All language subtitles for No Offence 2015 - S03E01 - Episode 1 1080p bluray dd20 x264-SHORTBREHD.eng

There's a storm in a far-right
teacup brewing here.

-How old is he?
-A full moon tonight,

and I've got my knickers
on back to front.

They're usually both bad omens.

Ma'am, this isn't some sort of neo-Nazi
fetish picnic. This is a lynch mob.

If you don't authorise some backup,
you can tell the Mayor

that I'm billing him for a water cannon.
Thank you, ma'am.

-So you dumped him?
-I'm 35. I've done the whole kid thing.

I thought Bob got that, but he didn't.

Well, I thought
that it is what you wanted.

-How?
-You had five memos from Gavin

about the adoption agency calling.

-You Chinese-whispered back to Bob?
-It's for Spike.

Him and Alice want to adopt.
They want me to be their referee.

Which was totally meant to be a secret.
One of you left your comms open.

Save your stutters, Joy.
Check t'rear exits.

Tug your fringe
to any mayoral candidates.

Never know who's gonna be the next boss.

Yes, ma'am.

-Jesus, Spike, you weren't kidding.
-We're still waiting on the Mayor.

Take him in round the back?

They bark, we bite.
Are the candidates all inside?

Apart from McCoy. She won't budge.
Said she wanted to wait for you.

Viv, I know I'm pushing it,

but no way I'm getting snapped
with those mugs.

They look like John Prescott.

You won't be going anywhere at all
if you don't do as I say, Miss McCoy.

Yeah, but I look all right though, yeah?

What, I can't even get a compliment?
I've been up since four.

I've done two sports centres,

a synagogue, one Polish church
and two mosques.

Guess how many selfies
I've been asked for? Two.

-How untweetably lonely's that?
-Ma'am, he's here.

Mayor Hassan! Mayor Hassan!
May I just say, may the best man win?

Ding-ding, come on.
Save it for the ring.

Sharia mayor! Go home!

Get them inside! Get them in!

Don't touch her. She's diabetic.
Her hand slipped.

Watch your back!
We're not going anywhere!

Move, get out of the way!
Move! Excuse me.

-You call this security, Inspector?
-Come on, show a bit of Dunkirk spirit.

I want all drinks containers
confiscated. Plastic cups, the lot.

-Be strip searches next.
-Dream on.

LADIES' TOILET

Sorry about the Bob thing,
and the Spike thing.

Political hustings are normally done
by about tennish, right?

Yeah, but ten is when the free drink
comes out,

so we'll probably be mopping
up till midnight.

Why?

I've got a date.

We've chatted on Skype for hours
and he still wants to meet me.

And he's travelling business.

He's only flipping FBI.
He's cashing in his air miles.

With his kind of access, there isn't
anything he won't know about me.

God, I can't tell you how much
that makes me want to cry,

because he's still coming.
Yep, he arrives tonight, 11pm GMT.

Go meet him at the airport. Get a hotel.

No! I can't.
Ma'am needs us here. We're outgunned.

I'll cover for you.
Ditch the head girl thing and get some.

No!
He's going to have to wait.

-Oh, girls.
-Viv, really, it'll be fine.

I'll wear it like a badge of honour.

If some troll sees you've dribbled
squash down your front,

they'll tweet you have Parkinson's.

I'd lend you mine but you haven't
the bust. Take your pick.

Joy, would you mind?

-Er, no!
-Ma'am.

All drinks containers confiscated,
and the bar hates us.

What? I thought you said out there
was nothing to worry about.

Relax, Caz.
We've got your back.

-It's your votes I'm after.
-Ta.

Come on.

A black girl in the far right?
Is that even possible?

They've rebranded to look
like Blue Peter. I want them shifted.

Viv, bundling their one black woman
into a van in front of the camera

-is what they want us to do.
-They threw squash on the way in.

What's to say that's not
a dry run for acid on the way out?

Hang on.

They didn't see me, did they?

Right, spoke to the producer.

Can't get you 100
but I can get you 50 each.

-Wrong heads, bye-bye.
-50 for what?

Who are you with?

Sorry. Lydia Hopkirk.

We're piloting a new format

that doesn't kowtow
to liberal mainstream agendas.

What's it called?

Rock The Boat.

We're looking for new faces,
and your face would really fit the bill.

-Cuff her for assault.
-Don't you fucking dare!

Want my crew to film you lot cuffing the
only black woman at a far-right rally?

Well, do you?

Get out of here.

Pigs.

50 quid for vox pops, you said?

Yeah.

Just this way.

Right, we're going to
shoot you down here

so the crew can control the lighting
and the sound, for obvious reasons.

So, where is the crew?

I think, um...

Have none of you ever been
on a professional fucking set before?

And you? I said I wanted derelict
as background, not tetanus.

Don't talk to her like that,
you wonky-eyed prick.

Well, I'm the one who decides
who is camera-ready or not,

and from where I'm standing...

I wouldn't talk to me like that either.

Right, don't care if you signed
"spunk monkey" or not,

just need signatures, otherwise
petty or not, there'll be no cash.

Right, just going to nip to the van
to get the wages. Back in a tick.

Truly fucking mental! Hats off.

NO OFFENCE

Then you need to let me finish.

You've said that three times already

and you've still not got to the point,
so no.

They're wrapping up.
I want to keep all exits clear.

Joy, you come up front.
Dinah, head to the bar.

If he wants to know how public cuts
affect our frontline services,

then let's hear it
from the horse's mouth.

That wonderful woman standing
right there, Inspector Viv Deering.

Come on, Viv. Come on.

She went to school with my mum.

Come on, Viv.

If you want your facts direct tonight,

let's get that wonderful woman
up here on this stage. Come on.

Chairman, this is a debate
for mayoral candidates.

Inspector Deering,
can you deny that the Mayor's cuts

-have crippled your police force?
-Don't do it, ma'am.

This is a democratic forum
for elected and electable people.

It's not for civil servants like me.

Well done, ma'am. Proud of you.

Inspector! Inspector! Inspector!
Come on, Viv.

Inspector! Inspector!

Come on!

Okay.

Oh, Jesus.
Dinah, we're all going to burn here.

Viv, this is the one place
your mouth doesn't belong.

Thank you.

There are many times
when I've felt underfunded...

but only as underfunded
as forces across Britain.

As to whose fault that is
is a very public matter.

Hiya, it's me. Can you call me back
as soon as you get this?

It's work. It's urgent.

To... To whoever is going to be
in charge for the next term...

Manchester has taken a pasting
over the last two years.

We're going to need
all the help we can get.

-I wish she was running for mayor.
-They don't.

Thank you.

To summarise my feelings tonight,

the difference between us
is that Hassan fights for minorities.

I fight for minorities to live together.

-You're a traitor, McCoy!
-Oh, God, gun!

Ma'am! You all right?

-Yeah, we're okay.
-DS Freers to Control. Shots fired.

-Send ambulance and armed response.
-Get out of the way!

-Dinah! Dinah, you all right? You OK?
-Go.

He's heading downstairs. I'm on him.

Fuck off, back that way!

DI Deering to Control. I want a one-mile
cordon, repeat, one-mile cordon.

Shooter is white, bald, ginger beard.

Come on!

Come on!

Spike!

DC Tanner's been shot.
Require urgent medical assistance.

Where's he hit?

Joy?

Okay. Stay with me.

Just stay with me.

Can you hear me? Joy? Joy?

Come on!

Dinah.

Miller, it's all right.
They checked me out.

Good. So, you remember
scrapping with him, yeah?

In which case, I need his spores.

Stop giving yourself piles
and get up for me, yeah?

Ma'am, witnesses say the getaway
driver drove off without a shooter.

He escaped on foot.
We're tracking CCTV...

All he needs to do is duck
into anywhere, and we've lost him.

The bike needs Tarmac.
Track the plates from the station.

Ma'am?

The press are asking me to confirm
that a female officer was killed.

I don't know what to do.
My face is telling them.

Let it. Just don't give a name.

Oh, Jesus, Viv. Her dad.

He'll be on a shift.

-I'll tell him.
-No.

-He needs to hear it from me.
-We need you here. I'll go.

Excuse me?

Jonah?

Let him lie down in the back.

Ma'am? Ma'am.

Those scanners, they had us
patting down everyone.

If the gun was on him, he would've
set them off. There's no way.

He can't have had it on him--

I know. I know, it's okay.

I want a full intel check
on all the town-hall staff.

Floor cleaners, the works, yeah?

Yes, ma'am.

-DI Deering, can I talk to her?
-Yeah, of course.

I've had deeper piercings.
It's just a scratch.

Thanks to you.

Jesus, I'm so sorry.

Hey, come on. Come on.

One of the last promises I made your mum
was that I'd keep an eye on you.

I'm so proud.
I kept at least that one.

Did she have kids?

I know it's a shit thing to ask.

Did you recognise him?

Now, I need you to be sure.

A stalker from the campaign?

Pissed-off customer, boyfriend?

-Death threats?
-Everything I get, I pass on to you lot.

You know I do.

Who'd want you dead?

Dinah.

I know you must have put up some fight.

So did she.

Come on.

Where is she, then? Where is she?

Come on, then!

Settle down!

Ma'am?
Tracked the bike.

Getaway driver
went like stink to the M60.

He then doubled back up...

Keep on it.

What the fuck just happened?

Why wasn't Joy at her post?

She would have seen him stand up.
She would have...

You're blaming... You're blaming her?

No, I...

I'm blaming...

I'm blaming him.

Ma'am, the case downstairs
is clogging up the front desk.

Fuck's sake, Gavin, just deal with it!

We've all lost her, Dinah.

Am I going to need
someone to book them in?

You book them in.
Just keep your name off the paperwork.

Now, you take your shock...

your grief, your anger...

..and you turn it into fuel.

Understood?

Finally.

What's the matter? Are we not
important enough for you?

OK, cool it. Tell me what's happened.

My mad bitch of a sister's
what's happened.

We were all at the dress fitting,
drinking champagne.

Tina decides to neck the lot
and starts going on,

saying how Barry's
not good enough for me!

So I said, "Don't come, then,
you silly bitch!

What's wrong with our Barry?"

Then she clammed up, we started
fighting and the next thing...

She's got my hand in her mouth!

Who's going to want to say "I do"
to a fucking stump?

On the assumption
that you didn't go home last night,

clean underwear.

I didn't get them to open especially.
These are personal stock.

Press office
are calling a conference at 9.30.

Yeah, well, clean knickers aren't
my priority right now, Marilyn,

and tell the press that I haven't time
to give them what they want to hear.

I'm going to be too busy
stringing people up by the balls.

Come here.

I couldn't do it, ma'am.

Please, please don't make me.

Viv, nobody is going to shove you
in front of the public.

You at least have a sleep.
You can use my office.

Before he fired, he called
Caroline McCoy a traitor.

-What's she done to betray him?
-Or them? Or anybody?

Caroline's done nothing
but glue her community together,

like her mam did,
before they called that politics.

So it's a lunatic, a lone wolf?

Lone wolf? With a getaway driver?

No. He's a pro.

Who missed his mark.

Because I pushed her out of the way...

setting off a sequence of events
that I would give anything to erase.

Well, I'll leave you to it.

-Look sharp!
-We need more than coffee.

This is undetectable
to anybody outside the Kremlin.

Invented by Dr Ururinsafe.

This is the man who took our Joy.

Joseph Beckett, 40.

Discharged from the Army,
2010, with PTSD.

That's an old photo.

Because all his records are sealed, we
suspect he worked in special services.

-SAS?
-How's he on file if he's that sharp?

Caught entering Heathrow, 2014,
with 30K, mixed currency.

Suggests that he's been working
as a mercenary ever since.

His spores matched the forensic evidence
left on Spike's gear.

No known address,
no family that we can find.

So, me and Joy, we locked a batch
of protesters in the basement.

We got them to sign release forms.

Most were fake names,
but we lifted fingerprints.

-Faye Caddy.
-And her lovely brother, Dennis Caddy.

They run a chapter of Albion.

He wasn't amongst the rabble, because
he's better than that these days.

We know Albion have been upping
their game recently, but seriously,

somebody paid good money
for what went down yesterday.

-Albion have never been that organised.
-Oh, we beg to differ.

"Achtung, baby," indeed.

-I'm having 'em.
-You are not!

We are.

Come and sit down.

Sit.

This tells us nothing other than that
Caroline McCoy is the centre of gravity.

But why is McCoy a right-wing target?

I mean, Albion were only there
because the Mayor's a Muslim, right?

She's not on the left either.

She must have made somebody bleed
to come after her with this much muscle.

If she knew who it was,
she'd surely have told us by now.

We need to find out what it is
that she doesn't know.

We need to examine her life in detail,
changes in her patterns.

Changes in her accounts.

Crack on.

Jonah, Stuart, check the ANPR scanners.

We need to locate that motorbike
before it gets scrapped.

Ma'am.

You, you're coming with Dinah and me.

We're going to go and talk
to that shower of shits

like a professional team.

Poker face. It's the least
we owe ourselves today of all days.

THE RECRUITING OFFICE

Yeah.

I'll have to call you back.

Sorry, we don't hire out for wakes.

Where's your brother? Changing a keg?

That's one way of putting it.

Den? Pinch off.

The fuzz are here.

-Is this them?
-More or less.

You lot locked my lot in a basement.

Very brave.

Legal, though?

Caught it all on our phones.

But hand on heart, if you're here

because you're worried about us
taking this to our lawyer,

we're going to wait
for the hoo-ha to die down first.

Don't want to smear her name
before she's in the ground.

We've questions, Caddy.

Of course. Come through.

So, yeah, this is it, mission control.

Excuse the mess.
Election's our busiest time of the year.

Here you are, Bon.
There you go, on the house.

-Appreciate it.
-If the shoe fits.

How long has Joseph Beckett
being a member of Albion?

Oh, yeah, I saw his face on the news.
Was way before my time.

He got kicked out,
what, about five years ago?

Said some really toxic shit.

He's not our type, not at all.

Why did you throw squash
at Mayor Hassan?

Hassan's turned Manchester
into a Petri dish for Islamification.

They can't even be bothered
to learn "fuck you" in English.

But being honest, I were just thirsty

and fancied seeing if you lot
could be thwarted by a blackcurrant.

Beckett called McCoy a traitor.

Beckett called his dog a traitor.
He's bonkers, I told you.

As for McCoy, we'd have
any of them over Hassan.

Bonnie thought she was a presenter
on Loose Women, didn't you, hon?

-When did you break out?
-Why did your mate lock us in?

If we were Muslim, or Polish,
no way she'd have had the balls.

She had it coming.

-What did you say?
-All right, Faye.

Last night was hustings. Big fuss.

Hassan was there, red carpet.
All of you lot were there.

Except for you, Mr Caddy.

He was watching the bar for our nan.

-Is that a fact?
-All night long.

Ask any of them.

They're hiding something.

I want every stone turned
on Caddy and Albion.

Every member, past and present,
every Facebook like.

-I'm on it, ma'am.
-Echo 23969 to DI Deering.

-Come in, Jonah.
-We've tracked the getaway bike, ma'am.

I want this driver alive.
Keep him within your sights.

No problem, ma'am.
We're already up his arse.

-Why's he so slow?
-Think he took a bullet?

That, or he's got a gun.
He wants us closer.

Jesus.

What's he doing?
Why's he not pulling over?

No, he's... Shit!

Stay down! Don't move!

Echo 23969 to Control.

Ma'am? We've got him.

He's twatted.

Tell Dinah we're going to need
her superpower. He's Polish.

-Whoa.
-Cacked his kecks in the car.

We booked him in for drunk-driving
but, ma'am,

no way this guy is the getaway driver.
Look at him.

-Oh, fuck's sake, John, he's Romanian.
-I work!

Okay, yeah, well, we're not immigration,
we're police.

He's tanked.
Get him showered and Red-Bulled.

-What, our showers?
-Stu's right. He's not the driver.

He must have nicked the bike
after the driver dumped it.

His feet smell worse than his shit.

Might have seen him.
Run his dabs through Interpol.

Ma'am, you're not going
to believe this daft fuck...

Whoa. Oh, my God.

Come on, Miller, be useful.
Call a medic.

Yeah, yeah.
Ma'am, the helmet had a dashcam in it.

Driver forgot to check
before he stole it.

The visual file's fucked,
but the driver's voice is stereo.

Getaway driver's pillow talk
right after the shots were fired.

Oh, Jesus! What have you done?!

Fuck this, oh, fuck this!

-It's Caddy.
-Sounds like Caddy.

It's nowhere near a cigar for the CPS.

-You're stalling on this?
-Yeah.

In the absence of a witness or a motive.

Why would Albion want to kill Caroline?

Catch.

The T-shirts and the buses
that take Albion to the street marches

are all paid for by this guy,
Lionel Dirkin.

-You know him?
-Should I?

Well, he founded Pellinore.

Same private security company
that employed Beckett.

Oh, welcome to
outside the box, bonny lad.

It's lonely here, but we can snuggle up.

Don't tell me, Julia.
The gentleman's a police officer.

DC Tanner, Manchester Met.

We're preparing for
the veterans' marathon this weekend.

All fought for Queen and country,

then got tossed on the scrapheap
on their return.

They've lost the use of their legs.

Here, I teach them they don't need them.

They leave their wheelchairs
on the bank and I get a swim in.

-Do you kayak?
-No.

No excuse in the world not to.

-How may I help you?
-I'm here to ask...

about Joseph Beckett.

Your company was his main employer.

No, no, Evan.

Don't help him!
Let him do it by himself!

-Maybe you should go and...
-No, no.

You ever teach Beckett
how to flip a kayak, Mr Dirkin?

Our business depends on ex-personnel
from the armed forces, Constable,

and ex-police, for that matter.

Beckett hasn't been deployed
by Pellinore for two years.

Ever heard of an extreme
far-right group called Albion?

-You pay their expenses.
-Hardly extreme.

They're a harmless
street-protest movement.

The liberals just resent Caddy
because he knows how to get heard.

Beckett was also a member of Albion.

Fleetingly.
And I was distressed by that.

What about Lionel Dirkin?

You know him.

I know he runs Pellinore.

I know they're pitching for...

Caz?

-This is confidential.
-It can't be.

Pellinore are after a £250 million
contract with the council.

They want a slice of your firm,
the Manchester Met.

That was kicked into the long grass
years ago.

From you lot, yeah. But it's still in
play. Prisons, transport, forensics.

Pellinore have been working
with the council hand-in-glove

for the last four years.
It's the brass ring, Viv.

And if you get in?

Then Dirkin will have pissed
all his bribes away

because I'd make him pitch from scratch,
he's clearly out of his box.

Why are you asking?

Beckett worked for Pellinore.

-Beckett was a member of Albion.
-Oh, fuck this.

Fuck this, I'm done.

I'm going, I'm moving to Australia.
I can't do this!

It's just a theory.

-I've my business to think about.
-Caroline!

Your name is on every headline,
your face is right next door to Joy's.

You better start milking this,
sweetheart.

Because Joy's death...

It's got to stand for more than just...

some carving on a London memorial.

We need more women like her.

Like you.

Okay, Kev, love. You go and get
yourself a Kit Kat from the canteen.

Just give us five minutes.

-Rolling, Spike?
-Yes, ma'am.

Marius.
Can you tell us how you got the bike?

I need drink.

Drink! Drink!

Serious? This is 90%.
You want to kill our only witness?

-Add water.
-Ma'am, this is a testimony for a jury.

If they see he's pissed, we're finished.

He's on 23 cans of Red Stripe a day.

If we don't keep him in drink,
he'll be dead anyway.

Which is what we'll tell them.

You want them to see him
looking like this?

I sleep under bridge.

I wake.
I see driver drop bike.

Take off helmet.

Did you see his face?

Marius?

Could you ID him?

Da.

-Get off me! I haven't done this!
-Dennis Caddy.

You are under arrest in connection
to the murder of Joy Freers.

-Get the cuffs on him.
-He's like Mandela round here.

-We'll riot!
-They've got nothing, so say nothing.

I'll call your lawyer. Just sit tight.
They can't touch you.

Fuck off.

-Just had it washed.
-Hey, that's assault, you!

Den, it's all right,
I'll ring Larry, yeah?

Regulars all say the same thing.

Dennis Caddy was in the pub all night.

Bless him. Get the tramp ready.

Ma'am, McCoy is talking to the press.

I'd just like to say,
on behalf of my family to hers,

that Sergeant Freers will be cherished
as one of the greatest and bravest

that the Manchester Met have ever had.

A friend told me to honour
her sacrifice. Well, here I am.

And I'm still standing.
I'm standing for what Joy stood for.

Polling day is a week Thursday.
Bring it.

Tramp's prints have
come back from Interpol.

-Please God.
-He is who he says he is. No record.

CPS says if Marius IDs Caddy,
we can charge him.

We've got him, Viv.

Is this recording, yeah? Good.

Because I want it on that these
allegations are a fucking disgrace.

What, like your war record?

You brag about heroics.

You were dishonourably
discharged for hanging bacon

off a mosque
during a peacekeeping mission in Basra.

That was heroic.

Have you ever had any association
with Lionel Dirkin?

We've got a lot of angels
on our shoulders, you'd be surprised.

Pinning me up for this
is going to cost you.

I'm no killer.

We don't think
you're the killer, Dennis.

We think you're the getaway driver.

And a shit one,
because you left the dashcam on

in the helmet that you nicked.

We've got your voice on tape.

So let's start cutting a bit
of flab off that sentence.

Where is your mate, Beckett?
And who hired him to take out McCoy?

He's not my mate,
so how the fuck do I know?

A witness saw your face
when you dumped the bike.

He's in the building right now. You have
the right to refuse an ID parade

where your mug will be one in eight,
but then that gives us the right

to park the witness outside the station

and he'll finger you
as soon as you leave.

You'll wake up tomorrow morning
in a Cat A prison

with Cat A jihadis
desperate to borrow a cup of sugar.

Your neck is pulsing
like a toad, Dennis.

Now, we could, if we...

Sorry to interrupt.
Inspector, may I have a word?

Both of you.

Jesus, Marilyn. Please don't
cock-block me in front of perps.

DC Tanner, please escort Caddy
back down to his cell.

-What? Ma'am, we've got him!
-Your office. Now.

-Dinah, got two ticks?
-No.

Easy, watch where you're going. Oh,
that's never been a good look for you.

Marilyn's stalling on Caddy
and I've got to do something.

What?

-I don't fucking know.
-Dinah, trust me.

You hear me out before you go doing
any more of your P45 shit.

Now, you saw Joy Pied-Piper
those rats into the basement.

She was a Catherine wheel,
best there was. Right?

So, why did she ditch her post
at the hustings?

If she left the iron on,
thought her cats were on fire,

Joy would never neglect her duty.

She left to call her dad.
A 15-second call.

Now, don't you want to know what that
beautiful kid's last sparks for us were?

What's coming, Marilyn?

He is.

-Okay.
-Sorry I'm late.

You're either a spook, Special Branch
or work experience. Which is it?

-Viv, this is...
-Chief Inspector Tom Pembroke.

-Special Branch.
-You're joking!

I've got more five o'clock shadow
than he has.

-Agreed.
-You little shit.

Marilyn, are you going to let
Foetus Cop talk about us like that?

Dennis Caddy is to be released
without charge.

What?

Albion's the target
of a larger operation

and if this man's charged,
that operation's jeopardised.

You're joking. We've got one of
Sergeant Freers' killers downstairs

and you're ordering me to hold open
the door for Caddy on the way out?

Well, you'd better throw me
a better line than that.

We planted a UC in Albion.

If Caddy is charged,
the agent's position becomes untenable.

Wait. Stop.

You had a UC in Albion
and we were told precisely dick

about a planned attack on McCoy's life?

And you knew all about it?

And you pull this now,

just when we are within
a hair's breadth of charging him?

-Don't get emotional, Viv.
-Fuck you! I lost a friend.

If it eases tensions, DCI Marchant
was almost as in the dark as you.

-You're out of line.
-I'm paid to be, Chief Inspector.

-Jumped-up little piss stump.
-You're off the case.

-Who was the agent?
-Any further investigation

into Caddy or Albion will be regarded
as perverting the course of justice.

Been there, done that. You lot have
threatened curtains on my career

since year dot.
So out of my way. I am charging him.

Also, misconduct of public office.

Not curtains, Inspector. Bars.

Oh, you've been dying to spunk
that one out, haven't you?

You'll inform Caddy and his solicitor
that the evidence against him is flawed.

I'll leave the details to your
imagination but keep it convincing.

Do I make myself clear, Inspector?

Yes, sir.

Ma'am.

Robin?

Robin, it's me, Miller.

Robin, why didn't you call me, huh?

Look, have you taken or smoked
owt else I need to fret about?

Look, Robin, we need you to focus, yeah?

Yeah, I know, I know, I know.

Robin...

Joy phoned you just before she died.

It was a quick call.

Can you remember what she said?

I didn't pick up. I was on shift.

So she left a message?

Have you listened to it?

I'm building up to it.

Passcode's her birthday.

Robin, it's Ada. I'm just calling to say
what a laugh last night was.

Hey, let's do it again...

Rob? It's Ernie. Mate, have I got
some really strong shit for you?

It's called God's puss...

Hi, it's, it's me. Can you call me back
when you get this?

It's... it's work. It's urgent.

I need you to find me the photo album
that you made me for my 21st,

you know, the one
with all the Hendon stuff in it.

It should be under my bed.

Oh, God, Dad, I don't know.
It's... It's somewhere.

Got it. Hendon.

No, no. There's no way

I'm eating humble pie
in front of that piece of shit.

We have to tuck right in, lad.
We have no choice!

-Ma'am.
-Dinah?

Caddy's girlfriend, she's a UC.

She's a fucking cop, Viv.

She could have stopped it.

Fucking hell!

Mr Caddy, I've got some bad news.

You were witnessed ditching
the getaway bike by a Romanian tramp

and he's identified you
as the getaway driver.

And what did you offer him in return?
A three-bedroom semi over his head?

Unfortunately, the tramp is wanted
by Interpol for fraud.

We'll be argued down by
any bottom-dollar barrister, even yours.

Well, God bless Romania, man!

I'll buy him an ouzo,
or whatever the fuck.

So what? I walk?

You slither.

I don't know what's harder to take.

Your boss's perfume or the sweet,
shit manure of your breath.

Fuck!

Yes!

Come on, let's go.

Hey, Bonnie? Your boyfriend
watched his mate fire two bullets

into an unarmed officer.

You could have saved her.

I'm sorry about your mate.

Why don't you go home
and have a cry and a wank

to "Candle In The Wind" for me, okay?

Babe!