All language subtitles for Rise.Of.The.Footsoldier.2007.EXTENDED.720p.BRRip.1.15GB.MkvCage.com.eng

Hello, mate. It's me again.

Listen, mate, can you
give me a call back, please?

Well, I'm just getting
a bit worried.

So just give me a call back
as soon as you get this message.

All right, mate. Ta.

It was the end of an era.

But before the murders,

the torture,

the beatings and the ecstasy,

before all of that,
there was football.

You see, football was
where the spites

and the hatred first came from.

On those terraces...

well, it's where it all began for me.

I just turned 16, and I was
already a naughty little fucker,

working my way up
through the ranks.

I was West Ham. Football, fighting
and fucking was our way of life.

If you came down our manor,
you'd get a slap.

And if we went over to you,
well, we'd fucking turn you over,

cos for us
it was all about respect.

It was the same all over the place. But
we weren't trying to change the world.

We were just looking
for a fucking tear-up...

Ladies and gentlemen...
Bill Gardner.

He was West Ham's top boy,
an inspiration to us all.

There's your Bovril, Bill,
nice and hot.

Come on then, Gardner!

I've waited all fucking year
for you, you cunt!

Come on...

Gonna need another one of those, lad.
Get us a meat pie an' all.

Even though I was wrapped
around violence,

I always had time for the ladies.

So I waltzed up to this bird
and I just put it on her...

"'You all right, darling?
Where you been all my life?"

And that was how I met Karen.

Beautiful Karen.

We got married two days after.

I came out
of Tottenham Magistrates Court.

I had been up
on a threatening behaviour charge.

I'd also got in a fight
at my stag do the night before

so I looked a right fucking state.

So I was a married man,
but football was my mistress,

and I played away every weekend.

First round of the Cup
when we played Fulham

and believe it or not,
it kicks off,

and the Old Bill comes steaming in,
but what are you going to do, eh?

It's fucking war on the streets.

We were all over
the papers the next day.

They said we were the biggest menace
since the IRA.

But I mean, what the fuck did we care?
We was just having a laugh.

Oh, Carlton, she is beautiful.

Yeah, of course she is,
just like me.

Do you hear that?
Just like your dad.

I'll fucking kill you!

We started calling ourselves the ICF,
the InterCity Firm.

That's because we took
the InterCity trains

to all the away matches,
rather than the old football specials.

And we dressed up smart,
looked a little bit respectable.

You see, that way
the Old Bill don't spot you.

Man U-fucking-nited
and the bloody coach breaks down.

Fuckin' hell!

To be fair to the driver
he did try and offer up an expla'nation,

but Paul wasn't having none of it.

We just about get there in time
for the second half,

- Fuck you.
- Speak English, you cunts.

Fuck off back to your campsite,
you little cunts.

- You saucy Northern cunts!
- Let's fucking do the bastards.

Hey, come back here,
you little punk!

I'll fucking kill you!

Right!

And there we go. Fuck me!

Just fallen
for the oldest trick in the book.

Light it.

Come on!

Come on!

ICF! ICF! ICF! ICF!

ICF! ICF!

All right, darling?

You look a state, Carlton.

Red Army?
Don't make me laugh.

- Scruffy Manc cunts.
- You had a good time then?

Yeah, we kicked their fucking heads in.
It was classic.

But I was a mug. Here I was
with a girl who really loved me,

and you know, the last time
I said the words "I love you"

was to Eddie after five pints
down the boozer in Canning Town.

Then suddenly
I get this job offer out of the blue.

Smalls nightclub is looking
for a new doorman.

They've been having trouble
from some local firm

and they wanted someone with
a bit of weight to keep the peace.

What I'm trying to create here
is what they call an environment.

Now you could usher the nice-looking
birds to the front of the queue.

If you get the nice-looking birds,
the geezers wanna spend their money.

- You following me, Carlton?
- Yeah, yeah.

So, say, 40 nicker a night?
Is that good with you?

Yeah, people tried it on,
but everybody got what they came for.

If you turned up looking for a drink and
a couple of birds, that's what you got.

But if you came in for anything else,
you'd end up with my fist in your face.

If you came back with your little army,
I'd just have to get my metal bar out.

And if I caught you
noncing in the toilets,

I wouldn't think twice
about stabbing you up the arse.

You see, when someone's
out to make a name for themselves,

you have to rip 'em so hard
that they never want to get up again.

This may seem harsh, but in my world
kindness is mistaken for weakness.

Can I get you a coffee, Carlton?

- Yeah, white and one sugar, please.
- Sure, babe.

Oi, oi!

Nice job, Carlton.
No complaints, no one's dead.

- Want some more work?
- Yeah. I'll take anything you've got.

There's your money. Tell the taxman
if you like. I'll leave it up to you.

Give us a buzz on Wednesday
and I'll see you next week.

- There you go, sweetheart.
- Ta, babe.

But you know what?
I'd better get going.

Well, then, how about...

I jump into the back of your motor
and suck your big cock?

Finish up here
and I'll give you a ride home.

- Yeah, sure.
- Carlton!

Hurry up.

I want to talk to you. I think
there's a couple of doormen on the take.

I'm losing over 200 quid a week and
the only person not on the fiddle is you.

- So what are you saying?
- Take control of the door.

Get rid of this lot and bring in
whoever you think is good for the job.

More money...

More responsibility.
What do you say?

So I fucked off the regular boys and
brought in a couple of football mates.

They knew how to look after
themselves and it was nice dough.

Now that no money was going missing,
we could do whatever we liked.

Stay still. Stay still.

Stay still.

Aaah...

Aaah...

Come on.
I'll drop you off at the bus stop.

What's all that about, huh?

- Where are you going?
- Where have you been?

Well, I've been at work, ain't I?

I called the club.
They said you left two hours ago.

- Yeah, well, the car's playing up.
- Again?

- Yeah.
- Jesus Christ, Carlton, make an effort!

What you on about, eh?

Hey, I'm talking to you.

You know, make an effort.

Am I not worth it?

You can't even spend five minutes
trying to hide it from me, can you?

Hide what?

Well, the smell of her perfume
might be a good start

or the used condoms
that I practically find daily

at the bottom of our car.
I have to take them out

before I take Carly to nursery.

That's dirty, Carlton.

What are you bringing that up for, eh?

I mean, why do you have to start as
soon as I get through the fucking door?

- We're over, Carlton.
- What?

I want a divorce.

You can't, can you?

You know what?

No. You can either
help me pack that car...

or you can just fuck off
back to one of your dolly birds.

And so it went on.

Match day. Arsenal away.

My lot had gone up in front and
I'm stuck with a load of stragglers.

Now these cunts had been out
on the piss the night before

and they weren't exactly up
for an early start.

Fucking hell, it's Millwall! Get up!
The fucking Treatment! Get up! Get up!

Get up! Get up!
We can do these cunts! Get up!

Come on then,
you fucking wankers!

Come on, you fucking cunts!

Get up!
Come on, move, move!

Life's all about moving forward.

You learn what you can
and you crack on.

I'd been running the terraces
for over a decade.

Maybe this was my time
to bail out gracefully.

The Old Bill were
coming down hard anyway.

They had surveillance and undercover
units. It was fucking stupid.

There was more Old Bill at the game
than there were supporters.

They weren't slapping you
on the wrist anymore.

They were handing out
heavy jail sentences.

Yeah, I reckon
I got out just in time.

I've been hearing good things
about you, Carlton.

I got told this joint
used to be a shithole.

- Yeah, it did.
- Well, look at it now, eh?

Things seem to be
ticking along nicely.

Why don't you come
and clean up my joint?

Yeah? What's it like?

It's a den of cunts.
I'm hoping you can change all that.

I want the '80s crowd,
suits, briefcases, nice-looking birds.

I'll be giving you
carte blanche, son.

But the only problem was I didn't have
enough reliable, cool-headed mates

from football to look after another door.

I needed fresh blood, and I knew
exactly where to get hold of it.

Talbot's gym.
This ain't no place for showboaters.

This is where the meanest, hardest
lumps in East London work out.

- Hello, Terry, mate. All right?
- Yeah.

Fuck me, look at the size of ya!
Are you sleepin' down there?

No, mate, I'm training the same.
Doing the course. Sus and Deca.

- Yeah? Does it work?
- I put on about two stone in six weeks.

Yeah? Who's doing that then?

- Tony sorted me out.
- Yeah?

Ten, eleven, twelve...

Yeah, well, I might have some of that.

Listen, I'm starting up my own door firm
and I need some lumps.

I can sort you out five nights a week.
Good dough.

Yeah, I'll have some of that.

Twenty...

You fucking want some?!

Get my money by next week.

You made me look a cunt
in front of the management!

Every time I get you a gig,
you're pissed! You're a total cunt!

No, you're the cunt! I'm gonna bring
the lads back in and sort you out!

You're fucking dead! Get the fucking lot
of them, you wanker!

You want a proper iob?

All right, girls?
How are you doing?

Fuck off.

Someone once told me you're only
as good as the people around you.

And you didn't get to work on my door
unless you could handle yourself.

- Put me down, you wankers!
- Watch him!

Hey! What are you doing?!

Aaagh!

But I soon found out running doors
weren't the only way to make money.

There's more than one use
for hired muscle - guarding packages,

minding drug deals.

Me and the lads got paid to make sure
things went down how they should.

People don't mind laying out
10% for peace of mind.

It became bread and butter work
for my firm,

but there was more to do
than just babysitting.

People started coming
to me for all sorts.

They're smashing up that young fella's
car. They're using baseball bats.

- Is he in it?
- No.

Fucking shame!

Oi!

Fuck!

Well done, eh?

Now the rave phenomenon
will have to go down in history

as being as important as the birth
of rock 'n' roll, punk or metal.

It all started with the acid house music
in the late '80s.

These kids started putting on
massive parties all over the place

in factories, warehouses,
whatever they could get hold of.

And if you was
a farmer back then,

you'd wake up to find a fucking
spaceship's just landed in your field.

What's it all about here? There's
Millwall, Tottenham all over this place.

- I keep waiting for it to kick off.
- It's all the ecstasy, Carl.

This lot will be doing nothing
but loving each other all night long.

Have you checked
with John and Terry? How's the door?

They're all paying £20
to get in with no bother.

It's a fucking licence to print money,
isn't it?

You want to be a little more subtle
about that, don't you?

Yeah, but love ain't subtle, mate.

Yeah, well, neither am I, so you
either put it out or I put you out.

- Do you understand?
- You should have one.

You look like you need it.
Don't worry, it's on me.

You're some sort of cunt, ain't you?
I don't do drugs.

It's not a drug, mate. This is love.
Don't tell me you don't do love.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, love, love, love,
and all that fucking bollocks.

All right, you mad cunt.
Go on, give me one.

But put the rest away!
You understand what I'm saying to you?

Fuck it. Why not?

Everything all right, Carl?

I've only gone and taken
one of those pills, ain't I?

Yeah, it was either that
or give the kid a slap.

But I'm in a good mood,
so I thought I'd let him off.

So what's it like?

Oh, it's rubbish, mate. It must be a dud.
I can't feel nothing.

You know,
I still can't feel nothing.

Really?

Yeah, it's rubbish.

We go way back, don't we, Eddie?

Yeah, mate.

I tell you what, mate.
You're like a fucking brother to me.

Yeah, cheers, mate.

I fucking love you, Eddie.
Fucking love you.

Oh, mate, I'm buzzing off my fucking
nut here. I've got to go and dance.

It was incredible - the first time
I'd ever touched drugs

and got as close to God
as chemically possible.

The biggest crowd I'd managed before
was 300-strong

and 15 lumps just about managed
to stop them from killing each other.

But everybody here was in love.

I mean, the drugs were
breaking down social barriers.

Peace by ecstasy. Even old Thatcher
couldn't have dreamt that up

This stuff really was
going to change the world.

I wanted to feel like that forever.
We all did.

Oh, dear. A pint of your finest
champagne, please, squire.

Look at this flash cunt
giving it the old Roger Moore.

I bet he thinks he's right special,
doesn't he?

He's definitely got
a fucking problem.

Who, him? Looks like
the fucking Honey Monster.

I know you, don't I?

- Do you?
- Yeah.

- You're Carlton Leach.
- What's your name then?

I'm Tony Tucker.
We grew up near each other.

You and your lot used to play football
with my mate's brother.

I don't remember that. I've seen you
about. You work out down at the gym.

So how long you been
going down to Talbot's for?

- Don't know. A couple of years.
- You follow any kind of programme?

- Nah, I just lift when I feel like it.
- You should have some direction.

You want to lump up,
you've got to know a thing or two.

Take me. I'm not going full-on
right now, but I look after myself.

I take the right supplements
and I sell them too.

The legal kind and the naughty stuff.

What is this,
some sort of sales pitch?

Give over, I wouldn't charge you
fuck-all. I'm just telling you what I do.

I've heard of you. I know what
you get up to. I'm into the same game.

I figure it's always worth having
something on the side, you know?

Oh, yeah, I can see that.

- You want to join us?
- Yeah, why not?

You'll fucking love 'em.

They're thick as shit
and fucking gagging for it.

You start off on Creatine, you increase
protein and you work out hard.

But it don't last that long, cos you
look at the other lads in the gym

and you think, "Hang on a fucking
minute. What's his secret?"

Anabolic steroids. They help
the body produce more protein,

which in turn increases muscle mass,

which means you can work out
longer and harder.

I started off iniecting Anavar.

Fairly mild as steroids go.

Nothing could last forever
and club land was no different.

With the money that was floating about,
it was only a matter of time

before the dealers
turned each other over.

Why go through all the effort and risk
of importing the drugs yourself

when you can just go
and rob some cunt who has?

- There he is!
- Let's fucking do him!

Drive!

Now the dealers
can hardly go to Old Bill,

so they go to the next best thing -
muscle for hire.

We started doing punishment as well
as protection. I mean, why not?

These are good.
You ever used one of these?

It's a bone saw.

Listen. I'm gonna go
and make a cup of tea,

and you can think
about what you've done.

Cycling, stacking.
Six weeks on, six weeks off.

Work hard, lift big.
Pure muscle, fucking packing it on.

You know, someone once told me
the thing about being ripped off is,

you have to be prepared
to spend double what was stolen

on catching and making
an example of the thief.

Please. Please.

I've got kids.

I've got a wife.

I wouldn't worry
about that for now.

I mean, you're not exactly
much of a catch, are you?

She'll get over it.

Yeah, she'll probably be sucking
fresh cock by next week.

Trust me, I know the sort.

Please help me.
Please help me.

And that's what happened
to the lucky ones.

All right?

Mmm.

Are you forgetting something?

What?

Tonight... a special dinner?

Our anniversary?

Listen, darling, I'm tired.
It's been a hard day.

I just wanna have something to eat
and have a lay down.

Can you get up?
I need something to eat. Go on.

For fuck's sake, Carlton,
it's our anniversary tonight.

Am I talking to myself?
What did I just say to you?

Get my dinner. Now. Move it.

- What's that?
- What's what?

What is that?

It's seared chicken with Jersey Royals.
I cooked it right from the book.

Well, thanks for telling me
cos I can't fucking see it.

Take it away.
All right? Just take it away.

Go on, get it out of my sight.

Listen, you lazy cunt, iust...

Fuck you!
You want a fucking beating?

Hey! You want a fucking beating,
do you? Eh?

I fucking hate you, you bastard!
Get out!

Eh? See what you've done?

How could you do this to me?

How could you do this to me?
Who the fuck do you think you are?

I put my fucking life
on the line for you every night

and you can't even cook me
a fucking meal, you lazy cunt!

Is that fucking cunt banging again?
You old fucker!

Piss off! Just get out!
Shut up, you horrible cunt! Shut up!

Shut up! Just shut up!

- Shut up. Shut up!
- You fucking useless cow!

Fuck off!

You think you know me, eh?

Go on, hurt me. Go on, bruise me.

- Go on, make a mark.
- How about I bite your fucking nose off?

You want me to tear
that fucking nose off of yours? Eh?

Is that what you want?

Don't you fucking dare!

Like this, do you?
Do you like this?

Go on, Carlton.
Go on, fuck me. Go on.

Go on, fuck me then.
Fuck me properly, go on.

Come on, fuck me hard
like you used to.

Yeah, go on.

Be a man for once in your life.

- Fucking...
- Go on. Go on.

Come on.

You disgust me.

The steroids left my whole body
shaking, crying out for food.

I couldn't think straight.
They don't just make your muscles big.

They fuck your head up - roid rage.

I left the Anavar behind
and moved on to the heavier stuff.

I was injecting myself
with testosterone, Sustanon.

Anything I could lay me hands on.

Baby, please come back.

Fuck's sake,
get out of the way, will ya?

Get out of the fucking way!

Get out of the fucking way!

Who are you calling a fucking wanker?

You fucking cunt!
Get out of the fucking way!

Oi, leave it, mate!

I'm gonna fucking kill you!
You fucking cunt!

Wanker!

Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!

You wanna fucking call me
a wanker, you fucking cunt?

Happy anniversary!

That's all I wanted.

Why does...

I don't understand.

I took to carrying jars
of baby food everywhere I went.

My body was clucking for nutrients
and I'd guzzle down six jars at a time.

How long have you been flogging
your company for?

I ain't flogging it. It's doing all right.

You're turning over some good money.
You don't even have an accountant.

- Are you fucking listening to me?
- Yeah.

You sit there eating baby food, I'm trying
to give you advice about your business.

- I like it. It's nice.
- I know you fucking like it.

- I'm trying to help you out here.
- All right, mate.

You stupid cunt.

You've got to play
the fucking game, mate.

You run a company for a year,
18 months at most, then you liquidate it.

Keep your money moving
and those cunts won't find it.

Yeah, but I'm not good
with all that paperwork bollocks.

You've only got to fucking ask, mate.

Tony ran security at some
of the top nightclubs in Essex.

I had some of the toughest doors
in London.

Joining forces seemed
like a good idea

It's been confirmed that
US forces are being sent to the area

The UN Security Council
passed Resolution 660

condemning the invasion
and demanding a withdrawal.

- Hello.
- Carlton, it's Terry.

I need to see you. It's urgent.

Have you ever heard
of the Baran brothers?

Turkish scag dealers.
Yeah, go on.

Eddie was doing a bit
of minding work for 'em.

Babysitting the odd shipment and that...
and we was helping him.

Heroin. Mug's game.

I told everybody on my firm
to stay well clear.

And? Come on, spit it out,
you cunt. Who's involved?

Andy Riot, Jason, Eddie and me.
It was Eddie that sorted it out.

He said we'd do a bit of work for
the Turks and get paid handsome, but...

But?

Some heroin went missing.

How much?

They're saying ten million.

But they think Eddie's took it.

They've been making threats against me
family, saying my kids are gonna get it.

Well, did you do it?

What?

What do you mean, "What?" I'm asking
you. Did you have the gear away?

I can't believe you asked me that.
Of course I didn't.

Are you sure?

I swear on the life of my wife,
I swear on the life of my babies.

I ain't got nothing
to do with this. Nothing.

All right.
All right, I believe you.

No one else does. Everyone's
against me. I ain't stupid, you know.

If I had £10 million worth of smack,
I'd be on my toes.

They ain't letting this go, Carl.

All right.
I'll see what I can do.

Follow me.

Have you come here to beg
for the lives of your friends?

OK, let's get something straight.

I don't beg for no one.
I've just come here to talk to you.

What is there to talk about? They stole
from me. They must pay the full penalty.

And what's that?

A reputation like mine
is not built on mercy.

I once had an employee skinned
and buried alive for stealing £2,000.

Your friends stole ten million. Try and
imagine what kind of enterprise that is.

The problem I've got
is my mates say they ain't done it.

- And I'm inclined to believe them.
- Your word is no good to me.

My advice would be - go home,
forget you ever knew them.

Well, you see, I can't do that.

You don't even know they've done it,
so you just slow down, fella.

You say they're innocent.
Let them prove it.

Kadish...

Hand over your friends. If they're
innocent, they'll have nothing to fear.

My brother will find out
who is telling the truth.

- Let me do it.
- What?

I'll put the screws on 'em. I'll drag 'em
here and do it in front of you.

If they're lying, you can fucking
have 'em. If not, you'll let 'em go.

Only on our terms.

What's that?

We have a warehouse,
you'll bring them there before us

and interrogate them
under a truth serum.

What the fuck's a truth serum?

An old Turkish recipe.

We'll administer it to them, then we'll
ask them whatever questions we desire.

I iust don't want people getting hurt.

No, someone's going to get hurt.
They stole our heroin.

Be there at four.

Barak...

You're late.

Sit down. Sit down.

Down. Down.

Look, we don't need to tie 'em up.

This is a fucking interrogation.
Their hands will be tied.

Search the exit.

Look, is that really fucking necessary?

We have already discussed this.
Only the guilty will fear to take it.

Agh!

Carlton!

- Carlton!
- Jason, shut up!

Argh!

Show some respect.

All right, let's get on with this.

Do any of you lads know where
this gentleman's missing heroin is?

- No.
- No.

I haven't got a clue.

- Look, I swear on my kid's life...
- Terry, just answer the fucking question!

No.

- Eddie?
- I don't know nothing about it.

What are these questions?
We know you took it! Where is it?

Yeah, all right. Hold on, hold on.

All right,
I'll put it another way.

Do any of you know
where the gear was before the robbery?

No.

No.

No.

Eddie?

I knew it was there.

How did you know the heroin
was there before it was stolen?

You heard him, Eddie.
How did you know it was there?

I just heard about it.
These boys weren't exactly discreet.

Who told him? I want a name.

I don't know who.
I just heard about it.

Everyone spoke about it.

There was no way
I could've worked there and not known.

I know where all of you live! I know
where some of you hide your families!

I will bring them here
and before I have them killed,

I will pay a crackhead nigger
to rape each and every one of them.

Maybe I'll give him some Spanish fly,

so he hasn't a problem shooting them
full of his filthy AIDS in front of a crowd.

Listen here, sunshine!
Just keep their families out of this!

Control yourself, Carlton.

We know where your little girls are.

Your family matters to you, yes?

Not to us.
To us they're just flesh.

You finished?

I'm finished when I bend you over
and fuck you in the arse.

That's when I'm fucking finished.

Look, he's choking, for fuck's sake!

You're fucking poisoning him!

You want me to stand here
and watch my mate fucking die?

Is that what you fucking want?

Lay him on his side.

Where's the fucking heroin?

Where's the fucking heroin?

Tell me!

Don't touch me, you cunt.

The boss is satisfied.
We leave them to you.

Now get this scum
out of my warehouse.

Well, I knew they weren't satisfied.

I told the lads
to make themselves scarce,

and Eddie and his family moved in
with me just until things settled down.

Hello, mate. All right? Come in.
Hello. All right?

Got your bag with you?
Take them straight through.

Hello, darling.
You all right? Come in.

Yeah, Mum's gonna get you a drink.

- You never said nothing about the kids.
- They're here now.

- You gonna tell me what's going on?
- No.

- Where am I gonna put 'em?
- I don't need you fucking moaning.

What I need is a gun.

What do you want?

Some bloke told me
to give this to you.

- Who?
- A bubble just down there.

Bubble?

Go on then. Fuck off.

We're leaving.

Just look after Suzy and the kids,
make sure nothing happens to them.

Yeah, all right. Give me a bell tomorrow,
let me know what's happening.

- All right.
- Yeah, it's clear. Go on. Go.

Three days went by,
and still Eddie hadn't called.

I was starting to get worried.

John, I need you to stay here.
Just keep an eye on the house, will you?

Make sure Denny's all right.

Yeah.

- Yeah?
- Carlton, it's Rick here.

John told me to call you.
You're looking for the Turkish fellas?

- Yeah, that's right.
- I'm down at The Den.

One of 'em is right here
drinking raki with his mates.

You keep them there. I'm gonna
come over and put that cunt to sleep.

What are you talking about?
I don't want any trouble down the club.

I don't give a fuck what you want! Keep
them there. I'm coming straight over.

Any more trouble and
they'll close me down. Carlton, please!

- I wouldn't have called you..
- Shut your mouth, you moping cunt!

Just keep 'em there until I call you.

Ring the bell
and get rid of the punters.

I'll just hit 'em when they come out
and that's me doing you a fucking favour!

Listen, if I was you,
I'd get those punters out of there,

cos the moment
those Turkish walk out that door

I'm gonna go fucking Schwarzenegger
on the cunts. Do you hear me?

All right, mate.

Speak.

Carlton, it's John. Whatever you're
planning, stop now. We found 'em.

Found who?

They didn't bother with truth serum
the second time around.

No, this was torture, Turkish style.

They cut 'em, beat 'em,
jammed cattle prods in their balls.

The cunts stuck a butcher's knife
straight through Eddie's leg.

Three days...

Figure it out.

If we'd known anything
about that heroin,

we would've fucking told 'em.

Oh, fuck!

Where are the others?

- You're gonna be all right?
- Yeah.

You sure?

OK, darling.

Be brave, yeah?

- No! Get away from me!
- Honey, don't be afraid.

Stop! Get away!
Get away from me!

It's over. It's over.

But it weren't over, not for Eddie.

Those Turks had killed him
in that warehouse.

They may have left him breathing,
but he died there all the same.

One of my boys was dead
and those Turks were about to find out

what it felt like to be
on the wrong end of a kebab knife.

- Who is it?
- It's Tony.

Can I have a word with you?

Having another crack
at the Falklands, are you?

It's best you don't know
about this one.

It's best I don't know about it?
Everybody knows about it, Carlton.

Word is those Turks
cut some of your boys up.

- Yeah, that's right.
- So now you're having a pop at 'em?

If they want a war,
I'll give them a fucking war.

You think that's what they want?
I think it's what you want.

Take a little risk assessment. You're
thinking of taking on the Turkish mafia.

- Have you lost your fucking mind?
- No, I ain't lost my fucking mind.

I've lost a mate, a very good mate,
to a load of fucking Turks, all right?

I ain't gonna just stand here
and do fuck all about it, all right?

This ain't about you. This ain't about
your pride. This is about your family.

- Trust me, they will fucking kill 'em.
- Not if I kill 'em first.

Which is exactly what I plan to do,
if you get out of my fucking way.

So you put a few of them down
and that's it?

They will not stop
until they fucking destroy you.

Not before they kill Karen, Denny,
your babies, anyone you've ever loved!.

- Shut up, you sick fuck!
- Fucking cunt!

Get your fucking hands off me,
you cunt!

- Calm yourself down!
- Fuck off!

Calm down!
You're going to throw all this away

cos that fucking idiot
didn't take your advice?

- Just get your hands off me.
- Are you going to calm down?

- All right, I'm calm.
- You sound fucking calm

Tony, get your hands off me.

I could've saved him.

He was dead the moment the gear went
missing. Swallow your pride, Carlton.

It's a painful pill to take and it hurts,
but you've just got to walk away.

Sometimes you've got
to listen to your mates.

I took his advice and I backed down.

An all-out war with the Turks would've
been a drawn-out, bloody affair.

Andy, Terry and Jason were broken men
and they left the firm soon after.

We never did find out
who took the heroin,

and I guess there's some cunt still
out there praying that we never do.

So who else is going?

Just having a drink with one
of Tony's mates who just got out.

What's his name?

Pat Tate. You don't know him.

Is Emma going?

No, she's staying at home
like a good little girl.

So it's iust all tarts then, yeah?

Darling, you know
I've only got eyes for you.

Do I look all right?

Just remember, you little cunt.
I sniff it before I lick it, all right?

- Yeah, you look great.
- I'll see you later.

Fucking glad you made it, mate.
Didn't think you was coming.

I had to service the old woman, give her
an oil change. What you want me to say?

You don't have to say nothing.

I hope she didn't wear you out
cos this place is wall-to-wall fanny.

Yeah, I can see that.

- Hey, Tony boy!
- Hey!

- Carlton, this is Jim Gerenuk.
- How you doing, mate?

We call him Jimmy Gee-ee!

Hey, it's a fucking great party, Tony.

- You enjoying it?
- Yeah, fucking right.

See you, man. Nice to meet you.

- Fucking Welsh cunt.
- Yeah.

First things first, mate.
Get this up your fucking hooter.

Yeah.

Oi, oi!

This is Carlton.
He's like my fucking brother.

- Carl, this is Pat.
- Hello, mate.

- You all right?
- Yeah, nice to meet you.

We're just having a reunion. I was in
the nick with these two. Darren, Mickey.

- Carlton.
- You all right?

Hello, pal.

Everybody knew who Pat Tate was.

He was a legend
in the Essex underworld

after a "quiet meal"
down the Happy Eater in Basildon.

Pass the salt.

Now cradle my balls.

- Like that?
- Yeah, but slow down a little.

Don't fucking rush it.

Oi.

- What's that?
- It's the bill, sir.

I can see it's the fucking bill,
but I didn't ask for it.

I assumed that since
you hadn't ordered anything

for the last 20 minutes
that you didn't want anything else.

Who are you to assume you know
anything about me? Take it away.

Who are you fucking looking at,
nose ointment?

- What's this they've charged us for?
- Show us.

- What's that?
- It's the service charge.

That's very comical, son. I thought
only proper restaurants charged that.

You had the sit-down menus...

So if I stood up and ate it,
you'd have charged me less.

- Well, it's policy.
- Listen, you lowlife jobsworth cunt!

For the last 20 minutes she's had
her hand wrapped around my cock.

Every time I get into a rhythm, one of you
fucking mugs walks over and puts me off.

Maybe if I'd have shot my bolt,
I'd have paid the service,

but you keep coming over
and interrupting me.

Sir, if you don't calm down,
I'll ask you to leave.

Get your coat.

- Agh! Agh!
- Oh, well done, babe.

Shut your fucking mouth!

You, fuck off now.
How much money you got in there?

- What?
- How much money you got in there?

- Pat, don't do that.
- How much money you got in there, cunt?

Aagh! Oh, my God!

Shut your fucking noise
and get in the car now. Move!

I'm fucking warning you. You say a word,
all of you get what that cunt got.

Would you mind stopping all that
and stepping outside the car, sir?

Hiya.

He was gonna get 10 years for it.

10 years for stealing 800 quid.

That's less than 100 quid a year.

But you know what?

Pat had other plans.

Go! Go, go!

The police tried
to set up a roadblock,

but Pat was too quick. He slipped off
to Spain but was rearrested in Gibraltar.

I heard all about your Spanish holiday.

I got homesick. Couldn't resist
the thought of life behind bars,

grey skies and no fucking sex.
Know what I mean?

- Give us that bit of thing.
- What thing?

- The thing I fucking give you just now.
- Oh, I don't do it any more, mate.

He's fucking me over.

Cor! Fuck me,
it's only Tom Cruise.

Mate, let me get a pen and paper,
I want to get your autograph.

My fucking bird would love that.

When I'm having my cock sucked,

you've got to suck it like you mean it.
I don't want this fucking "aaah" stuff.

You all right, mate?

No. Some little cunt's
gone and upset me.

- You should fucking smash him up.
- Yeah, I'm gonna.

Fucking Tom Cruise cunts.

Hey, Craig,
say hello to my man Carlton.

We've met.

You want to tell me something?

No. I'm sorry. Tone, I didn't know
he was a friend of yours.

- If I knew...
- Let me just say to you, fella.

It ain't a good idea to go out drinking
on an empty head.

Are you looking to get hurt?

You've fucked up now, son.

Get the fuck out of here,
you fucking useless muggy cunt!

Fuck's sake!

You ever mouth off
to Carlton Leach like that again,

and I swear I'll leave you where
I fucking find you. Now fuck off, cunt!

The thing about Craig was
he didn't have the best start in life.

His mum had been knocking off
some toy boy called John,

until her old man got her up the duff.

It would be an understatement
to say the lad took it badly.

I did this to prove how much I love you.

I love you, baby.
I done this for both of us.

Poor bastard never stood a chance.

He was a fuck up
before he was even born.

Tony paid his mortgage
and in return Craig was his runner.

He took all the risks.
If Tony needed some puff picked up

or a few hundred pills dropped off,
he'd give him a call.

What the fuck are you cunts looking at?

Tony brought Pat into the firm and
gave him control of a couple of doors

and a job title to keep
his probation officer sweet.

Tony, forget charging them scumbags
to deal in your clubs.

They pay you
a poxy fucking grand a week

and they're nicking
12, 13 large over a weekend.

- That's the way it goes.
- No. Fuck 'em.

You've got to get
into this business proper.

Get the dealers
to buy wholesale from you.

I've got all the contacts sorted out.

You buy at a fraction of the selling price
and sell to the dealers at £6 a pop.

I'm saying we can smash the life
out of this and earn a fortune.

- Rolfe, you cunt! Where the fuck is he?
- He's not here, Tucker.

- Truth or violence, your fucking choice.
- He's not fucking here!

Why not be original and be the first
bitch in history to tell the truth?

You lying cunt!

Fucking cunt!

Come here, wanker! Come here!

Aaaaargh!

What are you doing, Tony?

You could've fucking killed me!

I wish I had, you unreliable little cunt!
I've been calling all day!

- And you don't answer!
- I was fucked up! In bed!

I've had to make two handoffs myself.
What if I'd gotten fucking nicked?

I'm sorry, Tone. I'm sorry.

"I'm sorry."

You're a fucking waste
of space, Craig!

You're off the fucking firm!

If you want your mortgage
paid, whistle out your arse!

You fucking useless cunt!

What the fuck? I'm calling the police!

Then pick your plot in the garden.

Do you want to be buried with
or without your fucking kid, you cunt?

The firm was Craig's life and without it
he had no direction, no purpose.

He wanted to be back onside,
no matter what.

Have a seat, son.
Fancy a puff of that?

No, you got anything stronger?

I thought you were off the heavy stuff.

Yeah, I am. I have a little dabble
now and again, but basically I'm clean.

Are you sure?
It's good stuff, pretty boy.

- Don't call him "pretty boy".
- Why not? He's pretty.

Why don't you iust fuck him then?

- I don't want some domestic, do I?
- Oh, she's been on my case all day.

Just ignore her,
then she might fuck off.

That's fucking charming.
Look at the state of her.

All right, mate. Just get over it
and let's do some business, yeah?

Right, here's your 20 kilos.
So where's the money?

I ain't got no money.

Now why would I bother paying
a fucking insect like you?

Who you calling a fucking insect?

What would you prefer?
Ex-scaghead two-bob junkie cunt?

Fucking cunt!

Take it fucking easy!

Fuck. Come here.

You ain't gonna get far with 50 mils
of Largactil in your beer.

I know you like drugs, Chris.

You've had a right touch.

Cos tonight...

I'm gonna give you all the drugs
you'll ever need.

Don't look so upset, mate.

It's a freebie.

I know you're a little skint
at the moment,

what with owing Tony two grand.

What are you talking about?
What are you talking about?

You thought
you were gonna swerve him,

but I'm here to fucking collect.

- What have you given him?
- Ketamine.

- Hey, babe, you get me a beer?
- Yeah, sure.

- Does Chris want one?
- Nah. He's had enough tonight.

- Why are we stopping?
- Just dropping Chris off, babe.

Yeah, but he doesn't live here,
does he?

Get out here, you fat cunt.

I'm starvin'.

Let's go to the 24-hour Maccy D.

You ain't gonna fucking believe this.
He's only gone and fucking killed Chris.

You can say he's a fucking
useless spastic shit-cunt,

but if that's not dedication,
I don't know what fucking is.

He's a fucking liability, isn't he?
Murdering some kid for two grand?

Tony, it's unnecessary.

No, he's all right, Carl.

Anyway, I've already told him
he's back on the firm, mate.

Along with working together, me and
Tony did some little earners on the side.

Jimmy G had set up a deal
for some stolen traveller's cheques,

But after four cancelled
meets, Tommy had got enough.

My time ain't fucking free.

I've been up and down
the A13 nine times for that cunt,

and he gobbed off to Emma
about me fucking that Chinky bird.

Me and Craig are gonna punish
the cunt. You wanna come?

If you're gonna slap the geezer, just
fucking slap him. Who do you need crack for?

Cos we're gonna do a demolition job
on the cunt, that's why.

- Leave it out. You need to calm down.
- You don't want in?

No. No, I don't want in.

- Oi, Jimmy. Open up, will you?
- What's happening, Jim?

- All right, boys?
- How are you, mate? You all right?

Fuckin' hell!

- Fuck.
- Get the fuck back, Tony!

I'll fucking do it! I swear to God!
Calm down!

I'll fucking hit you! Come on...

Get off me!

Tony, I fucking love you! Please...

Don't listen, Tony!
Think of all the agg he's caused you!

Yeah, all the fucking agg
you've caused me, you fucking shit-cunt!

What do you think, Jimmy?

Craig, take the TV, video and hi-fi
and shove it in the back of the motor.

- I'm fining you, Jimmy. Fair enough?
- Get off!

- Tone, burn him.
- No, don't burn me!

- No, please!
- Burn him, Tone!

Tony, no! Aaaargh!

Tony! Fuck you! Please!
No... Oh, God!

Oh, fuck!

Fuck you!

Fuck you!

- No more, Tony...
- "No more"? We've hardly even started.

Fuck you! Fuck you!

You cunt!

You bastard!

- Why did you fucking let him get away?
- I had the CD player in me hands.

Fucking soppy cunt. You're rolling
around on the floor for 10 minutes!

You fucking idiot!
Now get in the fucking motor.

Yes?

- Are you Jimmy's dad?
- Yeah, why?

- Is he in?
- No, why? What's this about?

Cos we're looking for him,
you fucking Welsh cunt.

You fucking tell him
to meet us face to face,

or I'm gonna come in there and cut
your daughter's fingers off one at a time.

- You got that?
- Yeah.

- Have you fucking got that?
- Yeah, I got it.

- Fucking soppy Welsh cunt.
- Taffy cunt!

Hi, Carl, it's me.

Wondering what time
you're finishing up today.

OK, see you later. Bye

You listen to me, Tony, you sack
of shit. Don't come near my family again.

I'll fucking shoot you and that shithead
Rolfe. Stay away, you fucking animal!

It is worrying, you know.

When I come to work
and hear messages like that.

We had a laugh at the cunt's expense.
That's all.

Why are you such an 'orrible cunt?

Jimmy's all right.
Why threaten his family?

I told you I'd fucking sort him out.

That sniff is doing your head in, mate.

- He took a fucking liberty!
- Listen, do me a favour, all right?

Just stop fucking being so sadistic.
For five minutes. For me.

Jimmy, don't! Please, don't!

Don't...!

You fucking... You fucking cunt!

- Oh, my God! Oh, my God!
- You all right? Is the baby all right?

- Fucking Jimmy!
- Pat!

Jimmy! You fucking cunt!
Come back!

You fucking mug!
I'm gonna fucking kill you, you cunt!

- I'm gonna fucking kill you!
- Pat! Come back!

Yo, Jimmy!
Where the fuck are you?

- Jimmy.
- Jimmy!

Jimmy's fucking gone.

Jimmy's fucking dead!

Fucking hell! Run!

Fucking...!

Fuck you! Come on!

Who's laughing now?

Welcome to the fucking neighbourhood!

Evening.

This is supposed to be an 'ospital.

Do you want a line, Carlton?

- You lads are taking the piss, huh?
- Yeah, fucking right we are, mate.

Here, have a go with Sadie.

- That's Sandy.
- Yeah, whatever. She's fuckin' blinding.

I'm paying her a fucking three-er a day.
She likes to earn her money. Eh, babe?

- Sucks a fucking blinding cock.
- I sure do.

- No, you're all right, love.
- Sure? It's no bother.

No, thanks.

You remember Darren, don't you?

- Yeah, we met at your party.
- Yeah.

- I was with Mickey.
- The old geezer.

- We was all in the nick together.
- You'll be back in if Old Bill turn up.

Look at the state of you.
Fucking cocaine all over the bed.

Who in this hospital
is gonna fucking grass us up?

I still can't believe
it was Jimmy that put you in here.

Yeah? Well, that no-good cunt's gonna
end up in a box when I get a hold of him.

Craig, visiting time's over.
Get these others out of here.

- But we've been having so much fun.
- Fuck off.

I'll see you later, Pat, yeah?

I'll give your best to Mickey.
Come on, babe. Come on, babe.

Here, Darren. Don't forget to tell
Mickey about that little bit of business.

Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah. Sweet.

Here, Carlton. I need you
to get Jimmy down here.

Tell him I want to put an end to this.
Get him down here and we'll do the rest.

Meaning?

- Meaning I'm gonna do him with this.
- I'll get rid of the gun and the body.

That's a fucking cracking idea.

You're just gonna shoot
someone in a hospital?

- Behave yourself. You're on parole, Pat.
- Fuck all that.

That wrong 'un has gotta go. He's made
me and him look a right pair of cunts.

All right.

Well, you just get well and I'll come
see you in Chelmsford nick, all right?

- Hello?
- Carlton, it's Jimmy.

They said they'd rape my sister.

They threatened my dad.
They smashed up my house.

They call me 10 times a day,
leaving threats on my answer phone.

Don't cry, son. All right?
It's not gonna help.

I can't believe
they turned on me like that.

I shot at Pat because I knew...
I knew there was no other way.

They'll never stop now.

Ever.

Until I'm dead.

Let me speak to Tony
and see what I can do.

It's too late for that, Carlton.
It's too fucking late for that.

There's only one way
to make sure my family stays safe.

I wanna die.

You iust slow down.

No. I know you're as harsh as they are,
but at least you're always fucking fair.

Tony doesn't have a set of rules
you can live by.

I need you...

I need you to kill me.

You what?

I'm too scared to do it by myself.

Please...

Protect my family.

And shoot me.

You can't ask me that.
You can't ask anybody...

I don't know what else to do.

I don't know what else to do.

Well, you can start
by putting the gun down.

And then you get yourself out of Essex
and you lie low for a while.

You keep yourself
out of fucking trouble,

and I'll see what I can do.
You hear me?

Well, it was bound to fucking happen.

The nurse came in and changed
Pat's bed while he was in surgery

and found his gun.
Pat went straight back to prison.

Couple of days later, Jimmy was
picked up with an unlicensed firearm.

Although it wasn't the gun that shot Pat,
it put him behind bars for a stretch.

Best place for him, really.
He'd be safer on the inside.

All right, Carlton?

Fuck me. What's this?
You ain't on brown as well, are you?

- It's Nubain.
- Looks like heroin to me.

- Well, it fucking ain't.
- I can vouch for that, Carlton.

You? Don't make me laugh.
I think we'd better have a talk.

Why are him and that walking clap here?
I fucking itch just looking at them.

Can't you iust get on with them for me?

I put up with the cunt. That's about it.

I thought you was knocking it
on the head now that Pat's inside.

When was the last time
you were clean?

- Fuck clean. I can work 22 hours a day.
- Yeah, but for how long?

You'll be fucking dead
carrying on like that.

What's with this kitchen? Thought
you said he'd have it done by now.

- So did I.
- He's taking a fucking piss, isn't he?

Come and check this out.

I had to teach him not
to fuck with me, Carlton.

Definitely something wrong with you.

Come here!

You're worth every fucking penny,
love!

You're doing your best, eh?

Yeah, yeah...

Come on!

Fucking yeah! Fuck!

You fucking love it. Suck his cock!

Come on!

It had been almost a year
since Pat had gone back to prison.

Tony and Craig had become powerful
in the drug world while he was inside.

Pat wanted right back in with them.

You all right, son?
You look a bit long in the boat.

Who fucked your mother?
We'll sort him out.

He's a cunt, ain't he?

How would you like to come
on a little deal with us?

Be a good little earner.
Tell him, Pat.

Mickey Steele's got a shipment
coming in from Holland.

£300 a kilo.

Not cheap, but there's no fucking
chance of being pulled by Customs.

- And how do you know that?
- They don't use some mug on the ferry.

They bring it across the Channel
by powerboat.

They've done it a fucking 100 times.

Now Mickey needs 80 large up front
to get the gear.

- He's in for 15. I'm in for 40.
- Fucking 40! You ain't got 40, Pat.

- Yeah, but I will in a couple of days.
- How's that, then?

I've got all these contacts sorted out.
I didn't spend my time in nick wanking.

- Yes, you fucking did.
- You're right. "Fucking let me out!"

I don't know. We'll see, all right?

Shut up. What's the matter with you?
Even the dancing monkey's in for 6 large.

Tone, will you fill him in on the rest,

cos I've got to try my luck
with that little blonde sort over there?

- What do you reckon?
- Filth, mate.

No, utter fucking filth. With a little bit
of luck, I might get a golden shower.

So what do you reckon, mate?

No, I ain't got the dough.
I've got nothing put aside.

You heard what Pat said?

You're guaranteed
to double up your money on this.

His idea of a guarantee and mine
are two different things.

- I'm just trying to help you out, mate.
- I know. I appreciate it.

- I don't want to fall out over this.
- You're my brother, Carlton.

And I fucking love you.

- It's good to know you look out for me.
- Yeah, always. You know that.

Do me a favour, all right?
Just be careful of him.

- Get off me!
- Go! Go!

Pat was at it again and even Tony
could see he'd become a liability.

In a drug-fuelled rage, he threw
the one person who still stood by him,

Kate Carter, out of his house.

She ran to Mickey Steele,
her closest friend while Pat was inside.

Then the dope deal went tits up
when it turned out the gear was moody.

You couldn't burn it,
let alone smoke it.

Mick, you couldn't con a 12-year-old
with that gear. I'm down 40 grand!

- I'll sort it out.
- You fucking will, you slippery cunt

Or I'll come round there
and sort you out!

- Jesus Christ, Pat.
- Jesus Christ? Jesus fucking Christ?!

You'll be screaming that when I do you
with this blade, you no-good cunt!

Pat may have been a fucking loon,
but this time he had a good reason.

He'd borrowed 40 grand off
the most feared criminals in Essex,

the Hexell brothers. The deal was that in
two weeks' time he'd pay them back 50.

He's been to Amsterdam two or
three times. This time he lost the gear.

On my fucking life, I wouldn't dream about
having you over. Mickey's done this to us.

- He's your mate, why would he do that?
- Let me get hold of him.

I'll put a blade to his throat
and do him.

They gave him a month
to come up with the goods.

After a lot of agg, Darren and Mickey went
to Amsterdam and recovered the money.

Pat and the boys may have got their
dough back, but they hadn't made a bean.

They'd had their time wasted and Pat
was still 10 grand short of what he owed.

- It's fucking lovely.
- Yeah, a nice bit of kit.

There you go.

Are you gonna help
a girl in trouble, Mickey?

You can stay here as long as you need.
Don't worry about it.

Pat is shouting his mouth off
about you to anyone who'll listen.

He said your operation's a joke
and you ripped him off.

He's a junkie.
He's a fucking steroid freak.

And that don't worry you?
He's out of control.

He says he's gonna kill you.

He's all mouth.

He's a fucking idiot.

I don't know, Mickey.

His threats seem
pretty thorough to me.

Look at me.

I don't have a home to go to,

and my child is staying
at my mum's.

What sort of a situation
is that, Mickey?

- Do you trust me, Kate?
- Of course I do.

Then listen to me.

I'm old school,
been around the block a few times.

Mugs like Pat Tate come round
every once in a while.

- But you know something?
- What?

The loud ones never last, Kate.

He'll get what's coming to him.

Yeah, can I have a 12", please?

Loads of cheese and plenty of meat.

Can I just have four toppings? What
do you mean you don't do four toppings?

Give me the phone.

What's your problem, mate? Well, why
can't we have all four fucking toppings?

- It's not on the menu, sir.
- Menu? We're talking about cheese!

Deliver the fucking pizza she wants, or
I'll come down and fucking open you up.

Sir, this phone delivery line is actually
only for people over the age of 12.

Now if you'd like to calm down and get
your mummy or daddy to phone back,

- I'll be happy to send you a pizza.
- Who am I talking to?

Roger Spooner, sir. I'm the manager.

Rog, you do yourself a favour, cos this is
your last chance for a peaceful night.

Deliver the fucking pizza she wants,

or your mum and dad'll be at the morgue
identifying your body. Got me, cunt?

Who's Roger fucking Spooner?

- Where is he?
- That's me. Can I help you?

Fucking mug me off down
the phone line, you cunt?

If I asked you now for four toppings,
you'd give them to me, you cunt, eh?

- Yeah!
- You'd fucking give them to me!

- Yes!
- OK.

Anyone got a fucking problem
with what I just done? Eh?

You got a fucking problem?
Fat bollocks, you got a fucking problem?

Anyone says a fucking word,
I'll come back here

and I'll fucking kill you! Got me?

Pat's continuing war
with the fast-food industry

resulted in a detailed statement
to the police.

Come morning,
he found out who Pat was

and pizza boy had
a bad case of amnesia.

Pat, Tony and Craig
were out of control.

They did whatever they fucking liked.

They robbed who they wanted and
destroyed any cunt that got in their way

While you're doing that,
I'm going to take the vegetables...

- If you prefer a chunky soup..
- That'll be your boyfriend.

It ain't for me.

- Hello?
- Carlton.

What do you want?

- Have you seen the telly this morning?
- No. She's got some bollocks on.

Well, try the news.
I'm serious, mate.

I think something might've
happened to Tony and the boys

The bodies of three men have been
discovered in a Range Rover on a farm.

It's thought that these were victims
of a brutal gangland slaying.

The police are not divulging
much information at present,

but all three men were gunned down
between 6pm and 12pm last night.

We hope to have further news
later in this bulletin...

- Paul. It's Carl. You seen the news?
- No, not yet. Why?

Can you pop around Emma's? I've been
trying to get hold of them. It's engaged.

- What's going on?
- Well, I don't know, mate.

- Just go round and give me a call.
- On me way.

Ta.

This is giving me
the fucking creeps, this is.

Hello, mate. It's me again.
Can you give me a call back, please?

Well, I'm iust getting a bit worried.

Give me a call back as soon as you
get this message. All right, mate. Ta.

Hey.

- Are you all right?
- No. I can't get a hold of no cunt.

Something's happened.

Babe, you're scaring me.

Back to the murders
in Rettendon.

The police have announced
a news conference later this evening,

when the names of those murdered
will be released

Carlton? Carl?

- What's happening?
- Emma's fine.

Tony didn't come back last night,
but she... Hold on.

- Paul?
- Fucking hell, the Old Bill's turned up.

- Emma!
- Paul, talk to me. Paul...

Mate, I'm gonna have to go.
I don't know what's going on down here.

Everything's fine as far as I know, but
not here. I'm gonna have to go. Laters.

Police have tonight
released the names

of the three men
murdered in Rettendon

on the night of the 6th of December.

The victims were 38-year-old Anthony
Tucker, 37-year-old Patrick Tate,

and 26-year-old Craig Rolfe.

All three men had
gangland connections.

When the police informed
Tony's dad of his son's death,

he dropped dead of a heart attack.

After the tears came the questions:

Who murdered Tony,
Pat and Craig that night?

How fast are you going?
It's the Old Bill.

I'm only doing 40 cos of the snow.

Relax. Pull over.
See what this cunt wants.

- Evening, lads.
- He wasn't speeding.

The car's not stolen, the fucking
tax disc is in date, all right?

I've got some information to share
with you, a few questions. Very informal.

Now? We're in kind of a hurry.
Big family dinner.

This won't take long, but it's dangerous
out on these main roads.

- Follow the car.
- Whoa. We ain't got to do nothing.

I could always get a search warrant,
search the three of your houses tonight.

You'll be on your way in 15 minutes.

- Officer...
- Shut up, shithead. Lead the way.

Sorry about this, lads.

- Thanks for the co-operation.
- Yeah, blah-blah-fucking-blah.

- What's so important about tonight?
- Trust me, you'll like this.

- Why'd you bring us down here?
- The traffic, it's dangerous.

Oi. You on fucking drugs?
You got any?

The way we saw it, the police had
stronger motives than anyone.

The rumour was
we were under observation,

so how the fuck could a hit
go down right under their nose?

It could be revenge for several
high-profile ecstasy deaths,

or just getting rid of three
of the most dangerous drug dealers

from the southeast. Either way,
it was a paranoid few days.

Anyone who knew the three
was a suspect.

Over the next few days, silence fell on
gangland as hundreds were questioned.

One theory was gaining in credibility.
Two names just kept coming up.

- Fucking hell!
- Hands on the fucking dash!

- Whoa! What's this about?
- The brothers want a word with you, Pat.

- Follow that car.
- I ain't...

Makes no difference
if you drive or I do.

- Get the picture?
- It's a pretty gory picture at that.

You boys have become
a fucking nuisance.

We heard about your little fit down at
the pizza parlour. Spunked in our pants.

Then we remembered
how much you owe us.

I'm trying to get
your dough back now.

Pat has got fuck-all to do with me.

Fuck off, Tucker.
You're all involved.

You're all out of control, ripping off
every cunt from here to Hounslow.

Well, it stops tonight.
Shoot that cunt.

- Please don't shoot me.
- Come on, take it like a man, son.

It ain't that bad.
All be over in a moment.

- Fuck you, you fucking cunt!
- You next, Tucker.

These were just paranoid theories
being handed out left, right and centre.

The newspapers started printing
any old shit

from small-time crooks
and wannabes.

Apparently, half of Essex
was an expert on the subject.

And what's this, then?

Six months later, Darren Nicholls was
nicked with 10 kilos of puff in his boot.

Before anyone thought
much about it,

he was busy grassing
about the triple murders.

Mickey Steele has
fucked up everything.

I've spent years sweetening up these
contacts. He's made me look a right mug,

like we don't know what we're doing.
I've told everyone what a cunt he is.

OK, Pat, shut the fuck up cos he's
heading towards our table right now.

- Tony, Pat, how's it going?
- So what's so fucking important?

I've got something coming up.

Something so big, it's gonna make
that last deal look like pocket money.

Yeah?

I hope by that you mean pocket money
and not pocketing our fucking money.

- What's happening, chaps?
- Sit down, shut your mouth and listen.

I've been hired by this Dutch firm
to do a job,

involving my plane
and a shitload of white.

How much?

I'm meant to be bringing over
30 kilos of Colombian pure,

land my plane in a field
near Rettendon.

- 30 fucking kilos? What's that worth?
- It depends on the quality.

It's the bollocks.
They've already paid me 50K up front.

The drugs are standing by
in Holland.

All set to go. I'm meant to be bringing it
over when the weather improves.

- So what's the plan, mate?
- Do what you two do best: Rob the cunts.

I'll tell you where and when I'll land the
plane. There'll be two others on board.

You steam in really strong,
stick guns in our faces... Bish bash.

Pinch the gear. Simple as that.
What do you reckon?

I won't kid you. If that gear's proper,
we're talking 100 mil.

- Exactly.
- So what do you want out of it?

- Bust it up three ways.
- A third? You're having a fucking laugh.

That's fine. That's a fair deal.

We have to make this look convincing.
They can't know you're in on it, Mickey.

We'll have to fuck you up a bit,
knock a few teeth out.

I can handle some broken teeth
for 10 kilos.

It's the big time. We're talking numbers
with shitloads of zeros on the end.

- You talk like it's in the bag.
- Mickey assured us it's going ahead.

- He's already been paid.
- Yeah, you ain't.

- Trust me, it's on.
- Just be careful, will you?

Pat's already shouting his mouth off.
If this gets back to you, you're fucked.

Relax, mate. You worry too much.
It's all good.

I want to tell you something, Carl.

I'm surrounded by a lot of people,
but I know they just want a piece of me.

With you, it's different.
You just want to be my friend.

You know,
you're the only one I fully trust.

- Same.
- I want to do something for you.

- What if he said he found out of this.
- Don't be silly. You don't owe me nothing.

- I know. You'd do the same for me.
- Yeah, of course. You know that.

I'll give you money for two reasons,
Carl. Firstly, you're broke.

- All right. What's the other reason?
- You never ask me for a fucking thing.

Things are gonna quiet down a lot.

After this deal,
I'm going into semi-retirement.

Do you know what?
That's not such a bad idea.

I'm gonna slip off, all right? I promised
Denny I'd have a family dinner tonight.

- Sounds good, mate.
- Yeah. I just fancy a quiet one.

- And thanks, yeah?
- No worries, mate.

- All right.
- Love you. See you, mate.

- Hello?
- Darren, what are you up to this evening?

- Why? What's up?
- Me and Jack need a favour.

Tony, it's Pat. I just got
off the phone with our pal Mickey.

- Are we on for it?
- No, he reckons day after tomorrow.

I can't fucking wait.

Soppy Mickey wants to show us exactly
where he wants to land his plane.

You and Rolfe up for a little meet later?

- It's cold, innit?
- You should've put a coat on then.

I didn't realize the plan was
to sit in a motor and freeze to death.

We wait for Pat to turn up, then we drive
to where Mickey's landing the plane.

Tell me why again.

Mickey wants you in the background,
just to make sure everything's all right.

Pat's been unpredictable lately,
in case you haven't fucking noticed.

Listen, I've been doing
a lot of thinking about all this.

Why don't we nick all the gear
and do Mickey with the others?

- I thought he was your pal.
- That was before he fucked us over.

I got no loyalty
to that cunt no more.

He's the only one who can link us
to this fucking robbery. I'm game.

OK, let's go.

Right. Drive down the road
about half a mile.

Sit tight and wait for my call.

- Where's your phone?
- It's in me pocket.

You won't hear the fucking thing ring
in there. Put it on the dashboard.

I ain't gotta ask you
if that thing is turned on, have I?

- Of course. What do you think I am?
- Are you sure?

- I thought it was on.
- Darren, I'm fucking speechless.

I don't know why Mickey puts up
with you. You're a useless cunt.

- Fat cunt.
- What?

- What did you say?
- Nothing.

And don't go playing that fucking radio.
It's vital you hear that phone ring.

Can I stick the tape on?

Tape deck, radio,
what is the fucking difference?

What's the long-range forecast
looking like, Mick?

Seems to be improving, at last.

I reckon we'll be up for it
in the next couple of days.

48 hours! 48 fucking hours
and our lives are changing!

I'm gonna take Kelly
to Bermuda for a month.

Oh, you fucking are,
are you, cunt?

Well, yeah, Tony.
If you don't need me an' that.

I'm iust playing. It sounds lovely.

What do you reckon, Mick?

Sounds great. Craig, you have
to chuck a left up here, all right?

Mick, I've got to say it, son...
I fucking love you.

No, I swear, I fucking love you.

That's not what I heard around town.

Well, forget all that fucking bollocks,
cos we're going to hit the big time.

We are gonna be fucking great!

- Left up here, is it, Mick?
- Yeah, that's right. A left.

Hello?

Hello, babe.

No. Of course I miss you.

Kate, you are such a lovely girl.
I don't deserve you, you know that?

Do me a favour, give me a bell later.
I'm with some people.

What?

No, I'm iust with Tony and the boys.

Yeah. Listen. Of course I do.

I love you.
Is that good enough? I love you.

Call me later. Bye.

There's a gate up ahead, Mick.

- Do you want me to open it?
- No, it's okay, son. I'll get it.

- Shut up, Pat.
- No, please!

Mickey! Please!

Mate... Please, mate.
Please, we're mates.

We've worked far too hard to let
a cunt like you fuck everything up.

You take it. Take it all.

What? The 30 kilos
of Colombian pure?

You soppy cunt.

You soppy, greedy, gullible cunt.

I'm out, Jack.

- Yup?
- Come and get us.

That didn't take long.

Pat squealed like a pig.
Let's fuck off.

- Where's Mick?
- He's coming.

Turn that fucking light out now!

All right, Darren. Let's go.

This was Darren Nicholl's
testimony of what happened.

The only people who really know
are in the ground.

It may be that the shooting has
occurred over higher drug dealers

trying to find
a greater position of power.

Daddy!

There's not a lot of old men in my game.
Paranoia is what keeps me alive.

I'm taking no chances.
Every room in my house is armed.

You break in and I'll bathe
in your fucking blood.

And if one day my time is up,
let me say to you:

If you think I'm just gonna sit
and beg for my life,

well, then you're some sort of cunt.