Original subtitles

Nigel Norman Fletcher, you have been found guilty of the charges

brought against you and it is now my duty to pass sentence.

DOORS SLAM, LOCKS CLICK

Cyber crime is a modern menace.

A man of your obvious ingenuity and intelligence

might have used his gifts on behalf of society.

DOORS SLAM

Instead, you chose to employ them

in a pursuit of self-indulgence, greed and gain.

LOCKS CLICK

You will now face the consequences and go to prison for five years.

DOOR SLAMS

Huh. I can never remember the name of the seventh one.

Seventh what, Joe?

Samurai? Sin? Sisters?

Dwarfs!

There's Happy, Sneezy, Grumpy, Bashful...

Not my era, Joe.

Now, if you was to ask me to name the Reservoir Dogs,

that's a different story.

Mr White, Mr Orange, Mr Blonde, Mr Pink...

Sneezy... You've already said that, you dope!

Dopey! Thanks, Fletch.

Mr Brown! Tarantino himself.

Still only got five...

Now!

What are you doing?

- WHISTLE BLOWING - Ignore it, Joe.

Nothing to do with us.

- Hell's teeth! - What was that?!

Oh, poor little thing! It must have had a heart attack.

- It nearly gave me one! - Or some kid with an air rifle.

- Give pigeon to me! - Why?

We were going to take it back to our cell.

Joe's always wanted a pet.

- Is dead. - We might give it the kiss of life.

- Give now! - Why?

Pigeon fancier, are you?

You pick wrong man to joke with.

I remember your face.

- He's a nasty piece of work. - Who is he?

Don't know, I think he comes from Turkey or Lebanon or...

one of them kebab countries.

Looks like he wanted me on a skewer!

Dougie wants a word, Fletch.

- Sounds ominous. - No, he's got you a present.

I think you're going to like it.

But it's not my birthday.

Good shot, Dougie.

Anything you need, boss?

No. But you stick around, Scudds. This concerns you.

Richie Weeks says he's very grateful for what you did.

What exactly did he do?

Fletch is an IT genius - he hacked into the system

and cleaned up Weeksie's record.

That's how he got parole. He says you're always welcome on Moss Side.

He's royalty up there.

Noel Gallagher played at his sister's wedding.

Could he not get Liam?

No, Liam would have shagged all the bridesmaids,

vomited on the cake.

Anyhow, he owes you, so here's the deal.

He's out, Scuddsy's not, so he's yours.

What do you mean, he's mine?

He's your man, he'll be whatever you need.

Minder, muscle, confidant...

He works for you.

Not any more.

Prison's a hard place, Fletch.

Some bad people in here.

I'll watch your back.

I'll wash it myself!

People talk.

I said WATCH it.

Oh, right.

Well, cheers, fellas.

But you know me, I'm a bit of a loner.

I'm just riding my bang, biding my time.

It's what Weeksie wanted, Fletch.

He wants to know Scuddsy has a home.

Well, what would I feed him, and how often?

I'll leave that to your discretion.

Every ten minutes, by the looks of him.

Look, I don't want to tell him you turned him down.

That'll make him unhappy.

Make me unhappy.

All right.

Cheers, Dougie.

I have a feeling you want to make a moment out of this.

What's life without 'em?

Easy...

Oh!

You've got me for ever.

Is there any problems you need sorted?

Wife having it off with your brother?

Well, I don't have a wife or a brother,

so you can tick that one off the list.

Anything on the inside?

Well, I came across a bloke in the yard -

rough-looking, loads of tats. No sense of humour.

That's about 85% of the prison population.

He's got a teardrop tat under his eye.

That'll be Nagid.

He's from Serbia or Kazakhstan, or one of them countries they go.

Moves a lot of dope.

How does he bring it in? Does he use a pigeon, a dead one?

- Slung over the wall? - It's been known.

I think I might have vexed him.

I'll have a cautionary word in his earhole.

That's quite a smile you've got there, Scuddsy.

Zircons.

All the brilliance of a diamond,

at a fraction of the cost.

DOOR SLAMS

You won't have to darn socks no more, Joe,

- the valet will take care of that. - The what?

Weeksie has given me Scudds as a goodbye present.

- Well, what will his functions be? - Well, darn socks, clean shoes...

break people's legs. It's a nightmare!

He's going to flag me.

It's the last thing I need, draw attention to myself.

Yeah, that's what your grandfather used to say.

Keep under the radar!

Oh, they'd invented that by then, had they?

Cheeky sod.

How have you survived bird all this time, Joe?

- How long has it been? - Oh, I've forgotten.

What would you do if you had it all over?

Well, I wouldn't do what they told me to do.

I mean, work in a factory, a shipyard or a mine? Nah.

Crime suited me just fine.

What, you'd be a crim all over again?

Yeah, but I'd be a better crim!

I mean, if I had been, I wouldn't be banged up, would I?

I'd be in the Med, in my sun-soaked villa,

with its red-tile roof and a mail-order bride...

Where from, Bangkok?

I was thinking more...

Bridlington.

Need anything before lockdown, boss?

No, thanks, Scudds. We're all sorted.

An After Eight on the pillow would be nice.

See what I can do tomorrow.

I had a quiet word with that Nagid geezer.

- Oh, did you? - Nothing to worry about there, boss.

I, er...

I thought you might want that back.

Nighty-night!

GIGGLES

I don't believe it!

Is that going to stay there all night? I'm allergic to feathers!

All right. That smells!

At least it's thinner than it was this morning.

- What's that got to do with anything? - It was full of drugs, Joe!

Ohhh, is that how it died? Of an overdose?

Stand by your beds!

The blue-eyed boy, is that it?

Actually, they're more greenish, Mr Meekie.

- What's your point? - Restoration of privileges.

TV in your cell.

Ah, the Governor might be taken in by you,

but I'm not.

HE SNIFFS

HE SNIFFS

HE SNIFFS

There's a strange pong in this cell.

I think it's the drains.

We've complained, but nobody listens.

I've met people like you all my correctional career, Fletcher.

Oh? I know a bent one when I see one.

I feel it...

in my water.

Water on the brain, is it?

Another smart-alec remark for my grudge bank.

That smell's gone now.

I heard that!

Well, it's flatter now...

DOOR SLAMS

- Sleep well, boss? - Well enough.

Look, doesn't Dougie Parfitt need you,

now he's the big face on the block?

No, no, he told me to hang with you.

Get used to your whims.

I don't have any whims.

But you could get rid of this for me...

Finished with it, have you?

Yes, Scuddsy.

As you surmised, I have no further use for a dead pigeon.

But if I do need another one, you'll be the first to know.

What's going on here, then? Water off again?

No, no. I told them they got to wait until you've had your shower.

The water'd be nice and hot, and that way, you don't

have to worry about any leering, lecherous looks.

WHO ARE YOU LOOKING AT?! LOOK THE OTHER WAY!

Sorry...

Excuse me.

Sorry, excuse me.

So, you have friend now?

Look after you, uh?

Tough guy?

Tough enough.

I have friend, too.

That's good. You need them inside. Can be a lonely place.

THEY LAUGH

Now you make joke.

I don't like jokes.

What, not even the one about the nun and the polar bear?

What was that about?

Well, there's a nun and a polar bear, and they walk into a pub...

Not that!

Him. There's a lot of hate there, Fletch.

How did you upset him?

He's got issues with you, that's for sure.

I think he thinks I dissed him or something.

Yeah, they can have a lot of attitude, Croatians.

I heard he was Maltese.

- A quid says you're wrong. - You're on!

What, you not hungry, Fletch?

Oh, he's got waiter service.

There you go, boss.

Medium rare.

Bon "appetite"!

I didn't know steak was on the menu.

It isn't.

Look, lads.

I sort of inherited Scudds - I had no choice, I have to look after him.

It looks like he's looking after YOU.

Well, that's the deal, all right?

And stop eyeballing my steak, I'll save you a bit!

I don't think we should sit next to you any more.

Why ever not?

They're worried that the you might become like Weeksie,

a sociopathic extortionist.

Power corrupts.

Who said that?

Jose Mourinho.

No!

Further back. Historical.

Er... Alex Ferguson.

Look. Nothing's changed. I'm still me.

So get off my case, all right?!

We got a problem here, boss? One of these being saucy?

No, no. It's all right, Scuddsy,

just a frank exchange of views, that's all.

HE WHIMPERS SLIGHTLY

At ease.

Oh, for Pete's sake, help yourself!

DOORS SLAM, LOCKS CLICK, BUZZER

Keep at it. The fishermen of England need these pots.

Well, why don't THEY make 'em, then? This is a waste of my time.

I want you to make an official request for me to see the governor.

Mrs Hallwood is a very busy woman.

When I get out of here,

all I've got to put on my CV is three years of making lobster pots!

I'm going to waste. I'm a specialist.

I should be holding workshops.

Giving lags a leg up on the path to rehabilitation.

That's never going to happen.

Given access to a computer,

you could hack into the Kremlin in five minutes.

Never. That would take at least ten.

- Scoot up, ladies. - What are you doing here, Scudds?

Fletch is here. So this is where I belong.

- You been reassigned? - I squared it. Don't worry.

This don't look too onerous. What are you making, shopping baskets?

- Lobster pots. - Is that what they catch 'em in?

I thought they harpooned 'em.

So, what did you use to do on the outside, Scuddsy?

I was a wrestler for a while.

I know the game's rigged,

but I still always lost.

I kept getting disqualified for biting.

Anything... legit?

Bouncer, bodyguard. Baby-sitter.

- Baby-sitter? - Yeah, and I never lost one.

This was for me sister. While she was pole-dancing in Dalston.

How'd you hook up with Weeksie?

I met him in 'ere.

We hit it off straight away.

Well, I hit someone FOR him, and he was grateful.

I may never tap a keyboard again.

Look what this nylon wire's doing to my fingers.

Try Nivea, last thing at night.

Nah, moisturising gel, it's more effective.

I find organic coconut oil the best.

Gets deeper into your pores.

- I'll get you some. - Cheers, Scudds.

My pleasure.

So... how do they get in there, then?

- Fletcher, ma'am. - Ah, yes. Come in.

In!

Leave it!

It's all right, Mr Meekie - let him sit.

Sit!

So - Fletcher. You wanted to see me.

Yes, ma'am. I'm very grateful...

You have three minutes.

Thank you, Mr Meekie, this is my office. Carry on, Fletcher.

I'm going through an emotional crisis, ma'am.

Pent-up feelings. Frustrations.

Utter poppycock!

Can you start that again, please? It's MY three minutes, not yours.

Let him speak, Mr Meekie.

You seemed perfectly fine the last time I saw you.

That's because you asked me up here to fix the system.

Gave me a sense of purpose.

My brain's going to atrophy doing menial work.

Well, what do you suggest instead?

Two minutes 30

Well, I could work up here and digitalise everything.

Prisoner records, admin, purchasing.

I could even do your personal stuff. Set up a private server.

I don't think THAT'S a great idea,

look what it did for Hillary Clinton.

- Two minutes! - No, Fletcher,

but if you're feeling the way you say you

are, I suggest you speak to Dr Marsden.

Oh, no. I don't want no shrink.

I don't want none of that psychobabble.

Well, I insist.

She's in session at four.

And... I'll make you a promise.

If you keep your nose clean,

I'll reappraise the situation in the near future.

The future's already behind me, Governor.

Everything I'm familiar with. PCs, software, hardware.

It'll all be obsolete when I get out of here. And so will I.

There'll be package tours to Jupiter,

driverless cars, and the prison guards'll be heartless robots

with no personality.

- Time's up! - Starting already.

On yer way, Fletcher!

- Is that your laptop? - Yes.

- Can I just touch it? - Get out!

And that was only two minutes.

Bet that's why your eggs are always runny.

HE MIMICS A ROBOT

Fletch wants to shoot a few balls - do you mind, gents?

Much obliged.

I'll get you a nice cup of tea, boss.

Milky poos. No sugar, right?

Cheers, Scudds.

What's going on with you and Scudds,

Fletcher? You seem almost inseparable.

Oh, he just seems a bit lost since Weeksie got parole.

He seems to be doing for you what he used to do

for Weeks - acting as your minder. Your muscle.

Minder? Me?

Yeah, I've always given you the benefit of the doubt, Fletcher.

Unlike Mr Meekie, who can be rather judgemental.

He can judge... And he's certainly mental.

There's something going on here. Well,

he wants to better himself, that's all.

- I'm mentoring him. - Oh. What in?

Elocution. Deportment.

Table manners.

Like not waving his sausage around on the end of

his fork. Don't see that in Downton Abbey, do you?

You seriously expect me to believe that?

I know I'm seen as the easy touch round here, Fletcher,

but don't make the mistake of thinking that I'm gullible.

All right, Mr Braithwaite. Here's how it is.

He has an uncle called William Stickers.

And he's asked me to help him with his court cases.

Poor bloke's made a lot of enemies, and someone's been

going around putting signs up all over the place, darkening his name.

- What do they say? - "Bill Stickers will be prosecuted"!

Yeah...!

- Cheers, Scuddsy. - There you go, boss.

It's hot.

Look, Scuddsy...

You're a really nice bloke and I like you, but...

do you really think I need ya?

Everybody needs somebody sometimes.

It's like the Ricky Martin song.

It was actually Dean Martin, and the song

was Everybody LOVES Somebody Sometimes.

Still works for me.

OK...

See, that's why I'm going to like working with you, Fletch.

Cos you're smart!

And you know things... about...

stuff.

The thing is, people's perception of me is changing.

My mates... Even my cellie Joe. They're all looking at me as if

all of a sudden they think I'm Michael Corleone from The Godfather.

Oh, I love that film.

I've watched it 127 times.

You could be Michael.

And I could be Luca Brasi. Remember?

He's the one who got garrotted.

HE IMITATES CHOKING

Yeah, yeah, yeah, all right, all right, Scuddsy, all right...

But look, when I get out... I'm going to

give you back your freedom. Like Spartacus.

- Who? - Kirk Douglas.

He led the slaves' revolt in Ancient Rome.

In those days, if you were a hard-working slave,

kept your nose clean, polished the pots and pans

and swilled out the vomitorium for 30 years, you earned your freedom.

See? I'm learning already!

What happened to him?

Kirk Douglas? I think he won an Oscar.

Not him, I'm talking about the REAL geezer.

Spartacus?

He was crucified.

Lovely.

Is crucifying...

worse than garrotting?

Yeah.

Double lovely.

DOORS SLAM, LOCKS CLICK

I haven't seen you here before, Scudds.

Do you have any...

psychological problems you'd like to share?

I'm sure I must have.

People have tried to stick labels on me over the years.

ADT, OCD.

DDT.

But basically, I'm just a big thick bastard.

What you laughing at?

- Fletcher! - Not guilty, Your Honour!

Look, I know you're only here because you were

ordered to be, and I know you don't WANT to be here,

but since you are, could you at least stay awake?

I just don't buy into the therapy thing, Doc.

I think most of the people in here couldn't

help doing what they did. It's genetics.

Well, please - enlighten us.

Well, it's like... some races can't handle alcohol.

Your average Eskimo's off his face after half a glass of Pinot Grigio.

How would an Eskimo get hold of Pinot Grigio?

Well... Fermented whale blubber or whatever they moonshine up there.

According to your file, your father is "an honest, hard-working man".

So there were no criminal tendencies for you to inherit?

Ah. It skipped a generation, didn't it?

My grandfather, Norman Stanley Fletcher,

was a habitual villain. I rest my case.

What case is that?

Well I have criminal traits but I am not a criminal.

- I think you are. - Who's talkin' to you?!

You've got the governor's ear, you should help her understand that.

- Oh, well - I'm afraid I can't... - Whoa, whoa!

Fletch ain't like most of us.

He's not a brawler, or a doper, or a thief.

If he spent his time doing something more useful

than lobster pots,

it would accelerate his road to recovery, and renewal!

Thank you!

Oof!

Have you finished?

For now.

- What you watching, Joe? - Eggheads.

- How many questions you answered? - One.

What was that, name the Seven Dwarfs?

No, but if it had been I'd have got it right

cos I remembered the last one - Doc.

Mr Blue was the one I couldn't remember.

Mm. How was your day?

Not a bad one.

Scudds made an elegant appeal on my behalf with the doc.

He might have got me upstairs again.

Made her an offer she couldn't refuse, did he?

Don't be sarky.

I know he looks terrifying -

I know he IS terrifying - but there's another side to him.

There is to all of us, Joe.

Mozart. What was the question?

Who composed a minuet at the age of five?

A minuet? I couldn't tie me shoelaces at five!

Beethoven went deaf, of course, and... Tchaikovsky topped himself -

probably cos he was homosexual and there was no Gay Pride in them days.

How do you know all this stuff?

Well, in my last nick I only had two books,

and one of 'em was Lives Of The Great Composers.

What was the other one?

Kama Sutra, but I didn't read that, I just looked at the pictures.

Come in, Mr Meekie. Our door is always open.

I understand you commandeered the showers this morning.

- No, I didn't. - Oh, yes, you did.

And I have reason to believe that you are

up to something underhand and covert,

as you and Scudds were in there for six minutes.

That'll be my leave-in conditioner.

I had the whole place thoroughly searched, of course.

And one of my officers...

found the reason... for an overflowing toilet bowl.

Do you know what this is?

That looks like a very wet, very dead

pigeon. Did it come up through the drains?

This bird has been subjected to a surgical incision.

Appendicitis?

It was used...

to contain contraband.

Almost certainly... drugs.

Get out, both of you, I am tearing this cell apart.

- Why? - Ohhh...

Out!

But he's halfway through Egg'eads!

Come on, move it - out, out, out!

You ain't got anything to worry about, have you, boss?

No.

'Ere, Joe. You haven't got any skins

or wacky baccy stashed away, have ya?

- You know me better than that. - Yeah.

- Bloody liberty! - Diabolical.

What the hell's going on, Fletch? What

are you and Scudds up to this morning?

- They're tearing my cell apart. - They're tearing mine

apart as well, cos they associate him with me.

Well, they won't find anything, will

they? Unless they're total bloody morons

they're going to find two wraps, a blunt, and a smartphone.

You know what that means - I'm off

down the block for a couple of weeks.

Solitary, I'm not happy!

- Look - just chill, Dougie. - I don't "chill", Fletch.

I get the hump. And I get even.

Scudds... Take care of this for me.

Hang on, you gave Scudds to me!

Bit of a moral dilemma, boss.

Puts me in a very difficult position.

Sadly, I'm going to have to remain in a neutral corner on this one.

Then it's you and me, fletch. Eh?

FLETCH CHOKING

Parfitt, put Fletcher down.

HE COUGHS

DOORS SLAM, LOCKS CLICK

_

Can't sleep, Fletch?

Is it surprising?

Dougie Parfitt gets out tomorrow, and you

know the first thing he's going to want, don't you.

A shower?

Dire retribution!

Well, at least you've had a few days to put your affairs in order.

Have you made a will?

Are you serious, Joe?!

It's an attempt at gallows humour.

Well, it didn't work, all right?

Well, you've still got Scudds.

He's got to be strictly neutral.

Like Switzerland. Only bigger.

Oh, how did I get into this mess?

It was that bloody pigeon, weren't it?

I'm talking about being in the bin.

I had a decent life.

Didn't have to be a hacker.

Could have had a little start-up company. Invented an app.

- What's an app? - Well... software.

Software?

Oh, like a nice comfy cardie.

Never mind. Instead of that, I'm banged up -

and all I've got to show for my life is what I'm leaving you.

Well, I'm sure it won't come to that.

What ARE you leaving me?

Two paperbacks and a tin of pilchards.

728... 729...

730...

OMINOUS WESTERN MOVIE MUSIC

We might have a situation here.

- How do you want to do this, then? - How do you want to do what?

Well, whatever it is you want to do.

What do you think I want to do?

Well, aren't you naused off with me for getting you

- put in the hole? - I'm naused off with myself, Fletch.

Really?

I'm an idiot. I should have known better.

So, let me get this straight, Dougie -

there's no issue between me and you? Right?

There is one...

Cos I want to ask you a great favour.

What are you talking about?

Well, it's not easy, running Weeksie's enterprises.

Lot of enemies.

So I gave him a bell,

and he said to ask you if I could have Scudds -

on a time-share basis?

Well, how's that gonna work?

You him during the week and I have him at weekends?

Well, he said he'd... still owe ya.

You know what?

You've got more use for him than I have.

It's not often I have to intimidate people.

What do you think, Scuddsy?

Whatever you say, Fletch.

I'll still see you all the time.

CHOKED: OK...!

- Come on. - See you later!

Go.

FLETCH SIGHS

What just happened?

- I had to give Scuddsy back. - Oh.

Just hope I made the right decision.

All right - stand down.

- HE SIGHS - Cancel that.

All right, all right! Break it up...

You saw nothing.

No. Nothing.

- Did we, Joe? - Nothing.

Apart from another pigeon falling out the sky.

He sees things. It happens at his age.

I told you -

jokes don't make me laugh!

One thing, Nagid...

Your accent -

couple of boys are making bets cos none of us can place it.

Where are you from? Turkey?

Macedonia? Syria?

Doncaster.

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