Original subtitles

What you need

is a brave knight to ride

into battle for you.

- The man in the barn... - JoJo.

Working for Frankie since he was 14.

- He's dead. - We was just getting acquainted.

What's going on?

We're under attack.

My dogs are back there!

Now, isn't that special?

What the fuck happened?

If you ever put my daughter

in a dangerous situation again, I'll just kill you.

Are you free tonight?

I really need to see you.

Fuck you.

The Harrigans have run North London

for three decades, but to grow, we need infrastructure.

Where do we find that?

- Charlton. - Welcome.

Here.

This family, it's lost itself,

forgotten who it is.

It isn't Coca fucking Cola.

We're outlaws, and we'll die outlaws.

Sláinte.

The fella in the cellar...

Which fella?

Somers Town.

- Seventies. McCall. - Oh.

MacCool. I don't know.

Fella kicked your dog.

- Ciaran McCowell. - Ciaran McCowell.

Mm.

Ciaran McCowell. Your bulldog.

Bomber.

- Bomber. - Aye.

- Sweet boy. - Hmm.

You locked him in the cellar.

All winter.

Every Sunday, you'd go down...

pull up a chair,

and eat the roast I'd cooked for you.

Mm.

By Lent, he was begging to lick your plate.

Hmm.

So you asked him...

"Which foot did you kick him with?"

Mm-hmm.

"There's your Sunday joint. Eat that."

You think hunger's a bugger? You should try gangrene.

Oh, sure, we never got the stink out.

And the moral of the story?

Don't kick my dog.

Do not kick my fucking dog.

I've got it.

Know what a bicorne is?

Bicorne is a two-cornered Georgian hat

for military or naval personnel.

Now, it's typically worn front to back.

So that he could more easily spy

details of enemy ships through his good eye,

Vice Admiral Horatio Nelson

wore his one side to side, or athwartships.

Also, he was buried in a coffin

made from the mast of a captured French warship,

and he suffered his whole life from seasickness.

Amazing what you can find on Google

when you have to wait 35 minutes for someone to turn up.

Well, I'm a very busy woman.

Cooper, there are channels of communication.

I'm here about the channels of communication.

Now, see, I wake up, and I think,

"I fancy kippers for breakfast." So I ring up Colin.

I say, "Colin, can I have kippers for breakfast?"

He says, "Leave it with me, Frankie."

He writes a note,

he attaches it to a carrier pigeon.

Pigeon flaps round Donnie's, Donnie reads it,

chews it up, stores it in his pouches,

then he disappears off the face of the fucking earth.

My point is,

if Nelson looks through his spyglass and he sees

the entire French fleet coming straight for him,

he doesn't have time to call someone

to call someone to call King George.

If he did, he wouldn't be back there,

200 feet in the air on a fucking great column.

Now here's my idea.

We do this my way.

I'll get you Conrad and his entire mob inside of two weeks,

or you can find another cunt.

Do you want to know why I was 30 minutes late?

Thirty-five.

How well do you know the president of the United States?

Uh...

How about the boss of the camorra?

The MC-13? The triads?

How many favors do the Los Zetas owe you?

Oh, dear. I'm gonna get properly dick-slapped now, aren't I?

Which one of us wakes up in the morning and makes one call,

and the other one wakes up in Moscow, Tokyo,

Compton with one arm, one leg,

one eye,

and a two-cornered hat shoved up his ass

athwartships?

You want to be Nelson?

Show me your moves. You have one week.

Now get the fuck out of my car.

A man came into this house.

Walked these rooms.

Sat in these chairs.

Slaughtered my dogs, Maeve's horses...

beloved creatures she prized the most.

Hope Brendan's not listening.

And that man... he asked a question.

The answer to which is this.

The minute you stepped to us, you were a dead man.

You joined Richie and all the others

who tried to grab a piece of ours.

But this...

this invasion, this abomination...

This rape.

It changes everything.

Because now

- you're going to live. - Down there

- in our fucking cellar. - Mm-hmm. You'll be fed.

Mm-hmm.

You'll be fed, watered.

Because we want you alive

so that each morning...

when Maeve and I, we go down to visit you, huh?

We'll pull up a chair, open up the tool kit,

and remind you

that no one comes into our home

and fucks with ours.

Huh?

Nice of you to join us.

Sit down, boy.

You need to hear this.

This family has pulled together,

but, by God, you need to shape up.

Stop your beefs.

Forget the slights.

In the meantime, we need to look to the empire...

to the grass roots,

the shops, the fronts, the patches.

And I'll be the first to admit this...

I've let the grass grow under my feet,

but that stops right here, today, right now.

- Harry. - Thank you.

Well, I know the last few days have knocked the room sideways,

but, um, we don't spiral, we take the initiative.

We need to stabilize the postcodes.

There's too much leakage, loose tongues,

neglect, discontent.

We need to shore things up,

corner by corner, block by block.

Team one... that's me, Kevin.

Team two... Conrad and Paul.

Now, this is fact-finding, yeah?

A bit of grip-and-grin.

Some face time with the boss, much overdue.

'Cause if we're gonna wage a war here,

we need to know who's actually with us

and who's liable to shoot us in the back.

A million in cash... that's carrot. There's also stick.

So some people get reassurance,

and a small number, yeah,

they're gonna get made an example of.

By the end of it, we'll know exactly who's with us,

who's sitting on the fence, and who's a cunt.

Any questions?

All right.

Morning, guys.

Did you pack your wellies?

- Yes. - Uh...

Great. Follow me.

Seraphina, why don't you tag along?

- Tag along? - That's what I said.

Sure.

Harry.

Here you go.

Famous last words of JoJo the Brave...

names, numbers.

Frankie was too busy slaying my dogs

to even notice it.

All right. I'll take a look.

Okay. It's all yours.

Now, don't go giving that drunk Mickey Horan

- any money. - Ah, shush, shush.

Or that scabby fuck by the dry cleaners

at Camden Town.

You know, tall lad, psoriasis, he's a dick.

Yeah, yeah, I know him.

We want you to find out everything you can

on Kat McAllister... education, financials,

trusts, proxies, employees, associates.

Who's tried to help her and who's tried to stop her.

And how she goes from the Boston docks

to ambassador to the Court of King James.

And how do we get her to fuck off back?

Stratos.

I've seen cleaner floors in a fucking crack den.

This is a robbery.

Relax, Rashid.

I'm fucking with you.

Daddy's home.

Mm-hmm. Shall we go in the back?

Do you think I'm a cunt?

Of course not.

Have you heard of a mop?

Yeah.

And get a fucking door on there.

- Yeah, get a door on, mate. - I-I'll do it today.

Thank you, Harry.

What? Bollocks. Joe...

You.

You.

Fucking ever, ever, ever,

fucking ever... Come here.

Come here, you fucking cunt.

Never, ever fucking disrespect

my family's name again, or I'll fucking kill you.

Do you understand?

Ever. Fucking ever!

Get his feet in and all, yeah?

No!

Danny.

Quick question, yeah?

Why is there a dog shit by your pool table?

Given the size of your dog,

- I hope that that is... - Yeah.

Dog shit, right?

But that's not, that's not a good thing, is it?

Hoping that that there

is dog shit

in your pub.

No, it's-it's definitely dog shit.

Yeah.

Okay.

New linens. Hoover the floor.

Wipe those mirrors down over there.

Make this place camera-ready.

Who the fuck are you?

Very good.

Very good.

This is how you run a knocking shop.

Thanks, darling.

Tea, no sugar.

Thank you.

I needed that.

Yeah, you did.

Yeah, felt good.

Still got the right hand.

Yeah.

- I miss it. - What?

Just me and you, on the ground,

getting amongst it all,

fucking slunching a few people.

Simpler times, you know?

When did it get so fucking complicated?

Yeah, tell me about it.

All right, mate, we're gonna have to put a pin

in this for now, yeah?

I've got to take care of something.

Okay.

Give me a text when you get back?

- Yeah. - Good. All right, mate.

Hiya. What can I get you?

Three apple juices, please.

Single-varietal, early press.

Or if it's been heat-treated or cold-stored,

- don't bother, I'll taste it. - What?

There's a lady that works here, her name's Sicily.

The McAllisters came up

in South Boston during Prohibition.

Rum out of Canada, Nova Scotia.

By the time Prohibition ends,

they've built the firm.

Kat shows up in the early '90s...

Cut to the chase.

How does Kat McAllister become U.S. ambassador?

Round the millennium, McAllister-linked firms

and individuals...

begin donating to Republican campaigns.

Sorry, I need to take this.

Always legal, always spread out.

Hi. Just a second.

Kat bundles donors and delivers on schedule.

Charlton, look, I know that Conrad spat the dummy out,

but there is still a massive,

massive opportunity here.

It all sounds quite dubious, Sera.

- And I don't trust Conrad. - Yeah.

I know Conrad turned you down, but this isn't about him.

It's about me and you.

Me, you, and the future.

Uh...

give me a number.

Ten million euros.

You must be Sicily.

And who are you?

I'm Frankie Cooper.

Is there somewhere more private we could talk?

Two tracks

to start.

I set the pace.

You don't touch unless I move your hands.

And if you want more time, you say it

before the second track ends.

- We're clear? - Crystal.

Do you know what a whipworm is?

A whipworm is a parasite whose larvae

penetrate the anus of mammals.

Once inside, it moves up the blood vessels,

lymphatic channels,

nerve pathways

very, very slowly.

No damage, no danger, no warning.

All the way to the brain,

whereupon it sits down...

and has a jolly nice lunch.

Do you know a bloke called Paul O'Donnell?

Hey, Tommy boy, you better make sure this shit

is fucking clean.

People get sick around here,

it's not just you they blame. Capisce?

Hello.

Sicily? Jesus.

How are you?

Uh, me? Yeah, no, I'm fine. It's just...

This is unexpected.

What, now?

See you soon, luv. Get rid of that husband of yours.

Yeah. Fucker.

Of course I want to see you, it's just that

I'm super busy right now.

- That's all. - Mount up.

Give me two minutes. Conrad, I just need to take this.

- Keys. - I just need to...

Give us the fucking keys, you big, beardy cunt.

Come on. There you go.

That's this month's paycheck.

And you can fucking walk home.

Conrad.

Conrad.

Strawberry Ice.

You couldn't make it up.

What happened to the horses?

Well, Gina, let me tell you about horses.

You know, horses are like, well, they're like Fulham, Man City.

You know, the players change, but the team remains.

They come. They go. Fuck 'em.

Want a bump?

No? Suit yourself.

Why did you send Eddie to Ireland?

Gina... Eddie's a Harrigan.

And like a lot of Harrigans,

he thinks that gives him the keys to the kebab shop.

Does it fuck.

There are hurdles to jump.

You know, I judge a man the way I judge a horse.

Does it have what it takes to stay the course, or is it soft?

Take your father, for example.

You know, underneath that hard man,

"tough as a tramp's toenails" kind of bit he does,

aw,

Harry Da Souza is a kind man.

What the fuck are you laughing at?

Maeve.

All right. All right.

Let's pop the johnny off here.

Your dad's a slimy, wily, double-dealing,

two-faced cunt.

I don't want him here, and neither do you.

But you are his kryptonite.

You're his Achilles' heel.

So I want you to do something for me.

- What? - Attempt suicide.

Just, you know, bottle of brandy,

couple of dozen tramadol.

Uh, not for real.

No, no, it's just like a, you know, "cry for help."

Not asking you to slash your wrists

or anything like that, but you watch.

You come round, and he'll be sat there thinking,

"I'd better whisk her away,

take her somewhere nice and safe."

You want that, don't you?

Yeah.

See?

As Belinda Carlisle said, "We dream the same dream."

I'll leave the pills in your room.

And if you change your mind about the coke,

I'm sitting on a fucking brick up there.

Your father is hanging by a thread, Gina.

All he needs is a little snip.

Zosia. Yeah, listen,

I need you to do a cleanup for me, yeah?

Just one customer.

Sending you the address right now.

Can you do that as quick as you can, please?

Oh, yeah, and this one's personal,

so keep it to yourself.

One Negroni. One sparkling water.

Thank you. Cheers.

You're off the sauce?

On a break.

My pitch in Majorca.

It was brilliant. Visionary.

Which is why it didn't work.

Conrad doesn't do visionary.

Violent, sadistic, brutal, cruel?

Conrad's your man.

But blue-sky and out-the-box?

Getting into bed with some fucking creepy Yank?

He'd sooner shit in his hands and clap.

No, he missed the whole point.

Which was?

Not just how to beat Kat McAllister

but the next 50 years.

I never knew you were even paying attention.

And I thought you were just a fluky piece of fluff.

Why does Kevin hate me?

Mine and Kev's bond is damage.

We both slayed our demons, but...

didn't work.

Woke up in the same house, same bed.

Nothing changed.

Are you okay?

Yeah, I'm fine.

Kev's a human pretending to be a monster...

while I'm a monster pretending to be a human.

He doesn't hate you.

He's scared of you.

Why?

One, you're a Harrigan.

Two, Conrad likes you.

And three, you got bigger balls.

But don't get too excited.

You're gonna lose, too.

Really? Why's that?

'Cause you still love him.

You still love Daddy.

Hey, look on the bright side.

It means you're not a monster.

You don't know the first thing about me.

Okay, if you were a monster,

you would pick up that phone right now and call Charlton,

or whatever the fuck his name is,

and you would tell him, "Fuck Conrad,"

and ask him to bankroll Harrigan 2.0.

Wow. Really?

Fuck me. Are you serious?

Like they say, takes one to know one.

To my place.

"Of all the gin joints, in all the towns,

- in all the world." Hey. Mm. - Paul.

- It's good to see you. - Yeah, well, thank you.

Small world, 'cause it is also very good to see...

- So, how are you? - Sorry. Go on.

- No. You go first. - No, no, no, you go fir...

No, you go first. Please, please, please, please.

Um, I get this is a bit of a surprise.

This, a surprise? Nah.

Nah, see, only this morning, my nan, she signed for Celtic.

Also, and please keep your knickers on,

but I won the lotto three times on the bounce

last week, so... this...

Whatever the fuck this is is par for the course, really.

Hmm.

I'm sorry.

Oh, wow. We're gonna go there.

I've missed you.

Now, that, Sicily, that is a surprise,

seeing as you completely ghosted me

after, I want to say, six months.

Huh? I mean...

Anyhoo.

As the bull said to the field of cows,

"Fuck all that."

It is wonderful to see you, though.

I mean, you look gorgeous.

Truly gorgeous. I'm serious.

I mean, looking at you right now, it's like a dream.

Oh, my God.

Hello, Paul.

Fuck.

Look, we're all grieving here,

and the press have failed to tell the real story

of the real man we all knew.

Thriving member of the community,

adored by his children and grandchildren...

- What's this? - Nothing. Give it back.

Oh, stop being such a cat's fanny.

You think Al Capone

spent hours mooning after he'd off'd his mark?

Leave me alone.

You know what I think?

I don't think you even stabbed Tommy Stevenson.

I think you sat at home playing video games,

wanking into your sock.

What the fuck is wrong with you?

I read your search history.

"Bali." "New Zealand."

There's only one way out of this band, cunt,

and that's feetfirst.

Stick out your tongue.

What?

I said stick out your fucking tongue.

More.

You think this test is over?

Uh-uh. Think again.

Ah!

Yeah. Same make, same model.

Same serial number even.

That's the gun I got her.

Fucking Jan.

Why'd she leave it? Why didn't she take it with her?

Who knows? They-They'd had a fight.

Um... I don't know.

Have you spoken to her? She all right?

Mate, I can't get hold of her.

- Fucking hell. - Yeah.

Paul?

Harry, how are you? Can you talk?

Yeah, go on. What's happened?

Remember that girl Sicily I was seeing,

worked at the strip joint?

Ex-girlfriend, mad into her?

No?

Doesn't matter. Anyway, so I'm bumping into her

when I'm doing the rounds,

and she told me something. She told me something

- very fucking important, Harry. - What?

Sicily has a new flatmate who is also a stripper.

Her name is Sapphire, but Sapphire's not her real name.

Her real name's Wendy.

Anyhoo, Wendy, apparently,

is shagging none other than Frankie fucking Cooper,

according to Sicily.

You still there, Harry?

Paul, where's Conrad?

Uh... Conrad,

he should be back at the Cotswolds by now, I'd say.

Why aren't you with him?

Bec... because I bumped into Sicily,

and Sicily told me about Sapphire.

Keep up, mate.

Also, by the by,

uh, Sapphire wants 50K to shop him.

Sicily wants ten. Sixty K, I think that's reasonable.

All right.

Where is she meeting him?

Riviera Palm Casino, midnight.

He'll be alone, Harry.

We've got him cornered. This is our chance, bro.

I'll call you back.

Mm. Five out of ten.

Harry's move.

Go on, Moose.

What are you thinking?

Well, it's-it's a trap, innit?

Okay. Why?

Paul called me "bro."

- So? - So,

first week on the job, I told Paul

if he ever calls me "bro" again, I will deglove him

and wear his fucking face as a mask around town.

I don't like the word "bro."

Okay.

The only time he's ever allowed to call me "bro"

is if he's in the shit.

- All right. - So he's in the shit.

So what are the options?

What are the options?

Uh, hmm, option one, we don't take the bait.

- And Paul dies. - Yeah.

Like Jojo, maybe worse.

And B?

B is we-we show up with an army,

and then we come out blasting.

The upside is, we can load the numbers, can't we?

Downside, we're going in somewhere

we don't know the layout,

or who's even in there.

- Upside, it's a public place. - Downside,

Greyhound Stadium II.

Plus, this what... Sicily.

We don't know anything about her,

except she's a stripper, and she's chucked Paul.

We don't even know if Frankie's fucking there.

What we do know, "bro,"

is that it's 100% an ambush, and we're going in blind.

Yeah.

Conrad, um, do you mind if I call you back?

Thank you.

Okay. Right now,

Paul is bait. If we do not take it,

he will become a resource, end of story, yeah?

He's a mine of information. If Frankie goes to work on him,

like Conrad done Jojo, he...

he will just crack clean into the heart of the Harrigans.

Don't get me wrong, there's-there's a lot of stuff

Paul doesn't even got a fucking clue about,

but there is a fuck of a lot he does.

- There is a fuck of a lot. - Yeah.

I say we send Eddie in with Maeve.

Use Conrad as a battering ram.

And me and you fuck off,

retire to Jamaica, change our names,

and open up a beach bar.

Frankie's fucked us again, hasn't he?

- Mm. - What we gonna do?

Hold still.

- You a betting man? - Me? I'm golden.

- As in? - As in, I never lose.

It's a little-known fact that I...

Paul O'Donnell... have won every single bet

I have ever laid.

Every one?

Every single one.

So how much money would you put on Harry

having bought your story?

A pound.

You're funny, you are.

Eh.

Are you all that funny over there?

I'd love to say yes, Frankie boy,

but the truth is, it's basically just me.

What do you think?

Genuinely unsettling.

It's annoying.

See, no one, absolutely no one on my crew,

has even the slightest whiff of a sense of humor.

You, though, you're proper, proper funny.

A real character.

You like the old ones?

Old comedy shows, old sitcoms and that?

I do. I fucking love 'em.

"And now for something completely different."

Aw, fuck.

"You stupid boy."

"He's from Barcelona."

Just like that. Just like that.

Spoon, jar, jar, spoon. Oh.

Spoon, jar. Knock, knock. Who's there?

- It's Frankie. - Frankie who?

Frankie, my dear, I don't give a damn.

Eh, up.

Oh, big boy. "Kevin."

Wonder what she wants.

- You got this. - Yeah.

Breathe in.

Out.

That's it.

Two secs, two secs, two secs.

Yep, got it.

- Kevin-ator. - Paul.

I'm here with Harry.

Harry, what's up, bro?

All right, mate.

Paul this, uh, what's her name?

Sicily. Her-her name's Sicily, yeah.

Yeah. Can she be trusted?

Yeah, man. Yeah, I mean, she's broke.

Wants out, needs the cash.

- Right. She won't let us down? - Sh... No.

No, man. She's... No.

- Conrad. - What about, what about Conrad?

Will he be there?

No, Dad can't make it.

Why not?

'Cause he fucking can't, Paul.

You all right?

Yeah, yeah, no, I'm fine. I'm... Yeah, 100%.

You seem a bit jumpy.

No. No, do I?

Well, I had a double espresso. That's all I can think of.

- Paul, it's Harry. - Harry.

You meet me, um, by the bar.

I'll be there about midnight.

Uh, wait, wait, wait a second.

Who the fuck is coming, then?

You and Kevin, or who?

No, just me, mate.

I'll be on my scooter.

See that, that was pretty funny.

Yeah.

A pound, you say?

Eh, 50p.

Joey!

Clean this cunt up.

We're going gambling.

Harry.

Conrad, I've, um,

I've got it on good authority

that Frankie's gonna be at his casino

- tonight around midnight. - Confidence?

Yeah, I feel, uh, pretty good actually.

I'm gonna go down there now.

Take a butcher's.

A casino?

Are you sure about this, Harry?

Oh, yeah. Yeah, I'll be fine.

I'll call you later.

Place your bets, please.

Thank you.

Hi, Harry.

Was kind of hoping that you wouldn't come alone.

You must be Sicily, yeah?

Evening, Harry.

All right.

Follow me.

Bugger, I thought you'd dress up.

Now I feel like a right tonk.

All right, well, um, sit anywhere you like.

Moose, get some fucking, some, uh, drinks.

- Harry, what's your poison? - Fuck off, Frankie.

This hasn't worked, has it? Fuck!

- What the fuck? - I knew it. What was it?

Wait, hey, did you know I own this place?

Uh, yes, but that wasn't it.

Was it Paul and his underpowered,

lackluster fucking performance?

- No. - Then what?

Does it matter?

I'm sorry.

What are you whispering about?

Nothing.

Yes, you was. You said something.

What'd she say?

Uh, she...

- Said she was sorry. - Sorry?

Sorry for what?

You're getting 50 grand for this, luv. Aren't you?

Answer the question.

Are you or are you not getting 50,000?

Yes.

Thank you.

So, don't go messing with Paul's emotions.

He's had enough grief for one day.

Actually, does she even need to be here?

I don't think she does, does she?

No.

Sicily, luv, thanks for playing.

Your services here are no longer required.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Oh, fuck!

- Do you gamble, Harry? - No.

- Never? - Never.

So, wait, you...

uh, you knew it was a trap, and you came anyway?

It would seem so.

Alone?

See, that would seem to be something of a gamble.

Although, to be honest, I am flattered.

I mean, coming in here, on your tod, no backup.

You biting my vibe?

Yeah, it was a nice move.

The cycle helmet.

Yeah, the cycle helmet

was, uh, it was very good.

Did you think, "That looks fun"?

"I'd love a bit of that.

Not hanging around with that bender Kevin."

Are you feeling what I'm feeling?

This you and me vibe. Imagine the fun we could have.

See, all you got to do, Harry, is say the word,

you and me and Paul here, we're the band.

Who doesn't want that?

I'm already in a band.

Then why'd you come?

What the fuck are you doing here?

More's the point, how the good fuck

do you expect to get out?

Makes no sense.

It's downright potty, if you ask me.

Hang on.

Hang about. Stop the bus.

You got something, haven't you? You rotter.

Go on, what have you got?

There's no fucking way you... Go on. What is it?

- Does it matter? - God. Oh, my God. Oh, my God.

Oh, my God. Wait. Are you bluffing? Is this a bluff?

- You tell me. - It's Jojo, innit?

It's fucking Jojo, something he said.

Paranoid now.

My mind is spinning.

It better be good. I mean, it's got to be good,

or you're a dead man.

- Or it's a bluff. - You said you never gamble.

I don't.

Give me a clue.

Mm...

Newgate Prison.

Now...

Now... that is a gamble.

That is a spin of the merry wheel.

Because...

If you're referring to the fact that...

oh, I doubt this is a coincidence...

that my boy Michael is in Newgate doing two to four

for possession with intent, but...

and here's your problem...

how do you know that's got teeth?

How do you know I'm not happy... nay ecstatic...

to be shot of the lazy, entitled good-for-nothing toe-rag?

I don't.

So it's a bet.

No.

How?

I'm a dad.

All right. We'll have a gamble.

Fifty-fifty.

Want to blow on my dice?

Go on, son. Blow on my dice.

Fuck me.

Best of three.

And one for luck.

Easy. Easy.

Everyone, breathe.

Now, Harry,

you would seem to be a man who does not know his own nature.

Now, the simple fact is,

not all dads love their kids.

So, this... son.

This is one almighty fucking flutter.

No, it's not.

But this is.

Let them go.

Harry.

Harry.

Let's go.

Let them go.

I have actually just pissed myself.

You're gonna be busy tonight.

Doing fucking what?

Yo.

Is that Michael Cooper?

Yeah, who's this?

Michael, my name is Harry.

You don't know me, but just to say,

3:00 a.m., you, son, are gonna get clapped.