All language subtitles for The.Completely.Made-Up.Adventures.of.Dick.Turpin.S01E05.WEB.x264-TORRENTGALAXY_eng

Now, this is a real Dick hot spot.

To your right we have some mud
that he might've stepped in. Maybe.

Over there, we have a tree that,
rumor has it, Dick once leant on.

I'm sorry, is this it?

Your brochure promised
exclusive Dick access.

Yeah. No, there's loads.
I've got loads coming up. Yeah.

The-- I did the trees already, right?

Finally!

It's only the bloody man himself.

- It's Dick Turpin!
- Oh, my goodness.

- It's happening!
- Oh, my God.

What do you mean, he's not available?

Guys, I thought we had an agreement.

He was supposed to be here,
but he's doing a big pamphlet signing.

But we came all this way
to be robbed by Dick Turpin.

Not a bunch of-- and I'm sorry,
I have to say it-- second-rate nobodies.

Hey. Listen. We're not nobodies, yeah?

- We're the Essex Gang.
- Yeah.

We're in all the pamphlets too.

- Are we?
- Most of the time.

Some of the time. Okay, okay.

One time, we were in a pamphlet.

Oh, Mama, I just hate them.
This is so unfair.

- Ow! What the f--
- Well done, darling.

Are you happy? Look at Priscilla's face.

She has been looking forward
to being robbed by Dick for weeks.

Yes! This is unacceptable!

No refunds though. All sales are final.

But we were promised a proper highwayman.
A celebrity highwayman.

Hope you don't mind me dropping in.

Now this is more like it.

Oi! We robbed those first!

Apologies,

but I simply cannot allow
such stunning pieces

to remain in the hands of
such utterly hopeless highwaymen.

- Bravo.
- Very good.

- Jolly good show.
- You're too kind.

And before I go...

And for you too, of course.

Oh, no. He's not kissing everyone, is he?

Now, while it pains me to depart
from such exquisite company...

Me? Really?

...duty calls, and I must bid you au revoir.

That's French.

- He speaks French. See?
- Hey!

You can't just steal our loot
and kiss everyone.

Who are you?

Let me tell you who I am.

Are you doing the whole name?

Yes. One moment.

Done.

"Timmy Sillyshoes"?

It's Tommy Silversides. Now, listen.

You tell Dick Turpin
Hempstead is my turf now.

It's Tommy time.

We'll tell him, Tommy!

See you around, I hope.

I mean, I'll be around,
but if you're busy, then it's cool.

- It's cool.
- What's wrong with you?

I don't know.

Just stop.

Now, that's a highwayman.

My first ever pamphlet signing.

It's so exciting.

I can't believe all these people
came here just for me.

You're a star, Dick.

Hey, check out my new signature.
Pretty cool, yeah?

Yes, it's quite elaborate.
How long did that take?

Four hours.
But I reckon I could get it down to three.

Great.

Sorry for the holdup, Dick.

Since this place was featured in the
Reddlehag pamphlet, sales have exploded.

I've even had to hire new staff
to keep up.

Hey, you two, back to work!

I'm gonna have to get rid of them.
They're useless.

Dad, you came!

Never thought I'd say this,
but I am actually so, so proud...

of Benny!

He's already slicing and dicing
at a grade-five level.

The man is a meat magician.
He's a poultry prodigy.

- I'm a chop champ.
- Yeah.

Chop champ.
And are you proud of me in any way?

I don't condone all of this
"self-aggrandisizing."

I'm only here to check the advert
for the shop.

"Eet Meet."

About that, you've spelt both the words
wrong and you haven't listed the address.

No.

It's subliminal.

Coming through. Coming through.
Excuse me. Coming through. Excuse me.

- Pardon me. Excuse me.
- Sorry.

Dick, we got trouble.
There's a new highwayman in town.

He robbed us, and he kissed people,
and he carved his name on my coat.

"Donny Superstore"?

No.

"Tommy Silversides."
He said Hempstead is his turf now.

And that's bad, because this is Hempstead.

- Yeah, and he had fireworks and smoke.
- So?

And this thick, beautiful, gorgeous,
luscious head of hair.

Beautiful, gorgeous,
luscious head of hair?

We need to find this guy immediately.

What was he called again?
Tammy Pesticides?

I'll tell you what my name is.

Who's the dashing desperado
That no enemy can outwit?

Who's the dandy highway hero
In the snazziest outfit?

Does he separate recycling?

Oh, you never need to doubt it
And of course he gives to charity

But he doesn't like to talk about it

Ho! He's Tommy
Ho, ho!

Tommy, Tommy, Tommy Silversides
Tommy Silversides, everyone!

And before the song is over
He will change your lives

No one's cheeky winks are cheekier
No one's sneaky plans are sneakier

Check out his ripped physique

Check out my ripped physique

He makes the masses swoon
He wrote his own theme tune

Look at him, he's even fixing
That front door that he just kicked in

This song is nearly over
So to summarize

His name is Tommy, Tommy, Tommy

Tommy, Tommy, Tommy Silversides

Not so fast.

I'm Dick Turpin, and you robbed my gang,

- and now you're ripping off my act.
- Your act? No, no.

I've got more flair in my trigger finger
than you have in your entire dated outfit.

Red and black, really?

What is this, huh? 1733?

This is a timeless classic.

And Hempstead is my patch.

And if you want it,

you're gonna have to plow through me
like a hot knife through Battenberg.

Very well.

I challenge you to a duel.

Not really into guns. Bit of a pacifist.

What about a food-sculpting competition?

- Best vegetable person wins.
- What, like this?

Wow. Look at those green bean eyebrows.

So detailed.

What about a knit-off?

Most snuggly cardie gets the gang?

Like this one?

My God. Look at the garter stitching.

It's world-class.

It is world-class.

Okay. You want the big guns.

What about a hair-blowing-in-the-wind-off?

Moose, get the unusually large fan.

Yeah. Yes, indeed.

Like this?

I want his conditioner.

And I want to apply it to his head.

All right. A duel it is.

But if I win, you leave Hempstead
and stop stealing my moves.

And if I win,
you leave Hempstead and I get your gang.

Tomorrow, two o'clock.

Lord Rookwood's estate?

And here's tomorrow's pamphlet headline:

"Dick Dies in Deadly Altercation."

Shouldn't it be
"Dick Dies in Deadly Duel"?

I love that. Yes!

You must be the writer.

- I am.
- What's happening here?

And now, away!

It's an absolute nightmare.

Dick, wait.

I'm gonna teach you what I should have
taught you a long time ago.

Conversational Spanish?

Okay. Your turn.

Aim and shoot the target.

I mean, don't call him "target."
He's got a name.

No, he doesn't.

He is a dummy who exists
only to be shot in his straw head.

Actually, he's called Giuseppe.

His dad's Italian.

He's got two kids,
a whippet and a lovely straw wife.

What do you think his favorite food is?

I don't know.

- Pasta?
- What? 'Cause he's Italian?

That's a bit racist.

Actually, he's off solids.

He's on a diet
of coffee and limoncello.

He's out of his mind most of the time.

- Okay. Can you just shoot him, please?
- I can't shoot him.

I've gotten to know him now.

Taking me out on his gondola
next Thursday.

Yeah, there won't be a next Thursday
if Tommy shoots your face off.

Look, Nell, I appreciate
what you're trying to do for me.

But, you know,
I'm not a violent psychopath like you.

- Thank you.
- Besides,

I've given my tiny gun
to Craig the Warlock.

He's gonna enchant it.
Make sure I never miss.

Well, if that doesn't work,
I'll just do what I always do.

Come up with a flamboyant plan.

A plan with panache.

Tommy's got panache. He out-panached you.

He didn't out-panache me.
I mean, at best, he matched my panache.

No, he smashed your panache
into tiny, little "panacheo" pieces.

Now, please can you
take this seriously and shoot?

I know what you're doing.
I can see what's happening here.

You care about me a little bit, don't you?

Just a little bit.

- 'Cause we're proper mates.
- Okay, fine. We're proper mates.

Now, please can you try
and be a proper highwayman

and shoot Tommy in his perfect,
luscious, sexy little head

that maybe one day I'd like to kiss
if you don't shoot it first?

Okay, seeing as we're proper mates,
I'll shoot him in the torso.

No, Dick!

Nell, can you stop doing
that ridiculous voice?

I'm trying to concentrate.

We're being kidnapped. Got it.

There he is.

Okay. Are you sure about this?

Trust me. Nell's helping Dick win.

We're gonna help Tommy lose.

Yeah, but Tommy's never lost a duel.

I know that because he's not dead. Yeah.

Three words, my friend.

Sabotage.

Come on.

Tommy.

Let him go! He can't breathe,
and Moose loves breathing!

Apologies.

It's my Krav Maga training.

Sometimes I struggle to keep it in check.

Listen, if you chaps are here
to ask me to call off the duel,

I'm afraid that's a no-go for the T-Man.

Actually, we want you to win.

Yeah. That's why we came here
to take you out.

- I knew it!
- To the pub.

To take you to the pub.

Not to kill you.
Why would we wanna kill you?

We wanna get to know you, you know?

Chances are,
you're gonna be our new leader.

I see your game.

Yeah. You boys are trying to get me
absolutely bladdered so I miss the duel.

I'm joshing, chaps.

The T-Bone never turns down a pint, right?

You know. Come on.

Yeah!

- Careful.
- What?

Okay. First, I'm gonna pump out,
like, 20 more pushies.

- One...
- We'll give you a moment.

No, no. You'll stay. I like to be watched.

One. Two-- Eyes on me.

Look how easy I'm doing it.

Where am I?

Where's Nell?

I wouldn't worry about your little friend.

She's right at home here.

So, Dick Turpin.

We meet again.

Have we met before?

No, I don't suppose we have.

My name is Lady Helen Gwinear,
leader of the Syndicate.

I've heard of you. You're the big boss.

Yes, yes. I suppose I am the big boss.

And you stole my gold.

Yeah. Sorry about that.

I'd give it back to you,
but I sort of lost it immediately.

Gambling on a death match
between two old ladies.

Poor Doris, she went down hard.

Very brittle bones.
They had to sweep her up.

Was a horrible sight.

I know.

I've been keeping
a very, very close eye on you.

Yeah. Before you go any further,
can I just say you seem really nice,

but I've just split up
with my last nemesis.

Jonathan Wilde.

Yeah, and I'm not really ready
to commit again.

So, I might fly solo.

Maybe speed date a couple of new enemies.

Just have some fun.

Oh, Dick, I'm flattered,
but that's not why you're here.

Cut the ropes.

- Bring in the other one.
- Get off!

Hey, I'm walking already.
You don't have to drag me.

- Nell.
- Dick.

Oh, my God.

- Mum?
- Hello, darling.

Yes!

Gentlemen, what will it be, huh?

Might I suggest a fine whiskey?

Yeah. That'll put hairs on your chest.

Yeah, I mean-- Well,
how about something stronger?

Medical-grade alcohol, yeah?

That'll put hairs on your hairs.

Okay, big guy.
How about something stronger still?

Pure ethanol.

That'll just kill you.

Guys, all these things sound horrible.
Can we just have a beer?

How about this?

South American Scorpion Rum.

Well, at least that's what I think it is.

There's no label on the bottle because
the brewers who made it went blind.

Perfect.

Thanks, Little Karen.

Enjoy.

- To Tommy.
- To Tommy.

I am gonna lead you guys so good.

Really good.

I thought you said this was strong.

- But it is!
- Okay.

Again!

Are you sure
you're eating enough fruit, darling?

You're awfully pale.

Yes, because somebody kidnapped me.

God, why do you always
have to do this, Mum?

Well, how else would I see you?
You never visit.

Still can't believe this is your mum.

Yeah, okay. Go on, say it.

"Your mum's head of the Syndicate.
She's such a big deal.

You're never gonna live up to her."

This is the very reason
I ran away from home.

That's not what I'm talking about.

I mean, how is this your mum?

You literally look the same age.

Now, Mr. Turpin. I see what you're doing.

Stop it.

Yeah, okay. Sorry. Can you stop
flirting with my mother, please?

She obviously wants to kill you.

I do not want to kill him, poppet.

Actually, I'm somewhat of a fan.

You're only human.

Dick Turpin, pamphlet star.

I never miss an issue.

But I must say,
that cover art does not do you justice.

That's what I always say.
They never give my hair enough oomph.

Not nearly enough oomph.

Oh, my God. Torture me now.
Please, just torture me now.

In fact, that's why I brought you here.

Welcome to the Syndicate.

Our organization controls almost all
criminal activity in the country.

Kidnappers in Cornwall,
burglars in Berkshire

and every estate agent in England.

That makes sense.
I knew those guys were evil.

But that's not all.

We're very proud
of our grassroots crime programs,

nurturing
the next generation of criminals.

So, what's the moral of the story?

Support local businesses.

So close Edward.

But it's extort. Extort local businesses.

Wow. This place is almost
as incredible as you.

Thank you.

My grandfather built it
with his actual bare hands.

No, that is not true, is it?

He had a team of 40 builders.

Yes, but he had to flog them all day,
every day.

Wonderful work ethic.

So, what is it exactly
that you want from me?

I want you to join us, Dick.

Together, we can make you a legend.

Oh, God.

One more, Mr. "Sliverslides?"

Sorry, chaps. Your little plan
to get me blotto isn't going to work.

Switched out the hard liquor a while back
for the good old agua.

You knew we were tricking you?

Abort.

- Abort!
- Wait! Okay.

Calm down. Sit down.

We're gonna be gangmates,

and I think that
you are bloody good chaps.

So, what is your story?

Moose, ever been in love?

Once.

A seamstress from Sidcup.

We courted for a summer
and married in the spring.

I was never good enough.

She ran off with a local cheesemonger.

Can't smell Brie now without
feeling an overwhelming sense of regret.

Honesty, what about you?
Any secret passions?

I write poems.

- You don't.
- Yes, I do. I've got one right here.

Stand up and let us hear it.

- What, now?
- Yes.

Okay.

"I like writing poems,

but I wonder whether

I will ever get any better at them...

- muh."
- Amazing.

- Beautiful.
- Amazing. Thank you so much.

Now, listen. I have to ask.

Has Dick ever inquired about any of this?

Or is it all just about him?

With me in charge,
we'd all be on the pamphlets.

Think about that.

And no need to get the bill.

I've already paid.

Thanks, Tommy.

Wow. Steak.

- I'm actually a--
- Vegan. I know.

It's a pulled mushroom-jackfruit blend.

- Probably poisoned.
- Goodness, sweetheart.

I tried to poison you one time.

It's all you ever go on about.

Now, to business.

I want to help you, Dick.

Money, resources, hair care products.
Anything you need.

You've got loads of criminals
working for you. Why do you need him?

- He's rubbish.
- I'm not rubbish.

Actually, I'm quite rubbish.

But you're also a celebrity,
which means the silly, little people,

bizarrely,
seem to enjoy being robbed by you.

Isn't that something?

Well, I've got an easy charm
that the mums enjoy.

So, what if I were to help you
grow your legend far beyond Hempstead?

- What? Colchester?
- Further still.

You're not talking Norwich?

Try the whole world.

By which, of course, I mean Britain
and her colonies.

I could make you a star.

All you need to do is sign.

I don't know, Lady Helen.

It just all seems a bit... evil?

Of course it's evil. She's evil.

Don't be so dramatic, darling.

We're all a little bit evil.
That's what makes it fun.

Look, I'm flattered,
but after all I've seen,

I've realized I don't really need
fame or fortune to be happy.

I just need my gang.

And the occasional Thai massage.

I'm gonna have to pass.

Nell, we've got a duel to win. Let's go.

You're not gonna let us go, are you?

In that case, run.

- Yep.
- Absolutely terrible manners.

Tommy? What's all this?

Oh, my God. He works for you.

Of course.

He was going to be a gift.

Someone for you to defeat
in a wonderfully exciting duel.

But seeing as you're too good for that,
I'll be moving onto plan B:

Tommy wins by default.

When you fail to attend tomorrow,
you'll be branded a coward.

Tommy will become the pamphlet's hero,

and everything that is yours
will become his.

Aka mine.

Okay, one question.
Are you free Saturday night?

Do you like Italian food?

- Take him away.
- Takeaway is cool.

What about Ethiopian?

Tapas? Tiny plates that keep coming.

Like the gang
will ever let you get away with this.

Sarcasm alert, they won't!

They will, Eleanor.

Because if you don't find
a way to make them,

I'll kill him.

Now, please,
have a bath and put on some makeup.

You look like
you've been sleeping in the woods.

You know that's where I sleep.

Get in there, you maggot.

- Guys!
- Shut it.

You didn't even tell me
how to order room service.

Minibar?

I'm starting to get worried. Where's Dick?

He doesn't need this much beauty sleep.
He's beautiful already.

Welcome to Rookwood Towers
for today's exciting duel.

Tommy Silversides versus Dick Turpin.

Also known as Future Man!

My Lord, I thought we agreed
he probably wasn't from the future.

But he was a chicken?

Yes. According to the pamphlets,
I believe he was a chicken.

A chicken from the future.

Well, well, well.

Where is Turpin lurkin'?

Is he Turp-in or Turp-out?

Will Turpin turn up?

I've got loads of these.

Wait!

Everyone, I have news.

Dick Turpin is gone.

He's dead.

No!

- He's gone away.
- It's okay, Moose.

He left this letter.

"Dear Nell, Moose and Honesty,

I'm afraid it's not working out
between us.

I want to see other gangs."

Yes, I was hoping
we could read that in private.

Too late. I've started now.

"Moose, you're too clingy."

I knew I should have
given him more space!

"Honesty, I don't know
what you're talking about half the time."

Which half?

"And, Nell, you just intimidate me because
you are so brilliant at everything."

- Yep. Yeah.
-"Basically, you're all a bit rubbish,

apart from Nell,

and not worth dying for."

"Also, I hate Hempstead."

"Goodbye forever. Dick Turpin."

I declare Tommy Silversides the winner!

He is Hempstead's new highwayman!

Now, all of you have ten seconds
to get off my land.

Ten, nine...

Tommy! Oh, thank God.

Something isn't right.
Dick would never leave us like--

Cease your incessant blubbering,
you ignorant lump.

- What?
- You work for Tommy Silversides now.

It's Tommy time.

...one!