All language subtitles for The Thin Blue Line - 01x04 - Rag Week

You promise you won't forget
to go to the bank at lunchtime?

No, I won't, Patricia.

Of course, it would be
more convenient to go now.

And for that very reason,
the bank is closed,

it being the principle
of British banking

that the customer must
be avoided at all costs.

Wah-hoo! Ah-hah!

Great thundering trumpets!
Has the world run mad?

Rag week, Raymond. Just
students having a laugh.

When I was at college I suffered
from the curious delusion

that I was there to study.

Oh, well, I suppose
we were all young once.

Not you, Raymond. You
were born middle-aged.

It's kind of you to say so, Patricia.

I've always attempted to
maintain a mature outlook,

but I cannot deny that
there have been lapses.

I once possessed... A whoopee cushion.

I never deployed it, of course,

the capacity was there.

I really don't think
you're being fair, Patricia.

We have lots of fun together.

What about last night?
Flagellation on top of fornication.

You don't often get that.

It was boring!

It was the best "scrabble"
score I've ever had.

Just don't forget to go
to the bank at lunchtime.

Morning, Pat.

You all right? - Oh, it's
Raymond. He's getting worse.

Do you know, last week I
found him in bed with a model?

No. - We've still got bits of
balsa wood stuck to the duvet.

"Juvenile," "juvenile," "juvenile."

More juvenile, sir.

Just once in a while,

I'd like to nick someone
whose balls have dropped!

And where are the real crimes, eh?

The terrorism, the bank jobs-

I had such exciting dreams, Kray.

Yeah, I get them, sir.

Rubber waders and a boat hook.
You don't half wake up sweating.

Yes - rag week, ladies and
gentlemen, is upon us again.

Come on, come on, sit down.

And the question that every policeman-

or indeed, police person-

must ask himself-

or indeed...

Itself...

Is "how are we to deal

with the inevitable
juvenile excesses to come?"

- Constable Goody?
- Um...

Well, it depends, doesn't it, sir?

I mean, not all excesses are the same.

Are we talking plain excesses,

or excessive excesses?

Well, I think by definition,
excesses are excessive,

or they wouldn't be
excesses, would they?

Is this one of those brain teasers

where Cleopatra turns
out to be a goldfish?

Concentrate, laddie, concentrate.

Because believe or it not,
you did make a valid point.

One must, of course, judge
each case on its merits.

I do not wish to have
my officers accused

of being excessive in
their treatment of excesses,

especially if those excesses
are not particularly excessive.

So on the whole, what I
think we are discussing here

are excessive excesses.

Is that clear?

No.

But keep going, sir. I
expect we'll catch up.

A decent crime, that's
all I'm asking for.

We used to get them every day.

This neighborhood's
really gone downhill.

This just came through, sir.

Looks very tasty, very naughty.

This is it!

Crockett, I need profiles

on all known terrorists
in the southeast.

Kray, phone the home office,
phone the armed response unit.

Get me a tea milk, four sugars.

- In what order, sir?
- Blimey, Kray,

where were you dragged up?

Milk in first, tea next, sugar last.

So... What excesses may
we expect to encounter

and how are we best to deal with them?

What about a student rugby club
sing along and trouser-dropping?

- How do we deal with that?
- Hmm.

Good question.

Well, if at all possible,
exercise tolerance-

the police officer's secret weapon.

But never forget that if you arrest

A college rugby team for
using obscene language,

at some point you'll
find yourself in court

having to recite the lyrics
of "the good ship venus."

- Surely not, sir.
- Oh, yes.

Defense briefs are ruthless.

They will say to you, "exactly
what did my client suggest

that the figurehead was sucking?"

And if you do not answer
in a loud, clear voice,

they will claim you
are unsure of your facts.

Answer what, sir?

An external organ of the male anatomy.

That doesn't rhyme with "venus."

May I have a word, Raymond?

A matter of extreme urgency has arisen.

I want to bring you up to speed,

because you and your
officers may possibly

be able to assist in a minor capacity

at some hypothetical later stage,

although I doubt it.

And only if I let you,
which I probably won't.

Anything we can do to help, Derek.

Perhaps we could all club together
and buy you a straitjacket.

Now this has just arrived.
I think it's genuine.

"We, the st. Neduts,

demand freedom and political autonomy

for our sovereign state of Egelloc."

My guess is some form of
gaelic or celtic separatism.

And my guess is some form of
brain-from-body separatism.

This is clearly the
work of a wild lunatic.

Exactly. Have you ever been to Wales?

As for the Scots, if your
national dish is a sheep's stomach,

you're gonna be bitter, aren't you?

Of course, it could be the
Cornish. They're bloody strange.

And the Geordies...

so at present you suspect anyone

who doesn't live within 10
miles of the Thames estuary?

Sir, I'm probably completely wrong,

but "egelloc" sounds a bit anglo-saxon,

maybe something to do
with the arthurian legends.

Well done, constable.

You got a good little brain there.

Bit of training, we might
make you a detective.

Oh, I don't think so, sir.

I haven't got the skills, you see?

- For one thing, I can't talk out of my...
- Yes, thank you, Habib.

Surely you're not suggesting
we take this note seriously?

I take all threats of
terrorist activity seriously

until proved otherwise.

Have a look at the rest of the fax.

"Be warned that we intend to target

the fascist borough of Gasforth

with a series of terror attacks

using deadly 'dratsuc.'"

I've got a very, very bad
feeling in my stomach about this.

How about you, constable Kray?

I don't feel so good myself, sir.

But I did have a kebab for breakfast.

No, this may be a hoax, it may not be.

All I know is, if it is genuine,

my ass will be on the line,
and I don't want a cock up.

Well, I imagine that you don't.

So this deadly "dratsuc,"
what do you think it might be?

My informed guess

is some sort of semtex-style explosive.

Well, it could be.
It is also, of course,

"custard" spelled backwards.

"Custard"?

And if we apply the
same backwards principle

to our other mystery words,

we discover that the "st. Neduts"

Who want autonomy for "egelloc"

Turn out to be "students" who
want autonomy for their "college."

I fear, Derek, that you've been
a victim of a rag week prank.

You worked it out quicker
than I thought, Raymond.

Not as quickly as I did,
but well done all the same.

Sir, I got the home office on the phone.

And the armed response unit
want to know what you want.

Tell them I'm gonna shoot
some bleeding students!

So as I was saying,

tolerance - the police
officer's secret weapon.

What a "diputs loof" that man is.

You won't forget to go to the
bank at lunchtime, will you?

I'm snowed under. I'll have
to do admin over a take-away.

More haste, less speed, sergeant.

Rushed meals lead
only to upset stomachs,

and onion rings on the duty log.

I shouldn't eat so much rubbish,
anyway. It's making me flabby.

- What absolute nonsense, Patricia.
- You think so?

Of course. It's got
nothing to do with diet.

You're bound to start to
sag a bit as you get older.

All right, we check the handwriting

of every student in this college.

Assuming, that is, that
they know how to write.

You hear that, Kray? Eh? Kray?

Hello, darling. What are
you studying then, eh?

- Raymond!
- Yes?

It's nearly half past.
What about the bank?

Great heavens to Betsy,
Patricia. There's plenty of time.

Can't a fellow be allowed
a few moments of peace

to read a chapter of "Sherlock Holmes"

And enjoy his chocolate frog?

I'm not even having a lunch
break. There's too much paperwork.

If you don't go to the bank
and renew the standing orders

- They'll repossess the telly!
- That'd be no bad thing.

It's all rubbish, anyway.
Nothing but mindless escapism.

Oh, and "Sherlock Holmes" isn't
mindless escapism, I suppose?

Sherlock Holmes is literature.

- Hah!
- If it is also escapism,

then it is good, solid escapism

with no game shows or swearing.

Rag week is a trying time, Patricia.

And I think I might be forgiven

for wanting to dream
again my boyhood dreams

of foiling the machinations
of "the redheaded league."

Well, we none of us
get what we want, do we?

I know I don't.

No, I suppose not.

It must be a dull
business for you, sergeant,

being attached to a
creaky old plodder like me.

It weighs on me, you know? It does.

Sometimes, I imagine
myself doing something

splendidly heroic to
make you proud of me.

Proud and happy.

You could make me proud and happy

by going to the bank when I asked you,

and occasionally giving
me a damned good rogering!

Oh dear.

Ah-

constable Gladstone...

Sergeant Dawkins and I
were just discussing...

That fellow ring.

Roger ring.

And we were just saying...

Well, how damned good he is, basically.

Damned good roger ring.

- Isn't that right, sergeant?
- Yes, that's right, dear.

But we see so little of
him these days, don't we?

Or indeed, his swedish
cousin - bonk.

What do you want, Gladstone?

What do I want?

I don't know.

I heard nothing, sir.
It's none of my business.

I think we got away with that one.

Just don't forget to go to the bank.

Best morning we ever had
at the arcade, Maureen.

Fivepence, tenpence...

Hello, inspector Fowler.

Visiting the bank?

Thank you for pointing
that out, constable Goody.

I was about to ask for two tickets
to see "Lawrence of Arabia."

Do you think we're in
the right queue, sir?

Some of the other queues
are moving much faster,

and soon it'll be time
to be back at work.

I think I'll swap.

Do you think I should swap,
sir? I think I should swap.

Some of the other queues
are moving much quicker.

- You think I should swap queues, sir?
- Yes.

I think you should swap queues.
I think you should swap banks.

If I were given my choice, I'd have
you in a different country altogether.

I've got an idea, sir.

What if I swap queues,
but you stay here?

Then we can keep an eye on each other.

If you get to the window
first, I'll rush over

and you can let me in. If
I get to the window first,

you can come back and I'll let you in.

No, no, what we do is we put
a bag here to save our place

then we go and join the other queues
no, no, no, no!

I've got a much better idea. We put a
coat and a bag at the end of each queue,

and ask other people to
shuffle them down so we-

constable Goody!

Fivepence...

Tenpence... 15...

Excuse me? Police. Won't be a minute.

- Ta, love.
- Yes, officer?

I've filled it all in, and I'd
like it in 20s, please, darlin'.

Just one moment,
detective constable Kray...

Did you just push in?

Well, yeah. I always do that.

If you can't jump the odd queue,
what's the point of being a copper?

Ta, love.

The point, constable Kray,

to quote the first paragraph

of "the police statement of
common purpose and value,"

Is to "uphold the law firmly and fairly;

to prevent crime; to
pursue and bring to justice

those who break the law;
to keep the queen's peace;

to protect, help and reassure people;

and to be seen to do
all this with integrity,

common sense, and sound judgment."

I seek in vain to find couched
within that glorious sentiment

any mention of pushing in.

Come on, sir, perks
of the job, isn't it?

- Finished, sir.
- Here, sir, I think you've lost your place.

Two seconds to spare.

Good afternoon, sergeant Dawkins.

Forgive me for not greeting
you more affectionately,

but as you can see from the
clock, I am back on duty.

- Did you go to the bank?
- Of course I went to the bank.

Thank goodness
that's out of the way.

I should perhaps add that
although I went to the bank,

I didn't actually manage to transact
any business while I was there.

Are you telling me you didn't
organize the standing orders?

I fear not. You see, I
neglected to allow for the fact

that because the banks
now spend so much money

advertising their tawdry
services on the television,

they can no longer afford
to actually employ any staff.

I'm going to write to
somebody, I really am.

Their adverts suggest this
utopian space-age world

where money is handed out willy-nilly

by gorgeous pouting nymphettes
with degrees in computing.

Well, we do not require
nymphettes, pouting or otherwise.

All we ask is that they put
some extra staff on at lunchtime

and pens on the ends
of the little chains.

I don't believe you, Raymond.
You can't do the simplest thing!

Now I shall have to go after
all and make up the time.

You're a bloody idiot,
you know that, don't you?

- A bloody idiot!
- Please, sergeant Dawkins, we are on duty.

I am not an idiot, I am
your commanding officer.

I'm only an idiot between 1:00 and 2:00

after 6:30 and at weekends.

Well, I'm not on duty,
so you are an idiot,

A pompous twit and a
pain in the backside.

Maggie, you're in charge of the desk.

Hi, inspector Fowler.

I'm collecting tea and
biccie money. You owe £4.

I'm afraid I shall have to pay
you tomorrow, constable Gladstone.

I was held up at the bank.

I must say, you're
taking it very calmly.

Right, excuse me, please.
Can I get through, please?

Thank you very much.

Constable Habib, I want this
lot processed and charged.

- What for, looking stupid?
- Bloody students.

We pay for this, you know? We
pay taxes so these imbeciles

can send hoax threats to the police.

They think it's a joke?
Well, it isn't a joke.

I know what a joke
is, and this isn't it.

A joke is something like...

A man walks into a bar. He says
"ouch" 'cause it's a public bar-

I mean it's an iron bar.

Now that's a joke!

Hhm, yes. They say it's
the way you tell them.

Now you get on, inspector Grim.

We'll book this lot of desperados

and ensure they're properly
dealt with, never fear.

I'm glad you recognize the
seriousness of the situation.

If I'm not at the nick,
you can get me on my mobile.

I'll give you a banana.

Look at you.

I can scarcely believe my eyes.

The future of Britain,

the cream of a proud nation.

Oh, god help us.

Do you honestly think

any halfway decent japanese company

is going to want to give
any of you lot a job?

When Mr. Mitsubishi is asking himself,

"where shall I construct
our new generation

of small family hatchbacks?"

Do you think he's going
to say "Oh, I know,

we'll go to Britain,

where the academic elite

are a bunch of idiots in
tutus and gorilla masks"?

Or will he go to continental Europe...

Where young people wear Benetton
tops and respect authority?

Did you ever think of that? No!

Well, it's time you
bucked up your ideas then!

Or before long, Britain's
name will be mud.

Or worse, it'll be Italy.

You're not worth
charging. Just shove off!

I weep for our country, I really do.

Did you know that 12-year-olds
in Holland and Belgium

can already speak fluent english?

They're no cleverer than
British children, sir.

My niece is only 10 and she
can speak fluent english.

Your head is just something you
keep your hat on, isn't it, laddie?

Rest assured, inspector Grim,

I have dealt with those reprobates.

For all the good it'll do.

You might as well have
told them to shove off.

I'm tired of police
work. Aren't you, Raymond?

Nothing but idiots, delinquents,

yobbos and hooligans.

Oh, I think you're being
a bit harsh there, Derek.

Some of your officers aren't so bad.

You know damn well what I mean!

It's all gone...

Posh, snob, brainy,

bloody, hoity-toity, up your bum

and pardon me for living.

I beg your pardon?

There was a time when if a
bloke wanted to rob a bank,

he went out and he bought a shotgun.

Nowadays he buys a suit
from Marks & Spencers

and gets a degree in accountancy.

They think we're stupid,
you know that, don't you?

I'm not stupid! I've got five o-levels.

Two of them bloody good grades!

Uh, excuse me. Yes? Fowler.

Raymond, I'm in the
bank. There's a hold up.

What? Still? I don't believe it!

They'll have to get more staff!

I'm going to write to the
head office, I really am!

Shut up, you fool, and listen!

It really is a hold up
with guns.

I'm lying face down
with the other customers.

Stay where you are!

Don't move!

That's what they said!

Whose side are you on? Got to go.

A real, live,

armed bank robbery.

God, I'm so happy I could cry.

White aspect secure. 1-2, out.

Well, thanks to sergeant
Dawkins' prompt action,

we've got them good and cornered.

I hope they haven't shot her.

- Have you established communications?
- Of course I have.

You worry about your own job.

Are the operational perimeters secure?

My officers are in complete control.

All right, everyone, step back a
bit, please. Come on, step back.

There you go, son. I can't afford
much, but if it's for charity...

- What?
- You're students, aren't you? This is a rag week stunt.

I knew straight off
that he wasn't a copper.

He's too young and weedy.

I thought, "he's a student, he is."

I ain't giving him nothing.
I've given enough already!

I've paid for your
education, you layabout.

And for your heroin, and
your free bloody condoms!

Look, I am not a student!

I am a real police officer and
there is a bank robbery in progress

so will you kindly stand back please?!

He's very good, isn't he?

I mean, he's really quite convincing.

- Perhaps he's a drama student.
- I don't care what he is.

He should get a bloody job!

Leave him alone, he
hasn't done any harm.

Here, you haven't got
any pot, have you, luv?

My rheumatism's killing me

and paracetamol just
brings my dinner up.

Yes, yes.

We'll see what we can do.

Fowler, job for you.

Go!

What can I do? How can I help?

They want a pizza. Detail your
people to get them a pizza.

Of course. And perhaps a
small selection of cupcakes.

Standard procedure, Fowler.

We acquiesce to the gunmen's
demands, that way we win their trust.

Brilliant, Grim.

We win their trust by
buying them a pizza.

Why it seems so simple. I wonder if
the same tactics could work in Bosnia?

Just do your job, Fowler.

And if the shooting
starts, keep your head down.

Go!

But there mustn't be any
shooting, for heaven's sake.

There are innocent people in there.

Patricia's in there.
We must talk to them.

I have talked to them. They won't budge.

I've used all my negotiating skills.

Look, Grim, you have all
the negotiating skills

of an embittered rottweiler.

Your telephone manner is about as
appealing as a pub toilet at closing time.

Let me talk to them.

No can do!

This is C.I.D. business,

and that is my phone.

The woman I love is in that bank.

Let me talk to them.

Just order the pizza.

Sir, if I give him the money,
do you think he'll get me one?

Goody, the criminals desire a pizza.

- Kindly order one.
- Yes, sir.

Oh, what sort of pizza, sir?

I don't know, spicy gerbil flavored.

- Just get the pizza.
- Do you mean the works?

- What?
- The works, sir. It means all the toppings.

Yes, yes, who cares?
Just order everything.

No, I don't think
that's a good idea, sir.

Everything includes anchovies. Lots
of people hate anchovies. I know I do.

Anchovies could send these
villains over the edge.

And pineapple. I only know one person

out of all my friends who has pineapple.

"Tangy tropical" he has, and
the rest of us go "ugghh!"

Personally, I find the idea
of any seafood on a pizza

- Quite repulsive.
- Yeah, I always pick the olives off.

Give them to me... look, Goody,

just get a plain cheese and
tomato pizza and get it now!

Oh
Do you think they'll want garlic bread?

Just get the-

on second thoughts, I'll do it myself.

Yes, it's coming.

Where the hell is
Fowler with that pizza?

I want to make a complaint
about police harassment.

Fowler.

Where's Fowler?

Pizza delivery.

If it isn't hot,
there's a 50 pence refund

on your next purchase
of diet or regular pepsi.

But it only applies between 6:30
and 7:00 mondays and tuesdays,

subject to availability.
Usual restrictions apply.

Well, I might have known.

Now this time, you
really have gone too far.

All right, lob us the pizza.

Then get lying on the
floor with them other lot.

"Lob us the pizza"? "them other lot"?

Great jangling jelly babies,

if you'd spend more time in lectures

instead of playing
ridiculous pranks like this

you might sound slightly less moronic.

This rag nonsense has
gone quite far enough.

You're all in very serious trouble.

Now hand over those ridiculous toys.

I'll kill you, you bastard!

Don't you dare take that
tone with me, laddie.

There's nothing clever
about foul language.

I... am a police officer.

And you are all under arrest.

Get away or you're dead.

I'm going to count to 10.

One...

Two...

Don't, Reg!

I don't want anything to
do with murdering coppers.

If you hurt him, I'll shove
that gun so far down your throat

you'll be blowing bullets
out of your backside!

Blimey, they're all coppers!

Thank you.

I've never heard of such
naughtiness, I really haven't.

All right, Grim, the "siege" is over.

Don't - tch!

Oh, Raymond, you were wonderful.

I was so proud of you.

I was very proud of you too, Patricia.

You were most intimidating.

I certainly wouldn't want
to meet you on a dark night.

Except to sleep with me.

Well, quite.

I'm the manager of this
bank, and I have to say

you acted with tremendous courage.

Thank god it's all over.

Go, go, go!

Well, you broke every
rule in the book, Fowler.

Though I can't deny you...

Ended the siege without bloodshed.

It's pretty cool to talk
round armed robbers like that.

Oh really, Grim? Hasn't
the penny dropped?

Armed robbers? I hardly think so.

Why, under these silly masks, you'll
find no craggy-faced criminals,

but beardless spotty-faced students

on a rag stunt.

There are plenty of mature
students at college these days.

So...

Three desperate villains,
just as I thought.

Both of you risked your lives for us.

Now is there anything
anything the bank can do for you?

No, no, the only reward
a police officer needs

is to know that he's done his duty,

served his community and
ensured that, as ever,

the thin blue line remains unbroken.

Of course, you could
renew our standing orders.

- Oh yes, actually.
- I'm awfully sorry, sir,

the bank closed three minutes ago.