All language subtitles for Cracker S01E01 The Mad Woman in the Attic (Part 1) 720p WEB-DL HEVC x265 BONE_track3_[eng]

# SUMMERTIME

COMMENTATOR: They're off!
All The Girls slowly away,

Serious Harry breaks very fast

from TM and Hinari Video
in the early stages.

Then Calara, good position,
wide from Last Straw...

# Don't know why

# There's no sun up in the sky

# Stormy weather...

'..TM,
helping to force the pace...'

# Since my man and I
Ain't together...

# It's raining all the time... #

'Serious Harry just grabs the lead
on the outside of TM.

Further back comes Comic Whirlpool,
Calara, on the outside Last Straw

bursts through on the far side.
Yes!

Three and a half to go.
Come on!

Comic Whirlpool and Last Straw
are the nearest challengers.

It's Serious Harry as they race
inside the final furlong

from Comic Whirlpool...
Come on, baby!

Serious Harry is holding it
as they come to the line.

Serious Harry wins it!
Comic Whirlpool second,

then came Last Straw third,
and Palace Gate Gold for fourth.

Come on!

We're late.

OK, everyone...

..Dr Fitzgerald is now ready
to give us his lecture.

Spinoza.

Descartes.

Hobbes.

Locke.

Freud.

Adler.

Jung.

Mayer.

Sullivan.

Torrey.

Pavlov.

End of lecture.

STUDENTS MUTTER

Moral.

What's the moral?

The bride in white...
sees herself as the widow in black.

She's only just married him,

but she's planning for the day
she'll bury him.

And she'll be centre stage
once more.

I rehearsed the death of my father
for years.

I even got a little bored.

I knew all my lines,
but he was still alive.

And I never got my opening night.

So go and lock yourself away
in a room for a couple of days,

and study what is here.
(THUMPS HEART)

The things that you really feel,

not all that crap
that you're supposed to feel.

And when you've studied,

when you've shed a little light
on the dark recesses of your soul,

that is the time to pick up a book.

Here's the cavalry.

Afternoon, sir.

Can you tell me what's going on,
please?

BARRAGE OF QUESTIONS

Sorry about the delay,
ladies and gentlemen.

We'll be moving again
as soon as possible.

Moving again as soon as possible,
ladies and gentlemen.

One second, pal, honestly.
All right.

Hello, boss.
All right, Jimmy? Is it Sweeney?

Looks like it.

Scene of Crime not here?
On his way.

Path as well.

George Wild, the guard.
He found her.

Detective Chief Inspector
Bilborough. We'll need your shoes.

Did you touch anything in here?
No.

Statements from everyone on board.
Reason for journey,

names and addresses,
proof of identity. Right.

Seating plan of every compartment,
who sat where,

who got off, who got on, where they
got off, where they got on. Right.

Ladies and gentlemen, I'm Detective
Chief Inspector Bilborough.

There's been a serious incident
on this train.

Your cooperation and your patience
would be appreciated.

Thank you.

And how did you pay for your ticket?
Why do you need to know that?

Just routine, sir.

Was it Sweeney?

Dark brown pubic hair.

She wasn't a natural redhead.

Was it Sweeney?

Throat cut, pubic hair shaven -
all his trademarks.

This is a classic.

He had her facing this wall.

Can you get one
in relation to the window?

Do you see the blood pattern?
High up, then sloping down.

Right, she's up against this wall.

The blood pressure's sky high,
she's fighting for her life.

The blade pierces
the carotid artery.

For a split second, it's a tiny hole
in a high-pressure pipe,

so the force is amazing.
Take a look at this.

See, there's the blood
at its highest point.

Then the cut gets bigger.

The pressure drops, she drops,
and then what's left in her,

- six pints of blood, say -
bubbles out onto the floor

till the heart stops pumping.

It's an absolute bloody classic.

Can you get one of me
pointing to it? I'll just do this.

Er... Something for the album.

CAMERA LENS CLICKS

120.
It'll have to go through Finance.

Oh, come on,
I can do with it now in readies!

It can't be done.

It wasn't quite
what I was expecting.

Yeah, well, you know.

A little controversy, a little
phoney passion - they lap it up.

Cheers. I really enjoyed it.
All right, ta.

Bastard!

Oh, shit!

I'd prefer you not to smoke.
Tough.

It's scientifically proven that I
inhale 20% of everything you smoke.

You get it for nothing, though.

Do you mind?

I'm not getting cancer off you,
right?

Do we know who she was?
Not yet, sir.

POP MUSIC PLAYS

TELEVISION IS ON

Where's your mum?
Eh?

Where's your mum?
Out.

Where?
What?

(SIGHS) Have you got any money?
What?

I'll put my foot through that.
Have you any money?

No.

Katie!

In here, Dad!

POP MUSIC PLAYS

Have you any money?
No.

I suppose you're expecting a tip.
Yeah.

Lift your dahlias in the autumn.

POP MUSIC CONTINUES PLAYING

Have you been at this?
No.

You're lying.
I haven't touched it.

CORONATION STREET THEME ON TV

Hello?

We're going out.
I know.

Sober.
No choice.

# Summertime

# And the livin' is easy... #

POLICE RADIO: 'Inspector Bilborough,

can you give us your ETA
at the Appleby residence?'

Yeah, we're arriving there now.
Over.

Will you take the mother?

Yes.

You're good at that kind of thing.

I've had plenty of practice.

Mrs Appleby?

# So hush, little baby

# Don't you cry

# One of these mornings

# You're gonna rise up singing... #

Er... I'll have the lemon sole.

Would you like anything else
to drink?

Yeah, please.
Get me a double Scotch. Fitz.

Yes, dear. And a couple of bottles
of house white.

Is that all right with you? Jo?
Fine.

So, a double Scotch,
two bottles of house white.

Would you like anything to start?
Um... Another ashtray, please.

# But till that morning

# There's a-nothing
Can harm you... #

Could you just check
that they are your daughter's?

# Standing by. #

Oh...

Oh, Jacqui.

Oh, Jacqui.
What happened to you, love?

Oh, there.

(We'll bring you home soon,
won't we? Then you can go to sleep.)

Then you can go to sleep.
(TEARFULLY) Oh, Jacqui.

Oh...

(TEARFULLY) There.

There. We're here now, love.

What were you doing?

Oh...

Go on, then, how much do you pay
her? It's none of our business.

£2? £2.50 an hour? How much?
What do you pay?

We don't have a child minder.
No, but when you did use them,

what did you pay?
It was completely different.

A pound an hour.
A pound an hour!

Talk about the pot
calling the kettle black!

Yeah, well, I mean,
I don't spout about exploitation.

I don't spout about
equal opportunities...

Come on! ..and feminism,
and all that bullshit.

Let's talk about the weather.

It's complete,
unadulterated bullshit.

You're paying some poor,
downtrodden cow £2 an hour

to look after your child.
That's enough, Fitz.

Your child, which means most to you
in the whole world,

£2 an hour. And you've got
a cleaner. We'll talk again
when you're sober.

You've got a cleaner. That black
woman that cleans the house.

Ideally, she should be a Filipino.

But she's black, so that's OK.

Drop it.
I will not drop it.

Am I right?
Yeah!

So how much do you pay her?
The going rate.

£2.50?
£3!

£3 an hour?!

She could make more than that
in sodding South Africa!

No, she wouldn't!

So you pay this woman £3 an hour

to clean your house
so you can go out

and teach Women's Studies
for 20 quid an hour.

Do you not think that's just
a teeny wee bit hypocritical?

Cos you're up on the podium
talking about

equality and freedom and feminism,

and she's at home with her arm
halfway down your lavatory!

I think what we have here
is a failure to communicate.

I'll pay that by cheque.

I'm sorry, sir, but we only take
cheques up to £50.

I'm not used to being treated
like this.

If you've got problems
with your technology, fair enough,

it happens all the time,
but they're not my problems.

I'm sorry, sir.
I'll pay by cheque, right?

And what I'll do is I'll sign
the back and put my address on it.

I'm sorry, sir.

Use this.
Thank you, sir.

They're having some problems
with their computer.

# Every time

# We say... #

How bad this time?

Over the limit on both cards.

Two grand overdrawn at the bank.

Nothing else?
No.

I raised five grand on the mortgage.

Told them it was for a new bathroom.

I forged your signature.

MUSIC PLAYS

Mark.
What?

I want to talk to you.
I'm busy.

I want to talk to you!

Get your things packed.
What? Take no notice.

Get packed,
we're going to your nan's.

It won't happen again.
I mean it this time. I mean it!

# GEORGE GERSHWIN: Summertime

Why not a normal addiction, Fitz?

Heroin or cocaine?

Do too much and your dead.

Why pick something
so bloody limitless?

Bye.
Bye.

ENGINE STARTS

DOG BARKS

Oh, God.

What are you doing up at this time?
You wet the bed again?

Got to sign on, haven't I?

'Finally, the custodians of
the cottage where the romantic poet

'William Wordsworth
once lived with his sister

'say they're having to restrict
the number of visitors to the site.'

RADIO STATION IDENT MUSIC

Did the paper come yet?
In the bog.

What?
In the bog.

(SOBS)

(TEARFULLY) Oh, God.

SOBBING

Are you all right?

TANNOY: 'The Huddersfield train
has just arrived at platform 7.

'We apologise for the delay

'and inconvenience we've caused
to travellers. Thank you.'

There are certain similarities...
They're bloody identical.

This is your first homicide.
Second.

First, apart from a domestic.

This is my twelfth. You do not
use words like "identical."

OK?
OK.

Right, we'll do it over here.

Gather round, everybody.
Hello. Hello. Hello.

Sorry to keep you waiting,
ladies and gentlemen.

In a moment, Miss Parsons here will
take you to the scene of the search

and you can get some pictures.

For now, I can tell you that
there are certain similarities

between the murder
of Jacqui Appleby...

..and the recent murder
of Patricia Garth

at Oxenholme railway station.

My officers are working
on the assumption

that these two crimes are linked.

Our first priority
is to trace everyone

who got on or off the train

between Sheffield
and Manchester Victoria.

PLAYFUL CHATTER

No, I'm not.
Yes, you are.

Max!

Max!

Max!

That's dead boring.

DOG WHIMPERS

Max! Where are you?

The dog found the body and you...
Is he gonna die?

You'll be all right, sir.

You'll be all right.

SHOUTING OVER SOUND OF CHOPPER
Jumped from the train!

Smashed himself up!

You can tell where he landed!

Dragged himself as far as he could,
blacked out.

Would you jump from a moving train?

If I'd killed someone.

Blood on his clothes,
blood on the soles of his shoes,

scratches.

Keep the lads at it.
I want the murder weapon.

We're taking you to hospital.

Doctor?
Policeman.

Thank you.

I'm sorry to trouble you.
Yes?

My name's Fitz.

I knew Jacqui. She was a lovely
girl, I'm really sorry.

Thank you.
Look, I'm a psychologist.

That's how I knew her.
She was a student of mine.

I want to help. I'm good.
And I'll catch him for you.

The police are coping,
thanks all the same.

But if ever you need me, really.

Thank you. Thank you.

Thank you!

Amnesia?
Yeah.

Jacqui was blood group B.

That's what they found
on his clothes.

Checked the door -
his fingerprints all over it.

Four descriptions of a man
going in and out of the carriage -

he fits them all.
Murder weapon?

Not yet, no.
Jesus!

25 miles of track, boss.

It may take some time.

Through here.

Dr Turner, Dr Chung,
Detective Sergeant Beck.

Hello.
How do you do?

Well, you'd better come through.

I'm Detective Chief Inspector
Bilborough,

this is Detective Sergeant Beck.

Hello.

Could you tell us your name, please?

There was a girl killed
on the train.

You remember that?

I've heard them all talking.
They think I did it.

Did you?

(SIGHS)

I don't know.

You were in her compartment. Your
clothes were covered in her blood.

I'm a manual worker,
some kind of manual worker.

Yeah.

We're also investigating the murder
of Patricia Garth

at Oxenholme railway station about
five weeks ago. Do you remember it?

Twice?

I've done it twice?

Possibly.

How long are you gonna keep him?

He could go on feigning amnesia
till the cows come home.

We don't know that he's feigning it.
Of course he's feigning it!

You've done test after test

and there's no physical reason
whatsoever.

None that we've found.

There are emotional
and psychological factors

to take into consideration.

He's murdered two young women -

they're emotional and psychological
factors. I understand them totally.

Can I ask a question?

Suppose he was just refusing to
speak. Would you keep him in then?

No.
That's exactly what he's doing.

That man should be in a police
station, not a hospital bed.

We'll try Pentothal.

Do you remember being on the train?

No.

Do you remember
where you were going?

No.

Just the noise and the lift
of the helicopter.

Then someone spoke to me.

A policeman?
Yeah.

Then the hospital.

You don't remember the train?
No.

Nothing at all?

A sound, a noise - anything at all?

My being like this is annoying you,
I know.

But it's destroying me.

Prove to me I did this and I...

I promise I'll confess.

I'll sign anything you want.

I get on the phone,
they say "Who is it?"

I say "It's only me.
It's only Peter."

They get on to me, they say
"It's Charlie."

"It's George." "It's Fred."

It's not "only Charlie",
"only George", "only Fred."

There's a big fanfare of trumpets
with them.

With me, it's always "It's only me."

Do you understand
the point I'm making?

Yeah.
"Only me."

Massive inferiority.

Low self-esteem.

No, it's not LOW self-esteem, it's
sub-bloody-terranean self-esteem.

A woman fancies me.

I say: my God, what kind of woman
is this that fancies me?

Where's her wooden leg?

A woman marries me - well...

..she must be, I don't know,
from outer space.

She must be a Martian or something.

The police have found someone,

but he claims he has amnesia.

What tests have they run?
I don't really know.

How would you go about it?

There was no skull damage, right?
No.

Well, I'd have to establish
that it wasn't organic.

I'd run a liver function test.

The chief cause of amnesia in murder
is alcohol.

Then I'd run a blood sugar test
for hypoglycaemia.

Then there's schizophrenia
and epilepsy,

so I'd need an electroencephalogram.

I don't know, I'd need to see her.

But if it was none of them?

Well, if there's no brain damage
and no organic reasons,

and he's claiming complete amnesia,

I would say he's having us on.

Ann would like you to get involved.

I thought the police were coping.

I want to grieve for my daughter.

I can't because
he's standing between us.

He's in the way.

And I want him out of the way.

Forgotten.

I want to be able to grieve.

Sorry to bother you, sir.

I'm DS Penhaligon
of Anson Road police station.

I understand you travel regularly
on the Manchester Wigan train.

Yeah.

No, it's just a general inquiry.

Well, that's my job.

I knew Jacqui.
Her parents want me involved, right?

If I need a psychologist...
Yeah.

They're a bunch of wankers
at that hospital, you know that.

A bunch of wankers.
They speak very highly of you.

Look, homicide and amnesia
are heavy.

You need to know what you're doing,
and I do know what I'm doing.

Thank you.
Right.

I've forgotten more about amnesia
than they'll ever know!

I'm arresting you on suspicion
of the murder of Jacqui Appleby.

You do not have to say anything.
Anything you do say

will be taken down in evidence.
Do you understand? Yes.

It's in your interests that you are
not photographed. Do you understand?

Yes.

SIREN

Right, you perverted,
murdering bastard!

Now is the time to start talking.
Right?

Now is the time to start talking.
Leave him.

Leave him, OK?

I have a niece that age.

It could have been my niece
you butchered! Not yet!

Leave him for now! That's an order!
OK?

Listen. You're finished.
You're gonna be remanded.

You know what that means
for someone like you?

Hundreds of blokes just like him,
all wanting to get at you,

all wanting to cut your balls off.
I want to see how brave his is then!

You've got one chance.
If I had my way,

I'd turn you over to the families
of the women you butchered.

I know you're lying. You know
you're lying. The whole world knows.

So my advice to you would be
to get to the station and confess.

Butchering women!
Confess.

I know you think you've got a chance
of getting away with it,

but you've got no chance.
Sick, twisted pervert!

We've got blood,
scratches on your face, witnesses.

What's going on
in that festering pit?

I don't know about him -
you terrified me.

# ALISON MOYET:
That Ole Devil Called Love

# It's that ole... #

Hi. Can I see Judith, please?
She's in a meeting.

How long?
All day.

All day?!

What's the agenda? Saving the
planet?

# Putting rain in my eyes... #

POUNDS ON DOOR

# Tears in my dreams

# And rocks in my heart... #

Can you open this door?
I can't.

Please!
Fitz, I can't.

# He keeps telling me... #

MUSIC PLAYS UPSTAIRS

MUSIC PLAYS

Oh, my God!

Half-past three in the afternoon
and you're still in your pit!

You idle git!

How the hell do you expect
to do anything with your life?

You're lying in your bed with your
hand on your dick all afternoon!

You think I'm listening to you?

I'll go downstairs and get a bucket
of cold water! I mean it!

A bucket of cold water!
You're a joke!

Bucket of water!

Do you smoke?

I don't know.

Can you smell it?

Yeah.

Doesn't it make you want to smoke?

No.

Then you've never smoked.
Good.

You think it's a disgusting habit?
Yeah.

But not quite as bad
as murdering young women?

You play all naive, innocent,

but you're sharp, educated.
Am I right?

I can't remember.

Why did you go into her compartment?
I can't remember.

Plenty of space?
Perhaps.

There was plenty of space elsewhere.
The train wasn't full.

Did you go in there because you saw
a young girl on her own

showing a bit of leg?
Yeah.

You remember?
No.

I'm just agreeing
with everything you say.

Amnesia's no defence.

It makes no difference -
you'll still get life.

If I could remember
I'd tell you everything.

Do you trust me?
Yes, of course, you're a policeman.

If you had a lawyer here,
he'd tell you to cooperate.

I am cooperating.

Stand there chucking cut-throat
razors out of a moving train? Yes.

I'm gonna look a right pillock.
No more than normal. Do it.

Here.

Who took these?
Me.

I'll see you later.

Search the train again.
There's nothing there, boss.

Take it apart.
I want the murder weapon.

Hiya, Kev. All right, mate?
Yeah.

You got much for me?
Not a lot.

TAPE: 'My being like this
is annoying you, I know.

'But it's destroying me.'

TAPE STOPS

Originally Irish,
brought up round here.

I'd say he spent a year or two
abroad - Spain, Italy, Portugal -

and the last 10 or 15 years
down south.

Is that it?

Listen again.

'My being like this is annoying you,
I know.

'But it's...'
TAPE STOPS

This man's supposed to be
a manual labourer.

"MY being like this", not

"It's annoying you, I know,
ME being like this."

"MY being like this is annoying you,
I know"?

That's strictly grammatical.
This man's educated.

He knows how to handle
his participles.

Find anything?
Not yet, Sarge.

Anything, Constable?
No, nothing yet, Sarge. OK.

Can you just double-check
underneath those seats? Yeah.

Have you charged him?
Not yet, no.

Will you charge him?

As soon as we find
the murder weapon.

And if you don't find it?

You'll have to release him.

We still have 24 hours.
And we're doing everything possible.

Razors. Jonesy?
Sorted, boss.

Yeah? And what happened?

Well, the furthest he travelled
was 18 metres.

Right, widen the search to 18 metres
either side of the track.

Boss, there's 25 miles of track.

I know that.
Now find the bastard thing.

Dr Fitzgerald, please.

I'll have a cuppa.

Dr Fitzgerald. Yeah. Bilborough.

I'm sending a car for you.

Hello.

What time do you make it?

Ten past two.

They call me Fitz.
What do they call you?

I don't know.

Bloodthirsty murdering bastard?

Do you remember filling this in?
Yeah.

Who's the British Prime Minister?

I don't know. I had to guess.

You guessed wrong. I gave you
three choices, you guessed wrong.

I'm sorry.
It's understandable.

The President of the United States -
three choices, you got it wrong.

I'm sorry.
It's understandable. Really.

The leader of the Labour Party -
three choices, got it wrong.

Standard rate of income tax -
three choices, got it wrong.

The Chancellor of the Exchequer,
the manager of the England
football team,

the author of Catch-22,
the capital of Sweden, all wrong.

I'm sorry.

You will be.

You see, that is definitely not
understandable.

You close your eyes
and stick a pin in,

you'd be bound to get
at least two right.

The odds against
getting them all wrong are huge.

You think I did it on purpose?
Yes.

I didn't.

Who cares?

Nobody ever loses their memory.

It just gets locked away
like the mad woman in the attic.

Occasionally you hear her scream,

but you daren't unlock the door
and have a look in. Am I right?

There's a great sadness
in your life.

This crime of yours...

In the grand scheme of things,
it's nothing.

It's nature.

Nature knows men have to penetrate
women...or the species dies.

With all that at stake, do you
really think nature cares how we do
it?

Whether we say please or thank you?
Whether she's willing? Hm?

Sex crimes - a little of what
nature requires taken to excess.

Murder, too.

Healthy aggression
taken a little to excess.

I'm saying I understand.

Yes?

Yes.

They'll crucify you for it,
of course.

You know why?

Cos you've gone and done exactly
what they've always wanted to do

deep down in their hearts -

murdered, butchered, raped.

They'll look at you and they'll be
looking deep into their own hearts,

and it will terrify them.

They'll crucify you out of fear.

Not out of decency or justice,
or anything like that -

out of fear.

I disagree.

You're walking down the corridor
on the train.

You go past her compartment.
She's sitting there.

Young, beautiful, alone,

vulnerable -
everything a woman should be.

She's reading a book.
She's got her legs crossed.

She's showing maybe an inch,
maybe two of thigh.

Warm, soft, smooth, white thigh.

You pull open the door.

Her eyes flicker.
She doesn't look up from her book.

You sit down opposite her.

You look at her.

She can feel you staring at her.

She just stares even harder
into her book,

but you know that
she's not really reading it.

Her legs start shaking
to the rhythm of the train.

And you want to put your hand up
there on that soft, white thigh.

Just to stop it from shaking.

If you did that, she'd look at you,
she'd smile.

She'd know.

She'd just know.

So you get up
and you open the window.

And your legs brush hers,

and she makes a little movement and
shows a little more thigh perhaps.

And you sit down beside her,
closer this time,

and you can smell her perfume.

And the blood's pumping
through her throat.

And it's making the little silver
crucifix round her neck shake

and catch the light a little.

And she's everything
a woman should be.

Alone, vulnerable.

So you say something.
And she looks up from her book,

she gives you a yes or a no answer,

and then goes straight back
to the book.

She's dismissed you.

She's dismissed you the way
every woman has always dismissed
you.

Well, you'll show her.

And even the train's urging you on.
"Kill the bitch, kill the bitch,

"kill the bitch, kill the bitch,
kill the bitch, kill the bitch."

They're all the same, aren't they?
Huh?

With their white thighs, and their
smooth, white shoulders and necks.

But underneath it all, they're
blood,

and filth, and stench, and hair.

Tatty, matted, disfiguring hair.

"Kill the bitch.

"Kill the bitch, kill the bitch,

"kill the bitch, kill the bitch,
kill the bitch!"

Is that how it was?

Is it?

(SIGHS)

It's you who needs the psychologist.

SOUL MUSIC

We're closed.
I know. Eddie's expecting me. OK?

Hi.

Yeah?
How are you fixed, Eddie?

No chance, Fitz.
How about cashing a cheque?

30, 35, 40.

Am I speaking Urdu or something?

# Don't run away now

# Don't be afraid

# Be strong, yeah

# Be strong now... #

JUDITH: 'Hello?'
It's me. Don't put it down.

Please, don't put it down.

'What do you want?'
Look, er...

I haven't had a drink or a bet
for two days.

'That's because you haven't got
any money.'

DIAL TONE

# You'd better hide your tears

# Don't, don't cry

# Don't, don't cry... #

Have your tickets ready, please.

Tickets, please.

Would you put it out, please, sir?

Ticket, please.

Where did you get on?
Um... It was er...

..that door.

Could you tell me
where you got this number, please?

DOORBELL

You couldn't have done -
we're ex-directory.

Sorry to trouble you.
It's all right. Come in.

How do you think we feel?

Look, I'm sorry,
I'm putting the phone down.

Would you mind if I had a look round
Jacqui's bedroom?

No, of course.

Have you got kids?

Then you should know better.

I'm putting the phone down.

Please don't ring again.

You haven't done anything since
er... No.

It's exactly as it was.

She left all her stuff here.

Safer than at the university.
Right.

Do you mind if I...
No.

The police have been through it all.
There's nothing there they wanted.

JACQUI: Hiya, Mum.
Please don't.

She pitied me, didn't she?

She loved you.

DOORBELL

I'll leave him.

When it's all over,

and she's buried.

Why?

It's what she wanted.

I'll leave you, then.

The book. The Bible.

Just ignore him. I have.

I don't like being up high
if there's nothing to stop me
falling over.

I was just wondering,
cos some phobias are...

you know, unexplainable, really.
Mm.

Your best or your worst
personality feature?

Oh, my God. That's like something
out of... (INDISTINCT)

My best...my best feature?

I would um... A sense of humour.
Mm.

A colour.
Red.

A holiday resort.
Blackpool.

A city.
London.

Amo, amas, amat.
Amamus, amatis, amant.

A sport.
Rugby.

A river.
The Thames.

I knew her.
What?

Jacqui. I knew her.

Young, beautiful,
energetic, intelligent.

Seeing all that in one human being
depresses you, doesn't it?

It brings it home to you
how pathetic you are.

How worthless, how boring,
how dead you are.

How unattainable she is.

It makes you want to grab it,

snuff it out, kill it, destroy it.

Hm? Is that how you felt?

I understand.

Is that how you felt?

I've been there. I've felt that.

A country.
Italy.

A number. Any number.

211 902.

An animal.
A dog.

Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta.

Epsilon, Zeta, Eta, Theta.

Who made you?
God made me.

Why did God make you?

God made me to know him, love him
and serve him in this world

and to be happy with him forever
in the next.

A writer.
Dickens.

I know you've got a conscience.

I know that deep down...

..you're a good man.

I've been to the house twice.

Met the parents.

Can you imagine
what you've put them through?

What they've been through?

It's not grief. Grief is a process.

They can't even begin that process,
thanks to you.

It's desolation.

Cold, bleak, numb desolation.

The daughter they loved
is down in the morgue.

In a refrigerated cupboard.

Let them bury her.

They have to bury her.

People will say
"He was a killer, he was a butcher,

"but he did one decent thing.

"He confessed
so they could bury their daughter."

It's the one last decent thing
you can do.

Please.

Please.

# Summertime

# And the livin' is easy

# Fish are jumpin'

# And the cotton is high

# Your daddy's rich

# And your mama's good-lookin'

# So hush, little baby... #

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