All language subtitles for Trespasses 01

Fuck up, Dusty.

You all right, Fidel?
You all right, Minty?

- Cushla.
- What's the craic? Yous all good?

- How's the form?
- Good.

Are you trying to rub
their Proddy noses in it?

The younger generation
now taking part in stone throwing.

Catholic youths battled
across the so-called Peace Wall.

There's no wall high enough.
No offence, Eamonn.

None taken, Fidel.

Nothing beats a wee taste
of Lifebuoy. With a dish cloth.

On a brighter note,

Terry Kennedy has taken to
the streets of Belfast to...

Ping!

... Gauge public opinion on streaking

after a recent incident
at a Rangers game.

Barry's had his beard trimmed.

Makes his forehead look big.

There's a man with
too much time on his hands.

It's good.
Different from anything else.

State of that.

- I think it's a bit mad.
- Why?

I think it's ridiculous. In the
first place, it's far too cold.

Might you be up for
a bit of that, Cushla?

What about you, Minty?

Buff up your big belly and
have it shining like a full moon?

You'd be a celestial wonder.
Two moons, front and back.

- It's been a good wee while, Michael.
- Eamonn.

How are you?

Belfast too hot for you?

Judas bastard.

What can I get you?

I'll have a Jameson, please.

Take a seat by the fire
and I'll bring it over.

I'm comfortable here at the bar.

Go on, then, pretty boy.
Thought you were a mad bastard.

Glass! Glass! Glass!
Glass! Glass! Glass! Glass!

Oh, you're a fucking mad prick.

Wash that mouth out.

Jesus...

Man down!

You all right?

Hey!

Calm down, Jones.

- What?
- You know what.

Great arse.

That's her brother up there.
Watch yourself.

- Did you see what that soldier just did?
- No.

Yeah, you did, you liar. Call the barracks.

I'm calling no-one.

Call the barracks now.
Mummy'd do it if she was here.

Daddy knew better.
Head down. Mouth shut. Bar open.

Four lagers.

Nice view.

Old man, she's pretending
she can't hear me.

Perhaps because you're
humiliating her.

Come on, mate. Just having a laugh.

Humour is most effective
when it's mutual.

Take him home, lads.

Come on, back to
the barracks with ye.

Hey, come on. Let's go.

- All right, all right.
- Come on. Let's go.

Sorry.

Staying for another one, lads?

Could you throw another
in there for me, please?

Would you like one yourself?

I'm teaching in the morning.
Thank you, though.

Helen Mirren's put to poor use
in this, in my opinion.

And McDowell, he's been
pigeon-holed since Clockwork Orange.

I couldn't finish that book,
never mind the film.

The film's beautiful.

Even the violence is exquisite.

He wrote that book after his wife
had been attacked by soldiers.

He turned his suffering into art.

I'd rather art
without the suffering.

I'm sure his wife would too.

Can you have one without the other?

God, what are you? An artist?

No, but they do say that all
barristers are frustrated actors.

Ah, Jesus Christ, Ma.

The curtains open
for the whole world to see.

Sure, who'd waste a bullet on me?

I'm gonna come in one day
and find you burnt to a crisp.

You wish.

Right, come on.

Oh. Were yous busy?

Yep. The usual.

And some soldiers.

Scum.

You missed a career
as a fire safety officer.

And a man.

Mm?

- Michael.
- Ah.

In his 40s. Dark.

Awfully, awfully.

Oh, Michael Agnew?

There is a blast from the past.

A posh Prod.

Lives in one of them big houses
up on the hill.

- You know him?
- Aye.

He used to come
into the bar a fair bit, years ago.

Your daddy liked him.

He was good craic.

Kept his politics at home back then.

Christ, I hope he doesn't
bring trouble in on Eamonn.

How do you mean?

He upsets his Proddy lot
by defending some of our lads.

Aye. He was gorgeous back then.

He'd charm the knickers off you.

Well, from what I hear,
the wife's a sorry story.

Sorry how?

Fond of the drink.

Fond of the drink, is she?

- God bless her.
- Aye.

Right, let's get you to bed.

Yeah.

- One, two, three.
- Ah...

Up we go.

There you are.

Come on, you.

Slowly.

And finally, Brid Quinn.

OK. How about a wee story
before assembly?

What about news, Miss?

OK. A quick news. Who's first?

There was a bomb in Belfast.

He says that every day.

Well, today he's right. Thank you.

It wasn't in Belfast.
It was an incendiary device

intended for the British Army,

planted near the border by the INLA

but exploded prematurely,
killing two boys.

What's the INLA, Miss?

Irish National Liberation Army.

Sean, you could be on Mastermind.

Chosen subject -
Acronyms of The Troubles.

There was a thing about streaking.

There was.

You're blushing, Miss.

She's scundered thinking of
them streakers in the nude.

Excuse me!

Everything in hand, Miss Lavery?

Sit down!

What age are you?

Eight.

I'll tell you a story
about an eight-year-old.

And you'd better be listening
most of all, Davy McGeown.

Living in that Protestant estate.

Surrounded by them.

The wee Catholic girl

Went out on a message for her Mammy.

A gang of Protestant men

pulled her into an entry.

OK, that's the bell. Assembly,
everyone. Let's go. Come on.

- Your smelly lot.
- Shut up.

Single file, no fighting.

Come on, Zoe. Let's go.

Mummy?

I'm away.
I'm gonna be late for my shift.

Mummy?

Believed to be
engaged to a British soldier,

Was tied to a lamppost and tarred
and feathered in Londonderry.

Come on, Mummy.

Up to bed. Let's go.

Mummy.

For fuck's sake, Mummy.

I can't just leave her on
the floor in this state.

- Cushla, I...
- Eamonn, she's getting worse.

I have to go. There's a few in.
The scum are acting up again.

Oh, right. Who's there?

The usual.

And Michael,
your hero from last night.

Davy.

- You OK?
- Yeah.

Let's get you inside.

You're soaked to the skin.

Davy McGeown, where's your coat?

I forgot it.

Go and get settled for me.

And tell your Protestant mother,

We Catholics look after
our children.

Mixed marriages are an abomination.

A watched kettle.

Does actually boil?

Mm. How's your morning going?

Father Slattery was in
with another horrific story.

I get the guitar out
when I see him coming.

Drowns him out.

Not even he deserves that.

Do you remember Louise?

Taught P3 last term
before they fired her.

She's working in a shoe shop
in Wolverhampton now.

Did the fella go with her?

Course not.
He's still here with his wife.

All forgiven.

What sort of shrivelled soul
would write to the Bishop

About someone else's love life?

You know what this place is like.

Do you wanna come to a party
on Saturday night in Belfast?

My housemate's moving out.

All right, go on, Gerry.

It's better than watching
the Generation Game with my mummy.

Davy.

Davy McGeown.

Is it getting into cars
with strangers, you are?

You of all people
better watch yourself.

- Turn in here.
- Mm-hm.

We're down the back.
Like cornered rats, our Tommy says.

Stink of Fenian scum off you.

There's our Tommy.

Shall I stop for him?

Sure, he's home now.

Shut up, you Orange bastards.

You got a problem, mate?

There's Mummy and Mandy.

Look, his wee mummy
out to protect him.

What did I tell you about a coat?

My head's like a sieve.

Ah, I'd better go on.
I'm gonna be late.

Thanks for bringing him home.

Come on. In, for your tea. Go on.

And you, Tommy, please.

Fuck off back to Taigland!

- Hiya.
- Hi.

Oh, Jesus.

What?

I'm Gina.

How are ya? I'm Gerry.

And where are you from, Gerry?

OK, we actually don't have
time for, "Who's your granny?"

Because we're due
in Belfast now, so...

Excuse me if your Mammy
wants to meet the man

who's taking you off into the night.

All you want to know is,
is he Catholic and is he single?

And he is, and he is. So, let's go.

I'll call in next time,
Mrs Lavery.

Better you knock on my door
than me knock at your window.

I'm sorry about her.

Scundered.

You needn't have picked me up,
Gerry. I could have got the train.

I don't mind.

Besides, you would have missed this.

Yeah!

... take
extreme caution in the area...

Where you going?

A party.

I want an address.

Why? Do you wanna come?

Looks like we've got
a comedian here.

No, we're going to
St Paul's Terrace.

Step out.

To the wall.

You've the war paint on,
sweetheart.

We're going to a party.

Spread your legs.

Your boyfriend on a promise?

No.

You're teasing him, then?

Go on.

You're a prick-tease.

Hello? Well, what's the craic?

The size of you.

Cheeky fucker.

Joe, Harry.

This is Cushla, from school,
I told yous about.

Nice to meet you. What happened?

Eh, checkpoint.

The bastards.

You wouldn't have many soldiers
over your way, I suppose.

Sure, the barracks is out by us.

Doesn't she feed and water them?
Her people have a pub.

Hardly a pub left up our way.

Aye, just the ones that
haven't been blown up. Yet.

They'll not bother with yours.

Actually, my brother stands
behind the bar every night

afraid to open his mouth
in case he offends somebody

and ends up on a loyalist hit list.

But he did load me up with
some out-of-date cider, so...

Nothing we can't endure.

Like Gerry's guitar playing?

Yes! She's absolutely
done you there.

I thought you liked it!

She's not wrong, like.

I'm going to the bathroom.

All right?

I hope you had a good night.

I had a great night.

It's nice to get out.

Ow!

- Sorry! Sorry! No, I... I thought...
- Fuck. Erm...

- I thought, you know...
- No, I know.

Just...

No, Gerry.

Sorry. Erm...

Uh...

Is this us done, then?

I mean, we could still go out.

Well...

I'd be happy with that.

Me too.

I need a life.

Jesus, I can't promise you
a life, Cushla.

Just the odd outing.

I'll take it.

Did yous have a nice night?

Grand.

Gerry's a good sport.

Prose, in the dead language of...

Your man was in the paper tonight.

In his frock and wig.

Who?

Michael Agnew.

Banging on about
police brutality again.

He'll not do himself any favours,
saying things like that out loud.

It's brave of him.

Brave... or reckless.

He should know to
keep his mouth shut.

- The Anchor.
- Hi, Eamonn. It's me.

You can put me down
for some shifts?

Go on. How many, like?

Say three for now.

That'd be great.
I need you tomorrow night.

Why the sudden urge to help?

Because if I stay in with Mummy,
I might actually kill her.

Thanks, Cushla. Nightie-night.

Night.

I have called
this emergency assembly

Because the father of one of
our pupils is in hospital.

The best thing we can do now

is say a wee prayer.

Davy McGeown's father
was left for dead

By a loyalist gang last night.

Mr McGeown was a good Catholic man

Who made the mistake
of marrying the enemy.

But even though Mr McGeown
brought this on himself,

These loyalist murder gangs
are hungry for all Catholic blood.

Your daddies could be next.

Will we sing a wee song?

Yeah?

Come on.

All right, enough. Here.

Fingers on lips.

Good man.

Erin, will you wait
at the door for me, please?

OK.

Thank you.

- Lovely.
- Fair play, Gerry Harkin.

You're the only one with the balls
to stand up to that lunatic.

Thank you for your expert clapping.

Do you think I should
go round the McGeowns'?

Give them a wee while, I'd say.

Oh, here.

What about another wee trip
to Belfast on Friday?

The theatre. I promise not to
lob the gob this time.

- Theatre?
- Mm.

Aye, go on.

Aren't we awfully awfully?

I'm sorry.

There you are.

Penny, Jim, this is Cushla.

- Hello.
- Hello.

Right, shall I get us a drink?
Ah, that'd be great.

Cushla?

My friend's actually
getting me one.

So, how do you know each other?

Well, I know everybody.

- All right.
- Gerry,

this is Michael
Agnew, and his friend, Penny.

- Gerry.
- How's about yous?

Hello.

Well, I hope you enjoy the show.

I'm surprised to see
you here, Michael.

- Hi, Victor.
- Thought you'd gone underground.

Why? Fuck Special Branch.

Do you wanna say that louder
so everyone can hear?

I've got one extra.

Are you enjoying the play?

- It's sad.
- Mmh.

I...

I like the way he calls it,
the town, Ballybeg. Small town.

Do you speak Irish?

Yeah.
From school and teacher training.

And you've got an Irish name.

Yeah.

A made-up one from a song.

A Chuisle Mo Chroi.
The pulse of my heart.

That's...

that's beautiful.

A chuisle mo chroi.

My friends and I are
trying to learn Irish.

We meet at Penny and Jim's house.
Will you come and teach us sometime?

All right?

- Gerry.
- Hi.

Sorry.

Bye.

I'll drink that as well.

- It's a nice set, isn't it?
- Yeah. Really good.

The actor playing SB is breaking my heart.

Yeah.

Why would Special Branch
be interested in Michael Agnew?

They think he's a traitor,

defending young IRA lads

and banging on about
police brutality.

And does he defend them?

No. Just some of
our young stone throwers.

Tries to talk them out of joining,
gets them to recognise the courts.

Which makes him a "willing agent
of the evil system",

so the RA hate him,

and the Peelers hate him.

And even his own Proddy lot
hate him. Poor fucker.

You can't win in this place.

Aye, he's all right

but I'd not take a drink off him.

Ah, look who it is.

How are you?

- You're looking gorgeous.
- Thank you.

Davy tells me you're doing
English for your A-levels?

What texts are you reading?

Passage To India
and The Woodlanders.

Have you read Jude the Obscure?

- Is it good?
- Oh, it's the best.

I didn't pick up another book
for months after.

I can't get to the library
till Daddy's home.

I can loan you my copy.

How's your daddy doing?

He's got a fractured skull.

Both legs broken.

Cracked rib. Collapsed lung.
Ruptured spleen.

Those Proddy bastards
slashed his hands and wrists

with a nail hammered into a plank.

Look, why don't you take my number

and you can give me a call
if you need anything.

All right.

What's the number?

4-2-8-7-6.

That's his wee poem book.

Give over.

Hello, Mrs Lavery.

All right, Davy.

Daddy was beat up
for loving my mummy.

Hey.

He's still in hospital.

Aye.

I heard.

Terrible carry on.

Stop in home.

I've got a wee something
for Mrs McGeown.

Mummy! Mrs Lavery's here!

Hi, Betty. I brought you a wee pie.

Sorry, Betty.

All right, fellas? Where were we?

Oh, you could hang those outside.

The neighbours keep
cutting down our washing line.

They throw dog shite over the fence.

Ah, Jesus.

You're a wee dog shite.

A half hour should do it.

Right. We better get on.

- You won't stay?
- Ah, no.

But thanks, Betty.

Well, thanks to you.

Go back inside, Tommy.

Pathetic.
They've come to taunt us.

I know, love. Let me handle it.

- Oi, lady muck.
- Go mind your family.

Did you bring me my dinner too?

She looks like a dog's dinner.

- Take yourselves off.
- It's a free country.

Now.

You gonna fuckin'
let her speak to you like that?

- Come on.
- Don't touch me.

Fuck away off around your own door.
Go on. Piss off, aul doll.

- Mummy!
- I know.

Jesus Christ, Ma.
The McGeown's have to live here.

I know. As far as the ones
round here are concerned,

she's worse than a Catholic
for marrying one.

They were saying at
the hairdressers,

even her own family
don't talk to her.

Fenian bastards.
Piss off, don't come back.

Headlines on Monday evening
at seven o'clock.

The body of a man was found
off the Shore Road

by a woman walking her dog.

Come to our Irish language night.

Help you exoticise the natives?

It's in Belfast, so I could
pick you up at seven on Monday.

I'm away with Gerry.

I thought he was gonna call in.

Stay safe and goodnight.

Fidel's running
a UDA meeting up there.

Pity it clashes
with your Irish night.

Sorry, sir. There's a bit of
an incident up ahead.

I'm gonna have to ask you
to turn back, please.

Failte.

That's impressive.

Thank you very much.

- How are you two?
- Come on in. I'm grand.

Here, hang your coat up there.

Ah, Cushla, you're in for a treat.

Penny has made
her world famous moussaka.

Penny, Cushla was just admiring
your Donegal painting.

Oh, God.

It's the only painting
of mine I actually like.

I'm mucking about
with sculpture now.

Michael, here. Help yourself.

- Do you want a glass of wine?
- Yes, please.

You're very welcome, Cushla.

Thank you. It all looks lovely.

Oh, thank you.

Yeah, I hope you're hungry.

And thanks for coming
for this Irish lesson.

Jane. Come here.

Evening, all.

It's good to see you.

OK, get stuck in there.
Those are for you.

Cushla, go on ahead.

There you are, good sir.

Thank you.

- Mm.
- Not a moment too soon.

Oh, you don't like it?

I just...
I didn't expect it to be fishy.

Well, it is fish.

I'm OK.

Michael tells me
you're a native speaker.

I did it for my A-levels.

Ah.

Can I help with anything?

Yes, would you grab the moussaka
out of the oven there, please?

Thank you, sweetheart.

Did you hear Campbell College
won the Cup?

Aye, yeah. I bumped into that fella, er,

the captain, of the Royals,
when we won.

- Trevor?
- Trevor.

Trevor. Yeah.

I see him about sometimes.

Time has not been kind.

Victor, don't be so mean. Be nice.

You should see this guy.

Agh, you've burned yourself.
Come here. Sink's over there.

Oh, poor Cushla.

- That looks marvellous.
- There we go.

Whatever way you want to
deny it, Victor,

you know police brutality
creates terrorists

out of bored young fellas who
are throwing stones for kicks.

- Aye, so you keep telling us.
- Pass along the Chianti, Cushla.

You've not said
a word against IRA brutality.

They're kneecapping the very same
young fellas you're defending.

I'm not endorsing the IRA, Victor.

Penny, how much garlic
did you put in this?

You can never have enough
garlic, Jim. Isn't that right?

Jane, would you like some
more moussaka?

- Why not.
- Cushla?

- No, thank you.
- Do you not like it?

Slainte.

Right, shall we do this?

Erm... If yous just
talk amongst yourselves,

I'll just see where you're at.

All right, Michael. Go, you start.

Absolutely not.

Well, how about you
tell us the Irish for "no"?

Ni hea.

But that doesn't quite mean "no".

Well, it can do.

It means "it isn't".

That's a tad slippery,
don't you think?

What do you mean "slippery"?

Evasive.

Non-committal.

If someone offers you a drink,
how do you say no?

Nior mhaith.

That sounds like a proclamation.

Oh, Victor.

Well, why don't we start
with some simple phrases

- about how we're feeling?
- Great. Yeah.

Er, like... ta me lan - I'm full.

Ah, yes.

Agus ta Victor cantalach.

And Victor's cranky.

Ah, well.

- Fair. Good point.
- Yeah, she's not wrong.

Well, made.

How do you say that?

Dhearthair.

If you just wanna
pull in under there.

Why? What are you planning to do?

Not get tarred and feathered.

Fair enough.

So, will you come
and teach us again?

My circumstances are complicated.

I won't always be able to get away.

But you sometimes will?

Yeah.

OK.

OK, everybody. Easy in
the corridors please. Slowly.

Daddy came home last night.

Do you wanna come and see him?

Ach, Davy, I don't think
he's gonna wanna see me.

I think it's best if you
just leave it for family.

But I told him all about you.

Go on, then.

Mummy.

Hi. Come on in.

Oh, thanks for coming.

Mind that there.

That's the second one
they've left us today.

"Do the job," said Mr Templeton.
"There's plenty of capital for..."

Daddy.

This is my teacher.

Miss Lavery's been good to us.

Come round here.

What's her problem?
Was she crying?

Now you don't
want the shifts?

I'm sorry, Eamonn.

I just didn't realise how much
extra school work I'd have

with the communions and stuff.

So, you won't do any at all?

No, none. Not for a while.

_

... has been shot dead as he worked,

Sweeping roads near his
home on the lower Ormeau Road.

It's the fourth fatality
in the city in two days.

Earlier, the funeral took place...

Trading eggs on the black market?

My class paints them for Easter.

Ah, just as well.
You wouldn't get much past me.

... gun battle with
the IRA on the Falls Road...

And a woman who risked
her own life to...

Hello?

It's Michael.

I've not seen you
in the pub all week.

No.

How did you get my number?

Erm, the phone book.

I'll be passing yours in two
minutes. I... I could pick you up?

That's not a good idea,
for a million different reasons.

- I've had way worse.
- Seriously.

It's daft and it's dangerous.

I'll take us somewhere
no-one will see us.

Please.

Just... just to talk.

I just sobbed the whole way home.

All Seamie McGeown
did was marry a Protestant.

It's not about what you do, here.
It's about what you are.

To them, he's a traitor.

To me, he's a brave romantic.

I just hate the way this place
makes you one thing or the other.

Well, that's why
we must make ourselves.

It's easier said than done.

I come from a long line of Catholics

that have survived by keeping their
heads down and their mouths shut.

Having a big opinion like yours

is a luxury I don't have.

No.

No, that's... that's not true.
It's not.

What, so I should just
say what I want?

Be with who I want?
Even if it means that I lose my job,

or... or I put Eamonn in danger

or people throw dog shite
at my mummy's washing line?

Yes, absolutely.

Even if people call you selfish
or... or stupid

or a Judas bastard.

We must find the bravery
to choose freedom over fear.

So, taking up with you is a...
political act of defiance?

No, it's rich.

I get to be brave

and you get your bit on the side.

Look, if you don't want to be with
me because I'm married or I'm old

or I'm an awful kisser...

then, look, that's one thing.

That... that, I accept.

But we cannot let the old bigots
and the boys with guns

tell us how to live.

We just can't.

Otherwise nothing will ever change.

Hate wins.

I best get back.

I've gotta prepare
for court tomorrow.

You're not the only one
with an important workload.

I have to hard boil 30 eggs.

Without cracking them.

What are you at?

Put these with the eggs. Ah...

You know they say it's unlucky
to gift gorse,

both for the giver and receiver.

I'm more than happy to take
my chances with you, Cushla.

- The Anchor.
- Hello, it's me.

I feel bad.
Put me down for some shifts.

You're like a yo-yo. How many?

Four.

Four? Jesus. You do feel bad.

I need you tomorrow.

OK. See you then.

Michael?

No, it's Tommy.

You said I could call.

Yeah, of course. Erm, how are you?

All right.

Mummy says she must give you
that dish back. From the pie.

It's no rush.

How's your daddy?

Can't wipe his own arse.

Yeah. It's a hard time
for yous all. It's... desperate.

Aye.

And it won't change
if I don't do something.

Just not something stupid, Tommy.

Do you know what? You're right.

I'm just a stupid something kid.

That's not what I meant.

I meant...

You need to mind that fella.

He's at a very bad age.

The identity of
the IRA gunman who shot magistrate

and former barrister Martin McBirney
last September is still unknown.

Throw on the footy, Eamonn.

Witnesses took to the stand
yesterday as McBirney's...

Jameson, please.

Thank you.

I have a flat in Belfast
I use when I'm in court.

Good for you.

It's good for us.

That remains to be seen.

Come tonight.

It's yourself.

It's me.

Do you want a night cap?

No.

- What about...?
- I'm on the pill for my skin.

I am all for skin.

Where have you been all night?!

I had car trouble,
so I stayed with Gerry.

Oh, ho. Car trouble?!

You and Gerry
must think I'm some fool.

Are you sniffing me?

- You'll get a reputation.
- Oh, my God!

Lose your job.

Or worse...

Have a wee baby with
a ring shoved on your finger!

You wouldn't be carrying on like
this if your daddy were still alive.

He'll be rolling over in his grave.

I'll take us
somewhere no-one'll see us.

Come tonight.

I'm all for skin.

Sync & corrections: bird
for www.addic7ed.com ~