All language subtitles for Absolute Power s02e02 The Trial.eng

Now, you were an MP before
you were convicted of having sex

with an under-aged girl,

you were disgraced
and went to prison for two years.

It was a... desperate,
desperate time.

In prison you found God
and you wrote Emerging From The Dark.

But now you're saying that that
trial, the sentence, finding God,

everything was a bunch of lies,

an elaborate scam just to get you
back into the media spotlight.

There was no cocaine,
no girl at my penthouse flat,

no under-age sex. It was all
engineered to sell my first book.

Now you're saying
that you've genuinely found God

and you're putting the record
straight in Into Light.

Absolutely. I am mortified
that I allowed myself to be cajoled

into that first pernicious scenario

and I now feel it's my Christian
duty to finally tell the truth.

Well, I have to say, it is
obvious from this second book

that someone engineered
that sex scam for you,

but you don't name him.
So, come on, tell us who it was.

No, I can't.
We won't tell anybody.

Get Dawson on the phone
before Max Clifford gets in.

He won't come to us.

We were his people
before Dawsongate,

but as soon as the pious old fart
came blinking into daylight,

he debunked to Freuds.

Oh, God, hasn't the public had
enough of Anthony "the zealot" Dawson

and his regurgitated mumbo jumbo?

Cat, where are the viewing
figures for Ms Loos' debut

on Footballers' Wives?

Is that because there
may be an investigation

into your allegations about the case?

Well, I understand
the wheels are turning

and it is my hope
that a proper judicial procedure

would be a chance for this person
to repent, as I've done.

Do you really think
that's likely?

In the land of the fatuous fraudster,

the biggest two-eyed lying git is king, eh?

Charles, there are three
gentlemen downstairs to see you.

I think you'll find in my organiser
it says I'm having dinner with Cat Deeley.

Or Tess Daly -
one of the blonde sticks, anyway.

They said it was official.

...see the error, as you have done?

Well, as this person
so succinctly put it to me at the time,

"Confess, confess, confess,
don the sackcloth and ashes

"and always remember, everyone
loves a grovelling proselyte."

But hang on, you're saying...

Oh, shit.

This farrago is a grotesque
attempt by Dawson

to gain publicity for his latest
fifth-rate outpouring.

I can assure you, Martin, that
I am wholly innocent of all charges.

Well, that's a relief, not that
I thought for a moment that, um...

Have we got a clear strategy,
Helena?

Why did you hire me, Martin?

Cos you were
the most expensive QC he found.

And with that outstanding financial outlay
comes an outstanding barrister.

Look, everybody knows that
Anthony Dawson is a serial liar,

whereas Charles...

Well, Charles is, um...

An acknowledged master of presentation.
Exactly.

Which means that
if I had been responsible

for orchestrating this inept burlesque,

I should at least gone
for someone high profile in the role

of deflowered schoolgirl -

someone like Charlotte Church
or a member of Tatu.

Surely we simply say
that he feigned discovering God

in order to sell his first diffusion

and now he's claiming actually to
have found him to sell his second.

Samantha? What's the update on Besty?

When will he be back
on the cheese and wine circuit?

Charles, Helena is costing precisely
?535.68 an hour before VAT,

I think the least
we can do is to pay attention.

Oh, I'm sorry, Helena,

I didn't realise QC's needed people
to listen in order to talk.

I'll call you back, Samantha.

What's Dawson likely
to turn up in at court?

A limo sponsored
by the God squad.

Then we get Charles
into something humbler.

Also we need off-the-peg suits,
keep him away from Jermyn Street.

Shoes...
Have you done this before?

John Leslie.

It might be an idea to
downgrade Charles' living quarters,

doss him down in a pokey flat
in a really crappy suburb.

Like where?

I was thinking... Deptford.

What?

The press will be gathering
here where,

in an hour or so, the trial
of Charles Prentiss gets under way.

Among prosecution witnesses expected
to give evidence is Anthony Dawson

and there's particular press interest

because many people believe
public relations is on trial here today.

They'll be ducking PRs in the Thames
by the week's end, mark my words.

MACHINE: You have 12 new messages.

PIERS: Hi, Martin, Piers.
Not trying to pre-empt anything,

but if Charles does go down,

you're going to be looking
for a replacement...

ALISTAIR: It's Alistair, Martin.

Terrible business with Charles,
but, if you play with fire...

When you're casting around for fresh...

ANDREW: Andrew Neil here...
Shit!

God, his bloody chair's barely cold!

The king is dying, long live
the successful early applicant.

Charles wants me to handle
Matt Goss's next comeback.

Working title, Shit or Bust.
What did he palm off on you?

Promoting Babs Windsor's new book,
Gangsters What I Knowed

and Hugh Grant.

Charles gave you Hugh?

CHARLES: If dear Kerry McFadden
ever calls again wanting a little chat,

don't, under any circumstances,
put her through.

Is that understood?
They run on batteries.

Sorry.

Don't say you're sorry, Cat,
saying sorry is a sign of weakness.

Show weakness and they'll
be on you like rapacious panthers.

I just thought...

What you thought
is of absolutely no interest to me.

We have two and a half minutes.
Got your assignments?

Watches are synchronised.

Good, I want almost uninterrupted
contact via phone and text.

I believe you have four
assignments, Jamie.

I trust that won't overtax you unduly.

Alison, you have two. Same concern.

Where's Martin?
MARTIN: Car's here.

Right, let us be off.

Martin, you know we're all praying
for Charles' safe return to this office,

and I have absolutely no doubt
that he'll come out smelling of roses

but, should things go tits up...

Et tu, Jamie?

Good luck, Charles.

Not that you need it

Don't worry, I shall be back in
the saddle by this time next week.

Meanwhile, don't let standards
drop too far.

We'll do our best.

With me out,
you'll have to do better than that.

Can I just say, and I think
I speak for everyone here,

things won't be the same without you,
Charles, really. You'll be sadly missed.

Who was last in the back
of this car, then? Brezhnev?

We needed to lower
your profile a little.

We wanted to project an image
which wasn't quite so grand.

I draw the line at cycling.

Well, we're agreed you're
to have absolutely no contact

with the media, yes?

What, not even a snatched denial
for GMTV on the courtroom steps?

No, retain an injured detachment.

You are hurt by the accusations.

But absolutely determined
to put the record straight.

Whatever you two say. I'm merely
an awestruck observer. Oh, hell.

(REPORTERS CLAMOUR)

Mother, I thought I told you not to come.

This is no place for the terminally ill.

What we intend to show is that
not only did Charles Prentiss

take advantage of a desperate man,

giving him a leading role
in this wretched drama,

but that he also hired and rehearsed
the other players,

paying handsomely
for their acquiescence and silence.

This is a man
who will stop at nothing

in his manipulation
of the media machine.

"It's a toothless onslaught
from Sir Jeremy Pike..."

What are you doing?

Dictating Charles' column to the Express.

Five minutes, Damien.

Dinner date with Hugh sorted?

A quiet one-to-one just to get
to know each other, obviously.

First up on the agenda, get him
the lead in Richard Curtis' new film.

Still confident you can handle it?

Yeah.
Great.

I mean, if anyone can deal

with a world famous,
multi-millionaire playboy, it's you.

I don't think
he'll be interested in me.

Oh... just make sure
you don't wear that green number

you had on two weeks ago,

otherwise we'll never see you again.
You'll do a great job.

(REPORTERS YELL)

Five and a half hours
of vitriolic spite!

Is that a record
for an opening statement?

It is a little excessive
for a perjury case,

though Archer's
took two and a half days.

Where are we going?
The flat's in Deptford.

Where?!
It's the new Peckham.

Wasn't Peckham the new Hoxton
a few years ago?

Sadly, it's now the old Streatham.

Which makes Deptford what?

About an hour's taxi drive.
You can drop me at the Garrick.

Are we still in London?

How the hell
did they know we'd be here?

Some careless insubordinate

must have inadvertently posted
the address on the internet.

Gentlemen, please,
I am under strict instructions

to say nothing whatever at this time.

However, suffice to say
I am entirely innocent of all charges

and have complete faith
in the British legal system.

I feel nothing but pity
for my adversary, Mr Anthony Dawson,

who is patently in need
of urgent professional assistance.

Now, I humbly beg that
you will respect my privacy

at this very difficult time for me.

So, in the words of the great
Boris Johnson, hop it and bog off.

It's just a crash pad, really,
somewhere to grab a few hours

between clubbing and work.

There's a corner shop to the right
and a great kebab place next door.

There's a bus route into town...

We've all died
and gone to our own particular hell.

MARTIN: You assured us
it was homely and spacious.

Yes, and while we're on the subject
of ghastly misrepresentations,

can someone have a word
with the courtroom artist?

The drawing that appeared of me
on the news

made me look
like a dyspeptic Mr Punch.

WOMAN: Mr Prentiss, could you
not answer some questions?

Ah, well... as long as the full
horror of my lowly existence here

is faithfully recorded,
I suppose it's worthwhile.

Can someone arrange for
a delivery of pizzas twice a day?

I hope you'll be relatively
comfortable here, Charles.

Well, let's not pin everything
to hope, eh? Let's push for ideals.

A few suitable additions, I think
this could be almost habitable.

You don't believe this trial
will have any adverse affect

on your profession?

Well, of course, Kirsty,

as you know, I can't talk
about any specific case

but I think,
for the sake of argument,

if we take an entirely
hypothetical situation

where a serial liar
makes outlandish accusations

against a perfectly respectable
professional man,

then I think it behoves us
to examine

the testimony of this serial liar
quite scrupulously

before we jump to any conclusions.

I think that once we begin to question
this rather flimsy evidence...

Well, I think we shall
find ourselves, broadly speaking,

looking with far more sympathy

on this conceivably very badly
wronged professional man

and his certainly
entirely innocent company.

Er... in this, er...

purely hypothetical
and indeed non-existent case.

First message.

JEFFREY: Martin, Jeffrey.
Send all my very best to Charles.

Been there,
got the T-shirt and all that.

Chances are that he is buggered,

so I thought I'd test the water
regarding his position.

Predacious vultures.

Good morning, Jamie, Cat,
Alison, Nick, Charles.

CHARLES: Traffic bad
this morning, Martin?

Some of us have been sitting
here twiddling our thumbs

for nearly 15 minutes.

MARTIN: Yes, got up late, rushed here,

I didn't even have a chance
to have any... breakfast.

Well, now the whole team's assembled,
let's press on, shall we?

Some of us have a court hearing
to attend.

CHARLES: Number one,
call Richard Curtis

and secure Hugh's part
before the dinner.

It's always good to arrive
at a meeting with something

to slap triumphantly on the table.

Do you want me to mention...

Look, if you're gonna speak too,
it'll take a lot longer.

Dresswise, don't stint on the flesh.

Check in the mirror and if you
look like a cheap street-walker,

then you're in the right ball park
with Hugh.

That little green number you wore
the other week should be perfect. Ow!

Oh! Sorry.

Charles Prentiss assured me that he
could rehabilitate my public image.

He saw it as a challenge, likening
it to restoring Hitler's reputation

in Poland or Barrymore's at ITV.

I wonder you expect us to believe
anything you say, Mr Dawson.

I take exception to that.

Your life has been a catalogue
of half-truths and lies, has it not?

You claim that you served
in both the Falkland and Gulf wars

and you were among the wounded
at Bluff Cove.

I did serve and was wounded.

You were in the catering corps
for both conflicts, were you not?

And the wound
you received was in fact caused

by a particularly stubborn
pressure-cooker lid, wasn't it?

The fact is, Mr Dawson, you never
told the whole truth in your life.

And you're not telling it now.

I suggest that the person who should
be under scrutiny here is Mr Dawson

and not Charles Prentiss,
who is simply an innocent victim

of the Walter Mitty-like imaginings
of the man in the witness box.

Well, this is all pretty damning stuff,

and I have to say
that it's something which I,

as prosecuting counsel, would
have to take very seriously indeed,

were it not for the tape

recorded on that night
four years ago,

in the Groucho Club, where Miss...

Billie Piper,
a minor pop sensation,

was conducting an interview
at a neighbouring table.

Objection. This evidence
has not been admitted.

The tape only came to light
late last night

and was admitted
by the judge early this morning.

In between the inane questions,
we can hear quite clearly

the voices of Charles Prentiss
and Anthony Dawson.

We've had an expert enhance
the tape, leaving us with this.

CHARLES ON TAPE: Don't be
such a dribbling wimp, Tony.

A few months in choky will
give you time to write your opus.

TONY: But does it have
to be teenage sex?

WOMAN: Well, you know, I've had
a few guys try and hit on me,

but they're all sad old farts.

CHARLES: What better springboard
for total redemption

than to have plumbed
the depths of sexual depravity?

TONY: Yes, but what
if someone rumbles us?

CHARLES: Who's going to rumble us?

The woefully inept police force or...
or the creaking, geriatric legal system?!

WOMAN: It's true, I go for boys
who are just nice.

They don't have
to have pots of money or anything.

CHARLES: We stick together
and no-one will be any the wiser.

Lf, however, you do vomit forth
in a moment of drunken catharsis,

I'll deny everything and you,
my friend, will plummet alone.

I may enjoy dancing on the edge
of the abyss,

but I will never,
ever topple in, comprende?

Well, it rather looks as if our hero

has gone and landed
himself squarely in the poo.

I can't believe you lied to us.
It's unforgivable.

One always lies to one's defence,
it's the one place it's expected.

What about me? I even went on
TV and stuck up for you.

I even lied to Kirsty Wark,
for God's sake!

What we need now
is a complete overhaul.

I suggest we start
with a change in personnel.

So, thank you, Helena,
your services are no longer required.

What?
You're sacked.

Watching this case so far has been
like watching a pack of whores

and their punters
circling before an orgy.

One wishes they'd drop their pants
and get on with it.

What we need now
is a bit of cut and thrust, hmm?

Give him one from me, eh?

JAMIE: I hope you booked
somewhere classy.

Sketch, of course.
Of course.

And... I'm running late.
Did you talk to Richard Curtis?

Actually, I couldn't get him.
Have you checked Pop Bitch recently?

No, I keep in touch with clients
via the telephone, Jamie.

Then you won't know the buzz-words
regarding his latest film

are authentic, credible
and, most worrying of all, gritty.

He's casting unknowns, so no roles
for Martine, Emma, Alan or Liam.

Certainly no role for Hugh. I'm
more than happy to go and meet him.

First meeting, prestigious client.

Charles gave me this responsibility
and I intend to carry it out.

Hugh, slight change of plan.

There was a time

when people stood four square
behind their fabrications.

Now the age of public redemption
is upon us,

it's people like me, honest liars,
who get caught in the crossfire.

I don't know how you can be
so calm about all this.

Well, even on the Titanic

the house band played on
and cocktails were served.

Not when the ship was vertical
and plunging into the bloody depths,

they weren't.

Maybe we should play
the ill-health card.

I read that the right amount
of pure adrenaline

injected directly
into the heart can cause a seizure.

It might be worth a try.

Ignominy or possible death.
Which would you choose?

Either way, Prentiss McCabe
is up shit creek sans paddle.

Perhaps it's time for Mother finally
to shuffle off this mortal coil.

That could buy us a few days.

Perhaps not.

Come on, spill the beans, tell all.

Er... he stood me up.

You're joking!

No, he didn't show,
and now I can't get hold of him.

Hmm, bloody movie star tossers,
you can't trust any of them.

It's Charles,
he wants you in the round room.

Oh, hello, is, er...
is Piers there, please?

It's Martin, Martin McCabe.

Piers!

You're asking me to commit perjury
in a perjury trial?

The first time
is always the hardest.

Clear this little hurdle
and your career in PR will blossom.

No...

God knows I've got no right
to ask this of you

but I believe this is
one of those times

when we've got to put aside
our selfish personal qualms

and think of the little people.

I shudder to think
of the career prospects

of someone like Nick or
Cat if this company folds.

MAN: How would you describe
Mr Charles Prentiss?

Er, um... it's something about him
being inspiring and exhilarating.

"He's a supportive
and generous boss who..."

I would describe as a friend.
As a valued colleague.

"Would you say he's been duplicitous in
his dealings?"

No, no, um...

He is... inspiring and exhilarating.

Inspiring and exhilarating
was his work methods,

this is..."He deals honestly and
truthfully with staff and clients."

It's not going in.
It's only the tenth time, stay with it.

"Where was he
when Mr Dawson alleges

"Mr Prentiss
was at the Groucho Club in London?"

Ah, um... yes, we were
in a hotel in Ayrshire.

Argyllshire.

Having a weekend away.
On a business trip.

I can't do it.

I can't... do it.

I can't lie, I can't.

CHARLES: Miss Jackman,

as an employee of Prentiss McCabe,
you are in a unique position

to witness Mr Prentiss

both at work and at play.

He has always treated me well.

He is a supportive and generous
boss who I'd describe as a friend.

No, as a... valued colleague.

That cleverly answers
my first question.

Would you say he's ever...

Duplicitous? Never.

He always deals honestly and truthfully

with both staff and clients.

He'd no sooner lie than I would,
and I would never lie, ever.

And anyway, the night that he was
alleged to have been at the Groucho

with Mr Dawson, we, he and I,
were in a hotel in Argyllshire...

on a strictly business trip.

Separate rooms and everything.

Really?

I even have the receipts.

This would appear to throw
a new complexion over proceedings.

However, I can tell you all what
you've heard from Miss Jackman

is the biggest crock
of horse manure

you're ever likely
to hear in your entire life.

What?

You may stand down now,
Miss Jackman.

I was not in a hotel room in Argyllshire.

I was in the Groucho Club
with Mr Dawson.

I said that I would prostrate myself
before this court, and I will.

Charles Prentiss, and I speak
from bitter personal experience,

is one of the most despicable,
unscrupulous

and downright dishonest people
it has been my displeasure to know.

JAMIE: Mmm, mmm...

But, Hugh, you did go straight home
after the restaurant, didn't you?

No stop-offs on the way home?

I'm joshing,
you must get that all the time.

Right, nothing's changed
since our meal last night.

I spoke to Curtis first thing.

He knows we feel the part
of the social worker

is exactly the direction
you should be going in.

Well, he knows all about
the early character roles.

Quasimodo in the Park, your
Elephant Man at the Old Red Lion,

critically acclaimed.

Can I call you back in five?

Excellent.

Let's get you some chocolate.

Miss Jackman is a person
of absolute integrity,

and yet still Charles Prentiss
managed to make her

stand before this court of law
and lie through her teeth.

Does this make her bad?

Does it make him bad?

Or does it make them both
simply human?

Our television schedules are crammed
with perjured piers of the realm,

drug-guzzling sportsmen
and coughing majors,

all of them fawned upon

and exalted as some fabulous
new form of celebrity.

We all lie.

The world would fall apart
if we did not.

"Does my bum look big in this?"
"Gargantuan, my sweet."

"This is my own special recipe,
how does it taste?"

"Like viper's vomit."

Result, pandemonium.

Yes, Charles Prentiss
has done... some terrible things.

But he's part of a profession
that is required, nay,

demanded to be economical
with the truth.

If we're to throw a man in jail
for lying,

then shouldn't we be
imprisoning politicians,

businessmen, advertisers,
estate agents, journalists,

members of the legal profession?

What I did was wrong

and I accept whatever sentence
this court sees fit to bestow upon me

but let us not fool ourselves
into thinking that anything I did

was not something that everyone

is capable of doing
under extreme circumstances.

And, in the final analysis,
who has been hurt?

Certainly no under-age girl

because the whole night in question
was pure fabrication.

Certainly not Mr Dawson, who as
a result of all this has found God.

What higher function could
I have performed for a friend?

And may I thank you
for giving me the chance

to have my own personal road
to Damascus moment here in court?

Smite me,
cast me howling from this room,

but I guarantee you I will return
a better,

perhaps sadder, wiser

and certainly humbler man.

After much deliberation,
I have decided

the sentence should reflect
the seriousness of this offence

and also take into account

the stance taken
by the defendant yesterday.

On balance, I feel that the only
fair course of action to take is...

(TELEPHONE RINGS)
I'm so sorry.

Oh, it's my publisher,
somewhat jumping the gun.

Do carry on.

Where was I?
Er...

"You felt the only fair
course of action you could take..."

Ah, yes, thank you.

Don't mention it.

The only fair course of action to take is...

It was a pretty dull meal, Ali,
all "I want, I want."

I was like, "I'll see what we can do."

Then Jemima turns up, "She wants,
she wants." Bloody nightmare.

If you do anything like this
to me again,

I will personally remove your manhood
piece by tiny piece, understand?

Message received.

Ladies and gentlemen,
I think it would be churlish

for us not
to raise our glasses in a toast

to the great
British judicial system,

which has proved as fair
and even-handed

as I always suspected it would.

ALL: The great British
judicial system.

Ah, so soon.

Well, farewell all.

Good luck, Charles.

Thank you.

Oh, and, Martin,
the only cake I like is Madeira.

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