All language subtitles for White Gold s02e03.eng

Whom do we have here, brother?

Messrs Swan, Lavender
and Fitzpatrick, Worshipful Master.

All recommended in open lodge,
come of their own free will

to be admitted
to the mysteries of Freemasonry.

Do you feel anything?

Steady on.

Sorry.

Sorry, I've got sensitive nipples.

It's a medical condition.

Er, actually, do you think
we could do the other leg?

- What are they laughing at?
- Nothing.

Silence!

As decreed by our founding brothers,
any man transgressing the vows

you are about to partake
will have his throat cut,

his tongue removed
and his bowels fed to the birds.

Welcome to the crazy,
fun world of Freemasonry.

In case you didn't know,
the Masons is a secret club

for local businessmen,
a bit like the Boy Scouts,

only much, much creepier.

Exclusively male, fiercely secretive
and murderously loyal,

its members swear to help
their brothers whenever in need,

which is handy,
because I have a pressing need

to sell my brothers
shitloads of new windows.

Now, in case you were wondering
how the Cachet boys came

to join the Moonies...

Sync & corrections by emeline-whovian
www.addic7ed.com

A few weeks back, I took Ronnie out
for a quick lunch to soften him up.

Now, maybe it's not a great idea to
be driven around by a drunken psycho

who's trying to open
his car door with a flick knife.

But then you might not need an
actual cash bonus as much as I do.

So, what is it you want, Vincent?

I'm old enough and ugly enough
to know when I'm being buttered up.

I need to talk to you about bonuses.

Jesus!

You're on the wrong side
of the road, mate.

I gave you boys a bonus last month.

Yeah, a lovely glass
chess set it was, as well,

Ronnie, but it isn't going
to put my number-one son

through private school
after he fails his 11-plus.

Look, I know sales
haven't been spectacular...

- What the fuck do you call that?
- Terrible timing.

You assured me you had
this under control, Vincent.

- I'm working on it.
- Well, evidently not hard enough.

And while we're at it,
since you sacked Brendan,

we've been leaking casual
repair work like rainwater

through one of Barry's
bodge-job conservatories.

I've a good mind to take
that glass chess set back.

- Red light!
- Nah, I'll make it.

CAR HORN BLASTS

Fuck's sake.

Bollocks.

Now look what you made me do.

Is it all right if I borrow your Bentley

while you're banned from driving, boss?

Sir, are you aware
that you just jumped a red light?

Cor blimey, how much
have you had to drink?

Out of the car, now.

Blessings of the holy order upon you.

May brotherly love prevail.

What the fuck just happened?

Ah, he's on the square.

He is a fellow member
of the Essex illuminati.

He a fucking Freemason, you nugget.

Like me.

The Masons. An ancient all-male
brotherhood devoted to spirituality,

good works and breaking the law
to benefit your mates.

Perfect for me, apart
from the good works.

And the spirituality.

This is disappointing.

- Why?
- I don't know.

I thought these lodges
were a cover for respectable men

to get up to all sorts, you know?

Getting shit-faced and cavorting
with strippers and prozzies.

No, that's the double-glazing industry.

I must admit, though, I had
hoped it would be a bit more...

...Satanic.

Well, maybe they lull you
into a false sense of security

by making it seem like a boring
version of the Chamber of Commerce,

and then, wham!,

they sacrifice a goat
and fire up a pagan orgy.

We're not here for
the shits and giggles, gentlemen,

this is a business opportunity.
Speaking of which...

An honour to be admitted
to your order, Worshipful Master.

Now, can I interest you
in a conservatory?

Are you kidding me?

They've let George fucking
Worst into the Masons before us.

Christ. What sort of
exclusive society is this?

A fucking shit one, that's the answer.

Apart from the opportunities
to drink and drive.

Yeah, obviously,
the drink-driving is a massive perk.

Here you go, Worshipful Master.

Thank you very much. Don't mind if I do.

Brother Ronnie said
you're a cheeky bugger.

Didn't think this would be your scene.

Why is that?

Well, Freemasonry is
built on moral rectitude,

helping good men become better men
through personal growth.

It just doesn't sound very you,
that's all.

Not very brotherly, is he?

Brother Andrew, is that a fitting
way to welcome a novice brother?

Jog on.

Brother Vincent's flogging me
a conservatory.

With a very healthy discount, I imagine.

A very fucking healthy discount
indeed, your Highness.

As boring as it was, and trust me,
it was fucking boring,

the Masons was at least
a distraction from Brian's

depressing shed-dwelling home life.

Mind you, it wasn't
his only distraction.

MUSIC: Wishing (If I Had A Photograph
Of You) by A Flock Of Seagulls

We can see you perving over us, pervert!

I'm not perving.

We want a word. Get in here.

All right. Just a minute.

- Brian!
- I'm coming. Just a minute. Jesus.

That porch Vincent sold Stacey's
mum, it's still bloody leaking.

I've told you, it's not leaking,
it's just settling in.

It's a porch, not a foster child,
it shouldn't need time to settle in.

Stace!

Humour, that's what was missing
from our marriage, Brian.

Settling in is an industry term.

Give it a week or two,
it will be right as rain.

Industry term, my arse.

I'd love to, my dear!

Sorry, are you still here?

You can fuck off to your
shed now, you pervert.

And stop wanking yourself to death,
and sort out Stacey's mum's porch.

Wench.

The worshipful fuck-master
is ready to commit

a depraved pagan sex ritual on you.

Looks more like the worshipful
fuck-master's ready to do the washing up.

Does the bowler hat help?

Maybe you need a penis to get
really turned on by all this gear.

Well, if it's a penis you're after...

How many Freemasons are there in Essex?

I love it when you talk dirty.

Literally hundreds.

Vincent fucking Swan.

No, Martin fucking Lavender,
actually, pleased to meet you.

And even more pleased
to be unbuttoning...

Yeah, sorry, Martin. Can I just
check I've got something straight?

Simply by virtue of having a dick to
swing around,

Vincent and the rest
of you cocks at Cachet

now have exclusive access to an
untapped market of first-class leads

at your secret bumming club.

If I say yes, does that mean
we're not having sex?

Morning, Worshipful Master.

It's just plain old "Bruce"
here on the outside, Vincent.

Gotcha.

Well, here I am as promised,
along with our top fitter.

Barry, get your arse over here.

Hello, Derek. Or is it Barry these days?

Long time, no see.

Which is usually a good thing
in my line of work.

Hello, Detective Neil.

You know each other?

He nicked me once
for handling stolen goods.

It must have been those two A-levels
you stuck on your CV, Barry.

I keep telling him it's Derek.

So, you still on the force, Bruce?

CID these days, Detective Sergeant.

It's not a problem, is it?

Have you been up to anything
illegal, you cheeky bugger?

No, wouldn't dream of it.

No, at Cachet we run
an outreach programme for ex-cons,

try to give them a leg up
when they get out.

That's really charitable of you,
Vincent.

By the way, hope you don't mind,
I mentioned the deal you gave me

on the conservatory
to a couple of the brothers,

and they expressed an interest.
Would you mind if they got in touch?

- Be an honour to help my brothers out, Bruce.
- Great.

I'll introduce you
at the next lodge meeting.

We've got special guests at dinner.

It's going to be a lot of fun,
if you catch my drift.

Right...

N-fucking-O spells no.

Believe me, Tony, if I had a penis,
I'd join this cult for cocks myself.

Now, all you've got to do
is push new leads in my direction.

Brendan will use his influence
to get you in.

Hang on a wee second.

I've no idea what you're on about.

Oh, come off it,
you were seen in the meeting.

Tell that boyfriend of yours
he should watch his tongue.

His tongue's the best bit about him.

It's nice and loose.

Now, are you going to help us or not?

Look, hypothetically speaking,
there is no fucking chance.

The second Tony's
application is processed,

it will get voted on
by the lodge members

and then blackballed by at least
three of his former employees.

Hypothetically.

There's also the more-pressing
issue that I don't want to join

the fucking wanky handshake brigade.

Sometimes, Tony, the road
to success is a rocky one,

and we have to tread on some stones.

We're not in one of your poxy
seminars now, Professor Plum.

You are my employee.

I'm not having my arse pumped
by some ceremonial goat

just to boost your bonus.

We don't pump anyone's arses with goats.

Oh, so you do know
what we're talking about?

Listen, Miss Hotshot, you're
the one I'm paying top dollar.

It's down to you to bring in sales.

Now, sort the slump, or sayonara.

That's French for "fuck off".

It now remains to be seen
whether the Egyptian authorities

will, as promised,
open the door in the Great Pyramid

and reveal what is behind it.

The eyes of the world are watching.

Any questions?

Here at the lodge, my dullard
brothers continue to do

all-male secret society meetings
completely fucking wrong.

Brother Swan.

Wonderful talk, Brother Kemp.

I was wondering if we could employ
the principle of a pyramid structure

in the construction of a
double-glazed conservatory,

would anyone here be interested?

Count me in.

At least it was driving
my northern nemesis batshit crazy,

and I wasn't the only one
deriving pleasure from Jo's fury.

Drop 'em, pretty boy,
it's expresso fuck time.

- Sorry, I...
- Yeah, can we maybe not have a chat?

I've had an arsehole of a day
and I haven't really got long.

If you can just get your cock out
and let mamma climb on board.

Oh, come on, it's every man's
fantasy, a zipless fuck.

Yeah, look, I know I'm letting all
men everywhere down by saying this,

it's just, zipless fucks
are all we ever have.

I mean, what kind of
a relationship is this?

One that started out
as industrial espionage,

now it's more a sex on tap thing.

I can always turn the tap off
if you can't handle it, Martin.

No, all I'm saying is,
sometimes I wouldn't mind

a zip... ful fuck.

I'm bored of all this mindless shagging.

It's like you only want me for my body.

I mean, can't you at
least buy me dinner first?

- What do you mean, like a date?
- Yeah.

Nice meal, maybe a movie.

You're so fucking weird.

Lovely.

Thanks to my new best pal, Bruce,

every Mason and half
the Essex Police force

were queuing up for one
of my conservatory deals.

All right?

I don't suppose there's
any chance of you sharing

about all this new masonic business
in a brotherly fashion?

That masonic bollocks
doesn't wash with me.

We're salesmen, Brian,
you know the rules,

it's every man for himself.

I need to get the money together
so I can move out the fucking shed.

Look, once I can earn
back Ronnie's trust,

I'll start spreading
the lovea little more.

And everyone benefits.

Can we at least talk about Maureen's
lesbie friend's leaking porch?

They're giving me right earache.

Sorry, mate, you're going
to have to clean up your own mess.

Ronnie's put a hold on all repair jobs.

It's your fucking mess!

- Morning, all.
- Watch out, mein F?hrer's on the prowl.

Good morning, Ronald.

Let me guess, you've come to check
out all the roaring business

I'm doing with
our brothers from many mothers.

Ah, you really are an unbearable
prick when your tail's up,

which can only mean one thing...

Another record week under our belt.

That's great work, Vinnie, great work.

I think it's time you and I revisited

the little bonus discussion, yeah?

Come on, let's have
a little dickie bird out the back.

Ronnie, it's not another
Persian rug, is it?

No, don't be daft,
I think you'll find what I've got

in the back of the car
will make Sam and your backwards

little boy very happy.

Ronnie, please tell me there's
a briefcase full of cash

underneath that wolf you have got
in the back of your car.

Meet Nigel. One previous owner, a
schizophrenic publican from Romford.

Mistreated the poor mutt,
which is why he's so quiet.

Even better. A depressed wolf.

Come on, misery guts, look at him.

Nigel is a thoroughbred.

You can put him out
to stud and you will earn

a fucking fortune, son.

Obviously after he's recovered
from years of abuse by a psychopath.

Nah, sorry, I'm not 'aving it,
you can keep your dog.

What the fuck?

Oh! Look, he likes you, look.

You know, studies show that owning
a pet can be very therapeutic

to divvy kids.

Your missus will be over the moon.

I suppose the kids
have always wanted a dog.

Yeah.

Kids, guess what your incredible
pops has got ya?

DOG BARKS

- What?
- Dad, you're the best!

- I am, aren't I?
- DOG SNARLS

- Jesus!
- Nigel!

Hello, baby. How was your day?

DOG BARKS AND GROWLS

What the fuck is that thing, Vincent?

Nigel was going to need a few days
to get over his trust issues.

Take him back!

I can't put Nigel through any
more rejection. It will break him.

Let's just give it a few days
for us all to get used

to each other, at least.

Until then, the rest of the family
could always live upstairs.

Good boy.

Hello, Mr Doggy.

Shoo, you dirty dog! Shoo!

- Vincent, for Christ's sake.
- Nigel!

- Oh, no!
- Sorry, Pat.

Just so you know, if that dog mucks
up our chances of getting Robbie

into the grammar school,
I'm having him put to sleep.

I don't decide where he shits,
sweetheart, it's in his nature.

Just like it was in your nature to
sell a bloody leaking conservatory.

How many times do I have to
tell you, it's not leaking,

it's fucking settling?

Talk to me like that again, Vincent,

and I'll see if I can get a
two-for-one deal on exterminations.

You're right, I'm sorry, I'm
just a bit grouchy at the moment.

It's all these late nights at the lodge.

Speaking of which, do you
fancy a boys' night out?

- Boys?
- Well, one boy.

I hear he's a right looker
and a demon between the sheets.

Huh?

DOG BARKS

Mummy!

And Nigel wasn't the only one
having settling issues.

Thank you, my love.

Brother Bruce, what brings you
to my place of work?

My conservatory is fucking leaking.

That's spooky, the conservatory
you sold your neighbour,

that's leaking as well.

Nothing is leaking, Carol, thank you.

As they are both new installations,

they are what we call
in the trade settling.

- Fuck me, what's Thyroid doing here?
- I told you, Stacey's mum's porch.

I want a word with you, Vincent, yes?

Stacey's mum is beside herself.

Everything in the
hallway stinks of damp.

I appreciate table manners
aren't your strong suit, Maureen,

but you're going to have to wait as
I'm currently dealing with a customer.

We are customers too.

We have the same rights
to be heard as men.

Yes, you have,

when it's your turn, sweetheart.

Now, Bruce, as I was saying,
all new conservatories leak.

Stop ignoring me and my
girlfriend, it's pathetic.

And very sexist.

As I explained, I'm more than happy
to discuss the snagging issues

with the porch in good time.

If you want to make an appointment
with Carol, she will get an engineer

out to examine Stacey's mum's
smelly damp entrance.

Now, if you'll excuse me...

Right, that's it.

I really hope I haven't put myself
out to recommend Cachet

to my brother Masons, only for them
to find that they have been let

down by shoddy workmanship.

- Vincent...
- Not now, Carol.

Bruce, I take offence to people
calling our workmanship shoddy.

Vincent...

Don't be fucking ridiculous.
Take the cuffs off and clear off!

No way. Fix Stacey's mum's porch
or I'll stay here until you do,

- no matter how long it takes.
- You don't have to do that, Maureen.

No, Stace, it's like you said, yeah?

Deeds, not words.

I'm prepared to stay
here until our voice is heard.

That is so romantic.

Although I am teaching an
aerobics class at three

so I'll have to leave you to it.

She's hilarious.

No, really, I do have to go.

Just hurry up and shift your arse
before my friend the policeman

here shifts it for ya.

I'm not shifting anyone's arse, not
until you fix my conservatory as well.

And I advise you to do it double
quick before me and my friends

at CID take some interest
in all of the dodgy crap

that you and Ronnie Farrell
are undoubtedly up to.

Excuse me, madam.

You need to grow up, Maureen.

Worshipful Master,
or should I just call you Bruce?

No, you shouldn't.

No, of course, forget I suggested it.

Listen, could I have a word?

Meanwhile, it was date night
for double glazing's

most duplicitous couple.

So how do they work, then?

These dates of which you speak?

You know, you tell me about some
terrible past relationship,

I tell you about one of mine,

and then if we're really, really lucky,

we start a terrible
relationship of our own.

They can't all have been terrible.

No, pretty much.

So you've never been in love?

Well, maybe once.

Was that the married one?
Come on, you can tell me, Martin.

Trust me, I really, really can't.

OK, what do you fancy?

You know, spring rolls,
crispy duck, and my favourite,

cream of some young sales guy.

- Bollocks.
- I do like them too.

There is a table at the back there.

Isn't that Martin?

Oh, so that must be Jo Scott.

Blimey, she's gorgeous.
Remarkably gorgeous.

If you like that sort of thing.

Yeah, well, you do like
that sort of thing.

- Gotta say hello.
- We really don't.

Sam, Vincent. What a surprise.

Fraternising with the enemy, Lavender?

Busted, dammit.

We better put it through expenses now.

Sorry, if I have to wait
for an introduction

we will be here all night.
I'm Sam, Vincent's wife.

Hello, Sam, I'm Jo.

I heard you were beautiful but wow,
you're punching above your weight

with this stunner, Vincent.

Anyway, we don't want
to disturb your evening.

Something we can all
fucking agree on for once.

- Vincent.
- Sit with us.

- Yeah.
- Yeah.

Yeah. Lovely.

Thanks, babe.

While we were on the double date
from hell, Fitzpatrick was throwing

the kitchen sink at the Masons
in an attempt to drum

up some business.

HE CLINKS GLASS

I would like to thank
Brother Fitzpatrick for supplying us

with such excellent steak.

And for arranging the after-dinner
entertainment that we are

about to enjoy.

There's no need, Reverend,
there's no need, really.

No, it's the least I could do.

Before we crack on with tonight's
presentation, can I just say

how deeply touched I've been
with the respectful welcome

you've all given me this past month?

If anything, too respectful,
but now that we all know

and trust each other I'd
like to show my appreciation,

so please raise your glasses
to what I am sure your members

are going to want to make
a regular occurrence,

Brother Brian's steak and sauce night.

ALL: Steak and sauce!

This week's theme is the historical
ties between the Freemasons

and the Vatican.

MUSIC: Hot Stuff by Donna Summer

DANCERS WHOOP AND CHEER

Here we go, eh?

Phwoar! Eh? Look at that!

What do you reckon?

Go on.

- Woo!
- Steady on.

Phwoar!

Hello, boys, who wants to
play with my rosary beads?

Well, I fucking do!

Wahey!

Look, Jo, don't worry about Vincent,
he's just stressed.

He's got problems with
his biggest customer.

Ouch. Well, I know what that feels like.

Local, is he?

Mm. Big cheese in the bloody Masons.

Really? Sounds complicated.

It is, especially because
Bruce is a policeman.

Right.

Listen, Jo, I know you've got
your issues with Vincent

and I know he can be an arsehole,
but he's my arsehole,

- and your Martin is a good man.
- My Martin?

I don't know if you'd call him that.

Just treat him right, Jo, promise me
that, he's been through enough.

MUSIC: Romance Revisited by Culture Club

Thank you.

- OK?
- Yeah. Totally.

You bring strippers and prostitutes
into the Masonic Lodge,

who draped themselves over our
brothers and offer them casual sex?

You make that sound
like it's a bad thing.

I'm left with no alternative
but to enact a law of our sacred

brotherhood that has not been used
in this lodge for 150 years!

Please don't hurt us.

I'm expelling you all from the Masons.

- Thank God.
- Bloody hell!

We are out for holding an orgy
at a Satanic sex club?

I mean, that is literally like
getting the sack for organising

- a piss-up at a brewery!
- We are not a Satanic anything.

- Well...
- You only ever saw our fraternity

as a business opportunity.

You have violated several
of our most sacred vows,

not least the code of secrecy.

Brother Brendan was most distressed
to have his brotherhood revealed.

That wasn't us.

Just be honest, Bruce,
this is all some power play

because of a little settling
in your conservatory.

No.

To put it frankly, if this
were 1785 and not 1985,

the three of you would
have had your throats slit

and your tongues ripped out!

Besides, as of this morning,
my conservatory is not

leaking any more.

Because it settled. Thank you.

No.

Because someone has offered
to fix it free of charge

and undercut Cachet's prices
on any home improvements

our members might want in the future.

You might even know the young lady.

She said to send her love.

Ms Jo Scott of W-Windows?

W Windows.

How the fuck did Jo hear about Bruce?

How do you fucking think?

Old supergrass over here.

She didn't hear it from me, if
that's what you're implying.

Your girlfriend is really
starting to get on my tits.

Hang on, you're the one who insisted
I went out with her.

So that's it, I'm finishing
with that untrustworthy, devious,

unbelievably sexy arsehole.

See, this is what you get
when you send in a soppy little boy

to do a man's job.

Now, if you want, I'll go in
and seduce the fucking shit

- out of her, just say the word.
- Yeah, I think I'll pass.

No, it may be time we get Ronnie
to deal with our little Jo problem.

I mean, it seems a bit over the top.

As does getting our bowels fed
to the birds just so she can sell

- some fucking conservatories.
- Fair enough.

You might want to come
and see this, Vincent.

No! Nigel, you stupid fucking prick.

While I could overlook most
of Nigel's character flaws,

eating the dashboard of my Mercedes
was tantamount to checking himself

into Battersea Dogs Home.

And he wasn't even the craziest beast

I had to deal with that morning.

_

Really? Who let Little
and Large in again?

Well, I tried to tell them,
but Stacey reminded me

that peaceful protest
is a democratic right.

It would be in a democracy, Carol,
but this is a dictatorship,

not Greenham fucking Common.

If those twats aren't out of
my showroom by the time

I get back from lunch, you're sacked.

Hang on, listen,
this is my fuck-up here,

Carol's done nothing wrong,
so if anyone should be sacked,

- it should be me.
- Absolutely fine.

Nigel!

Run, Brian. Run.

Lock it now. Brian, lock it.

I hope this is one of your jokes, Stace.

Sorry, Maureen,
I'm not as strong as you.

Nigel.

Oh. He doesn't normally take
to strangers.

Maybe we could come to some sort
of an arrangement here, ladies.

Even though Ronnie would go
ballistic about the refitting costs,

I figured life's too short
to be lumbered with a psycho dog

from hell, and Nigel.

Hello, gorgeous.

No, Stace, see you later.

Stacey's showroom cowardice was
such a turn-off for Maureen,

she decided to invest in a relationship
with someone she considered

more her savage equal.

I can see it now, grandkids running
through, sunshine coming in.

It's done. Vinnie, I've dealt with our
attractive little W-Windows problem.

Sorry. Excuse me one moment.
That's the boss.

All right, let's try
and keep it down a bit,

Ronnie, it's probably better
if we never had this conversation,

if you know what I mean.

You bloody pillock.
What sort of man do you think I am?

If someone is selling more windows
than you, you don't kill them,

you offer 'em a fucking job, son.

I'd like you to meet
your new co-showroom manager,

Miss Joanne Scott. Ta-dah!

What? No, I'm the
fucking showroom manager.

And so is she.

Look forward to job sharing
with you, Vincent.

It looked like life at Cachet
was about to become dog eat dog.

Although for Fitzpatrick...

- Nigel...
- ...life was very much now dog eat him.

MUSIC: Loverboy by Billy Ocean

-
I want to be your

-
I want to be your

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