Original subtitles

You can live forever on seaweed.

Welcome back to the show. Drink a Cupán Joe.

And nothing is more important to me...

It's such a shame that these beautiful little animals

will suffer the fate of the butcher's knife...

Drink your Cupán Joe...

- Just stand in a line. - Where's my sword?

You don't need your sword for the photo. Stand there.

Everybody gather around... move in.

You must be roasting in that. Here? Okay.

Everybody else move in, please.

Alright?

And smile...

Smile.

Got it?

I've a job for you.

A job?

What sort of job?

A very important one.

Conall, I think we still have a jar of your instant

knocking about somewhere, or do you want

the Joe Lipsett dark organic Papua New Guinea blend?

I'll get the instant.

Good morning.

Where's Neilí?

Returning tomorrow, Neilí?

Ah no, sure we may as well make a few nights of it.

Why did you send him off?

So we can discuss the Lipsetts freely.

Freely?

Without informants.

Neilí is an informant?

Everyone is a possible informant.

The Lipsetts are connected.

Everyone's in the Lipsett pocket round here.

If they were to be tipped off about an undercover sting operation,

it could only come from someone in this very room here.

I have to say it.

This evidence will not be admissible in court.

I know.

It's very risky.

What if something goes wrong?

What if we get caught?

We'd be suspended.

It'd be the end of all of our careers.

I'm calling it.

We need to get a warrant.

I'm sorry.

That's all there is to it.

You're the boss.

She's my superior.

I'm sorry Conall, but you know

it's the right way to do things.

I do know.

The right way.

The Right Way.

The Right Way...

Okay, let's do things by the book.

First things first, get a search warrant for Joe's house.

To get a search warrant, we'll need witness statements

against the one man I'm pretty sure no one in this community

would either want to, or indeed dare to give a statement against.

We will also need an extensive file of observation reports

over a timeframe of...

Two, or three months, maybe four.

Oh, five months I'd say, of observation reports.

Yes, five months of observation reports from the crack team -

me, you and... you.

And then, we gather all our witness statements

and months of observation reports

and go for judicial approval in Letterkenny.

Could take weeks.

Will take weeks.

And if he or she...

She's a she.

If she is satisfied with our doorstopper of a file...

I don't need a lesson in judicial protocol.

If the judge gives us a warrant.

I know... I know.

What do you know?

Joe Lipsett will have been tipped off

and cleaned his house of anything resembling evidence.

But thank God, we did it...

... the Right Way.

Thank God.

Thank God indeed.

On the condition we start now...

... and we stop it after 24 hours.

Is that clear?

Crystal.

- Conall? - Crystal clear.

This is a Camera-Integrated

Microbio-Mechanical Surveillance Unit - or 'bug',

as it's more commonly known.

It represents a cutting-edge convergence of bioengineering,

micro-optical systems and autonomous nanomechatronics.

Today, Barry.

Video and audio - with a battery life of 50 hours.

Where do we put it?

There's an African tribal mask in the living room.

It will fit in the eye perfectly.

We have identified this Tuesday morning

between 8.30 and 12.00 as the time to implant the bug.

Is the back door not locked?

We don't lock doors in Donegal.

Well, I do.

And you're from where again?

Well, originally I'm from Cork, but--

Alright. Then we enter through the hallway

and we're into the kitchen. But we don't have much time.

- How long are we talking? - As it happens...

... Barry has been building a picture

of Joe and Siobhán's routines and movements.

At precisely 7.00 am, Joe Lipsett gets out of bed.

I am here for a higher purpose.

I am here for a higher...

Joe, shut the fuck up.

You shut the fuck up!

I am here for a higher purpose.

Jesus Barry, we don't need Joe's life story.

How do you know all this?

Joe puts everything up on the socials.

To get to know the man behind the brand.

Eat it.

I want chocolate pancakes.

I want chocolate pancakes...

Do you want the dog here when you come home, do you?

Eat your breakfast,

or I'll bring her down to the vet while you're at school

and get her put down.

Eat!

Eat it...

Bye...

Hurry up, girls. The bus is waiting.

Button up your coat, it's cold.

Kids have left the building. Over.

At 8.50 am, Joe and Siobhán leave to go sea swimming.

Joe and Siobhán Lipsett are on the move.

Heading to the beach. Over.

Okay, so they leave the house,

but what if they forget something, or come back early?

We need to know for sure they're at the beach.

You're right.

We need an extra body at the beach.

What about Ciara-Kate?

Who then? And not a civilian.

I know someone.

"This is Serpico. Come in Moneypenny... over!"

What did you call me?

At 9.00am the Lipsetts arrive to the beach

for the morning swim with the Sunfish Swimmers Group.

Come in... come in. Serpico...

"Come in. Eyes on Joe Lipsett's Jeep."

"I repeat, confirmation, Joe Lipsett has arrived to the beach.

Over."

We're on.

Once Conall enters the house,

he has approximately 17 minutes to plant the bug...

... and get out, before they come back.

Where the fuck is she?

Siobhán Lipsett is not at the beach.

Yeah, he's gone.

Are you here now?

Come in, Conall.

Conall, come in... over.

What the fuck?

Please God, tell me the bug has been planted, Conall.

Coming.

Good morning.

It is now.

We've about forty minutes.

Only need five.

- Who the fuck is that? - I don't know.

Hide in the bedroom, now.

Hello.

Hi, Sergeant Barry. Hello...

How are you this morning?

You're hardly here to wish me a good morning?

Course not, no. But it's a good morning all the same.

With the sun...

And the clouds...

And the fresh Atlantic air

filling up the senses.

What do you want?

A fair question.

There is...

Or there was an alarm.

- An alarm? - Yes. A burglar alarm.

But...

Which alarm, were you asking?

Another great question.

Thank you. I can't be dealing with this.

I'll ring my husband.

Bye... bye.

Joe Lipsett has left the beach. He's in the SUV.

Hurry... hurry!

Go... now.

Please tell me the bug is in?

Well done, Sergeant.

Log everything, Barry.

Is he... eating a fry?

Now remember, clock's ticking.

Good luck.

- His phone's ringing. - "Yeah."

He hasn't shown up for work?

We could have a problem here.

Find him.

Pronto.

They're the same bloody tyres.

They look baldier.

You're baldier!

Is that...? Ah, come on.

It's my car. I can do what I want.

Like hitting kerbs?

- I didn't hit any kerbs. - How did that happen then?

Dunno. Someone must've scraped against it

when I was parked or something.

Do you know how much alloy paint costs?

No, you don't.

I know how much the car costs, though. I want eighteen for it.

That's five hundred more than what you paid me.

I'm not paying you that.

Take it or leave it, boy.

I'm doing you a favour remember? So, if you want her back.

No skin off my nose. Good luck.

Okay, fine.

If only to save the gear box.

The fucking smell in here.

- You going to help me, Bláithín? - Yes.

Now, for your wages.

Close your eyes.

Goodbye, Bláithín.

- Hello? - "Do you have the car?"

Yeah, all set.

"Make sure your phone is off."

I know.

"Bonus points if you decapitate him."

"Ladies and gentlemen.

It gives me great pleasure and honour

to be introducing tonight's show."

"When I was asked, I was reluctant..."

"Leave it to the artists..."

He's got another call.

"Sinéad?"

"Did the new envelopes arrive?

Yes, with the new branding?

What type of flap is on the envelope?"

"A square envelope flap? Square?"

"Sinéad...

... I'm sick of explaining this to you."

"It has to be a pointed envelope flap."

Maybe ©envelope flaps' are code for drugs?

Have you got anything useful?

Yes. His mother rang with news

The Bat Lynch died of an aneurysm.

He was only 80. Probably a relief to him, she said.

The director of the show rang him

asking Joe not to do a speech tonight

in case it would ruin

the immersive experience for the audience.

Joe reminded her who sponsored the show

and gave her the choice to either let him speak,

or have no show.

The director promptly agreed to the speech.

And then his mother rang again,

saying The Bat Lynch actually died from cancer of the blood.

And that it probably wasn't a relief for him at all.

I've had enough.

He's not going to say anything over the phone.

We're wasting our time.

Shut it down.

Clear up this mess before I get back from lunch.

"I was invited to speak

at a business conference...."

We have to get him talking...

About the boy racers, about drugs, something.

How do we do that?

By scaring him.

You're going to dust down the old balaclava?

Too soon?

Ah, Conall. I was only joking about you beating him up.

Conall...

The show tonight...

What about it?

The community will be out in force.

- It's our chance. - Chance for what?

To trigger him.

Humiliate him in public.

Piss him off so much, he©ll go home,

and spend the entire night ranting to Siobhán about everything.

And we'll be here watching.

I have to say, that's a pretty great plan.

But who's going to piss him off?

We need someone who is really good

at pissing people off.

- Are you sure you're up for this? - Barry...

I'm trying to get in character here, so...

Fuck off.

She looks nervous, Barry.

That's the way she looks sometimes.

It's her resting nervous face.

Resting nervous face?

No problem.

Would you like me to help you with something?

A mint would be my first suggestion.

- That was the boss. - The boss?

So?

He wants to speak to you.

Me?

Yeah. Now, in his office.

Follow me.

Come on.

Where is make-up?

Where's my sword... someone moved my fucking sword!

Where's my sword?

It's Aodh.

Ciara-Kate, right?

Yeah...

So pleased to meet you properly.

Your authenticity precedes you.

- Please come in. - For what?

I've something very important to discuss.

Are you looking for someone?

Of course not.

Come in.

Please.

Please, take a seat.

Sit down.

What's this about?

I think you know what this is about.

I'm not sure I do.

Excuse me, what's out that back door there?

- Offices. - Whose offices?

The manager, Joe.

Joe...

Calm down, okay? She'll be fine.

Relax, right? You're going to blow the whole thing.

- Just one minute. - Barry...

Something very important has come to my notice about you.

- Really? - Yeah.

Really.

Sorry.

Pervert. Everybody, there's a dirty pervert walking about.

What would that important thing be,

that's come to your notice, about little old me?

Lies.

The opposite in fact, is true.

An award-winning journalist here in Carraignanaul.

A social media star.

You have a bloodhound's nose for a great story.

We need stories of adversity.

I want to offer you something.

What would that be?

It's our storytellers,

the poets, the truth-tellers,

that elevate us.

Storytelling with stakes, lucrative stakes.

And I'm offering you a piece of those stakes.

What do you mean?

In order to be a powerful human, you need turbulent weather.

And my seas have been stormy.

Ciara-Kate,

I want you to tell my story.

I'm not sure this is my thing.

In ancient times, the poet was an 'ollamh',

his rank almost equal to that of the king.

And...

'He is no chieftain, who has no poet in his household.'

Maybe this is your thing.

This is fair.

This is... adequate to fair.

I'm a cheque man.

This is the question, Ciara-Kate.

Are you a cheque kind of woman?

I'm a cheque kinda woman.

What are you up to?

Excuse me.

I caught this Garda snooping about.

Snooping around?

I wasn't snooping about.

Was he following you?

Are you two connected?

We found him.

- Found who? - The peeping Tom.

He was perving on women getting undressed.

Dirty bastard.

Time for you to leave.

Peeping Tom is leaving backstage.

So we have a deal then?

Let's do it.

Start the clapping, Mr. Lipsett is about to enter.

1-2-3... clap.

How are you?

It gives me great pleasure and honour...

What's all that with you and Joe Lipsett?

What's all that with you being a peeping Tom?

But as the main sponsor and funder,

it's important to say...

- Is she going to do this or what? - I'm not sure.

Make sure, Barry.

I was invited to speak at a business conference in Brussels.

Are you going to do it or what?

He offered me a job.

- Ciara-Kate... - What?

He's going to finish any second.

I have to think about my future.

I'm sorry...

I wouldn't miss this local show for the world.

Because it's the storytellers, the poets...

... the truth-tellers ...

... that elevate us.

In ancient times the poet was an ollamh.

A nobleman, his rank almost equal to that of the king.

So I would like you all to welcome up here on stage...

... our community's great storyteller, a modern poet.

Ladies and gentlemen, the author of tonight's play,

Debra Ní Dhálaigh.

Debra Ní Dhálaigh.

Now without further ado,

tonight's performance of this production of 'Labhraidh Loingseach'.

I know this show is somewhat of a secret.

But I can tell you, we get to put on our ears...

Everyone, first positions.

Where's my sword?

Through the red curtain.

Hello.

Sorry to interrupt.

I'll just take a few seconds of your time, to say something.

Something I think is really important for you all to hear.

As an outsider,

you have all been so welcoming to me.

Get off the stage, bitch!

Except her, of course.

And I want to thank you for that.

But I want to thank Joe, in particular.

Being a man of vision requires courage, it's not easy.

I found my sword.

What's going on?

I've absolutely no idea.

Hold positions. There's a crazy woman on stage.

I feel I owe it to you...

... with the unique lens of the outsider...

... to give back to you the gift of truthfulness.

Joe Lipsett and his network of businesses

are an underground operation

as cover for his illegal, criminal activities.

From drug-dealing to people smuggling,

to dissident activity, extortion,

money-laundering, kidnapping,

and corruption on an international scale!

Thank you.

And thank you Ciara-Kate,

our very own local tabloid gossip columnist.

Let's hope tonight's story will be better able

to differentiate between fact and fiction.

Thank God we have these huge ears,

to filter out all the lies.

I'm sorry for interrupting again.

Joe's right.

Sure, I was only coddin'. Forgive me.

So to make amends, please...

Let's raise a glass...

... to the man who murdered Máirtín Ó Tuairisc.

Joe Lipsett... a murderer.

Play a happy tune.

Just play a jolly fucking tune.

"That podcast one,

she accused me of murdering Máirtín Ó Tuairisc,

in front of everyone."

"- She what? - Who the has she been talking to?"

"What did she say?"

"You're not listening, Siobhán."

"There's a rat!"

"If that hack knows, the Gardaí know something."

We have him.

Will we head home?

I'm going to stay.

And watch an empty room?

Barry...

You did a great job tonight.

Well done.

You and... Clare.

Ciara-Kate!

I'll see you later.

Goodbye.

There was a sacred law.

The king who is scarred cannot rule.

And there was a king, called Labhraidh Loingseach,

who held a dark secret from all his people.

This is becoming a major fucking problem here.

Make sure he goes through with it.

'I want Conall Ó Súilleabháin's head on a fucking platter.'

Stand-by for beheading...

Hit and run...

3... 2... 1

Go.

Iarla!

Iarla... can you hear me?

Stand-by for blackout.

Three...

Two...

One... go.