All language subtitles for Life on Mars UK 2006 S02E03 720p WEB-DL HEVC x265 BONE-eng

We can find triangles
in any other quadrilateral

by simple bisection.

When we draw an angle down
through a rectangle,

we of course reveal two triangles.

One angle will always be 90 degrees.

-Simple.
-Wouldn't get too smug, mate.

You'll be replaced
by the lovely Lorraine Kelly.

I've treated other cases
exactly like Sam's.

Exact in every way.

And in each case, it was a full recovery

with no cognitive functions affected
for the long term.

Why should being comatose this long
have any mental side effects?

The mind's fragile.
Who's to say what's been damaged?

Maybe not cognitive skills,
but other things.

-His sense ofjudgement?
-There's no evidence of a decline.

What are you basing your theory on?
Guesswork?

No, Dr Matthews,
it's called instinct.

Instinct?

I'm telling you, he's not
going to come out of this all there.

Don't listen to him.
He's talking bollocks.

He's basing this on a hunch,
for Christ's sake.

What do you think, Sam?
How's your sense ofjudgement?

Jesus, just tell me
my brain will be all right.

Say something. Come on. Come on!

Sam? It's me, Annie.

Now, we don't have to stop
at the one bisection.

Take the cube.

The cube offers us
numerous possibilities

for liberating as a geometric shape.

Guv's waiting outside.
Phyllis just took a call.

IRA. A bomb's been planted
outside a school.

We've got 15 minutes. Dynamite.

Shit.

Ooh.

Hang on a minute. Dynamite?

Why blow up our city?

Why can't they blow up
somewhere else, like Cleethorpes?

Guv, this doesn't make sense.

What part of "will explode
in 15 minutes" can't you grasp?

It can't be the IRA.
They don't use dynamite.

They never will, or... I mean, have.

That bomb last month in London?

Weedkiller and sugar.
That's their hallmark.

They use homemade explosives,
not dynamite.

It's not the IRA. It's not a bomb.

-Come on, girls, hurry up!
-Quickly, move it. Quick, quick!

All right, love.

-Any news from Bomb Squad?
-They're still engaged, Guv.

Bloody hell.

It's over ten minutes.

-I make it nearly ten.
-I make it nearly eleven.

I make it eleven and three seconds.

You sure yours is right?

Might be a delay on it.
Give it a few more minutes.

There isn't a delay on it,
because there isn't a bomb.

-It's a hoax.
-What, and you're sure?

No other political groups are bombing
mainland Britain in 1973. Fact.

Trust me on this.
I know it. I know this.

What the hell do I have to do
to get you people to believe me?

Well, if you're so sure, boss, why
don't you go over and check it out?

All right, I will.

Do anything to try and impress you,
wouldn't he?

It's not about impressing anyone,
you moron.

Whatever you say, boss.

Oh, no, I get it. I get it.

You want to be the hero, don't you?

Well, go on, then, big man,
it's all yours.

-I didn't say that.
-What, has your bottle gone?

When you've quite finished, ladies.

No, you're all right.
I haven't got anything to prove.

-Ray.
-No, he'll be OK. Won't you? Go on.

-Ray! Oh, my God.
-Somebody get an ambulance!

My name is Sam Tyler.

I had an accident
and I woke up in 1973.

Am I mad, in a coma, or back in time?

Whatever's happened, it's like
I've landed on a different planet.

Now, maybe if I can work out
the reason, I can get home.

The next time
you "know" something, Tyler,

you keep it to yourself.

That's an order.

Want to give to Ray's collection?

Thanks, Jeff.

Here y'are.

Thanks, Clive.

-Is that for Ray?
-Yeah.

It's just his mates putting in.

Annie. Look, I thought I...

I know I was right.

It's not the IRA.

Look, I had to investigate terrorist
methods as part of my training.

It doesn't look like
they trained you very well, does it?

Look, I know about now.

They've got Semtex, right?

But they don't use that
until 1986, South Armagh.

Mainland Britain
is not until the early '90s.

Early '90s?

How would I know that?
I remember it, that's how!

Sam. I don't give a damn
about Semtech.

You were wrong about the hoax.

You have to remember we work for
each other round here, not against.

When you've finished
beating the walls up,

some explosives have gone missing
from a builder's yard in Salford.

Let's see if we can investigate
without endangering any officers.

-How's Ray?
-Oh, he's champion.

Doing backflips on the dance floor
at Rotters tonight,

the usual thing you do when you've
been caught in an IRA bomb blast.

I still don't think it was the IRA.

How do you think
I spend my time here, Tyler?

-Building a Death Star?
-You what?

Nothing.

By listening to the cogs
in the machine going round all day.

Only your cog's
out of sync with the rest of us.

Has been since you rode in
on your big Hyde horse.

Now either you get in sync,
or I find another cog.

-Frank Miller?
-That's me.

DCI Hunt, DI Tyler.

-Where were the explosives, sir?
-Over here.

-Who else has access to this yard?
-All sorts.

Drivers, suppliers, contractors.

How much dynamite?

Fifty pound.

-Enough to blow up a car?
-Enough to blow up a whole building.

It'd only take a couple of pounds
to blow up a car.

So somewhere out there,

there's over forty-odd pound
of dynamite waiting to go off.

-When might it have been taken?
-Last night.

I wasn't here yesterday.
Daughter's graduation.

Then it could have been taken
the night before last.

No, I'm sure one of the lads
would have noticed this.

They would have said something.

This hasn't got owt to do with
that IRA bomb going off, has it?

It hasn't been confirmed that the IRA
were responsible for that explosion.

Anyway,
better late than never, Mr Miller.

Oh, Frank. Please.

If you want to search the place,
help yourself.

Only, er... maybe don't let on
it was me that called you.

It's mostly Irish fellas work for me.

I don't want them getting the wrong
end of the stick. I rely on them.

Don't you worry, Frank.
Discretion's our middle name.

Top of the morning to you, lads.

Know anything about
some missing dynamite?

Alpha One to base.

Phyllis, get a unit
over to Miller's yard.

Get 'em to haul in all the Paddies
for questioning. Over.

Guv, if you piss off
those Irish workers,

you just piss off the whole community
and then we'll get nowhere.

We have to tread carefully.

Some bastards somewhere have got
over forty pound in dynamite

and could blow up innocent people.

Just like they did to Ray. And you're
asking me to tread carefully.

Take your own advice, Sam.
Wake up and smell the cocoa.

Now let's search this shithole
and nail these Paddy bastards.

It's coffee.

All right then, sulky bollocks.

If it wasn't the IRA
or any other terrorist group,

who blew up that car, then?

The WI?

I've no idea.

"Rights of Irish immigrants."

Rallies, meetings...
Oh, set up unions yourself.

A regular Karl O'Marx
by the looks of it.

List of street names.

I'll get Chris to check them out,
if he's still talking to me.

Well, well, well, Sammy boy.

Looks like we might be able to stop
this scum from bombing again.

You know,
just because he's politically active,

doesn't necessarily mean he wants
to start blowing everybody up.

It does if he's called
Patrick O'Brien,

and it just so happens
he hasn't turned in for work today.

Back in '69, got him sent down
for two years. Robbery.

-So why is he suddenly a suspect?
-Let's have a think, shall we?

Paddy, touch of the Trotskys,
more lip than Mick Jagger, previous,

happens to be working on the site
where a load of dynamite goes AWOL.

Oh, and a bomb goes off in the city.

All right, then, genius.
What's your theory?

I don't have one yet.
We can't just go on a hunch.

Forgive me if I don't go along
with your so-called facts,

but I'm hoping
to still be in one piece by teatime.

All I'm saying is maybe
it's got nothing to do with him.

And maybe Enoch Powell's
throwing one up Shirley Bassey.

Let me know when you're back
living in the real world, Tyler.

If only.

-Alpha One to base, come in. Over.
-Receiving you, Guv.

Phyllis, tell DC Skelton and
Cartwright to get a unit together.

Bring in anyone who knows
Patrick O'Brien.

We need all the leads we can get
on the explosives.

-Get onto it.
-Right you are.

Phyllis, it might be an idea

if they go through
all the O's in the phone book.

Hey, I'll tell you what,
while we're at it,

why don't we pull in that
well-known terrorist suspect Dana?

How about Val Doonican?

Guv, remember... go easy, yeah?

And you remember,
we don't let Ray down,

or the people of this city.

Hello, love. Where is he, then?
O'Brien!

I know, if he was a bit more
assertive, he'd go far.

Where are you, you scum? O'Brien!

O'Brien? He don't live here any more.

-Guv!
-Not lived here for months.

I made him sling his hook.
Never paid his lodgings.

-Where is he, then?
-Down at t'alehouse. I don't know.

Wherever he is, you can bet
your boots he's up to no good.

I wouldn't trust any of them,
especially not since this bomb.

I'm not letting one of them set foot
in this house again, that's for sure.

Have you actually seen Mr O'Brien
do anything suspicious?

Did you hear him talking
to his Paddy mates?

Not exactly, no.

But his eyes are close together.
Always the sign of someone shifty.

-You're not stopping for a brew?
-No thanks, love. Better crack on.

-We're looking for a Patrick...
-I haven't seen him.

-Bloody filth!
-Friendly bunch, aren't they?

Where to now?

Fiddler's Green.

I hope that's the name of a pub.

Change of plan.

Right.
Let's get in amongst the leprechauns.

We're paid less than
the English for doing the same job.

But they don't want
to know about our union.

We shouldn't have to take this shit
from these bastards any more.

They kick us when we're down
and we never kick back.

It's time we started kicking.

Well, well, this all looks very cosy,
gents. Irish knitting circle, is it?

-What do you want, Hunt?
-Your bollocks nailed to a gatepost.

In the meantime,
you're coming with me.

I've done nothing wrong.

All right, lads. We just want to ask
Mr O'Brien a few questions.

Get your hair cut.

You're an even bigger bastard
than I remember.

Maybe your memory's
playing tricks on you.

No, you're right.
I am a bigger bastard.

-Stand there...
-Move back!

Back! You lot don't calm down,
I'll make you all strip

and you can stand here
with your knackers out!

-I could do with a laugh.
-Another one to sign in, Phyllis.

Don't mind if we push in,
do you, lads?

-Nice to be back, is it, O'Brien?
-Tell me, is Hunt rhyming slang?

Take him away.

What's going on?

I've got no men at my yard.
They're all down here.

I could lose contracts.

Would you say you're thorough
in your work, Mr Miller?

-Of course I am.
-Snap.

You'll have 'em back
when I've finished questioning them.

Most of these are decent lads. They'd
not have owt to do with the IRA.

Most? What about O'Brien?

Now you're putting words
into my mouth.

You'll be all right, lads.
I'll see you back at the yard.

Remind me why we're not questioning
everyone that works at Miller's

and not just the Irish.

Explosives fella's just been on, Guv.

Dynamite for the car matches
the dynamite from Miller's yard.

-Same make.
-That's why.

Chris. Check out the list of street
names we found in O'Brien's locker.

-Let's nail this bastard.
-OK, Guv.

Right, I've got all your names.
They'd better be true.

Especially you,
'cause you look shifty.

Why weren't you in work today?

I had to be at the meeting.

It's funny, that. Dynamite
goes missing from where you work,

and next day you don't show up.
What have you done with it, O'Brien?

-I'm saying nothing.
-You're not helping yourself here.

How can you prove your innocence
if you won't cooperate?

Who says he's innocent?

Innocent until proven guilty.
Does that ring any bells?

The law doesn't apply
to maggots like him.

Come on, O'Brien,
stop pissing us about.

What's your role, eh?
You the monkey or the organ grinder?

Who's making the calls? Planting
the bombs? I want names. Now!

Two names, right? That's your lot.

That's your main man.

-P McGinty?
-Aye.

Though his mate does all the legwork.

Have a nasty kick, this mate?

Paddy McGinty's goat.

That's very clever, O'Brien.
Very funny.

You know, you should be on
The Wheeltappers and Shunters.

Except you'll be inside
choking on your own porridge

if I have my say in it,
you twisted piece of shit.

Guv, come on.

-Let me hit him. Just once.
-Another call's come through, Guv.

Shit.

IRA. Same accent.

Dynamite under a car outside the
Three Ships. Goes off in 15 minutes.

-Code word?
-There wasn't one.

-Make of car?
-Said it was up to us to find it.

Bastards.

Right, Phyllis, from now on,
only you are to answer the phone.

-What if I need the ladies'?
-Cross your legs.

Get out!

Come on, move! Keep going!

Where's the bomb squad, Phyllis?

They're on their way from a hoax call
in Abbey Hey.

They'll be with you
as soon as they can.

By which time it might be too late.

Guv?

Got any pliers?

-You done this before?
-Once. At Hyde.

-And?
-Well, I'm still here, aren't I?

A dead moron's no use to anyone.

Come on, think.

OK.

Come on, you know this.

No rush! Got about 22 seconds
before we're all blown sky-high.

It's the red.
It's the red, it's got to be the red.

I'm sure it is.

I knew it was the red,
I... I just... I couldn't...

I couldn't remember.

Still don't think
it's down to the IRA?

I'm not sure.

But it can't be O'Brien
making the calls.

Tenner says he knows who is, though.
He's involved, I know he is.

How?

Boss.

That was one of the street names
on O'Brien's list.

You sick, evil bastard.
Where's the next one going to go off?

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

Get up.

Get up!

You had the name
of the pissing street written down.

They're just streets
that we did jobs on.

So where are you and your IRA mates
planning the next job, eh?

Stop.

He can't. It's all you English
can do. Have done for centuries.

Well, I'm all for tradition, me.

That's enough.

-Where's the bomb?
-I said that's enough!

You carry on like this
and we won't get any evidence

because the suspect will be dead.

You're condemning a man
before he's even been tried!

-Because I know he's guilty!
-And what if he's innocent?

What if he's sent down
and the conviction's overturned?

You may as well become a recruitment
officer for the bloody terrorists!

And as for the public's faith in the
police, no one will trust us. No one!

We're the police.
Everybody trusts us!

Not where I come from,
they don't.

Yeah, not if they're all
bloody like you, eh?

We need to get him to hospital.

Shame you didn't show the same
concern for your own colleague.

I don't need this shit.

I'll call an ambulance
on the way out.

If you think I am going to let you
walk away from this investigation,

you're in for
an even bigger disappointment

than the day we found out
the plonk Doris Bangs

was a name and not a promise.

-Usual, mon brave?
-Large usual.

-Coming up.
-O'Brien's behind those bombs.

What we have to do...

OK?

Thought the doc signed you off
for a few weeks?

He did.

I wanted to catch the bastard
that did this to me.

I'm really sorry, mate.

You know, up till now, Colin Bell was
what I'd call a hero. Not any more.

-Nelson, get the man a drink.
-Cheers, Guv.

-Good to have you back, mate.
-You OK?

Ray? You OK?

Yeah, fine. I'm fine.

Guv.

He shouldn't be here. He's got PTSD.

The man's a hero and you're
accusing him of having the clap.

No. Post-traumatic stress disorder.

I've seen it before.

-He needs counselling.
-He's a police officer, not a fairy.

Nelson, Scotch.

There you go, Raymondo. Chaser.

Red lorry, yellow lorry,
red lorry, yellow lorry.

Red lorry, yellow lorry.

What do you want?

Red wire, yellow wire.
Red wire, yellow wire.

-Stop.
-Come on, Sam. You try it.

Red wire, yellow wire.

Come on. You know everything, Sam.

So clever.

-Just leave me.
-You're always right. Pick one.

You pick the right one,
it proves you were right.

It's OK, Sam.
I know you'll pick the right one.

Go with your instinct.

-Bang!
-Jesus.

You're dead, Sam.
Oh, dear. You and how many others?

-Don't you ever knock?
-Why? Got a bird in here?

-Where you going?
-Back to the start.

-What for?
-I've no idea.

Forget it. Now, do you want
the bad news or the bad news?

-O'Brien's missing from hospital.
-Shit.

If that isn't a sign of guilt,
I don't know what is.

-What's the other bad news?
-Call just came through. IRA.

Said the next one's the big one.
2pm on the dot.

-Bastards didn't say where, though.
-That's four hours from now.

The IRA don't give that much notice.
There's been no code words.

Something about this
doesn't feel right, Guv.

A bit like it didn't feel right
when the hoax bomb nearly killed Ray?

We find O'Brien, we find the bomb.
Shall we?

-This is going to make things worse.
-Not if we find him.

Everyone's in a panic.

Everyone's scared 'cause they're
dealing with the unknown.

Scared? Not my lot, Tyler.

Least of all
the man in the back here. Eh, Ray?

Ray?

-Sorry?
-You up for it?

-Too right, Guv.
-See? Bollocks of steel.

What do you think,
Sam? What do we do?

Did?

-What do we do?
-Take it easy, mate. Just, er...

Why don't you give me the gun?

What?

The gun.

We've got to go in
hard and fast.

When we're inside,
we split into two teams.

DC Skelton, you're with Cartwright.
Ray, you stick with DI Tyler.

-OK, good luck, let's go.
-All set? Let's go.

Ray.

Just do as I say, right?
We don't want any mistakes.

-Someone could get hurt.
-Yeah, they could, couldn't they?

Enough of the blarney! We're
pulling you all in for questioning!

Come on, lads, take them away.
Where's O'Brien?

Come on, one of you must know
where he is.

Bloody filth!

Come on, Chris!

Go and get him.

-Please, follow me.
-This way.

Ray.

Get 'em out!
Get 'em in the back!

I'll cut him off.

Ray! It's not O'Brien!

It's not O'Brien.
I don't think he's armed.

-Got him in my eyeline, boss.
-Do you read me?

-What do we do?
-Wait!

No!

Shit.

8-7-0. We need an ambulance
to the Irish Centre now.

I tried to warn you.
I said he wasn't armed.

You said you thought he wasn't armed.

I said wait.

-What the hell happened?
-I had to shoot, Guv.

I told you to wait.

What else was I supposed to do?
At least I did something.

Well, maybe you didn't hear me?

Bloody hell,
it's like the blind leading the deaf.

Who do I believe?

Believe who you want, Guv.
Trust who you want.

Like I trusted DI Tyler
before I got caught in the explosion.

Right, we've got just over an hour.
We search every house in the area.

Only that lowlife O'Brien knows
where the bomb's going to go off.

Where are you going, Tyler?

No idea.

You are not walking away
from this investigation.

We need to get him now
or people are going to die.

I'm not walking away, I'm...

I just... I just need time to think.

You haven't got time
to piss about thinking.

Come on, you lot.

I'm, er...

I'm not really what you'd call
a religious man, Father.

I don't go to church, don't pray.

I can't stand Cliff Richard.

This isn't even a confession.
This is just...

It's just... right now I'm lost.

There's nobody else I can talk to.

Thing is, Father,
I shouldn't even be here.

For now, anyway.

An innocent man was shot today.

My instincts told me
that he wasn't armed

but I went against them again.

And now I'm sure I'm right
about somebody else

who's been accused of something
I don't think they've done.

Trouble is,

I'm the only one
who believes he's probably innocent.

I can't prove it.

So what do I do?

Go with what I know, the facts?

Or take a chance
and trust my instincts?

If it's any help...

...my instincts have never been wrong.

I knew you were a complete nut job
the first time that I saw you.

But at least you're a nut job
who might be on my side for a change.

I knew you didn't take
those explosives.

What makes you so sure I didn't?
Apart from your instincts?

It just doesn't add up.

The IRA don't give the police
a few hours' notice to find a bomb.

There were no code words used.

The lock-up at the yard,
anyone could have broken into that.

Yet somehow
you became the prime suspect.

Maybe somebody
wanted us to think that.

Like who?

No idea.

If I can answer that, maybe I can
prove you had nothing to do with it.

Tyler.

Did you really think you were
talking to a priest before?

Sorry.
Smell of the whisky gave it away.

You haven't met our priest.

Look, how can I trust you
that you won't tell Hunt where I am?

'Cause I'm all you've got.

And right now you're all I've got.

But, just in case...

No offence, Father.

Right, we widen the search.
All units stick together on this.

We've got 40 minutes
to find the bomb.

I want that bastard found.
He's the key.

Annie?

I'm following up another lead.

-What lead?
-Miller's yard.

It's more of a hunch, really.

Will you come with me, please?
I need someone to help me.

Annie, you're coming with us.

-Are you coming or what?
-Yeah.

See you.

Mr Miller?

Frank?

Jesus. I thought you were Miller.

-Thought you'd be here.
-Great minds.

The Guv told me to find you.
You'd better get back.

Or else what?

He said something about
tearing out your scrotum

and shoving it down your big smug
gob, but don't let that sway you.

OK, Annie.
Listen to what I've got to say.

And if you don't believe me,
I'll come with you.

Now, just give me a minute
and I will explain.

Thirty seconds.

Frank Miller's up to his eyeballs
in debt.

You wouldn't think it with the car
that he drives, suits that he wears.

Kids, they're all
in fee-paying schools.

What's Miller being in debt
prove, though?

Look. I found this.

We were right.

O'Brien did work at that school
where the first bomb went off,

but so did Frank Miller.
Look. He's marked it on the map.

He kept it locked in a drawer where
he thought nobody would find it.

Come on, let's see what else
we can find before the Guv calls us.

These two are on O'Brien's list.

The bomb outside the school,
the one outside the pub.

Clay Street, also on there.

So why is Kennel Road marked?
That's not down here.

He's doing something there.

From these building plans.

Underground tunnels on Kennel Road.

Maybe Miller planted that list
in O'Brien's locker.

Maybe he wants us to think
that Clay Street is the next target,

when actually it's Kennel Road.

What's worth bombing in these places?

A few offices on Clay Street, er...

a few shops on Kennel Road...

Wimpey bar... a bank.

He knows these tunnels. Every access
point, because he helped build them.

He needs dynamite
to blow the bank vault.

Who'll suspect him?
He does it for a living.

He must have been planning this
ever since the IRA bomb in London.

Bit sick, in't he?
Planting a bomb near a school.

He needed to know
we'd take his threats seriously.

I know what I'd like
to seriously do the bastard.

Call in. Same Irish accent.

-IRA, says it's gonna go off in...
-Clay Street.

-You psychic, boss?
-Let's go.

No, wait.
Guv, Guv. The Irish bloke is Miller.

He wants us to think the bomb's
going to go off in Clay Street.

Think about it.

It's perfect timing. It's due to go
off in the middle of lunch hour.

Miller thinks half of Manchester's
coppers will be in Clay Street,

waiting for an explosion
that won't happen.

While Miller's right over
the other side of the city.

It takes about 20 minutes to get
from Clay Street to Kennel Road.

That gives him time to get in,
get out, leave no clues.

-There's no CCTV to track him, so...
-CC what?

I... it's a security system
we used in Hyde.

Anyway, the point is,
he lets the IRA take the blame.

He's right. O'Brien's the perfect
scapegoat for Frank Miller.

How do you know?

Look, look,
you know when I said I wasn't wrong?

Well, I was. But I was right
about this not being the IRA.

I was right to follow my instincts.

Like you said, go with your gut
feeling. I'm just taking your lead.

So I'm right.

We both are.

-Right.
-Right.

Just as long as I'm more right
than you.

OK, let's get to the bank
on Kennel Road.

Phyllis, get a unit to Clay Street,
get the area cleared just in case.

In there.

Here.

He's broken the lock.

We'd better get to him
before he presses that button.

I'll wait out here if you like,
keep an eye out.

Get in there.

-How far down does this go?
-Shut it, you nelly.

Come on, then, Marco Polo. Which way?

It's this way.

We've got about five minutes.
Here we go.

What are you doing, you dipstick?

There's dynamite
and you're lighting a ciggie!

Sorry, Guv.

According to this,
it should be about 50 yards that way.

It should just be up here.

Ooh.

Bingo.

OK.

Aha.

I'll lead.

-You OK, Ray?
-Yeah. Yeah.

-Where's Ray?
-Ray?

Don't come any closer.

Any of you.

-Put the gun down, Miller.
-No way.

Come on, Miller.
This is not the right thing to do.

It's too late now.
Put your guns down or I'll shoot him.

He's bluffing. He might be in debt,
but he's not a killer.

I'll do it!

Go on, then.

Come on, Miller.
Give us your Irish accent.

-You gone shy on us?
-I'm warning you.

Come on, let's have it.

Five.

Four.

-Three...
-Guv.

-Two...
-Guv, please.

One.

Don't, please, Mr Miller.

What would your daughter say?

You shouldn't be
in this line of work, love.

-It's too dangerous for a lass.
-You sound like me dad.

Just think how proud you were
on graduation.

That's why you're doing this,
isn't it?

It's not about the money.

It's about your family.

She's right, Frank.

Guv. Please.

But this is the wrong way
to go about it, Frank.

If you care that much for your wife
and kids, you'd stop this now.

You wouldn't want to hurt them
by shooting a copper...

...blowing us all up.

Is that what they deserve, Frank?

-How old's your boy?
-He's ten.

How's a ten-year-old ever going to
understand what you're doing, Frank?

He won't.

He'll think
somehow this was all his fault

and that will be in his head forever.

Is that what you want for him, Frank?
Is that what you want for your family?

What do I do, Frank?

What do I do?

'Cause my instinct's telling me

that someone who loves his family
that much won't go through with this.

And d'you know what?

I trust my instinct.

Why don't you give me the gun?

Come on, Frank.

Trust me.
Just give me the gun.

That's it.

Patrick.

I think DCI Hunt has something
he'd like to say to you.

-Have I?
-Yeah.

Yeah, well, you know, O'Brien,
we all make mistakes, eh?

-Sorry.
-It's a bit late for sorry.

-Yeah, well, no hard feelings, eh?
-No hard feelings?

I've been falsely accused,
had the crap kicked out of me.

-Now I have no job!
-Look on the bright side.

Still got your health,
so, you know, every cloud...

A hundred years ago, my grandfather,
he worked the bogs in Connemara.

He came over here to try and make
a better life for his family.

No one trusted him or wanted
his family living next door to them,

but it was all right for him
to do all the shitty wee jobs

the English didn't want to do.

That's why I came here.
Try and make a better life.

What, by taking part in a robbery?

I'd no job! I'd no money, I was
desperate. Like your man Miller.

Except I'll never
get to run me own business,

send me kids to the best schools,
drive a fancy motor.

Do you know why?

'Cause all our kind are good for
is shovelling shit and making bombs.

D'you know something, big lad?
I'm sick of shovelling shit.

-Right, boys?
-You tell them, Patrick.

Know his trouble?

Not so much a chip on his shoulder,
more the whole sodding chippy.

Yeah, well, I wonder why?

Oi, oi, oi!
Where you going with that?

My new house.

On your way.

A bit parky
to be out in just her nightie.

-Nice one, boss.
-Not bad, Tyler.

Well, I did have a bit of help
from DC Cartwright.

Credit where credit's due.

The way you're going,
you'll end up Commissioner.

Steady on. You'll have her running
the flaming country next.

Well, maybe we'd be better off
if a woman did run the country.

She couldn't make a worse job of it
than the fellas have.

I've got a feeling
you might regret saying that one day.

There you go. From all of us.

Hang on, not quite.

Cheers, boss.
I don't know what to say.

Mine's a pint of mild
with a whisky chaser.

Nelson. A pint for me and the boss,
and get one for yourself.

Coming up, mon brave.

I said, mine's a pint of mild
with a whisky chaser.

Cartwright's flashing her knickers.

Behave.

Well done, Sammy boy.

'Course, he learnt from the master.

No point keeping
all that expertise to meself.

-Absolutely.
-Cheers.

See, the pub, it's the one place
the IRA would never touch.

Oh, I love this one.

It's common sense. I've never met
an Irishman who didn't like a drink,

They won't bomb their own, are they?

No, you're right, Guv.

Did you say bum their own
or bomb their own?

Bomb, you donkey.

Hello?

Sam.

Sam, despite our fears,

you've demonstrated
evidence of healthy brain activity,

but the mind's a fragile thing,

so you must continue to believe
and trust in yourself, Sam,

like we believe and trust in you.

We hope you're strong enough
to come through this.

Cheers.

Cheers.

Listen, I forgot to say thanks.
I owe you one.

-For what?
-For helping me.

KitKat'll do nicely.

Tell you what, seeing as it's you,

I'll make it a Chunky one.

Chunky?

No...