All language subtitles for Lovejoy S04E02 The Ring.eng(H I)

In the midst of life we are in death:

Of whom may we seek for succor,
but of thee, O Lord,

who for our sins are justly displeased?

Yet, O Lord God most holy,
O Lord most mighty,

O holy and most merciful Savior,

deliver us not into the bitter pains
of eternal death.

Thou knowest, Lord, the secrets of our hearts;

shut not thy merciful ears to our prayer;

- but spare us, Lord most holy...
- (Creaks)

- O God most mighty...
- (Jane) I'm starting to worry.

What is he doing with himself?

First losing Freddy the Phone's place.

Even having Miriam taken away.

- It's body blows. It hit him hard.
- (Rooster crows)

Still, he's resourceful.

Isn't he?

(Sighs) Oh, it's not like him.

Yes, he's dropped out before now,
gone away, even had a good sulk,

but not like this, never this long.

He can look after himself.

Can he?

(Rooster crows)

I bet he's not eating.
I bet he's neglecting himself.

Mm, it's marvelous.

- Feel the tension evaporating?
- Mm, marvelous.

- The smoked salmon's wild.
- Mm, feeling pretty fierce myself.

- You look it.
- (Chuckles)

- Try the sauna next.
- Marvelous.

- Or the sunbed.
- Whatever you say.

- I'll turn it on.
- Hm.

(Sighs)

Mm.

Did you ever hear the story of the fella
that fell off the Eiffel Tower, right, splat,

900 feet?

People rushed up saying, "What happened?"

He said, "I don't know. Just got here myself."

Well, that's how I feel.

- It was a company Alex had shares in.
- Oh, dear.

Mm, they've been on dodgy ground for years.

More rescue operations
than a St. Bernard dog.

- But not this time?
- Mm. But there may be a silver lining.

The firm is having a bankruptcy sale
at their HQ in Norwich.

- Ah, and you thought...
- The Smythe-Robertsons.

Ten steel filing cabinets
would do wonders for...

(Laughs) No, no, no.

I've got the list here.
I meant to show it to you.

Here. Ah.

Some walnut desks.

Er... boardroom table
and matching Chippendale-style chairs.

Lovejoy would root through this lot
like a pig after truffles.

So to speak.

Yes, it would give him a boost.
Should I call him?

- Call him where?
- Oh, it's ridiculous.

Being without a phone today,
it's like being without an ear.

Yes, and one whiff of charity and he'll be off.

Charity? Has it come to that?

Does he think of me
as slightly to the right of the Sally Ann?

- Oh, I honestly don't know.
- (Tuts)

- Let's leak it to him.
- (Whispers) How?

- Well...
- Eric.

- Mm.
- Mm.

- What day is it?
- Who cares?

Seriously.

Somewhere between Wednesday and Friday.

- Thursday?
- Very good.

- (Dog barking outside)
- What time?

Ah, it's very early.

- (Sighs)
- Oh. Mm.

- Oh, no.
- (Grunts)

Oh, my God, it's quarter to 11.

- So?
- Jerry.

- Where?
- Here.

- When?
- Now.

Gloria! Darling, I'm home.

- (Dog barking)
- (Jerry) Darling!

- (Barking)
- (Peacock screeches)

- (Tinker) So, what have you been up to?
- Oh, you know, ducking and diving.

(Barking)

- Bit of this, bit of that?
- Yeah. You know, Eric.

(Cockney accent)
Keepin' body and soul together.

National cliché week.

It's amazing how quickly
it comes round, isn't it, Tink?

Anyway, enough about me.
What have you two been up to?

Helping Jane refurbish a couple of houses.

That's, er...

steady wages, regular meals, hm?

For Mr. And Mrs. Smythe-Robertson.

Remember, Eric, extra ten per cent
if there's a hyphen in the name.

Well, it cost 40 thou
to have the place rewired.

- Semidetached?
- Grade Il-listed mansion.

With star.

Quite a lot of refurbishment.

How's... how's Janey?

Well, she's gone to Norwich this afternoon.

Company bankrupt...

Sorry, Tink, I forgot.

(Tinker) You've got a mouth like a torn pocket.

Norwich, eh? Company bankruptcy, hm?

Well... I mean, we don't know that it was
Norwich, you know. Lady Jane didn't say...

- Could be Newcastle?
- Right.

- Nottingham?
- Yeah.

- Nova Scotia?
- Yeah, all right.

Norwich.

I'm sorry, Tinker.

You did great.

Eh?

(Birdsong)

(Hums tune)

Hm.

- There are four more downstairs.
- Janey!

- What a small world.
- Mm, and shrinking by the minute.

- How are you, Lovejoy?
- I'm fine, and you?

Mm, I'm fine too.

A marvelous auction last Monday at Cranbrook.

- Oh, Vestry Hall?
- Mm, just your cup of tea.

Ah, well.

I'd appreciate some help here.

- All you gotta do is whistle.
- Hm.

- You like the Jessie Webbs?
- Yeah, I do.

- I think they're charming.
- Mm, yes, they are.

What, there's 20 of them in all, right?

Yeah, the Victorian cottage garden school.

- Somebody was obviously a fan.
- The original chairman.

- Oh.
- They were lovers.

- Really?
- Mm, so rumor has it.

It's the kind of rumor you'd like to believe.

Ha. Why not?

I see they're estimated at 6,000.

Not so charming.

- Cash flow?
- Won't flow.

Oh.

Did you notice that, um... pair
of Georgian shellback chairs?

- Mm.
- Couple of beauts.

Mm. Noted.

And the Charles Wilson watercolor
in the post room with the nice table.

- And, um...
- French bronzes, yeah.

You don't need my help, Janey.

It's like a boxer, Eric.

- It is?
- Yeah, they never come back.

Well, I've never heard of an antiques dealer
going off his legs and losing his punch.

Huh! It's confidence, Eric.

Daring to back your judgment
against the other man.

Daring to lift your hand up when others won't.

Muhammad Ali came back more than once.

More than was wise.

Oh, you gloomy sod. I think he looked fine.

Well, I only hope you're right.

(Jane) How about a loan?
(Lovejoy) Loan?

For the Webbs?

- (Sighs) Thanks for the offer.
- (Tuts)

All right, not a loan, a deal.

I recoup my money
and then we split any profit.

- (Sighs)
- Why not?

Oh, I don't know.

It's hard to explain.

No, it's not.
You know, Janey, this might...

This might be the best thing
that ever happened to me.

I was getting flabby, soft, living at Freddy's.

- It was beautiful.
- Maybe, but it just wasn't me.

The house, the barn, the car, the possessions.

- Yes, how beastly the bourgeoisie is.
- It was just not me, Janey.

I mean, Lovejoy & Associates
doesn't sound right. I do not associate.

I can't see that one small short-term loan
jeopardizes that.

Thank you but no, thank you.

(Sighs) I'll think of something.

- Well, what if you don't?
- Hm, tough.

- You may lose them.
- Just as long as I don't lose them to you.

Oh, Robin, Robin!

- I am not trying to con you.
- That'd be refreshing.

I really, really need to borrow some cash.

Wrong number, Lovejoy.
The bank's two down.

No, no, no, tried them. Believe me, they are
not the small businessman's friend any more.

So I read... Something you're cooking up
with Lady Jane?

No, it's me on my own flying solo.

Oh, dear.
Had it been Lady Felsham, of course...

Robin, I need six grand for one week.

Don't we all, dear boy?
Even for a day would be quite nostalgic.

- Come on, you make a mint in here, Robin.
- Oh, really?

I can show you my sales book.
70% down on two years ago.

- 45% down on last year.
- Lend me six. I'll give you back seven.

- Can't be done.
- Eight.

- I don't have it, Lovey-joy.
- (Tuts)

- But...
- Yeah?

...if you're hard pressed
for somewhere to lay your head...

- Robin.
- (Chuckles)

- (Phone ringing)
- (Lovejoy) Time to call in a few favors.

- With one mighty leap, Lovejoy shall be...
- (Beep)

Greg. How are you? It's Lovejoy.
Listen, I'll get straight down to business.

Er... I want to borrow ten grand for a week.

How about nine grand, hm? Eight?

Seven? Six?

Come on, Greg. How many winners
have I put you on to, eh?

- (Click)
- Greg?

(Sighs)

Try and borrow a few grand from the bank,
you've got a problem.

- Try and borrow a few million, no problem.
- (Ringing)

- (Click)
- Arthur!

And how is the lovely Mrs. Drakeman?

What, who is it? It's Lovejoy.

- It's Lovejoy, Arthur. L-O-V... Arthur?
- (Click)

(♪ Jazz playing)

The three saddest words
in the English language, Lovejoy.

Beer or cider?

Where am I gonna find six grand, Tink?

We've been through that.

What did we say?

I don't remember.

Oh, the buzz, Tink.

- (Sighs) The buzz!
- I don't hear anything.

Some people get it from hang-gliding,
some people get it from Mozart.

I get it, you get it from beauty.
You know, pictures, sculptings.

Women.

Noel Coward said that Mozart
sounded like piddling on flannel.

Thought you'd be interested.

The master.

(Slurps and sighs)

Bought a carving once.

Carrera marble.

Car-boot sale from Saxmundham.

It now resides in a superb casa de campo
30 miles outside Mexico City.

Now, that gives me a buzz, Tink.

Do you think an accountant
gets the same kind of feeling

when he presents a balance sheet
to the Inland Revenue?

- Inland who?
- Exactly.

Six grand.

In a week.

(Chuckles) Less.

- Less money or less time?
- Well, either.

Both, hm? No? No?

Contacts, Tink, contacts.

Come on, tell me.
Somebody who owes you a favor.

They're remarkably thin on the ground, Lovejoy.

(Sighs)

(Vehicle revs outside)

Take Jane's offer.

No!

(Owl hoots)

Tink.

- We could, um...
- Rent it!

- Eric's dad.
- What about him?

He's a butcher. Butchers make money.

No, sorry. The supermarket opened opposite.

I'd like to have helped.

(Zip)

- Well, you can help, Eric.
- (Trickling)

Get on your computer.

Last two years' trading.
See who owes us then chase 'em up.

I'm not a bloody debt collector.

- 10% commission.
- First thing in the morning.

Scrimshaw whale's tooth from ship Tredawn.

The name, Eric, the name.

- Hayne, Edward.
- Waste of time.

- You sure?
- He breeds Rottweilers.

Waste of time, then.

Er... Victorian Coromandel stationery box
with gilt brass fittings.

The name?

Er... Hornby, Peta...

Mrs. Peta Hornby.

- She's dead. Was a big girl.
- Right.

Erm... Staunton, Arthur.

- Welsh dresser.
- Yes.

No. Top half was Welsh,
bottom half was a Yorkshire sideboard.

(Sighs)

(Chuckles) Um... Gimbert.

- Ha-ha!
- Yeah, I thought you might say that.

Er... 1930s Clarice Cliff plate.

- Wasn't that the...
- The same.

...that got broken...
- The very one.

...into 16 pieces?

Skillfully restored, though I say it myself.

- Well, I'm not going up there.
- Next?

(Dog barking)

(Children shout)

(Hums tune)

New kid in town.

(Shop bell)

- (Posh) Hello.
- Morning.

- New?
- Yes, paint's still wet. Moved up from Bath.

I think I know you from there.
The Assembly Rooms?

Yes. West of England Fair, every May.

Never forget a face.

(Chuckles) Well, well, well.

I'm looking
for a wedding present for my niece.

Er... may I see the oak-cased clock
and barometer in the window?

Ah, yes.

Late nineteenth century,
but, er... it would make an unusual gift.

Mm.

(Clears throat)

- In working condition?
- Oh, yeah, keeps splendid time.

Hm.

Eighty-five pounds?
I should have said, I'm trade.

Oh.

Well, I can, um... I can do 12 per cent.

- I can live with that.
- Good.

Oh, we'll call it 75.

- Seventy for cash?
- (Clock chiming)

- OK.
- Good.

Le Monde.

- Hm.
- Newspaper.

- French.
- Yes.

You, um... go across to France much?

Just got back.

- Holiday?
- Buying.

Oh. They... they keen to sell to the Brits?

Oh, I should say, what with VAT
on hammer prices rather than commission.

Ah, I didn't realize.

What with the droit de suite tax,
they love selling to us.

Matter of fact, I'm just off up to town.

Bonham's, four o'clock.

What is it? May I... may I have a peep?

Oh, please, please.

(Chuckles)

Like Christmas. Ha-ha!

Oh!

My God, are you all right?

It's just, um...

true beauty.

(Sniffs) Always affects me this way.

(Knocks)

(Dog barks)

Oh! Ha-ha!

(Clears throat) Um...
I've come about the pine kitchen table.

Er... £30, old.

- Sue me.
- (Clears throat) Right.

- It's obviously pottery.
- Mm-hm.

Er...

It looks old.

- Hm.
- Roman?

Roman, yes, I thought so.

A Roman pot.

I'm glad you called, Catchpole.

Tell Mr. Lovejoy either he takes it back
or I'm on to the Association.

It's not George III, it isn't mahogany,

and it doesn't work.

No, but...

This provenance is... is immaculate.

Mm.

So it's a receptacle
for the offerings to Jupiter...

- Optimus maximus.
- Maximus, mm.

Fascinating.

There's some... there's lettering on it.

It's very faint.

Let's see...

Yes, it's, er...

- M-J-D...
- D.

...D.
- D, yeah.

Magna Jove deorum deo.

Magna Jove, great Jupiter or Jove,

- Deorum deo, god of gods.
- God of gods.

Ah.

- As I thought.
- Hm.

As you're, um... thinking
of selling this particular item,

what sort of price would we be talking about?

Not that it's really my kind of thing, really.

Price?

(Tinker) Now you've got the pictures,
what will you do with them?

Thought you'd never ask.
I'm gonna put one of 'em up for auction.

Oh, yeah?

- Where?
- Anywhere I'm not known.

Nottingham. Newcastle.

- Nova Scotia?
- Yeah, all right, all right.

- Mm.
- You're gonna sell one, Lovejoy.

You've still got 19 to go.

I should have said that I intend
to sell it for a pile of money.

- Oh, yeah?
- Mm.

That kind of money isn't around.
Silly prices are out.

Ways and means, Eric, ways and means.

- Well, name two.
- Name one.

Well, I was thinking

of a sympatico, like-minded
group of individuals

with a touch of larceny in their soul.

- You mean a ring?
- Hey, now, that's illegal.

- We haven't worked that ring in 20 years.
- There was a prosecution.

- There was.
- In 1980.

'81.

Who are you gonna use, Lovejoy?

- Birmingham Bertie?
- Please, Tink. What, those Brummie vowels?

"I like Spenceley, Lovejoy,
I do like a bit of Spenceley."

Life's too short.

Surely all you need is three or four half-sharp
punters who can stick their hand up on cue.

It's not as easy as that. You need a pro.

Somebody who knows when to bid
and to bid quick.

- It all sounds a bit dodgy to me.
- Not if it's done right.

- Use the old names, Lovejoy.
- Henry the hearse-chaser.

(Organ plays)

We therefore commit his body to the ground;

earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust;

in sure and certain hope
of the resurrection to eternal life,

through our Lord Jesus Christ.

The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ,
and the love of God,

and the fellowship of the Holy Ghost,

be with us all for evermore.

- Amen.
- Amen.

Amen.

(Church bell)

(Coughs)

- We did specify family only.
- I am family, near as nugget.

- Who are you?
- I'm Henry.

- Henry who?
- Henry Henshall.

- Never heard of you.
- I've never heard of you. Who are you?

I'm his son.

Ah. I was at Catterick with your father.

Yeah, Royal Signals, '52.

I knew him before you did.

- Have you been drinking?
- Well, I had a couple.

Occasions like this remind one of one's
own mortality. Could you give me a lift?

- I'll come and pay my respects.
- You won't.

- Express my condolences to the widow.
- I'll do it for you.

I've been on the road since eight.
No time for lunch.

Get lost.

(Lovejoy) How much?

Ha. 20. I figured him for 50.

Cheapskate. Ha-ha.

- (Sighs) Good to see you, Lovejoy.
- And you, Henry.

Ha-ha!

- Ha-ha-ha. Tinker still alive?
- And kicking.

- I'm surprised.
- So is he.

- Yeah.
- Oh. May I?

- Mm.
- 15-year malt.

Can taste the peat.

Still giving the public what they want.

They expect to smell booze,
smell booze they shall.

Time to get you back
on the straight and narrow.

Like Kitchener said, I need you.

(Organ plays)

Morning or afternoon?

- Starts at 2pm.
- Oh, tricky. Got a cremation at noon.

Nothing like a morning funeral
for sharpening the appetite.

- Where?
- Harpenden.

- Skip it.
- I couldn't.

Summers, Hugh Vincent. Age 90.

Donations to the British Heart Foundation.
Can't have been a lot wrong with his.

- Close, were you?
- He was my schoolmaster.

- My Mr. Chips, my inspiration.
- You didn't know any of them.

(Tuts) This man, Lovejoy, singlehandedly
guided my first fumbling footsteps.

Fumbling footsteps?
What school, hm? What's its name?

Oh, doesn't say.

(Sniffs) Damn.

(Sighs) A plate will be provided.

The swine. I hate that.

- There'll be wages?
- Of course.

Only I can't think unless I get paid.

Who can? There's something else
I need as well, Henry.

A man has his price.

Yeah, we'll get to that later.
I need Matron's address.

Ah, Matron. They don't make them
like that any more.

(Phone rings)

(Door opens)

- Matron.
- Unexpected pleasure.

Well, you could say it as if you meant it.

I could.

Bethel. Has a ring to it.

Genesis chapter 28, verse 19.

You know, I can remember when
the only Genesis you knew was a pop group.

- I saw the folly of my ways.
- Oh, yeah?

I met this woman in Holloway.
A saint. She changed my life.

Oh, come off it.

I've seen you drunk as a skunk
playing stud poker in your knickers.

I have a vocation, a calling.
You wouldn't understand, Lovejoy.

I help people in their hour of need.

Yeah, and you also help yourself.

I mean, what do you do with
all the... the silver photograph frames

and the... the porcelain,
the Meissen and the Capodimonte?

Oh, and the, er... the checks?

If people choose to leave me something,

some small reward for lightening
the burden of their autumn days...

- I don't believe this.
...it's not illegal.

Anyway, who's gonna look after
that no-good git of a son of mine?

You see, now, that's more
like Jackie that I know and love.

I need you.

We're fully booked.
Anyway, I wouldn't touch him.

- Touch who?
- Tinker.

This is nothing to do with Tinker.
I need you. I need this body.

Lovejoy, when it was worth having,
you didn't want to know.

I need it for a ring.

Good Lord.
I haven't heard that word in years.

It's like riding a bike.

Once you've learnt...

Sorry, I couldn't. I was warned off.

- We all were.
- I'm legit.

Well, become illegit for one afternoon.

Got Henry.

Still chasing hearses?

What about Gideon?
We can't work a ring without Gideon.

Can I help, sir?

They call him Gideon,

cos he's been on more hotel beds
than the Bible.

- Lovejoy!
- The same.

- (Laughs) Oh, my God!
- (Laughs)

Hey, none of that Gideon stuff, not here.
Those days are over.

- Oh, not you as well?
- Happily married.

Three daughters, two ulcers, teetotal.

- You've done well.
- Capitalist hole in one.

Married the gaffer's daughter.

Two more lots like this,
Colchester and Chelmsford.

- Putting a tourniquet around the A12.
- You always had the eye.

- Yeah?
- Yeah.

I owe it all to you.

Really?

Joan Turner.

Yeah?

Who's Joan Turner?

Don't you remember?

Small, pert, red-headed.

Worked as a curator in the museum at Bury.

- You tried to pull her.
- Me?

- Only tried?
- Well, I never liked to ask.

I married her.

(Both chuckle)

- You owe me one, then, don't you, Gideon?
- Well, put that way, yeah.

(Hums tune)

♪ The ring

♪ The ring, the ring, the ring ♪

In the midst of life...

- Are you attending a bereavement?
- Always.

- Pardon?
- It's my business.

I see.

- Don't you find it depressing?
- Rewarding.

- Tickets. Tickets ready, please.
- Ah. Here.

Thank you, sir. Tickets, please, madam.

I'm terribly sorry. It's my aunt's funeral.

In my grief I seem to have
forgotten my purse.

- Can I pay?
- Oh, no, I... I couldn't, really.

I insist.

(Hums tune)

On the rack?

Henry! Come on.

Henry?

Henry?

Something wrong?

No act of Christian kindness,
Lovejoy, goes unpunished.

What happened?

She didn't have a ticket, did she?
Now I don't have a wallet.

(♪ Country song on radio)

- Gideon?
- Jackie.

Ha-ha-ha!

(Laughs)

- You've changed.
- You haven't.

- Thank God.
- (Laughs)

See you later, then. Bye.

Lot 74. That's our target,
that's what we're after.

- Hang on a minute. I've lost you.
- Yeah, me too.

You said you already own this picture.

(Gideon) She's right, you did.
(Jackie) I'm confused already.

This is the new, revised version of the ring.

- A ring's a ring, right?
- No.

Rings usually keep the price down.

- Right?
- Right.

- Right?
- Mm-hm.

Well, this time the ring's
gonna force the price up.

- How high is up?
- Two and a half thou.

- You sure it's worth it?
- No, it's not worth it. That's the point.

Lovejoy, I'm like the rest of them. Lost.

Well, I've got a few more of these
little beauties that I need to unload,

so if I can raise the price of this one
up to two and a half,

then I can get rid of each of the others
for at least one and a bit.

And what did you pay?

Not one and a bit.

Lovejoy, you're pure gold.
Twenty-four bloody carat.

Thank you. Shall we go over it again?

- We've never met.
- We're three amateur collectors.

All we've got in common
is a love of Jessie Webb.

And you all want this picture.

Now, decide amongst yourselves how you
drop out, but don't go beyond 2½ grand.

(Jane) Old Lady Felsham offered
to show me the family treasures.

I knew virtually nothing then.
I started to bone up.

Soon discovered their family treasures
weren't quite so treasurable after all.

- Did she like you?
- Oh, hardly at all.

- But she hid it?
- Oh, did she hell.

You see, I didn't ride.

- You do now.
- Mm.

And I didn't play tennis.

I didn't like shooting.

And I called the butler Mr. Reynolds
instead of Reynolds.

- Beyond the pale.
- Way beyond.

Hm, yes, I can hear her now.

"The man is called Reynolds, Jane."

(Tuts) Oh, and "Only hotels
and airports have lounges."

- Show time.
- Brings it all back.

The smell of furniture polish.

Turps, paint and dust.

Mm, and sweat.

Don't forget the sweat.

Hm?

- A trifle young for you, Lovejoy.
- We work out at the same gym.

- Gym?
- Job. I've got a job for you.

- Did you say gym?
- No, no, no. I said job.

Lot 74.

Watercolor, Jessie Webb, 1847 to 1903.

Young girl on a swing.

Who'll start me at 300?

350.

400.

450.

500.

550.

No? 550. The front.

£550. Are there any more?

Are we all done? 550...

£600 at the back. £600.

650. 700.

750.

800.

850.

900.

950.

1,000. £1,000.

1,100. 1,100?

Any more? Gentleman in the front.

1,100. Gentleman at the front in gray.
1,100. Any more?

1,200 in the center.

1,200.

1,300.

1,400.

1,500.

1,600.

1,700.

1,800.

1,900.

1,900.

1,900 against you.

2,000. £2,000.

£2,000.

2,100.

2,100. 2,200.

2,300.

2,400.

Sir? Against you.

2,500. 2,500.

2,500.

Two and a half thousand.
Madam, it's against you.

No. Any more?

Two and a half thousand pounds.
£2,500. Gentleman in gray at the front.

Two and a half thousand pounds.
Are we all done? Are there any more?

I shall sell it to the gentleman in gray...

2,600. The lady in red, the second row.

2,600, sir.

Are you all done? No more?

No more. 2,600.

2,600. Are we all done?

The lady in red, the second row. 2,600.

2,600. It's yours, madam.

(Chatter)

- You had no right to do that.
- Do what?

- To involve Jane.
- Oh, stuff it, Tink.

- I don't mind you using professionals...
- Don't be such an old woman.

- You had no right!
- She's over 21, isn't she?

Did you warn her that
she could face a conspiracy charge?

- What?
- Excuse me.

- Where... where's the officer?
- (Man on police radio)

- Quite honestly, Lovejoy.
- I know.

- You're absolutely right.
- You see what I mean.

I do.

I'm sorry. I'll apologize to Janey
when I see her, OK?

Excuse me!

- Caught the sun, Lovejoy?
- Heh-heh!

Excuse me. May I ask you
why you were so keen to get that painting?

- Was it you selling?
- Yeah.

I'm Mary Webb. Jessie
was my great-grandmother.

It was the cottage she lived in.

- Really?
- It was my grandmother on the swing.

I've got lots more of those paintings.

No, that was the one I wanted.
I would have paid twice as much.

- Really?
- Gone as high as 10,000 if I'd had to.

- Really?
- Mm. Bye.

Ha-ha-ha!

I don't think I want paying. It was such fun.

I won't make a habit of it, though.

Hadn't realized how much I missed it.

It beats knocking out Passats or Civics.

Thank you, both of you.

Fancy the great-granddaughter turning up.

- (Door shuts)
- Somebody had to trot her up to it.

(Footsteps)

Lovejoy, I've let you down.

- You have?
- Sackcloth and ashes.

Won't help.

- I can't apologize enough.
- (Lovejoy) You can't?

- I don't know what came over me.
- (Lovejoy) Oh, I do.

I saw you from the caff.
You were like a dog with a lamppost.

- I hope it was worth it.
- Well, was it?

Mean as muck.

The vicar was all right. Service was
very nice. They took me up to the house.

Nothing wrong with the sherry
and the ham sarnies.

Then I suggested, tentatively, they might
give me a small legacy from the will.

You do push your luck, Henry.

- They told me to drop dead.
- Highly appropriate.

- Doesn't leave you anywhere much to go.
- They didn't reckon on my failsafe.

You see, times like these,

I leave a particularly revolting
hard-porn magazine

at the back of the deceased's bureau.

Gives them a sort of frisson
when they're sorting through his papers.

Ah, Lovejoy.

That picture was yours, wasn't it?

- What do you mean?
- The Jessie Webb.

You got all your cronies,
like this lady here, bidding it up.

Go away, Robbie. You don't know
what you're talking about.

- There's a word for that, Lovejoy.
- Goodbye.

- Janey...
- Is that true?

How could you?

Er... how could I what?

Con me.

Janey...

- Don't. That painting was yours, wasn't it?
- Well...

- Wasn't it?
- Well, yes, but...

No buts. It was yours.

You used me to bump up the price.

- Well, yes, but...
- You bastard.

- Janey.
- I've never been more angry with you.

- Surely...
- Never.

- Yes, you remember the time when I...
- Don't change the subject.

Janey, you said that you wanted us
to do something together.

Well, I didn't mean to break the law.

Oh! I feel used.

Soiled.

(Sighs) You didn't even have
the decency to warn me.

- There was no time.
- Bull.

No, honestly, this was a last-minute thing.

A ring is not only immoral, it's illegal.

Well, illegal. Only slightly.

- Hm?
- I'm not amused.

Lovejoy, I don't deal in dead art any more.

Stephen Buckley. Frank Stella.

Joe Tilson. Ed Ruscha.

Jock McFadyen.

- What do I need with Jessie...
- Webb.

- I've never heard of her.
- I just gave you that news clipping.

£2,600.

If the auctioneer hadn't been senile...

Lovejoy, I've heard it all before
from experts.

Remember the Norwich School.

Well, of course I do,
but she is not one of them.

- No, but she's in that...
- Lovejoy, living art.

That is where the money is today.

She is in the Norwich School tradition.

Look at those big East Anglian skies.
All that light.

All right, all right, I'm looking at them.

- Born Lavenham, 1847.
- I don't give a fig where she was born.

Genre painting.

Cottage garden school like, erm...

- Helen Allingham.
- Huh!

She's nothing remotely like Helen Allingham.

No, but there's 19 paintings, David.
There's enough for an exhibition.

Five suicides amongst London art dealers
in the last year.

- Is that relevant?
- Highly.

Refreshing, hm? You must admit
that they are all refreshing.

- And rather naive.
- Very naive.

- Competent, pretty enough in their way.
- Look on it as a challenge.

If you think I'm paying two and a half
for each of these, you're crazy.

Did anybody suggest that? No.

Two grand apiece. 38K for the lot.

- D'you think I came down in the last shower?
- Make me an offer.

I suppose I could pass them on.

I'll take them off your hands
at a thousand apiece.

Huh! That's not an offer. That's an insult.

- I could hang them in my garden shed.
- You could, come to that.

- 1,800.
- No.

- 1,700.
- No.

- 1,600. That's my last offer.
- No.

- 15.
- 1,100.

I can feel you're cracking, David. 1,450.

- 1,200. Take it or leave it.
- Take it. Cash.

- Nineteen at 1,200.
- 22,800.

Hm.

Right.

Now, it's 22,800 from the gallery,

plus 2,600 from the daughter,

minus the commission and VAT,
which comes to 305.50,

so that from 2,600 leaves 2,294.50,

minus 6,000, which is the cost of the pictures,

plus a few odds and sods expenses,

which includes 200 for Gideon,
200 for the Matron,

which altogether leaves
a clear profit of 18,000.

Lovejoy is himself again.

And you didn't need Jane's loan.

And she's still not speaking to me, but that's
another story. A good week's graft, gentlemen.

- I could develop a taste for this stuff.
- Gives me heartburn.

- (Chuckles)
- Lovejoy.

Well, you're a hard man to find.

The Roman pot.

M JDD.

Remember?

Magnum Jove...

deorum deo.

No, sir. Moutarde Jaune de Dijon.

It's a bloody mustard pot.

- I don't believe it.
- True.

Sotheby's, Christie's, even the bloody V&A.

I'm...

I'm... I'm...

- Speechless.
- Speechless, yeah.

Even the provenance was a fake.

- But a damn good one.
- (Snorts)

Mr. Fotheringill, right?

There must be some explanation.

The only explanation I want
is my six grand back.

I'll take a check.

Keep it.

It was damn good mustard, too.

I remember it.
Turned a banger into a banquet.

Make that 12 grand clear profit.

- Don't knock it.
- It's still a good week's work.

I remember antiquing it.
I used gravy browning.

Yeah, smelt like a roast beef dinner
for a week.

Tink?

Who do we know...

who's into genuine Roman artefacts?