All language subtitles for the.full.monty.us.s01e06.1080p.web.h264

Shit.

Maybe you shouldn't be doing
all this driving.

Oh, no, it's not you.
The bump's an early riser.

I was online shopping
at five o'clock this morning.

You should see my hall, Horse.
Full of crap I've bought.

- Yeah, I know what you mean.

See the Amazon courier
more than I see Guy.

- Are you all right?

Don't mind me.
It's just the hormones.

- Hey, are you sure?
- Yeah, of course. All good.

Oh, it's good of you
to take me,

but I can't have you
waiting about.

- I'll get a bus back. Honestly.
- Oh, don't worry.

I'm not rushing back
for anythin'.

Oh. Besides, when you come out,
you could do me a small favour.

I need someone
to practise the Botox on.

You can't do it on
yourself when you're pregnant,

and you've got some tasty
worry lines I could sort out.

Guy?

Too busy. Anyway, he doesn't
seem to worry about anything.

No lines.

Yeah, yeah, okay. Yeah.

Aw, thanks, Horse!

You remind me of me grandad.

He used to let me
put ribbons in his hair.

Ms Dalton?

- Watch me carpet.
- Sorry, mate. Sorry.

- You all right?
- Yeah. Yeah.

Shit.

I know you.

- I know you.

- What?
- I know you.

I know you.
Where do I know you from?

Um, Dickie Pump's Pub?

I'm banned.

Big Baps? Big-- No, banned.

Uh...

Oh! Army! Were you in the...

No? Fucking hell.
I know ya. I know ya.

Oh, God. I never forget a face,

especially if I've seen it
in uniform.

It's always in there.

I was a redcoat
at Butlin's once.

Butlin's? No.

What's your name?

- Horse.
- Horse.

Oh, like the...
Yeah.

Hey, have you got a tab
on you, mate?

- What?
- Got a tab? You know, a cig.

Or, uh, you know,
I won't mind a...

I'm gagging.

Ticket number 50.

- Guy, barely seen

each other all week.
Sweetheart, please call me back.

Darren!

Oh. Hello, Yvonne.

Uh, Darren, can you do me
a big favour?

Horse is in the job hub.
Bob in and check

he's still alive, will you?
I've been here ages.

I've actually got
a meeting to go--

With Guy?

Uh, uh, no. As a matter
of fact, it's with a--

I should've gone in with him, really,

but they'd have my wheels
around here. Be a love.

Okay.

Thank you.

Take a seat. Someone will
be with you in...

quite a while, actually.

Oh, no, I'm--
I'm just looking for, um...

Oh, uh...

Have you been sacked as well?

Uh, certainly not, uh, yet.

Um, no, uh,
Y-Yvonne w-was just wondering--

Mr Mitchell!

That's me.

- Oh, uh, well-- But I--
- See you.

Well, I'll-- I'll just sit down.

Mind the carpet.

Take a seat.

Got an HGV licence?

Well, I drive a, uh,
mobility scooter.

There's some
shelf stacking here.

W-What happened
to "The job of me dreams"?

Does warehouse work
feature in your dreams at all?

Can't I just stay
on the Disability?

Well, you've been certified fit
for work, Mr Mitchell.

Well, I'm fit for nowt, love,
and I've got no money coming in.

You shouldn't have
gotten yourself sacked, then.

What you reading?

Oh, it's, um--
It's rather good, actually.

It's about the, uh,
the Women's Kurdish Militia.

I took on that lot in Iraq.
I mean, it was them

or some fucking terrorist
outfit, know what I mean?

Oh, uh, I think you'll find that
they're not actually terrorists.

Sorry, are you telling me
that I don't know

what I'm talking about?
I was there, mate. I was there.

No. I wouldn't dream--

What have you got it for, then?

Uh, a friend lent it to me.
She was in it.

So, you are friends
with these fuckers?

Well, no, actually.
Not--Not anymore.

You better not be.

Lend us a couple quid
for some scram?

I, uh, I don't actually
carry cash these days.

Fucking contactless society, man.

It's just absolutely
killed off begging.

Come on, mate.
You must have a fiver.

- Well, how long is it gonna be

before I get me dole?

Mr Mitchell, do you remember

the Claimant Commitment
you signed?

Yeah.

No.

Uh, well, maybe.

'Kay. In order to be eligible
for benefits, you signed

a Department for Work and
Pensions Claimant Commitment.

- Did I?
- You did.

And when you got sacked,
you broke that contract.

So you've been given
a benefit sanction.

Is that good?

If you feel
you've been unfairly sanctioned,

you can challenge the decision
using form C68

or referring your complaint
to the local ombudsman.

What?

No benefit for eight weeks.

- No money?
- Nope.

- But I--
- Zero pounds, zero pence.

Okay, look,
there is a hardship allowance

or an emergency loan
you can apply for

if you've any dependants
or you're pregnant.

Any children at all?

- No.
- Are you pregnant?

- Are you having a laugh?
- Well, we have to ask.

I've been on a course.

No.

So, it's an emergency loan
you're after?

Well, I haven't eaten
for about three days, love.

I mean, is that not, like,
an emergency?

Okay.

What's that?

My lunch.

I'm supposed to be
on a diet anyway.

No. Very kind of you, love,
but no. I can't take-- No.

Thank you. No. No!

Shit.

Mind me carpets.

Help me up onto this chair. Thanks.

Uh, right.

- What exactly are you--

are you trying to do?

Right.

Okay.

Can I--Can I have
your attention, please?

- Oi!
- Oh! All right.

I came over here from Liverpool
in the '80s.

I worked, and I paid me stamps.

Roofing, tarmac laying,
whatever I could to work.

'Cause that's what I did.
I worked.

Horse, can we talk about this
at ground level?

Won't take long. Promise.

But then me shoulders went,
didn't they?

'Cause of the hod-carrying.

My knees got jiggered
because of the bricklaying.

And I've always had
a dodgy chest

ever since I was a kid.

But I was all right, you know?

'Cause I got me sick pay.
I got me scooter.

Not a lot to live on,
but enough, you know?

Enough to get by.

All right, mate. Come on.

You've had your say, yeah?

No! No, I haven't.

But then things changed,
you know?

People got, I don't know, mean.

Meaner than the Thatcher days,

and I never thought
I'd say that.

And suddenly, I'm a scrounger.

That fucking hurts, that word.
Fucking scrounger.

They started
poking round in me life.

Do I cook me own food?

How many times a night do I use
the toilet? Do I piss meself?

Are my knees still jiggered

after all these years
of hard work,

or am I just fucking pretending?

'Cause we don't trust
your type anymore.

Then I had to go
to this disability assessor--

This "doctor" who says to me,

"Horse, mate,
you're a miracle cure!

You're not disabled anymore.
You can work.

And if you don't work,
you don't fucking eat."

So, this is it.

- If I can't eat, I'm gonna die.
- Horse, no!

Well, at least maybe someone
will notice if I do it this way.

- Fucking right, mate.
- Sorry about the mess.

At least it's on
the old bit of carpet, hey?

No, I can't--

- Shit.
- Christ!

- It's not you, Avi.
- You all right, mate?

I'd know what to do
if he were drowning

or having a heart attack.

We didn't cover this
in First Aid.

How do you know
he's not having a heart attack?

- Oh, shit!

- Do you think?
- Oh, come on, let's get him up.

Hey. Come on,
give us a hand here.

- Oh, God.
- Is he all right, Darren?

I don't know.
I don't know what is going on.

Well, you wouldn't, would ya?
I haven't eaten in days.

Got no gas to make
a decent cup of tea.

And I've got no money
to feed the fucking meter!

Found it! Right.

You have just started
a revolution, mate.

I admire people like you,
people who change the world.

And you take this, right,

you get back up there,
and you finish the job.

Like the man says, you've
started, so you should finish.

- I'm-- I'm not sure now.
- No, no, no, listen.

Don't be put off by some wuss
who's scared of a bit of blood.

You are gonna go down
in history.

Martin Luther King, Gandhi,
Che Guevara, Horse!

Hey, I'm not bothered
about going down in history.

Maybe I should give the guy
his knife back.

Ah, yeah. That's one option.
It's a bit disappointing.

Option two...

we rob the fuckers.

But there's no money here,
is there?

It's a dole office, isn't it?

Yeah, apart from the staff.

All right, folks!
Uh, this is a robbery.

So, anyone on benefits,
you got two minutes

- to fuck off out of it.
- What's the matter with this--

Wait-- Not-- Not-- Not--
Not you.

- But I'm on benefits as well.
- Get with the programme.

We're partners in crime now, right?

Definitely not Mr Fucking Friend
of the Islamic State.

Off you go! Go on!

- What are you doing? Go.
- I'm not on benefits.

Yeah, but you're a kid,
and you've got one leg.

- So?
- So, I'm not robbing

a hop-a-long, am I?

Did someone call the police?

I wouldn't go in there if I
was you. All sorts of weird.

Sorry.

Sorry.

Sorry.

- Sorry.
- Ah, Jesus.

You're not very good at this,
are ya?

Sorry.

Right, folks.
Me friend here's been fired.

I'm gonna come round again.
But this time,

we're gonna dig a bit deeper,
all right?

So, as well as all major
credit cards, cash and phones,

I will also be taking jewellery,

recreational
and prescription drugs, cigs,

and all house and car keys.
All right?

Horse? You've been ages.
Can we go?

Um...

Hello. Having a robbery.

Sorry, are you pregnant?

- Yeah.
- Yeah. Ten minutes of lovin'.

One in the oven.

Okay, right. What you got?

Yeah? Oh, aye, yeah.
Oh, yeah, now we're talkin'.

You.

Oh. It's always
the quiet ones, isn't it?

What's this? This is--
Is this whizz or posh?

- Posh.
- Posh? Posh and Prozac.

Whoa, cocktail hour. Beautiful.

Coke! You head up
our zero-tolerance drugs policy.

I confiscated it off a client,
we got rounded in,

- and then this all kicked off.
- What you got? Oh, no, no, no.

- Not that.

A compass?

Well, batteries die,
and gadgets malfunction.

But you're never lost
with a compass.

- Okay.

Today.

- Thank you.

Well, it's been lovely, folks,

but I'm gonna have to skedaddle.

Uh, let's stay in touch.
Christmas cards, et cetera.

So, thanks for all the goodies.

I'm just gonna say goodbye,
so long,

auf Wiedersehen, ta-ra.

- Okay, give me the keys.
- Hmm?

Give me the keys
to the front door.

- Here, here.
- Which one is it?

- The blue one! The blue one.
- The blue one. Right.

- Don't move. Don't move.
- You hand over the keys?

You're supposed
to protect us!

You think I'm gonna get stabbed
for £9.50 an hour?

- Get fucked, Saj.

- Police!
- Right, back! You, get back.

Get back. Back in the room.
Back. You and all, back.

Okay, everyone stay calm.
Don't worry.

We're gonna fuckin'
come up with a plan.

- It's the police! Open the door!

Police!

Pictures of 'em
all over social media, Sarge.

Oh, shit.

- I know this one.
- Might need more backup?

No, no, no, no.
He's an harmless old fellow.

He can hardly bloody walk.

I can talk him out of there.
Come on.

There goes my elevenses.

I've never seen
so many happy pills.

You should try working here, love.

You should try signing on here.

Can I try some?

- Say please.
- Please.

No, you can't.

We're police officers out here.

We know you've got a weapon.

We don't want this
to end in tragedy.

- Tragedy?
- Give yourselves up now.

Okay, so, we're gonna need
a plan, Horsey.

Well, my plan is to go outside
and apologise.

Yeah, I don't remember
Che Guevara doing that, though.

Come on, mate. You started this.

I know, I know.
That's why I'm going out.

No, no, you don't. You sit down.
Sit down! Okay?

- Fine, I'll come up with a plan.

Uh. I just need to, um-- Uh--

Fuck.

Fucking...

- Shut up!

You know? Fucking hell!

Right.
So, on account of the fact

that we are now surrounded
by coppers,

you lot are all hostages!

And that is the plan.

We go over live
to Kate Brimmy

for a breaking news story.

And the main news
in Yorkshire today

is an armed siege
at a Sheffield Job Hub

where the employees
have been taken hostage

by two men wielding knives.

- Nath!
- Hey, hey!

- Get back through to the line.
- Tell fucking jobsworth here

to get his hands off me!

It's all right, it's all right.
I'll deal with this.

- Stop behaving like a pillock.
- What?

Horse is in there.

Why do you think I'm here?
It's all over the bloody web.

I don't know what's going on,
kid, but I'll sort it.

Have you been
smoking puff?

There's a bloke with
a bloody knife in there, Dad.

Look, we're trained for this.
We know what we're doing.

- Now piss off.
- Yeah, great track record

the police have got
at de-escalating.

What's the plan? Stun grenades
and tear gas, is it?

Back off, Dad.

PC Bond.

Get this man out of here, please.

Call the Alsatian off.

It's all right, Lee.
It's all right.

- Sir.
- What?

Building plan has come through.
Back doors are chained,

but there might be
another way in.

- Horse! Horse!
- Horse, who's that?

Who the fuck is that?

Oh, that's me mate, Gaz.

Oh, is it?

Horse!

- Oi!
- Dad?

Dad! Dad.

What you doing?

Aren't people supposed to break
out of sieges, not into 'em?

Fucking "Dad"? That copper
definitely said "Dad."

Okay, are you
Plain Clothes Plod, mate?

- You what?
- Are you the Dibble in disguise?

I'm his dad for real!

I blame meself.
Too liberal a parent, you see.

Told him you can be
anything you like.

Astronaut, footballer, whatever.

- He chooses policeman.
- You what?

- Kids, they break your heart.
- Do they?

You broke his heart, you know!
Wanker in a hat!

- Hello, Gaz.
- Darren! Yvonne.

It's like a party.

So, uh, what's going on?

So far, the armed men

are refusing to negotiate
with the police.

We don't know
what their demands are yet.

- But we did see earlier
- Oi! Come here!

the extraordinary sight
of a member of the public

joining the hostages
inside the building.

Our friend? Gaz?

Correct.

Might have known.
Bloody typical.

But surely this begs
the question:

Is the current police presence
enough to handle the situation?

So, it all got
a bit out of hand.

I mean, he sort of took over.

Yeah, well, that's 'cause
someone had to, didn't they?

'Cause you bottled it, Horse.
Look, the thing is, mate.

Right. I've done a robbery now.

I've sort of taken all of
these hostages. That's, like--

That's, like, raised
the stakes a bit.

- You know what I mean?
- You could say that.

Did I ask for your opinion, sweetheart?

Have it for free.

And trust me,
I'm not your sweetheart.

Wait-- Wait a minute. There's an
easy answer to this one.

Give everybody their shit back.

Won't be a robbery, will it?

Oh, that's good.

Mmm.

What about the knife?

- Anybody see a knife?
- No.

'Cause if nobody saw you
with a knife,

wouldn't be a crime,
would there?

Mmm.

I was just fitting the carpet.

Yeah, yeah, but, um...

Moment of madness, Horse.
We all have 'em.

And you did it to harm yourself.

Yeah. True. That's true. Yeah.

- Good. Are we all good?
- Yeah. Absolutely.

Quickest way to get home in time
for tea and Eastenders.

And what-- what about
the hostage taking?

- What hostage taking?
- Yeah, what hostage taking?

Maybe I took my lunch break
at my desk. A long lunch break.

Maybe she did. She was here
because she wanted to be...

- Yeah.
- ...as were we all.

- Absolutely.
- Yeah, and who wouldn't want

to spend their day
in our Job Hub?

Exactly. A sentiment
I can only agree with, sir.

Now, did anyone else feel
in the least bit hostage-y?

- Not at all.
- No.

I did.

Is it all right to kick a child?

Fucking hell.

Now, uh, the lost
property bin here.

Give it all back.

So, if I just, like,
get the bin.

And give it back.

- Just gonna give it back.
- Mmm.

I'm giving it back.

Nine grand's worth
of engagement ring there.

1.8 carats.

- Bag of carrots, more like.
- I'm sorry?

Rounded edges,
failed the fog test.

Paste. Good paste, but, uh,
give you 150 quid tops.

And what would you know
about diamond jewellery?

One of the few advantages
of having an ex-burglar

as a husband, love.

Do you know,
c-can I keep the coke?

Yeah. Yeah. It's not
like it was mine, anyway.

Brilliant. Love coke, me.

Aw...

I'm on a repeat prescription, love.

Plenty more
where they came from.

That's magic.

Grand. We're out of here!

Sarge.

He's bloody done it.

All good here.

Back in! Back in! Back in.
Back in.

- Fuck.
- Get back.

You're
surrounded by armed officers.

- Come out with your hands up.

Fuck off!

For God's sake,
they were coming out!

Cheers, pal.

Okay, what now, brainiac?
I don't fancy getting shot.

- Easy, mate.

I'm sorry, Gaz.
Haven't eaten in days.

- All right.
- Ooh, now that you mention it,

this morning's muesli
seems a long time ago.

And I threw up me breakfast.

Yeah, I'm pretty hungry,
actually. I-- I would eat.

- Yeah. I would eat.

All right, all right.
I'll order a takeaway!

I'm opening negotiations.

And could you get us
a cake?

Nathan, kid, we'll talk about
those fuckers with guns

in a minute, but right now,
do you have a pen handy?

Pineapple on a pizza.

Try asking for that in Sicily.
See what you get.

Concrete wellies, that's what.

You're not taking them
in yourself, Lomper,

- and that's final.
- I am. They're my friends.

I know how these things end.

I'll be walking behind
a horse-drawn hearse

in widow's garb.

You'd get me
a horse-drawn carriage?

- Certainly.
- Thanks, love.

And the catering
will be magnificent.

I'm not dead yet.

Well, it never hurts
to plan ahead.

Oh! Now, if they think they can
demand gluten-free bread

at such short notice,
they've another thought coming.

A touch of IBS is the least
of their worries.

Hey, since when
did you bloody smoke?

Since I was about
to get gunned down

in a hail of bullets,
that's when.

Customer left them.

Oh, my legs are like jelly.

I told you not to come.

There's a principle at stake.

I have a duty to the man I love.
Even if it kills me.

You've got a duty, all right.

This is the last
of the lemon drizzle.

You have a duty to go back
and bake another one.

'Cause when we're finished here,

I'm gonna eat
the whole bloody thing.

- Now, come on.
- What? A-Are you coming with me?

Well, you can't carry all this
on your tod, can ya?

Let's go.

If owt bad happens,
look after the pigeons.

If you let anything bad happen,

your pigeons are going
on the bloody menu

with a redcurrant
and beetroot sauce.

I love you.

Right, so leave the food
at the door,

ascertain the state
of the hostages,

and walk slowly back here.

- Are we clear?
- Clear.

Right. On you go. Go on.

The food is coming in.

Hand it over.

Hang on a minute.
How you doing, Horse?

Been better, to be honest, lads.
Not feeling all that great.

- Shift, you. Go on. Shift.
- Hey! Watch my foot.

- Comin' in.
- Hey!

What is wrong with them all?

Whoa! Whoa, whoa!

You can't bring food
into this area, really.

Oh! You're welcome
to watch, Saj.

Very popular siege, this,
isn't it?

You sure they're not coppers?

I definitely recognise him.
And him.

And him, too.

I know you lot from somewhere.

I just can't fucking--
It's doing me fucking head in.

Pineapple on pizza.
Marvellous. Mmm.

That were you? For God's sake,
don't tell Dennis,

he'll send armed coppers in himself.

- Is this gluten-free?
- No.

What are you doing here?

I'm just Deliveroo, me.

I'd like to hear your excuse, though.

Thought Horse was in trouble.

Oh. And it's Gaz to the rescue,
again, is it?

How's that working out for you?

Lemon drizzle, anybody?

Oh, aye. Fucking hell yes, mate.
That's mine.

Here, you have that one.

Lemon drizzle's gone.

Fucking love lemon drizzle.

You know what? I've not had this

since me uncle Mike was released
from prison for arson.

Okay.
Uh, this one is pepperoni.

It's Miller.
He's got demands.

He wants a fully fuelled
Ford Focus RS2.

Ah. Good choice.

Safe passage to Newark--
Sorry, New York.

In a Ford Focus?

Coke, antidepressants...

...and more pizza
with pineapple.

It's gonna be a long day.

That lemon drizzle cake
certainly shut him up.

Hey. Guy never told us you were
eating for two. Good for you.

Yeah, congrats.

What, three days in Budapest,
and Guy never mentioned it once?

- Budapest?
- Guy's stag do.

Stag do? You're getting wed?

What? Of course. What--

- You've RSVP'd, for starters.
- Have I?

Said you can't come 'cause
you and Jean are off to Crete.

- Still waiting for your reply.

Darren, you work with him.
He must have told you.

- In-- In Budapest?
- No. You didn't go.

Let everybody
down at the last minute.

And you never put your hand
in your pocket all weekend.

Well, now, that's nice,
I must say.

Refused to go in the spa because
it was 67 quid a session.

It does sound a lot.

And the things you got up to
with that barmaid in the hotel.

I'm surprised you're still
on the guest list.

- When did we go again?
- Two weekends ago!

- Surprised I could afford it.
- No. You couldn't.

Guy paid for your ticket,
and Gaz hijacked one

of those golf buggies to get you
through the airport.

- Cheers, Gaz.
- You're welcome.

Yvonne, love.

We, uh...

You didn't go?

Budapest. What? N-None of you?

You really didn't eat
that 32-ounce steak

that got everyone free drinks?

I would definitely
have remembered that. Sorry.

He sent me texts about
what you were all getting up to.

Came back utterly shagged out
from your antics. Oh, my God.

Sounds like a great weekend.

Real bender.

Can't believe I didn't go.

Guy's a compulsive liar,
isn't he?

I knew he massaged
the truth a bit,

but this is industrial scale.

I'm supposed to be marrying him.

Perhaps he's having
some sort of breakdown.

It's a highly pressurised
environment at Excello--

Don't stick up for him!
You didn't even get an invite

to his imaginary stag do!

M-Maybe you two
can have a little chat

once we're out of here, eh?

It'll be more than a chat.

Hey, where are you going?

Toilet! Just try and stop me.

Right, ladies and gents,
now we've all had a bite to eat,

may I suggest we draw
this happy gathering to a close?

What do you say?

Shall we all move
towards the exit

in a quiet and orderly manner?

Oi! Oi! Whose siege is this?

No, no, no, no, mate. I-I-I
don't wanna tread on your toes,

but you see,
we've all had enough now.

So, why don't you just
give us the keys?

Back off, mate.

All good sieges have to come
to an end sometime, mate.

- Don't come at me.
- Give us the keys.

Don't come at me.
Don't-- Don't come at me.

- Give us the keys.
- Don't fucking come at me!

Fuck!

Look, I don't like it
when people come at me!

- Is he all right?

Get him sat down.
Hurry up. Here we go.

Oh, shit.

I said, didn't I?
I said don't come at me.

Help him. Go on.
Help him. He needs help.

Press against the wound. Right.
Harder, that's it.

Keep your arm elevated.
Come on.

- Shit!
- First aid kit!

Yeah. Now, where was it?

Dave-- Dave, I'm bleeding.

Yeah, press hard against it.
Press hard.

- Cool.

Get back in your box, you,
or I'll clock you.

Oh, Dave.
Feeling a bit weird now, Dave.

Is it bad?

It's not fatal. You'll live
to piss us all off another day.

- You sure?
- If it's the last thing I do,

my friend.

- Are you all right, love?

Yeah, fine.
I just need to sit down.

I'm-- I'm fine.

I'll get you some water.

Fuck! Hey! Hey, hey, hey!
I've got it!

Uh, it's you, you, you and you!

Uh, fucking men in uniform!

Security guards' uniforms!

In that Working Man's Club.
About a billion years ago.

Oh.

- Strippers!
- What?

You were! Strippers!
Fucking yes!

They were, like,
really bad strippers, but, like,

really good and all.
They went all the way. They did!

I've seen your penis,
haven't I?

How did you see? It was supposed
to be women only.

Snuck in the back with Bodger,
didn't I? Fucking strippers.

I knew it. I told you.
Never forget a face.

- Are you still doing it?
- What do you think?

Oh, no, no, no.
This doesn't feel right.

It can't come now.
It would be too early.

There you go. There you go.
We need to get you out of here.

- Come on, lads.
- Hey, hey! Do the dance.

For them. Go on, do the dance.

Can barely walk, mate.

Oh, come on.
Since you're all here.

We're a couple short, actually.

It was 25 years ago,

and you've just tried
to fucking kill me. So, no--

- Do you know what?
- Oh, Christ!

That everyone is forgetting
whose gig this is.

- Now, I asked you nicely.

So, do the fucking dance.

Well, maybe we can remember
the fundamentals, right?

You what?
You on the Charlie as well?

Oh. Liven things up.
Cheer folk up a bit.

Yeah, that's right.
The fucking big guy's

got the right idea.
Now, fucking do it.

Right. Clear some space.
Come on.

Is this more, uh,
imaginary stuff?

You know,
like Yvonne's stag do?

Yes. Yvonne.
Exactly. Listen. Lads, lads.

- Cover your eyes, kid.
- We've got a pregnant woman

in trouble here. I'm not having
her losing the baby

because of that dickhead.
Right, I'm gonna need

- your high vis and your hat.

Come on. Get in a line, lads.

Fucking knew it.
Fucking knew it.

- Should I join in?
- Why not?

Can't be any worse than
what we're about to do.

How long is it since we...

- Right.
- Haven't a clue.

- Right. Come on then, lads.

Let's have it then.
Like it was. Come on.

Wait, wait.
Wait a minute, wait a minute.

- The music on the phone.
- Aye.

No need to get
any fucking ideas, mate.

Oh, yeah!
This is what they played.

This is it, right?
Gonna be good.

I'm telling you. I've seen it.

I just remember it being
a bit better than this.

Hey! Have I to put it
through the speaker?

Yeah, 'cause this is dog shit.
It's gonna be all right, this.

They're dead good, I promise ya.
Honestly, it's better than this.

You just warmed up, right?
You just warmed up.

Fucking yes, come on!
Here we go!

Dance!

Better. Yes, lads!

Yeah, take it off.

Go on, lads.

Go on. Spin it! Oh, yes.
Go on. Fucking hell. Go on.

- Shoes, shoes!
- That's it. Come on. Yes!

Oh! Yes! Fuck!
Do you know what I mean?

Belt! Belt! Belt!

Yeah, go on now!
Sexy walk!

It's like 3D!

Oh, yeah! Go on!
Show us your pits!

Whoa!

Get off me! Ow! Ow!

- Ow!
- Keys!

- Right!
- Move along now.

- Thank you.
- Go, go, go!

I-- I can't breathe.

- Horse! You all right, mate?

Police! Nobody move!
Nobody move!

Stay down! Stay down!
Do not move!

Armed police. Do not move!