All language subtitles for the-long-firm-2004.en (1)

Our duty as radical sociologists,
as Dr Anton Chekhov once said,

is to take the part of the guilty man.

To put ourselves in the shoes
of Harry Starks, for example,

will create a better world.

Harry Starks, the quintessential mad, bad
and dangerous-to-know English gangster.

Could it really be true
that to understand Harry here

is to understand ourselves?

And so we examine and we theorise and
we prod and we poke. Who is this person?

Who are we? And what's it all about?

I was lecturing in criminology
and writing a PhD in deviancy theory

when [ first met Harry Starks.

I was on attachment in Long Marsh
maximum... security prison, in E wing,

also known as the Submarine
for its lack of oxygen and daylight.

I was trying to teach and,
to be honest, trying to learn.

The real heavyweights
were in Parkhurst and Broadmoor.

But the cruiser weights -
the Shepherd's Bush cop killer,

at least one of the Great Train Robbers,
the Panther, were all present and correct.

And then there was Harry.

Harry was beyond classification.

Brighter than the others, and madder,

he was our very own mystery man.

Set up here, sir.

It was a struggle to conceal my enthusiasm.

Those of you interested in this talk,
gather round and take a seat.

Hi. How are you doing? I'm Lenny.

I'm here today to talk to you about...
Well, about yourselves, really,

and the way that you regard yourselves

and the way that society regards you.

And the way that society regards itself.

Now, I understand, of course,

that incarceration in a maximum...
security correctional institution

is hardly conducive to an atmosphere
of openness and enquiry...

Come again, son?

I would welcome any suggestions you have
as to specific fields of interest.

What the fuck's he on about?

You see, we don't actually talk about
criminality and criminals per se any more.

We should be so lucky!

We talk about "the sociology of deviance".

Hold on.

You mean we're not criminals,
we're deviants?

Within the context of a political struggle
against the normalising paradigm.

What the fuck are "deviants"?
Calling me a nonce?

No,
no. Absolutely nothing of the sort. I...

- Are you saying we're all weirdos?
- No, no...

OK.

I knew there would be teething problems.
I was ready for that.

I was ready for anything.

- I just hope they get something out of it.
- You did very well.

Thank you very much.

Someone's nicked my seat.

You should see his eyes, Karen. Harry Starks
has eyes like electro fucking magnets!

- I'm tired, Lenny. I've had a hard day.
- The man is an icon!

- He's a gangster, a thug.
- Don't you find it fascinating?

Lenny, I find your life about as
fascinating as you find mine, these days.

I've got no beef with radical social work.
It's just not my bag, baby.

I'm not talking about that. I'm talking
about us. And don't call me baby!

I'm talking about the most exciting thing
that's happened in my life!

- Talking shit!
- I'm saying...

- Listen to me. All I'm saying...
- All right. Shut up. Let him say something.

Thank you.

All I'm saying is that all
social groups make rules

and find ways to enforce them.

They decide what is normal for the group
and what is deviant,

not normal, outside.

Yeah? Outsiders are people
who deviate from the rules.

Our problem isn't being outsiders,
it's being insiders!

The thing is, Len, what you've gotta remember
is most of us are a bit on the thick side.

A lot of old lags come in here
and get into body-building.

They'd rather have an extra inch on
their bicep than they would on their brain.

- OK.
- Yeah?

Plus there's no use you expecting
some kind of revolution from us.

These numbskulls are behaving themselves on
account of their beating during the last riot.

- All right?
- Anything else?

Yeah. When are you gonna smarten
yourself up and why are you such a scruff?

Nobody takes radicalism seriously any more.

Nobody takes deviancy theory seriously
because it's so macho-centric.

"Macho-centric"?

It's all about men.

The men who study it
get off on the machismo.

The men being studied
get off on being studied.

You can take this feminist critique
a little too far sometimes.

Well, I think you should think about it.

What's cookin', good... lookin'?
Marked my paper yet?

Earth to Lenny!

You look like you've seen a ghost.

A whole roomful. I've
been in Long Marsh prison.

- Bad people are cool.
- A lot of them are pretty famous.

It was really pretty exciting.

Wanna go somewhere else?

Somewhere a bit private.

I began to suspect that Janine's generation
was more liberated than Karen's

in their refusal to subjugate their wills
to radical feminist ideology.

And that my uncompromising approach
to my studies

was beginning to pay off.

I... I've gotta go.

Don't you want to do it again?

I'd love to,
but I've gotta make like a banana.

What do you mean?

I've got to split!

What do you mean?

Why? It's just a bit of fun.

Nah!

At last I was gaining the trust of the men
and getting valuable results from my work.

Sociology gave them a structure in which
they could understand their predicament,

and a vocabulary with
which they could resist it.

Harry Starks was particularly interested
in expanding his vocabulary.

- Len, what's a reciv... reciv...?
- Recidivist?

- Yeah.
- A recidivist.

It's er... It's what you are, Harry.

It's someone who relapses
into criminal activity repeatedly.

Even though it's my job?

Not all recidivists do it for economic
gain. Some can't help themselves.

- - Like nonces?
- Nonces?

- Who are you calling a nonce?
- Not that again!

When I was in Durham,
I come across this bloke called Frank.

He's in under the Sex Offenders Act.
Turns out he's been making bacon.

First offence is when
he's a young farm boy on a pig farm.

Farmer catches him at it with his curly-tailed
friend, shops him and he gets two months.

Everyone else there's busy with "Penthouse”.
He's got "Livestock Quarterly” on the wall!

When he gets out, he gets another job
on a pig farm. He's at it all over again.

Over the years,
he notches up 15 convictions.

I said to him one day, I said,
"Frank, all them pigs you fucked..."

"..Was they male or female?"

He gives me this right old look and says,

"For your information, they were sows. What
do you think I am, queer or something?"

I decked him,
'cause he said that to the wrong person.

The point I'm making is, they should
have given him a little sty somewhere,

given him a couple of porkers of his own.

Then he'd never have been a recidivist,
would he?

Well said, Harry.

We don't say "queer" any more,
if we can help it. We say "gay".

- You've heard of gay liberation?
- I'm not gay, I'm homosexual.

Gays are too poofy.

With long hair like yours.

I like a boy to be well turned-out.

OK...

We can er... have a look
at the second paragraph.

There you go, sir, all finished.

'Ere, look at him!

You look like a Maltese ponce,
you daft berk!

It was pure expediency, but the men
seemed pleased I'd made the effort.

- Doesn't it surprise you?
- What?

- A gay gangster?
- Not in the least.

They've all got chips on their shoulders,

they're all allergic to any form of social
control and they treat women like scum.

They're just big queens, really.

- All right?
- Thank you. Bye.

Bye.

Harry, hold on a second. I've got
something for you to have a look at.

Good news, I think.

This is fucking marvelous!

Good lad, Lenny. You've made my day.

- I wanted to ask you something.
- What's that, then?

I've just published my first paper.

It's called "Gangsterism -
the deviancy of capitalism."

Right.

And er... I've described you as a kind
of godfather of the sociology of deviance.

How do you mean?

Well, placed on the
fringe of a capitalist society,

you've mocked capitalism by
appropriating the trappings of big business

whilst at the same time aspiring to it
and ultimately triumphing over it.

- Have I?
- Yeah.

You've made a lot of money,
but in your own way.

- Oh, yeah?
- Yeah, you...

Listen, I ain't being funny, Lenny.
I haven't made a lot of money.

I lost it all.

I'm a godfather of sweet Fanny Adams.
Where do you think we are, the Ritz?

Well, All the same,
I'd still like you to read it.

This ain't a game.

I'm not going home tonight.

To a fire and a pipe
and me old copy of "Das Kapital".

I'm living in a ten-foot cell.

I'm breathing the stink
of other people's farts.

I'm eating cabbage
with all the nonces and the ponces

and funny-looking geezers with cauliflower
ears and brains like little birds' eggs.

It's depressing.

Do you get my gist?

Yeah.

I'm depressed.

Maybe you should see someone about this.

I ain't seeing another shrink.

I've seen all the shrinks
in the prison system.

And do you know what?

They're all mad.

- What's wrong?
- I don't know. You tell me.

I'm starting a women's group
to counteract macho-centricity in academia.

I think that's
a really positive development, honey.

- Don't patronise me!
- I think you need a hobby.

The more I drifted apart from Karen,
the more important Harry became to me.

And then disaster struck.

They're winding down the course.
They think it's subversive.

The governor thinks that you lot
are even more gobby than before.

- Gobby?
- Gobby, Starks.

- Who's gobby?
- You're the gobbiest!

They're jealous because every time one of
these stupid bastards goes home to the wife,

first thing she asks is,
"How's Harry Starks?"

- That's not fair, Harry.
- Geoff, how many famous screws are there?

- Nish.
- Don't call me Geoff. I hate that.

- Oh, come on!
- OK. Gents, please...

I'm bitterly disappointed about this.

I thought we were getting somewhere.
But it's the fault of the system.

- They're moving me to Leicester.
- Fuckin' Leicester?

- What did you do to deserve that?
- Jesus! why?

It's to stop Cat A
prisoners making friends.

- Sorry. I don't know what we've done wrong.
- Yeah, Geoff.

Never mind sorry. It's ruined all my plans.

- What are your plans?
- You, Lenny! You're my plans.

Education. O levels, A levels,
Open University. Know what I mean?

Go down a treat with the parole board.
Shrinks'll love it!

A healthy enquiring mind, a bright future.
I could end up a don at Oxford!

I just need one chance.
One single fucking chance!

You laughing at me?

Don't you dare laugh at me!

Harry started a BSc in sociology
with the Open University.

Over the next few years,
we kept up a constant correspondence.

He would want to discuss an essay
on differential association.

I'd discuss my work at the university
and my endless disputes with Karen's group.

All Category A correspondence
is closely vetted,

so he developed a code.

If he used the phrase
“in the final analysis”,

it meant a message was contained in the
first letters of the words that followed.

It showed Harry was a structuralist
through and through!

Hiya.

- What are you doing here?
- Excuse me.

- Hi.
- Hello, you.

I didn't think you were gonna come.

- Feeling better?
- Yeah, I'm OK. Just a cold.

Poor thing.

Then Janine and Karen met in Karen's
women's group and became firm friends.

I don't know what to say to either of them.
I don't know what to do!

Search me.
I have no truck with dykes!

The Twins used to run a dyke bar
in the basement of Esmeralda's.

Right dirty old dive, it was.
Ronnie loved all that butch fem nonsense.

You seem well.

Well, they still think I'm mad.

Only a madman would watch
that much Open University, for a start!

But I'm still the same person.

Still the same problems.

I wanna go home.

I miss my life. I miss my old club.
I miss my old friends.

- What's left of them.
- Yeah, but you're improving your mind.

How many of your old friends can say that?

I know what's happening to my mind.
It ain't improving.

Why do you think they brung me here?
To rehabilitate me?

They're making me worse.

The next time I saw him,
Harry was in hospital.

It was pretty much all my fault.

- What the hell happened?
- Ask that prick!

He's doing an Open University post-grad.
Thinks he's clever.

Came on like an egghead
about sociology being a soft option.

- It's non-empirical, Harry.
- Piss off!

Said social sciences is
a Mickey Mouse degree, so I nutted him.

- Harry...
- Mouthy bastard!

I know it was stupid.

I can't help you if
you can't help yourself.

You can't help me anyway!

All this liberal understanding,
designed to make us feel better.

It's more benefit to you than it is to me.

In the old days, they'd just give me six
strokes and I'd go home. Now look at me.

See this?

Anti-psychotics. They give you the shakes.

They make your muscles stiff.

I'm gonna be in chokey for bashing that
bastard. It's a wonder I could catch him!

Do you know what I think?
I'm beginning to think they're winning.

I'm beginning to...

I'm beginning to think
I'm never gonna get out.

- He won't get out for years.
- Well, you must be relieved!

- Why?
- Harry's release would spoil everything.

He's your little rat and
prison's his little maze.

Piss off! what do you know?

Lenny, the world is passing you by.
The revolution is here.

Everybody's on strike. Look around you.
Capitalism is the new evil.

Nobody gives a shit about Harry Starks
any more. He's a loser.

Look at that! Marvellous!

Look at it!

That is a proper university degree,
that is.

Not a diploma. I've got letters
after me name and everything!

I 'am a university graduate!

And I bestride the world,
which, incidentally, is my fucking oyster,

like an intellectual Colossus!

I might even move into your racket!

Well, yeah, if you think
you've got the discipline

to put it into a structural context.

- Lenny, my life is a structural context.
- I mean out there. Doing it for real.

- Doing it for a living.
- Doing it for real?

I'm more real than you are.

Know why?

'Cause you're a charlatan, and you know it.

Lenny, look at you thrashing away on
that thing like your life depended on it.

Yeah, well maybe it does!

What's he done to you?
You look like you've been hypnotised.

- What's going on?
- Go back to bed, baby. I'll be there soon.

Well, hurry up.

- "Go back to bed, baby"!
- She has nightmares.

So do I.

So, what do you think?

- Yeah, it's interesting.
- Tell me what you really think. Be brutal.

Well...

How can I put this?

To be perfectly frank, Lenny,

I don't understand
why you've ignored Foucault.

This is a bit old hat.

It's a bit confused.

Your arguments,
they often just don't go anywhere.

- Really?
- Yeah.

Deviancy theory is as dead as a dodo, mate.

It wants to be radicalism but it's just...
It's liberalism with a big mouth.

All this clever posturing of yours...
you're just oiling the wheels.

You're part of the machine,
and in the end it's...

It's shallow.

Shallow?!

Jesus, Harry, shallow?

You wanted me to be brutal.
You said that to the wrong guy, didn't you?

Look...

I made a few notes, yeah?
A few theoretical fumblings.

Have a read. See if you get any ideas.

Everything was upside down.

Harry had at last achieved clarity where I
was becoming more and more confused.

Karen and Janine were collaborating
on a book about the suffragettes

and strong women of the Edwardian era.

My manuscript was rejected
by every publisher who read it.

Oxford University Press
have offered to publish Harry's notes.

They have asked me
if I would write an introduction.

- Oh, love, I'm sorry.
- Why, what's wrong with that?

Everything he does is better than me!

Even when he doesn't know what he's doing,
he's better than me! I've wasted my life!

Everything I'd learned studying Harry
was going up in smoke.

Because of Harry.

"The Secretary of State has fully considered
your case for release under license"

"but has regretfully concluded
not to authorise it on this occasion."

Still, at least you've enjoyed it?

Must have been fascinating for you

peering inside my skull
at my brain boiling like an egg

and then writing all about it.

Maybe they'll move you to an open prison.
Be open-minded.

Piss off, Lenny! Open prison?

Open-minded. Open University.
It's all open with you!

- Tell you your trouble. You're naive.
- Now, Starks, turn it in.

- Piss off!
- Otherwise visiting time's over.

Stick your visiting time up your arse
and fuck off!

- Harry, sit down!
- Get your fucking hands off me!

- Don't do this, Harry. Don't!
- Get off me!

I lost touch with Harry after that.

He was in trouble time and again
over good order and discipline.

The last I heard,
he was in solitary confinement.

Karen and Janine moved out. No bitterness.

I totally respected their lifestyle choice.

But suddenly I was alone.

Welcome.

Once upon a time, my guest was better known
for her troubles than her talent.

But now she's back on our screens
and back in our lives. Miss Ruby Ryder.

Ruby, tell me about the '60s
and your friendship with Harry Starks.

You've gone on record several times saying
it was a very happy time in your life.

It was a happy time.

I had me ups and downs and Eddie
going to prison again didn't help,

but I liked Harry. I liked him a lot.

Two bunches of pansies. Second place
was taken by two pansies with some roses.

Trouble at Dartmoor Prison today
when a bomb destroyed the toilet block.

Local residents have complained that since
then 20 inmates have gone over the wall.

He was very good to me, Michael.

The world was different.
Women didn't have careers.

So he was a true friend?

I was really, really fond of him.

He was a really nice man.

The normalising paradigm.

The normalising paradigm is really...

really just a way of...

I lost faith in my own ideas.

1 tried to keep up with new
bodies of thought, new paradigms,

but things had moved on.

What is the normalising paradigm?

I was out of touch.

Harry was right all along.

I was naive.

And without him, I was lost.

“In the final analysis,

“it's my assessment
that this worthwhile opportunity

“to humanely rehabilitate effectively...”

“I'm at 239...

“Old Compton Street.”

Come on!

There's a lot more hard-core out the back.

I'm Lenny.

What do you want? S and M? Old MacDonald?

- It's all out the back.
- No, no, no.

No. No, I'm here to see Harry.

I dunno what you're talking about.

Tell Harry Lenny's here. I saw "The Times".

- Lenny.
- Hi, Harry.

What sort of time do you call this?
Don't you get up in the morning?

The thing is, Len, I'm writing a book.

- I want you to help me with it.
- I'm not...

Not a rubbishy biography.
No pictures, no celebrity wank.

A proper book.

The true story in a structural context.
What do you think?

Come on, Wally. Pull your finger out.

It's really good to see you, Harry,
but I can't really get involved.

Why not? It could be good for you.

Good for both of us.
You might even learn something.

I don't want to learn anything.

- Why? You finished with all that now?
- Nobody's interested any more, Harry.

So I went to hell and back
so you could say your experiment worked

and you're telling me what -
that I'm out of fashion?

- It didn't work, did it?
- What do you mean?

- You just escaped!
- Harry, we haven't got time for this.

Come on. We can't talk here.

Wally. Wally.

Where is it?

Don't fanny about! Where's my club?

Maybe you should talk to Manny.

Course, you don't all go down the pub,
do you?

Oh, no. That'd be too working-class.
It's the wine bar now.

Manny, who's he?

- What is this?
- It's alternative comedy, Harry.

It's the new rock and roll.

The new rock and roll?
What was wrong with the old rock and roll?

Let's go.

Have a seat, Lenny.

The extradition treaty between
Britain and Spain fell apart last year.

Southern Spain is safe
and full of familiar faces.

Jock's already out there
setting up a few useful investments.

We've bought Harry a villa
in the middle of nowhere in Andalucia.

I can't get involved. I'm just a teacher.

This is an advance pending publication.

Half now, half on completion
of the manuscript.

If it doesn't get published,
you keep the fee.

- This is insane!
- Why? Is it not enough?

This is stupid. It's a stupid idea.
It's the stupidest idea I've ever heard!

Lenny, the stupidest idea you ever heard
is turning that down.

That would be a shame.

Harry, I can't just go and work in Spain!

- What's wrong with Spain?
- I like Spain.

Spain's marvelous. It's got trashy parts,
but you can go inland for a few days.

Check out the Alhambra. Ronda.

Hemingway went to Ronda.
If it's good enough for him...

My cousin in Fuengirola runs an English
theme bar. English breakfast, Sunday roast.

There you are. Smashing.

"Pete's English bar". That's his name,
Pete.

I get the picture.

Well?

I'm gonna go.

Lenny! Len! Len! Hold up.

What's wrong? I thought you'd be into it.

- People will read it.
- And then what?

And then they'll understand.

- And then what?
- That's all I want.

I don't want to go to my grave
as this mad, mythic monster.

"Harry Starks, professional mad bastard" ”
on a thousand student slide projectors.

My mum's still alive.

I wanna be understood.

You understand me.

I just can't.

Why? Are you busy?
Getting married? Bringing up the kids?

You loved it when I was inside and you could
tear chunks off my soul when you needed to.

- I never used you.
- Now's your chance to prove it.

Oh, shit!

Get in the car. Get in the car!

Nice and easy. Don't rev the engine.

- You'd better not be mixed up in this.
- Oh, shut up!

Who the fuck told 'em?
Only Manny and Wally know I'm here.

And Jock. And Jock ain't here.
Come on! Slow, nice and slow.

- Where to?
- Your place - get your passport.

- Harry, no.
- Come on, Len!

- It's a field trip. You know you want to.
- I don't.

Well, I think you do.

Hola. Buenos dias. Hola.

Hello, son.

- I'm Harry.
- Si, Señor Harry.

El Señor Jock no está hoy,
pero dijo que vuelve mañana.

- Señor Jock - mañana - tomorrow.
- Si, si. Jock tomorrow.

- Jock's gonna be here tomorrow.
- Si. Jock tomorrow.

Right.

Pero mientras, sequidme, por favor.

Seguid todo recto, por favor.

Por alli.

- Gracias.
- De nada.

Oh, yeah! Classy.

Very nice. Very tasteful.

Look at that!

Now you're talking!

Good old Jock!

Cold beers.

Nice clean towels so we can go swimming.

To organised crime.

In fact, a very well-organised crime,
by the looks of it!

Marvellous!

It's important to remember

that the environment I was socialised in...

...resolved conflict...

...without recourse to authoritative norms.

- You mean you never called the police?
- Exactly.

When I was a little boy, I remember...

shopping at the butcher
in the Mile End Road with my old man.

A pound of belly and four fresh eggs.

Suddenly, this fighter plane come over,

followed by another one.

They must have been
flying at about 100 foot.

It was a Spitfire chasing a Messerschmidt
down the Mile End Road.

You could smell the aviation fuel.

It was a real dog fight.

Me and my old man wasn't scared.

Everyone else ran away.

We ran after 'em to get a better look.

And afterwards, right,

they found this unexploded bomb
round the corner.

The other kids were
cleared out of the area.

My old man let me stay
to watch the bomb squad defuse it

in case it accidentally detonated.

I've never been so excited in all me Life.

You see, we wanted to be there
for the explosions.

That's what we called fun.

That's two people knowing they're alive.

Two people doing something they'll remember
for the rest of their lives.

In the end,
my old man taught me fearlessness.

I grew up fearing nothing.

You see, Len, my generation
never went to war.

So we started one of our own.

- Were you happy?
- Happy?

I'm working-class, Len.
It's not my place to be happy!

Were you never happy?

Once.

When my boy...

When my boyfriend Tommy was still alive.

He was a lovely boy.

I was running my club with my friend Ruby.

- Ruby Ryder?
- Yeah.

I had lots of friends, once.

Then Tommy went.

Then Jimmy.

They're all gone now.

All gone.

See?

Even bad people get sad.

- Want some more wine?
- Yeah.

Was your mother jealous
of that relationship?

- Harry!
- Jock! where the hell have you been?

Just a bit of business. All good news.
Manny keeps me busy down here.

Come here!

- How are you?
- Same old same old.

- It's been quiet without you, mate.
- Yeah?

- Jock, this is Len. He's writing a book about me.
- Hiya.

A book?
I'd best mind my Ps and Qs, then!

Yeah, he's a proper intellectual,
is our Len.

- Nice to meet you, pal.
- You too.

Do you wanna beer? Let's have a bevvy.

Well, yeah, but let's go sit back here?

Yeah, if you like. Wherever.

Let's go through everything I got down
here. Who's about? What's the set-up?

Well, yeah, sure, Harry.
But you'll wanna relax a bit first, though?

I'll be more relaxed
when we've sorted this out.

- What's wrong?
- No, yeah.

- Nothing's wrong.
- Me flies undone?

Señor Jock, ven un momento,
que alguien le quiere ver.

There's something wrong
with the er... the pool filter, H.

I'd better take care of it.
I won't be a minute. Have a drink.

He's in a funny mood.

Oh, fuck!

Shit!

Look at this mess.
There'll be forensics all over the shop!

We've been set up! Come on, run!

Oi! Taxi!

- ¡Vamos!
- ¿Dónde?

- Just go! Go!
- Si. ¿Dónde?

- The sea. Take us to the sea.
- ¿Dónde está el costa?

- Where do you want to go?
- Fuengirola!

- It's 800 pesetas.
- Pete's English bar, Fuengirola.

- What can I get you, gents?
- Are you Pete?

We've had a spot of bother.
Need to lie low for a couple of days.

- I got cash.
- No problem. I've got a room upstairs.

- Fuckin' hell, Harry.
- We won't stay long.

I need to get across the water to Morocco.

Do you know anyone who can take me?

- Are you Steve?
- That's right.

And you are?

Oh. I know who you are.

So, what are they saying about me?

That you shot Jock McClusky
by his swimming pool.

Well, I didn't.
And it's my swimming pool, all right?

Whatever you say, man.

Did you know Jock, then?

I knew of him. And that weird old guy
he was doing business with.

What weird old guy?

Calls himself the major. Reckons he's
ex-army. Looks more like fuzz to me.

He approaches all the villains
who move here, offering protection.

Acts as liaison with the authorities.

He's got a place up by Juanas be Niguelas.
Is that a problem?

No.

No, I just wanna get out of here.

- Do you know anyone in Morocco?
- Can you take me or not?

Absolutely. Frankly,
I could use the extra crew.

- No one needs to know about this, OK?
- Don't worry, man. I'm discreet.

I have to be.

If you're planning on staying in Morocco,
we could do some business.

What sort of business?

What do you think, man?

Harry!

Harry,
leave it. It doesn't matter any more.

- It matters to me.
- What are you gonna do?

- I just wanna talk to him.
- What about?

- Len, whose side are you on?
- My side!

Shut the fuck up. You
might learn something.

- Harry...
- Wanna know what happens?

- What do you mean?
- You need an ending for your book.

- This is it. This is the ending. Catch!
- Oh, shit!

- What am I supposed to do with this?
- Shoot if you have to.

- What if I miss?
- You've fired a water pistol?

- When I was a kid.
- Same thing. Different outcome.

It's a good gun,
that. It's automatic. They're fun.

Hello, George!

Long time no see, as they say.

This is Leonard, my biographer.
Can we come in?

You're in a lot of trouble, Harry.

- You had Jock killed, didn't you?
- Seemed the perfect solution.

- Why? He was harmless.
- Because now you're the prime suspect.

There's a very good set of your prints
on a glass at the villa.

You're going home, chummy.

And I'll be king of the heap down here.

What about Billy Stewart?
Do you remember him?

You killed him and all, didn't you?

- Is that what you think?
- Jimmy thought it - before you killed him.

- No one else would bother.
- I didn't kill Jimmy.

And Billy?

- I told you I didn't kill him.
- No. You said, "I didn't kill Jimmy."

You chose your words carefully.
You said, "I didn't kill Jimmy."

- Shall I tell you what I think?
- No. I'll tell you. You're a scumbag.

You wanted to rise above the crud, but
you are the crud, the crust of the scum.

You ain't never gonna earn no respect
and you'll only be king of the shit heap.

Remember this,
Len? The sociology of deviancy?

Taking the part of the guilty man.

Only trouble is, no one knows
who's really guilty, do they?

Innocence and guilt are just constructs
designed to sell newspapers.

Fuck! Fuck!

Think you're clever?

Taking the piss out of a good man like me?

You think you're clever?

- I'll show you clever.
- Shoot him, Len!

Don't do it, son!

Not for this bastard!

Oh, I don't know. I'm
sorry. I'm really sorry. I...

For fuck's sake, kill him!

Easy.

Easy. Breathe easy.

Let it go.

Good lad.

Steve?

- OK?
- Yeah.

Jump on.

Right.

Do you think I should still write the book?

Yeah, of course.

- Tell the true story?
- Not all of it, obviously!

Better leave something to the imagination.

Think you'll ever come home?

To England?

No. It's a toilet, Len.

This is it for me.

Take care, Len.

And you.

Mazel tov.

I really was one of the guilty men now.

But [ would become the type
the criminologists never study...

the ones that get away with it.

Harry became an unsolved mystery,

a regular feature in "True Crime" books
and documentaries.

A whole series of rumours emerged.

He was running guns in Libya.

He was in the Congo, organising a treasure
hunt for millions of dollars of gold.

He was the real brains
behind the Brinks Mat robbery.

Fascinating stories, mostly nonsense.

And the people who knew Harry knew that at
least some of them were his own invention.

But that's how he made
his mark on the world.

He was a myth
that people wanted to believe in.

Not because he was evil,
but because he was interesting.

And that's how, in the end,
in a twisted way,

Harry Starks proved to
the world he mattered.