinking,

beside the obvious,
"Sweet Jesus, please help me."

My guess is you're thinking,

"Why am I still alive?"

Is that right?

Is it?

Nod your fucking head
if that's right.

Thank you.

Well, I'll tell you
why you're still alive,

but this is strictly
between me and you, mind.

See, thing is,
I've got a bit of a dilemma,

which is stupid, I know,

but you see, with you dead,
which is what I want―

Don't get me wrong.
I want you dead.

I think you owe me that.
I do.

'Cause that's what
you've done to me.

You fucking killed me.

But you see, with you dead,

she, Liz, will hate me forever.

End of story.

But on the other hand,
if I let you live,

well, maybe me and Liz,
we can...

Who knows?
Who fucking knows?

You know, I don't even know
what you look like.

Well, it's all been
a bit of a blur, you know?

Last night,
I couldn't see anything,

what with the rage and that,

the disappointment.

Let's have a look at you.

You're not a bad-looking boy.

I can see the attraction.

Yeah, young, fit,
well-built,

sexy.

I mean, be it if you don't
mind me saying so,

it's all a bit obvious, innit?

All a bit of a cliché.

I mean, what was she thinking?
Silly cow.

What a stupid woman.

You don't know
the first thing about her.

I'll bet she's never
farted in front of you, has she?

Has she?

No, I thought not.

I mean, that's not
romantic, is it?

You just want
the perfume clouds of love,

the magicalness of it all,

the false crap.

Well, I've got news for you,
sonny Jim.

That's not love.

I mean, love's hard work,
hard graft.

Love can be murder.

Love is watching what
she wants to watch on the telly,

taking her the papers
and a cup of tea

on a Sunday morning in bed

and inquiring
to how she might be feeling.

"You all right, Liz?

Want some plumping up
of pillows?"

And she might get irritated
bu that,

but you got to take it
on the chin,

have broad shoulders,
'cause she's the queen,

and you're the bee, the dad.

And so what
if you cook the dinner,

and you get no thanks for it?

Don't do it
if you expect thanks.

That's not why you do it.

And, yes, you've forgotten
that dripping tap or whatever

for the past five years,
and then one day,

for whatever reason,
fuck knows why,

you get off your fat arse,

and you find yourself
under the sink

with a spanner in your hand,
and you’re smiling like fuck,

because you know
it's gonna please her.

And if she don't notice it,
she don't notice it.

It don't matter.

It's fixed.
It's plumbed.

It's the maintenance
of a marriage,

the nuts and bolts,

the nitty-gritty,
the reality.

That's life.
That's love.

It ain't easy.

Nobody ever said
it was gonna be easy.

It's fucking hard work.

But you know, love can be...

lovely.

One day,
you'll be in the bathroom

having a shave
in front of the mirror.

You got soap on your face,

and you'll feel her approaching,
you know, entering.

She's left a pair of tights
drying on the radiator.

And as she leaves,
she'll pat you on the bum

and give you a tiny smile,
almost not a smile

but a smile nevertheless,

and it'll mean the world to you,

the whole incredible world,

the fucking universe.

See, me, I'm old-fashioned.

I'm like the swan,
one partner for life.

And then you come along
in your tight jeans,

and you spoil it.

You spoilt my fucking life,

humiliated me,
brought me to my knees,

degraded me.

You ugly cunt,
ugly fucking cunt.

See, love is give and take,
mate, give and take,

give and take.

You took.

I'll give―

I'll give you such
a fucking punch in the mouth

in a minute, cunt.

Cunt!

Oh, you cunt.

I wet myself last night

'cause of you.

Cried myself to sleep.

Cried myself to fucking sleep
because of you.

Look at me.

Look at me, you cunt.

Fucking look at me, you cunt.

Look at me, cunt.

Fucking look at me, cunt!

Look at me!

- How's your mum, Arch?

- Ah, she's―she's all right.

Fine.
Doing well.

Ah, had a bit of a scare
last week.

She fell out of bed
in the middle of the night.

I didn't hear her.

Found her in the morning
sleeping on the floor.

Frightened the life out of me,

but you know, she's all right.

Doc says it happens, you know.

- She's tough, your mum.
She'll go on forever.

- Oh, yeah, yeah.

She'll outlive me.
That's for sure.

- Do you remember Samson?

Who remembers Samson?

- Had a pet shop
on the Roman Road.

- No, the Bible, a strongman.

- Victor Mature.
Never fancied him.

Now, Oliver Reed,
oh, that's different.

Mamma Mia, what a shag.

Big fat back.

- He meets this bitch.

- Burt Lancaster, scrumptious.

- He falls in love
with the cunt.

- And Paul McCartney,
strangely enough.

- It's Sir Paul now, innit?

- Hedy Lamarr.

- Please, would you let me say
what I'm saying?

- That's who it was
in the film, Hedy Lamarr.

- Yeah, in the film, yeah.

She's a cunt.

- Delilah.

- Yeah, right, hooer.

Oh, he's got
this lovely long hair

as was the style in them days,

and it's where
he's got his strength from.

One night she's drugged him,

put a potion in his drink.

He's gone all woozy,
conked out on the marble floor.

She's crept off
like the rat she is,

and she's come back
with a pair of scissors.

She's give him the full Monty,

short back and sides.

Next morning, he's woke up.

He's going to the bathroom
for a wash,

looked in the mirror,
seen the state of his barnet,

and he's flipped his lid,
hit the roof.

He's gone apeshit!

- I've taken away
your strength, Samson.

- He's reached
for his trusty broadsword

only to discover
he can't pick it up.

His strength was in his hair,
you see?

Couldn't even pick up
his fucking toothbrush.

From then on,
his life was terrible,

fell apart.

They stabbed his eyes out,
blinded him,

stuck him in a dungeon,
bread and water,

whipped, lashed
morning, noon, and night.

His life was a fucking misery.

All the while, see,
his hair's growing back in.

He's getting stronger.

She's come to visit him,

tries to make it up,
but he don't want to know.

Well, he does sort of,
but anyway...

Now bu this stage,
his hair's down here.

His might's coming back,
slowly but surely.

And comes the day of
the big party in the temple.

He's well up for it, can't wait,

bent on vengeance.

But he's got fuck-all on him:

No weapons, no nothing.

He's chained up
between these two columns,

great thick pillars.

All the guests are taunting him,
slagging him off,

calling him this and that,
every name under the sun.

And he thinks to himself,
"Right, fuck you lot.

Have some of this."

And with his bare hands,

with his simple,
big, bare fucking hands,

he pushed, and he's pushed,

pushed and pushed,
huffing and puffing,

heaving and hoeing,

until the very foundations
of the house of debauchery

start to crack, to yield,
to crumble.

And I'm telling ya,

they built things proper
in them days, built to last.

This was no mean feat.

And with one mammoth shove,
one terrible thrust,

he's brought the whole caboodle
crashing to the ground.

He's killed the whole fucking
lot of 'em.

- And himself.

- Well, and himself.

Well, he don't give a fuck about
himself bu this point, do he?

And all because, all because,

all because,

and all because of a woman.

- You accept you've spunked
all over my marriage?

Note the prisoner
nodded his head.

How do you plea?

Exactly, a sin.

Before we pass sentence,

have you got anything
to say for yourself?

No.

Take him away.

Come here.

- Colin!

Colin.

- I knew she'd show
her Jezebel face.

- Here, Romeo,
things are looking up.

The cavalry's arrived.

Can't you smell it?

- Bastards.

- Now, that's something
I don't like, a woman swearing.

It's unbecoming.

- She wants her fucking mouth
washed out with soap, she does.

- Joking, mate.
She'd fucking love that.

- You must all
be proud of yourselves.

- Not yet, we ain't,
but we're gettin' there.

- What have you done to him?

- Ah, that's all
self-inflicted.

Yeah, self-inflicted.

- He's a masherkist.

- A what?

- Masherkist.

Oh, you must know
what a masherkist is.

A masherkist!

- Don't say that word anymore,
please.

- Mal, have you got a light?

- What?
Oh, yeah.

- What are you doing?

- Giving her a light.

- Well, just give her it, then.

Don't have to be all that.

- Thanks, Mal.

- Here, Liz.

Here's a funny thing.

Last week, right,
I went out for a pair of shoes

down Bond Street.

I popped into this shop.

I said, "That's the pair I want,

those in the window in a ten."

So he brings them to me.

I tries 'em on.

Beautiful, like slippers.

Bit loud for this lot,
but me to a tee.

"I'll have 'em.
How much?"

"£444."

So I'm counting out the money,

and I feel the assistant,
he's a bit close to me,

like his head's by my chin.

So I've eased him back a tad,

and I said,
"How much were these again?"

And he's told me.

He's repeated it,
"£444."

"Tell you what," I says.

"I'll give you £500 for them."

"I'll bring you the box,"
he says,

but I've called him back.

"Never mind the box," I says,
"Just stick 'em in a paper bag."

"Right you are, sir," he says
and toddles off.

- I know you hate me.

- Lovely shoes.

Hate you?

There's no hating,

not in this room.

- Those them?

- These are boots.

This was shoes.

Fancy a drink, Liz?

Sorry we ain't got a glass.

D'you mind the bottle?

- Up your arse?

Peanut.
Apologies for that.

That was uncalled for.

Do you forgive him?

- Why'd you give him £500
for them?

- Oh, you wouldn't understand.

- No, I don't.

- He was being flash.

- No, not at all.

- Is it true?
Is it?

Is it true, Liz?

- Is what true?

- Is it true you're expecting?

- Is she?

- Could be.

Could be, Col.

Eh?

A little one, a little bastard?

- Shut up, you idiot.

- If it is true,

you're coming round my house,
get in the back room,

bottle of gin, in the tin bath,

and my Agnes'll take care of it
with a coat hanger.

- Not exactly BUPA, is it?

- It's the way it's done,

what you do to amend.

- Now you’re just
getting your rocks off.

He's just getting
his rocks off, Colin.

- If she were mine,
I'd stone her.

- Like you've been stoning
Agnes for years?

- You bitch.

Bad-mouthing me.

You?

It's outrageous.

Colin,
knock some sense into her,

beat it out of her.

Wha―if you’re not gonna
do something about it, Colin,

I'll do something.

- Like what?
Piss your pants?

- How dare you?

I'll mark your face forever.

I'll knock your― oh, oh.

- Come on, then.

What are you waiting for?

- Colin!

- No, don't rise to it, Pop.

- Eh?
- Don't rise to it.

- Yeah, you're right.

Why give her the satisfaction?

Wouldn't give her the pickings
out of me handkerchief.

- He's not saying much, is he,
Tom Cruise?

- He's keeping his head down,

hoping it will go away.

- Well, it won't!

- Oi, fishface,
she's looking at you.

Now she's looking at me.

Now she's looking at you again.

Do you see that?

How she went from love to hate
in a split second?

- Typical.

- Come on then.

Give her a look.

A look of love.

Oi, buggerlugs, you listening?

Am I talking to myself here?

Fucking look at her.

Look at her,
you worthless cowson.

- Adulterer!

- Look at her.
- Cunt.

- Stop it.

- Shut up.
Look at her.

By the way,

do you still love her?

There's your answer.

I think
we can take that as a "no."

Well, we've learnt something.

Fear is stronger than love.

- I knew that.

Everyone knows that.

- Do they?

- Should he be seeing that?

- Can't be favorite.

- They may as well be fucking
doing it in front of him.

- Yeah, it's got to smart.

- You do not
want to see your wife

tending to another man
in that way.

That's husband-only stuff.

- It's quite beautiful, really.

- What you on about?

It's ugly.
It's hideous.

Pornographic!

- It's like a painting.

Loverboy being tended bu his Liz

while spare prick Colin
looks on.

Oil on canvas.

I think I might paint that
when I get home,

give it to Archie's mum
on Pancake Day.

- Shut up.

Poor bastard.

- You all right, Col?

- I'm all right, Archie.

- What?

- I'm Archie.

- I'm Mal.

- Well, I'm not Colin.

- That's interesting.

- Eh?

- He's gone.

- Gone where?

Where you gone, son?

- There is no Colin.

No such man.
No such person.

You remember Colin, don't you?

'Course you do, his kindness,
his sweet nature.

Couldn't do enough, could he?

Family man, proud.

His kids, his home, his wife.

How he used to make her laugh,
spoil her, dote on her.

He met Colin, didn't you?

Last night.
Do you remember?

Ah, he met Colin all right,

the man Colin.

- Yeah, he fucked
his fucking wife, didn't he?

Fucked his fucking wife.

- What?
And you wouldn't?

- What'd you say?

What'd she say?

- I said, "Given half a chance,
you’d try and fuck me."

- Not now, I wouldn't.

- Well, when, then?

- Never.
Fuck off.

What is this?

Fuck's sake.
What?

The fuck is this?

Don't.
Don't do this, Col.

This ain't right.

What you trying to do?

Put me in a fucking wardrobe?

Hey, I ain't going
in the fucking wardrobe.

I refuse to go
in the fucking wardrobe.

All right?

Fucking making me out to be a...

- To be a what?

- Look,
she's a good-looking woman.

She's beautiful.
She's sexy.

She's horny.

Fucking Meredith said as much.

You'd have to be blind
not to notice, deaf and dumb.

Look, Colin, you've obviously
got a bee in your bonnet

about something, but all I done
was give her a light.

- I've told you.

I'm not Colin.

- Yeah?
Well, I'm not fucking Liz.

He is.

Oh, fucking hell.

- What are you staring at,
you French cunt?

Sitting there all superior.

Shut your mouth.

Shut your noise.
Shut your eyes.

Shut your fucking eyes.

You're coming with me.

Well, this is it.

Here we are,

the master bedroom,
recently painted.

That's the bed.

See?
Tangled sheets?

That's the bathroom, en suite.

Look, gold taps.

But don't worry about that.

Ignore that.

That's not why you're in here.

This is.

This.

Look.

Look, this, that.
That there.

That chest of drawers,
it's for a treasure, mate,

more treasure
than you can fucking believe.

Should we have a look inside it,
shall we?

Yes, we fucking shall.

What's this?

It's her underwear.

It's all soft and warm
and pretty.

We'll put that back.

What's in this one?

Ah, now that looks interesting.

Bingo.

See this?

You see it?

You know what it is?

No?

It's a contract.

It's a marriage contract.

Do you know what it says?

"Mr. and Mrs. Colin Diamond."

It's in black and white,

sure as the broken nose
on your face.

"Married by law before God."

Now, there's
no getting around that, mate.

We have to accept that.

Tell you what.

Let's put that to one side.

What else we got?

Here's the little man
off the top of the cake.

Ah, don't he look handsome
in his morning suit

and spats and all?

That's me.

That's how small
you've made me feel.

I'm gonna
put him back in the drawer now

where he's safe,

away from you.

What's happening, Meredith?

- I'm not Meredith.

- It's your nightmare, Col.

I'm only the chauffeur.

I'm in the drive
waxing the roller.

I can feel her eyes on me,

scorching through
my dove gray uniform,

but I'm damned
if I'm gonna look back at her.

Think I'll have a fag.

It's hard work,
rubbing down a car.

What do I smoke, Col?

- Ambassadors.

- Ambassadors?

All right, get the old, ugly
red pack out,

put one in the mouth,

yellow clipper,

light it,

lean on the bonnet,

puff away.

And she's still
fucking looking at me, ain't ya?

Hang on.

You're playing this safe, Col.

I'm homosexual.

This is more Mal.

- Oh, fucking cheers, Meredith.

What am I doing here?

Is she looking at me?

Hold on.
What's she doing now?

She's licking
the bleeding glass.

What's she doing that for?

That's a bit weird, innit?

Bloody hell.
That's not right, that ain't.

That's wrong.

Take note, Colin.

This has nothing to do with me.

I'm simply standing here,
minding me own business,

having a break,
having a KIT KAT.

- They ain't looking for
a gardener at this place

by any chance, are they?

- Don't think
you'd like that job.

Don't think you'd be interested
in that particular post.

- Why's that?
- Gardener fucks the maid.

- Sounds all right.
- You ain't seen the maid.

- I'll be all right.
I'll be wearing muddy gloves.

- What about me?

- Well, Col, since you ask,

you're the thing in the basement
with the hood on.

Lies!

Tell me you don't love me, Liz.

- I don't love you.

- Come on.
Say it.

I can take it.

Say you don't love me.

- I don't love you.

- Don't say that.

- What did you say?

- She don't love you, Col.

- You don't love me?

Not even a little bit?

You were my queen.

You were my rock.

I love you.

It's as simple as that
and as complicated,

whichever it is.

I'm not sure. I don't―
I wish I knew.

I wish you hadn't
have done this, Liz.

I really wish
you hadn't have done this.

I just―I wish that we―

Shut your fucking mouth,
you cunt!

I'll rip your fucking arsehole
out in a minute!

That we...
I love you.

I just need you
to understand that, Liz, please.

Surely I deserve something.

I mean, 21 years is a long―

a- a life... to dedicate.

Surely, Liz, please.

Something...

- Help me.

- What?

- Help me.

Help me.

Help.

Help me.

- Tell me his fucking name!

Oh, Liz.

- Yeah, massive, it was.

Massive head.

The size of it,
it's like a melon,

like a pumpkin.

Grotesque.
Huge.

Well, it wasn't so much
his head.

It was his face.

It was sort of abnormally big,
an abnormality.

The bone structure
was out like that―

rhinoceroussy―

and had grown out of proportion
to the rest of him,

because his skull―
the skull itself,

you know, the top of it―

that was in actuality
quite small.

It's no bigger than a coconut,

but it was all pointy and all.

Yeah, the coroner said
he'd never seen nothing like it.

He thought he'd found
the missing link.

- Sounds fucking horrible.

- No, the women loved him.

I mean, I don't know
if he got any of that,

but he was seemingly
quite the thing,

supposedly a great laugh,
good sense of humor.

Well, you'd have to have one,
really, wouldn't ya?

- And he was a good dancer,
this chap?

- Yeah, yeah,
that's what they said, nifty,

right little Gene Kelly.

Sad, though, top yourself
like that, over a cat.

- Must have loved it.

- Yeah, well, animals
don't discriminate, do they?

To the cat, he was beautiful.

- Well, come on.

This won't get the washing done.

- Yeah, he's had enough time,
ain't he?

- What's the pillock doing?

- Oh, my arse has gone to sleep.

- The old numb bum?

- It's all
gone a bit quiet in there.

- So what do you reckon?

- Let's go in.
Fuck it.

- Hope to Christ
he's done something.

- Don't hold your breath.

- What's been happening
then, Col?

- We any further forward?

- He's still with us, I see.

- Well, I'm gonna have a beer.
Who wants one?

- Yeah, I'll have one.

- Nothing's happened.

Why has nothing happened?

Don't you want
your pound of flesh?

- Not looking like it.

- Lord love a duck.

I give up.
Fuck this.

Streuth.

Fucking baby!

Milksop!

- Had any thoughts, Col?

- Col?

- Aye?

- Any thoughts?

- Thoughts?

- Yeah, thoughts.

- Oh, one or two.

- Oh, yeah?
Like what?

- I'm letting him go.

- Do what?

You ain't.

- That's my decision.

That's what I've decided.

- Cobblers.
- Maybe.

- Poppycock!
- Oh, it's his call.

It's your call, Col.

Oh, "Call, Col," hark at me.

I'm tired.

- Lightweight.

- Well and truly
cream crackered.

- So what we saying?

He's walking?

- He's free to go.

- Free to go?

Free to go?

Why don't you give him
a kiss good night as well

while you're at it?

Let's have
a whip-round for the cunt.

Oh, I can hear Brighton Billy
spinning in his fucking grave!

Free to go!

- Oi, he's listening.

Look, his ears
are out on stalks.

He can't believe it.

- It's not too late
to change your mind, Col.

Think about it.

I'll do it for you if you like.
Freebie.

- And Liz, wherever she is,
what about her?

Is she free?

Well, that's it, then.

- He's a very lucky boy.

You're a very lucky boy.

He fucking is very fortunate.

- Well, come on, then, Col.

Do the honors.
It's your party.

Some of us have got homes
to go to.

- I'm really upset about this.

- You're free to go, mate.

You're free to go, mate.

Go on.

- Attaboy.

- Is he finding his land legs?

In your own time.

- Here, you.

Look at me.

Don't you go blabbing off now,
will you?

Good boy.

Now get out of my sight,
you piece of shit.

- Shut the door behind you.

- So, kittens, what we up to?

- Don't know.
What you doing?

- Peanut and me are going
down the Clayton, ain't we, Pop?

Yeah.

- You never know.
You might like it.

- Does it do grub?

Ready for me breakfast.

- Do what you want.

You coming?

- Yeah, why not?

Be an eye-opener, won't it?

- Right, we ready for the off?

You want dropping off?

- Yeah.
You stopping off for one?

- Yeah, if you like.

Col?

- I might catch you later.

- Well, so we're off now, yeah.

Cheerio.