Original subtitles

Will the defendant please stand?

Kempton Bunton, you are charged that on the 21st of March 1961, you stole from

the National Gallery the portrait of the Duke of Wellington by the artist

Francisco Goya to the value of £140,000.

How do you plead, guilty or not guilty?

Not guilty.

And that you created a public nuisance by depriving members of the public of

the opportunity to view the portrait?

Do you plead guilty or not guilty?

Same again, love, not guilty.

Mr Castle.

Thank you, my Lord.

At this rate, you'll be giving that Shakespeare a run for his money.

Imagine if Jesus had been born a woman.

Well, what's it called?

The Adventures of Susan Christ.

Not my cup of tea, then.

Oh, well, you never know.

Recorded delivery?

Aye, good idea.

That'll be two shillings, Mr Bunton.

Come on, Mr Singh. I know you're in there.

I know he's in.

Harry. Come on.

I know he's in. I know he's in.

Is Barry Spence there, pet?

Just putting you through.

Thank you.

Dorothy, I'm in here.

Dorothy, would you be a sweetie and just clean the heads for me?

Oh, yes, yes, of course.

Well, I finished the fireplace for... It's entirely up to you, but I'm playing

this afternoon.

Busy, busy.

Oh, Dorothy, I was passing Fenix the other day.

I noticed that they had a sign up.

Stormin'. Just in case your husband... I'll just mention

it.

Mr. Bunton? Good.

Dad.

Post office? In the street? I know.

Buy me five minutes.

Mr. Bunton? Come with the hour, Jackie lad.

Mr. Bunton?

Can I help? We're here to inspect your television license.

Look at that.

What? Fox.

Big fella.

Any house with a television is required to have a license.

Our radar van detected a line output transformer signal from this address

coming from a cathode ray tube this time last week.

I haven't got one of them. That's a telly. Oh, we got one of them.

And do you have a license?

In what sense? In the sense of having one or not having one.

Gentlemen, join me, Robin Hood, after the adverts. Receive your license, sir.

Don't need one. We only watch ITV, which is paid for by these.

This is a mistake.

I can go to the post office in the morning. This is no mistake. It is a

political act.

Witness, I cannot receive the BBC.

To the left, ITV.

I've taken the bandwagon coil from the turret tuner. Here we go again.

My wife always supports me in private.

It is thus physically impossible for this set to receive a televisual signal

from the British Broadcasting Corporation that negates the imperative

on me to pay the licence fee. I've only got 16, Bob, here. Jackie, fetch the

kitty from the larder. Don't you move! It's an unfair tax on ordinary people,

especially the oldies that can't afford it.

Television, gentlemen, is the modern cure for loneliness.

We're a movement. I'm not. Our aim is to persuade our government that old people

should have free televisual viewing.

Well, the law's the law.

and no one's above it. Especially a nobody like you.

Oi! You can't talk to me dad like that in his own house. Or what?

Alright, Captain.

Dunno Barry, never think about it. You back again, stirring it. Who are you?

Evening Chronicle. Free TV for the OAP.

I like it. I was pleased.

Not a lot rhymes with TV.

I don't want this in the papers. He does, that's why I'm here. By statute,

anyone owning a television needs a license.

But I have modified this set.

by removing the BBC coil, so I owe the government nothing.

That is an unarguable proposition and certainly sound in law.

All right?

Where to?

Home? Marion.

Sorry, love.

Courage.

13 days.

Broke the law.

Upset your mother.

Again.

Why doesn't Mama become?

Don't know, Jackie. You'll have to ask about yourselves.

When England faced its Waterloo, one man stood firm. This man.

Arthur Wellesley, the Duke of Wellington.

And when last week this historic portrait was in danger of leaving the

country forever, we also stood firm, raising the £140,000 required to secure

it for us all.

Was it really worth it?

I mean, looking at it, it's not very big, is it?

Sir Philip, well, um...

It's an outstanding example of late period Goya.

It really is.

Outstanding.

This is champion, love.

With the mustard.

You had servants in prison, did you?

You know I don't like getting up.

I'll get it, Dad. No, you won't.

Dougie.

Not the Duke bloody Willan.

I sold one of my boats.

So you didn't go to the night class?

You'd be happy for us.

You'd be happier if you're getting yourself qualified.

What's the Armada down to then?

Just the one left.

They don't have to.

It's the taxpayer, you and me, Jackie, that's paid for that painting.

Since when have you paid any tax?

Welcome home, Kenton.

You know what's going off here, Jackie?

Tops looking after their own.

Spending our hard-earned money on a half-baked portrait by some Spanish

drunk of a duke who was a bastard to his men when he voted against universal

suffrage. Against what?

The vote.

The Duke of Wellington didn't want you to have a say in how this country was

run when he was Prime Minister.

Think what they could have done with all that money.

Given thousands and thousands of free TV licenses to war widows and pensioners,

that's what.

Are these speeches of yours going to put food on the table?

You can stop that, Dolly. I'm back on the taxes tomorrow.

One who hopes, translated from what I couldn't say, Esperanto, presumably.

I'm not paying for conversation.

Well, keep my trap shut, then.

In fact, he was a Polish eye doctor. His dream was to bring humanity together by

means of a universal...

What are you doing, kiddo?

Putting a cabin on it.

Boat building, eh?

This one hunter will be shitting himself.

You going to live on it?

Get out the house?

Sell them on.

There's working boats.

What are you doing at home?

Ah, keeping me head down.

You in trouble?

No, Newcastle.

Got a little job for yous.

I want to keep my nose clean. I'll source the car. Nah. You just have to

drive it and get rid of it. Nah, I said no.

But you did it before.

Yeah, and I regret it.

Well, think about it.

A business opportunity.

House hostilities.

He's writing away and Mam's scrubbing the world clean.

Bloody Marion.

Aye. Bloody Marion.

Dorothy, would you mind?

Sorry.

Look, I've always liked this dress.

Oh, Staffordshire, I hate it. It's so uncomfortable.

Dolly, it's 7.30 for 8, not 8.30 for 10. Gordon Bennett.

Thank you, Dorothy.

So, what is it tonight?

Golf Club Gala.

The only time they let the ladies in.

Don't you play there?

Oh, God, no.

The end of civilisation.

So, is your, um, is your husband out?

I mean, back.

I saw the paper.

Do you want me to stop coming?

No.

No, no, it's... It's fine, Dorothy.

We're very happy with you, really.

I don't want to cause your husband any embarrassment.

Oh, no, no, we couldn't possibly have that.

My husband, the counsellor.

A real conundrum though, isn't it?

I mean, if you can't receive the BBC, why should you pay the tax?

I'll see you later.

Susan, I'm not going down

You'll

like

this one, love Get

yourself in there

Return of the prodigal son. Don't give him any money. I haven't got any.

Where have you two been?

Greentree.

Traitors. Why are you still bathing there?

A pint in there isn't a pint. You could start a fight in a ploughed field. He

accused me of nicking their toilet rolls. You were. I was, aye, but he had

no evidence. Habeas corpus. You're an idiot.

Leave him alone, man. Fish pie, Kenny. You look thin.

What are you fussing around him for?

Brett James, I'm fussing around you.

Baby sham for the lady.

Dad, yours.

Thank you. Now.

Be sure and use the coasters. You're not in Leeds now.

Yeah, civilisation here.

Put the news on, Dolly. We haven't got a licence.

Whose side are you on? My side.

I'm not turning that goggle box on.

A toast to the Buntons.

Happy families.

Happy families.

Not that sodden painting again. National treasure is the poor bloody foot

soldiers have won his battles for and we shall be celebrating. Down.

Every door, that's what doors are there for.

I hope you're proud of yourself.

They don't swallow what the establishment tells them, I'm proud of

that.

Am I making a bed up for you?

A couple of nights, Mum.

She'll miss you, your dolly bird.

Who are we talking about? Her that's married, Pammy? She's separated, Mum. If

she's not divorced, she's still a married woman. She was only married two

months. Don't you go down that road, Jackie Bunton.

I'm the devil incarnate, me. You don't know anything about your life in Leeds.

Plenty of cash.

Never in work. I'm in construction.

It's seasonal.

You're always welcome here. Back room's yours. I wouldn't be surprised to hear

she's in the family way.

Oh, fuck it.

I've had enough.

I'm not out of language in this house. You know that. It's been lovely.

No. I said you're welcome.

I'm going to be United Nations.

I might have the body of a weak and feeble woman. Elizabeth I. But I've got

the testicles of Henry VIII.

You are three and tenpence short on yesterday, Bunton. Aye, an old fella.

Skint. Why's he taking taxis, then? He's a war veteran that can't walk.

I am running a taxi firm, not a charity. Take it out me wages.

I've had complaints.

One, you talk too much, and two, it's utter bollocks.

You're sacked with immediate effect.

I haven't been paid.

Sue me, then.

Fuck off first.

Hello? Yes?

I'll just take the address, please. Thank you.

Thank you very much. Be there in a tick.

There is nothing more powerful than when a community discovers what it cares

about.

And when a man accepts our essential interdependence, in that

moment, he...

Or she becomes a woman.

Or a man.

As the case may be.

How many have you got?

The petition's only one part of the campaign.

Three? Oh, we've just set up.

That's not even a real name.

Rome wasn't built in a day, Jackie.

But then again, I wasn't on that particular job.

Didn't know you were political, Jackie Bunton.

Yeah, it's me dad.

It's his latest campaign.

Me nan would love a telly. Why don't you sign my petition then, love?

Oh, I don't know about that.

The hat, yeah.

I'd like to sign, Mr Bunton.

Unless you have any objections.

Au contraire, Mrs Garling, au contraire.

Thank you.

Now, where do I put my paw print?

Just there, please.

If

Jackie

goes to the bad, I'm holding you responsible.

Be the straw, I promise you.

You can do your petitions and write your pleas in prison.

They'll do your cooking and your washing for you and all. But I've had it up to

here.

Peace offering.

Good dunkers, them ginger nuts. What do you want?

A pact.

Two days in London.

Give me two days, then I'll be back for good, get a job, keep my head down.

I didn't come down in the last shower, you know.

Promise, two days.

To change anything, you have to go to Parliament.

You're wasting your life.

How do you eat an elephant?

Who eats elephants?

One bite at a time.

Stop this.

Please, Kempton, please, love, please.

I'm begging you.

Stop all your agitation.

Two days, that's all.

If I hit a brick wall down there, that'll be the end of it.

Two days, that's all I need, then I swear to God it'll be the last of it.

The plays, the politics, the lot.

Two days.

One last chance.

Do you have an appointment?

He'll want to see me.

I'm sorry?

I've sent in my trilogy of plays, each one tackling a different aspect of

social injustice.

He's not here.

Not here?

He's gone to Granada.

Granada Television?

No, Granada in Spain.

I could wait.

Right.

I need to speak to the boss, love, it's urgent.

He's over there.

Sir, I have a story.

Is that right? It's a campaign. I don't do campaigns.

It's about social injustice. I don't do social injustice.

Can anybody... I don't do lunch.

Another day.

Friends, members, citizens of this group of parliament, members, representatives,

friends.

Friends!

Fellow citizens!

Elected representatives of this noble house!

Lend me your ears!

I come not to make a protest!

Will it be out of the country already, Commissioner? Well, looking at the

degree of planning and expertise involved, we're convinced that the Goya

has been stolen to order by a well-funded, highly professional

international.

criminal gang.

Not very good, is it?

What about the police?

No one's looking for the Duke of Wellington in Benwell.

Christ! Don't touch it!

Jesus Christ.

Christ is the man we need right now.

How come?

Carpenter.

Someone who knows how to put a false back on that wardrobe.

I can do that.

Get on with it, then.

Next stop, communication.

Cut letters out of the paper.

No, do that. You'll be telling them what paper you read, what glue you've got in

the house, whether you use right or left-handed scissors. That's three

coordinates and they've got you.

That's why this letter cannot be posted from Newcastle.

Query not that I have for the Goya.

The act is an attempt to pick the pockets of those who love art more than

charity. Bit of Robin Hood.

Like that?

Oh, Christ.

How's that, Betty?

Why are you wearing rubber gloves?

Varnish. Been on the boat.

Hello, pet.

Oh, you're back.

Didn't bring down the government, then.

Oh, well, I exercised my democratic right. Now it's up to them. What matters

is I'm back. So, you'll be going to the Labour Exchange?

Tomorrow, first thing.

Shall I put the kettle on?

If you think it'll go with your outfit.

Ha! So, I'm going to keep your name out of the papers.

Aye, well, there's no reason for me to be of any interest to the press ever

again. Why are you wearing rubber gloves?

Look, that blocked the rain.

We don't have a blocked rain.

Next door's.

We don't talk to next door.

You've got to build bridges.

I'm off. Where to?

Rainbow Rooms.

Why in God's name would you want to go to a club with music and drinking and

girls when you could stop in and watch telly with me in your mouth? Don't drink

too much if you're on that bike. I'll be careful. See you later, Dad.

And wear your helmet.

Now then.

Oh, no.

What have I done? Kempton Bunton, I want you to swear to me that you've given up

all your nonsense.

I swear.

I swear.

Promise. Golly, love, I've learned my lesson. No more secrets?

Nothing. Ria nada, I promise.

Meanwhile, the hunt for the missing Goya portrait continues.

I feel I can profile the thief pretty well. He's most likely highly physically

tuned, almost certainly a trained commando, or ex-special forces... You

all right?

Bit of biscuit.

Expecting some communication from the thieves.

When it comes, we will respond.

You remember Fat Stan?

Track marshal at the dogs. What?

Well, his brother-in-law, Gert, nice fella, Dutch, and he's forming at this

plastics injection moulding plant.

And he said to Fat Stan that there's a job going.

Well, it's ten o'clock at night.

He's on nights.

Who, Gert or Stan?

Stan, I mean Gert.

He's night shift foreman.

At night.

I wouldn't expect I'll be long, but don't wait up.

Ta-da!

How far are you going?

Wogan Bay.

Wogan Bay will be just champion.

Would you like a white duck?

What are you doing?

Have you read this one?

What's it called?

The Girl on the Bicycle.

No.

And I don't think you should either.

So you have read it?

He's told me what it's about. Making money out of our grief. It's just

writing. Well, it's wrong.

Well, what else can he do?

You'll never talk about it. Not here to talk about.

It's done, isn't it?

She's dead.

In the wardrobe, in the back room.

What are you doing in there?

I live here.

They've got that West Side Story on at the ABC Percy Street. Do you fancy

tomorrow? I can't afford to waste money going to the pictures.

It's Romeo and Juliet.

We're singing and dancing and it said New York, not Stratford-upon-Avon.

How far you got?

Far enough.

It's not Marion.

There's a girl dies in a bicycle crash.

That girl's knocked off her bike by a bus in town. Our Marion came off a bike

going downhill in the country.

Who's read this?

Nobody. I shouldn't think I've only sent one copy out.

You too?

Kelly.

So the world and his wife's gonna know.

You've never let me talk about it. Grief's private.

I bought her that bike buckle or anything else, she'd still be alive.

Well, she isn't.

He's not a writer.

He has pretensions, but he can't write.

Where was it posted?

Morecambe.

He's not an educated man.

Could he be Italian?

No. British.

Northern. This comma here tells us a lot. What do you mean?

It's gratuitous.

It evidences poor education. He's an autodidact.

A car mechanic?

He's self-taught over a lifetime.

I'd put him somewhere in his late 50s.

So, uh, what's his mental state, then?

The act is an attempt to pick the pockets of those who love art more than

charity.

He's a fantasist who believes he's an idealist, a kind of Don Quixote.

Oh, the window fellow.

He'll be active in his community, known for his local campaigns, parking,

litter, pub hours, that sort of thing.

Thank you. That's very helpful.

My pleasure.

Could someone sign me out?

I wouldn't dare. You'd be telling everybody what I had for breakfast.

Nice arse.

I'm a married man, Rich.

I can look at the menu as long as I eat at home.

So has this fella got the painting yet? It's all time-wasting bastards.

It's just after the reward.

The Italian's still favourite, eh?

That's where the clever money is.

My first day might be your last.

Watch these ones, men. They're fast.

Get three like bricks, yeah?

In the future, they'll have robots doing this.

Yeah, I can't do it.

The likes of me and you who spend our days developing our minds with

literature and orchestral concepts. Look, please, just keep up.

Come on, mind your boomers.

It is first day, Mr. Walker.

Well, you can watch it now. Still getting used to you all touching our

white loads.

Yes,

sir.

Come on.

Chanel. Nothing.

Don't you want them papers, mister?

No, you haven't, Bonnie lad.

Good firelighters, but you won't find any of them speaking truth to power.

What are you playing, lads? Tip and run?

Have a ball?

£5,000 reward.

Da bugger, I nearly shit myself.

What did you open it up for?

No reaction to my first communication, so I took the ticket off her back. Proof

positive that I've got it. This to the working man's paper, the Daily Mirror.

Quick, quick, quick. Sort this lot out.

And

round

about 11, my idea of heaven is a nice...

Cup of tea.

I like a nice cup of tea. Stop it, you daft brush. Anyhow, it's half three. You

were a beautiful dancer.

Graceful, fluid.

I wasn't that good. You were that good.

Ginger Rogers of Whitley Bay. I always said we should have entered them

competitions. We'd never have won.

Swept the board?

Mm-hmm.

You're looking at Hollison's new Star Baker.

Hollison's? I thought it was plastics.

No. I'm Lord Bunton of the Baps, number two oven man. Much better. You can't eat

plastic. So will it be regular?

I am taken to it like a swan of water and a free loaf every day.

Tomorrow, a pork pie.

Pork pie?

Slightly damaged. You're slightly damaged. Today, 14-ounce Danish.

Slightly damaged.

Light and airy for ladies who are watching their figure. I'm not, though,

am I? You're better off wobbling than rattling.

I like a nice cup of tea in the morning.

I like a nice cup of tea with my team.

Is this your idea of a Saturday night out?

Just to work with you. Come on, follow me.

What do you think?

Yours are there.

One day, aye.

We're going to be millionaires.

That's what I want to do.

Build boats.

Like this.

On the town?

Nah.

California, New Zealand, Australia.

You just want to get away.

Mam wants me to wear a shirt and tie and dad wants me to punch the Pope.

What's the Pope, don't know what's that your dad?

The Pope.

Prime Minister.

Donny, love, it's been enough of me having to get on it. It's a crack of a

sparrows' fart, but you... Don't mind.

A full English breakfast served by an Irish rose.

Eat up, you're late.

That's the shipping ticket that was attached to the back of the Goya. And he

sent it to... The Daily Mirror, Home Secretary.

So an arrest is imminent.

And not as such.

But we know where this note was posted.

Oh, central Birmingham.

The Italians?

We're re-evaluating that aspect of the inquiry, sir. But we can pinpoint

precisely the whereabouts of this person.

Well, sir, we're pretty sure he resides between Morecambe and Birmingham and has

travelled in that area at some time for work.

So he could be one of about 23 million people?

If he's still in the area, yes, sir.

The Duke is safe, his temperature cared for, his future uncertain.

We ask that some nonconformist type of person with the sportitude of a Billy

Butlin and the fearless fortitude of a Montgomery.

Sportitude, fortitude, the man's a bloody poet.

Perhaps we can lock W.H. Alden up at last.

What's he actually asking for?

£140,000, Home Secretary.

Good grief. For what?

Charity. As yet unspecified.

Clearly a lunatic.

Well, we will, of course, follow any credible... No, be quiet, Macpherson.

Sir. Gentlemen, I'm fully prepared for martyrdom, but I would rather like it

delayed. And you chaps, I believe, need to keep your jobs. So we'll meet again

in 48 hours when you will tell me of the very significant progress you have made

in solving this extremely serious crime.

Yes, Home Secretary.

Large white slice.

Slightly damaged.

This came for you.

The BBC.

The play.

The one that's not about the accident.

They wanted me to go down to London to supervise the production.

Thank you for giving the drama department the opportunity of reading

your intriguing play.

Unfortunately, it is difficult to find an audience for plays about grief.

Whoever they get to read plays can't be writers, that's all I can say.

Whoever they are.

Or maybe it's best they've said no.

What's for tea?

Sausage and mash.

Go on.

Roll of kings.

Aquum.

What a steaming pile of chai.

Try the vases.

What? No.

There he is.

I might have known.

Mr. Aquum.

You still on packing time, are you? I'm not, sir.

I'll give you ten minutes.

Sorry, sir. Let him finish the game.

You what?

Me and Javid broke at the same time.

Kempton, please, it don't matter.

It doesn't matter. We get a 15-minute break and we've only had nine minutes of

it. You don't understand.

It's different for me. Are you accusing me of racialist discrimination?

No, no, no, no, no. Hey, hey, I like Paki's me.

I mean, if it wasn't for your lot, I wouldn't be able to get a pint of milk

on a Christmas morning, eh?

Aye, going back up now, sir.

Sit down, Bundon.

You can finish your game.

I will not let anyone walk through my mind with their dirty feet.

Mahatma Gandhi.

Well, that is brilliant, that is.

I'll tell you what, Bunton.

Get your card.

Clock off and fuck off.

You can have as long a break as you want, then.

Can I have one of them pork pies, please?

Yeah, one pork pie. Anything else?

No, thank you.

Can you just damage it a bit, please?

Damage it?

Just chip a bit of pastry off the side.

I can't.

Thank you.

What's your answer to that?

What are you doing here?

Stopping over for a couple of nights, Dad.

This is Pammy.

Hiya, Mr Bunton.

What do you want?

Talking to you, a lad.

In a bedroom?

Well, when we knocked on the front door, Pamela here didn't seem to think your

Kenny was at home. Would you believe it? We found him up here.

Shall we all go downstairs?

Well, all right.

Kenny should have given evidence yesterday at Leeds Crown Court, but he

did a runner.

What have you done, Kenneth?

Me? Nothing.

They want me to grasp a pal of mine.

You need a witness summons, then.

Has everyone in this family got a law degree?

I'm not legally qualified as such. I'm more a talented amateur.

One witness summons.

Leeds Crown Court.

Thursday.

Thank you.

We'll see ourselves out.

Ta-ra, boys.

Ta-ra.

You can't stay in this room.

I'll write in here.

My mum said it'd be all right.

Where is she?

Shops. I'll give her some money.

Not enough dinner now we're here.

Dinner's what they have down south up here. It's tea.

I'm against hanging on principle.

Unless it's for something really serious. That doesn't even make sense.

Are you saying I'm thick?

You know you're thick.

Kenny's maid stole a car, Dolly. You won't be hung for that.

Hanged. Eh?

It's hanged.

I love your toad in the hole, ma'am. Thank you, Jackie.

So, Pamela, what is your current domestic situation?

Give it a rest, ma'am.

I work for Mrs Gowling.

That's the wife of Councillor Gowling.

You may have heard of him. And what's it got to do with him? It's the difference

between right and wrong. Dad.

I agree with your mother. It'd be wrong for you two to be living in sin under

our roof.

What's happened to you?

You'll be voting Tory next.

But if it stays on in five minutes.

Can't get BBC.

Why not?

Dad took my band one coil out.

If you can't get the BBC, you don't have to have a licence.

But you've got one sellotape to the side of your television.

No, we haven't.

That's mine.

What are you doing that for?

To be normal.

Just fit the gizmo back in, then.

Dad's lost the coil.

So you pay for a television licence and you still can't receive BBC?

We don't like play for today.

It's just an excuse for a lot of bad behaviour.

Will you set your alarm, love?

What for?

Aren't you six to two tomorrow?

Aye, aye, you're right.

Belt and braces.

Sandwich love tomorrow, if you can manage. No problem.

Language!

She's got a nerve.

Counting your blessings or only arguing.

Meet the Quality Street gang, sizing up the works of art.

Boss, very small.

But inside, he's a hard nut. And fingers.

Elegant fingers. Everything you can touch.

I've been grateful for things like this.

I haven't been paid anything.

Never.

Not since the gallery opened.

Guitar.

No. What?

What?

Nothing.

You like that hollow, see?

I need

to

piss.

And I thought you were Carrie Grant.

Beauty. Dad, three horses a cubic later, 20 quid. The Mirror, they're making you

an offer.

I give them the patent, they put on an exhibition, charge the public to see the

duke and give me the proceeds.

Bingo!

How much is an exhibition raise?

30,000?

50,000? Who knows?

The patent's not been out the news, has it?

I'll be able to pay for God knows how many TV licenses.

He's not really going to use it all on telly licenses.

Why not?

Just saying.

Who couldn't make use of a couple of grand?

You think Robin Hood took her rake off? Aye.

Jackie, Robin Hood.

What if they're in it with the coppers?

You'll give them the painting.

They don't cough up. Then they shop you.

The mirror.

This is the workers' paper, Jackie lad. How are you going to get them painted?

Don't worry about that tomorrow. Tonight, celebration.

Summer family out. No, but Dad.

Irene's coming round.

More the merrier. Bring her along.

So, Mrs Bunham, how did you and Mr Bunham meet?

Oh, in his mother's pub in Tynemouth. He wiped me table four times.

It worked. You came back.

When she saw he was sweet on me, his mother said, some of his faults are good

faults. Can't we go to the seaside? How far is Tynemouth?

You wouldn't want to be dragged by your balls from here to Tynemouth. Kenneth,

language.

Irene's new to the family and she hasn't been married.

No, I'm still looking for me Prince Charming. Good luck finding him in

Benwell. Benwell Village.

Oh, you're so push, ma'am.

Here, carry her.

Four pie and chips, two cotton chips, mushy peas, three, and two pots of tea,

please. Four pie and chips, two cotton chips, three mushy peas, and two pots of

tea. Oh, second, boss, I prefer a lemonade.

Oh, and a lemonade, please, Pat. And a lemonade!

And there's the note.

What are you going to do with it? What?

Painting.

What painting?

Oh, I don't know. The painting of the Duke of Wellington by Francisco José de

Goya.

What are you suggesting? I'm suggesting that if you were to move the painting

somewhere neutral, safe, out the house, I could tell the authorities where it is

and we could split the 5,000 reward.

What? Or you can hang on to it and one day some very public-minded citizen

tells the police everything and gets all the money.

But we wouldn't want that to happen, would we? Because I like you and you

would have to go to prison.

Two and a half thousand? Each.

I can't do what I need to do. What do you want to do?

Help people. Oh, help yourself more like.

You're short of money.

Who is it?

She knows about it.

What?

The joke.

Mam, Pammy, she's after the reward money. She wants to split it with me.

What about the mirror effort? I know, I know, but if she goes to the police now,

we're done for.

If I take it back tonight, maybe they'll go easy on me.

What did you tell Mam?

What can I tell her?

Here, I'm going to slip back. Keep them entertained.

What am I supposed to do? You can't take them to the green tree.

I can explain.

Oh.

Oh, my good God.

It was you.

You stole the pin.

It's not theft for money. It's, you know, for the campaign.

You're a madman.

I'm living with a madman.

But you swore to me, you promised, if you've involved our Jackie. Jackie's had

nothing to do with it. Well, why is he wearing rubber gloves half the time? He

helped me build the panel.

So he is involved?

He hasn't touched the painting, not without rubber gloves on.

I'm shaking.

It's the shock. Shock, yes, I'm shocked. There's a stolen masterpiece in my

wardrobe. I'm taking it back.

Anything else I need to know?

I lost my job at the bakery.

Oh! There's a surprise.

I stood up against racial bigotry.

Well done. Someone had to say something. Yes, and it's called Martin Luther

Bloody King, not Kempton Bunton. You swore you'd get a job.

We had an agreement.

You lied.

You lied. You lied when you said all this would stop. You don't care, do you?

No, no, no. It's just me, me, me, isn't it? No one else exists.

Pammy knows I've got it.

Oh, heavens.

There's a reward, 5,000. She's after the money, so then... She'll go to the

police? It's possible, but... And they'll come here?

Only if it's... In the street!

They'll drag you out in handcuffs! Listen, calm down! I can't calm down!

I'm a top pitch!

I'm taking the painting back to London tonight, quietly.

That'll be the best thing for us, for all of us.

I might have to do a bit of time... It's a £140,000 painting, you'll do life! No,

love, it's not like that. I was going to use it, but...

You know, the greater good of mankind.

Mankind? What about your own kind?

You've broken this family.

You're disgusting.

Get up, you bastard. Go on, get up.

Dad.

Dad, I'm coming with you.

No, you're not. This is my thing. It's nothing to do with you now. Stay and

look after your mother.

Excuse me, sir.

Are you taking one of our paintings?

No, sir.

I'm bringing one back.

Meanwhile, in an unexpected development, Goya's portrait, the Duke of Wellington,

has been returned by hand to where it was stolen from London's National

Gallery. At a press conference, an official described how a member of the

public had simply walked in off the streets with painting under his arm,

wrapped up in a bit of old brown paper. And when our reporter tried it, nobody

batted an eyelid.

Mr. Hutchinson, are you trying to show this golf content? I said, my lord, no.

I'm actually trying to hide it.

Well, first rule of advocacy, don't be funnier than the judge.

Yes. Mr. Bunton, I'm your barrister, Jeremy Hutchinson.

Oh, that's a shame. I thought you were going to offer me a gin and tonic.

Well, I'm out tonight.

My wife is in the cherry orchard.

Lame range of sky, eh?

Indeed.

Like life, I can never decide if the cherry orchard is a tragedy or a farce.

You know the plan.

It's one of my favourites. I lost a child myself.

I'm sorry.

I'm a playwright.

As a matter of fact, I prefer Chekhov to Shakespeare. For me, the bard is over

-fond of his kings.

Eric Crowther, junior counsel.

Mr Hutchinson's wife is the actress Dame Peggy Ashcroft. Yes.

Oh, you're a lucky man.

Well... Court number one, eh?

The old Bailey.

The crucible of British criminal justice.

Dr Crippen.

Derek Bentley, Ruth Ellis.

They were all hung.

I mean, hanged. Well, they didn't have Mr. Hutchinson defending them.

Who's prosecuting?

Neddy Cusson.

Score's 72.

To you.

To him. Yes, born prosecutor, Neddy.

Defendant's always guilty until proven innocent.

Can you get me off?

Mr. Bunton.

You returned the Goya by hand and confessed to the theft. You gave the

police a detailed explanation of how you stole it, and you've explained your

motive.

Can I get you off?

Almost certainly not.

Meanwhile, Captain Bunton, the Newcastle man accused of stealing Goya's portrait

of the Duke of Wellington, arrived at the Old Bailey this morning for the

first day of his trial, and it was quite an entry.

We can still get there.

He's made his bed. He can lie in it.

The rest of the day was taken up with empanelling the twelve citizens.

Twelve good men and women who will tomorrow begin to hear what promises to

be one of the most eagerly awaited criminal trials since the war.

Another triumph for the Duke of Wellington.

And as queues begin to gather for access to the public gallery, there is no doubt

that even by the old Bailey standards, this one looks like being a very hot

ticket.

Are you Kempton Bunton?

Aye, but not named after Kempton Racetrack, as some would have it.

Even though it is probable that I was conceived there.

Is the yes or no answer?

Yes, my lord.

Your mother named me after Kempton Cannon, the jockey who rode St Amandt,

the winner of that year's derby.

Do you want me to explain, Bunton? I didn't want you to explain Kempton.

Charges.

Kempton Bunton, you are charged that on the 21st of March, 1961, you stole a

picture frame to the value of £80, property of the National Gallery.

How do you plead? Guilty or not guilty?

Not guilty.

In the second count, you are charged that on the same day you stole from the

National Gallery the portrait of the Duke of Wellington by the artist

Francisco Goya to the value of £140,000.

How do you plead? Guilty or not guilty?

Not guilty.

Yes!

To those unfamiliar with court proceedings, that was the plea, not the

verdict.

Kempton Bunton, you are further charged that following the theft of the

portrait, you made demands with menaces for its return.

Do you plead guilty or not guilty?

Not guilty.

And that you created a public nuisance by depriving members of the public of

the opportunity to view the portrait.

Do you plead guilty or not guilty?

Same again, love, not guilty.

Mr Cusson.

Thank you, my lord.

And at 5 a.m., when you returned from your rest break, what did you see?

Painting was gone, sir. Clearly stolen.

Thank you.

Mr. Edbury, if you could remain there, my learned friend will have some

questions for you.

Mr. Hutchinson.

No questions, my lord.

The conception, design and execution of this act was solely... singularly and

entirely my own.

And that statement is signed?

At Kenton Bunsen.

Thank you, Detective Inspector.

If you would stay there, Mr Hutchinson will have some questions for you.

Mr Hutchinson, the defence has no questions for this witness.

This rate won't be finished by tea.

And Dr Unsworth, what is your professional opinion of the hand?

The childlike scrawl across all the ransom notes is, when compared to his

normal script, unequivocally the feebly disguised hand of the accused, Mr.

Bunton. I'm grateful, Dr. Unsworth, if you would remain on stand.

Any cross-examination, Mr. Hutchinson, or are you trying to give it up?

The defense has no questions for this witness.

What are you doing? The dirt in this house.

Stop it.

Someone's got to keep this place clean. Lord know it, your father will drag us

into the gutter.

That's not true.

And it's not Dad's fault Marion died.

He bought her that bike, so as far as he's concerned, he killed her. You think

I don't know that?

Tell him, then. Talk about it.

Why do you think he does his plays and his leaflets and petitions?

Defend him all your life. I stole the paint.

Do you hear me?

I stole the Goya.

What? No.

No, you didn't take that pen. No, you did not.

Aye, it was me, not Dad.

Please, no, no, just please tell me you're talking nonsense, Jackie Bunton.

Oh, my God, I'm shaking. Mum?

Oh, I'm shaking.

Oh, you... Look at me, I'm shaking.

Stop it, you're just making yourself shake. No. Sit down. Oh.

But... Well... When did you go to...

It was that week I took off work. But you said... You said you went to Leeds.

You lied?

I was sick of you skivvying for Lady Muck.

Sick of them all laughing at Dad.

I thought the painting might be like... It might change everything.

So you're a liar and a thief.

I just thought if he had something them bloody Toffs wanted, they'd have to

listen to, you know, his TV crusade.

Crusade? Jesus Christ, is he now?

Oh.

I cased the gallery.

The guy was just sat there on an easel.

Not even a guard standing by it.

All I had to do was find somewhere I could break in.

I went to the toilet.

And I opened the toilet window and leaned out.

There was a courtyard below with all builder stuff and ladders.

Excuse me, mate. I went up to the security fella and asked him how you get

a job. You could try the office.

Cleaners work early mornings.

4 30.

getting all right son lucky buggers i was born lucky and then i figured

if the cleaners went at half four you'd have to turn the alarms so i went back

early morning a ladder up just below the toilet window climbed up and i

could hear one of them automatic floor polishes so i waited until he passed

I just walked across the floor.

Don't suppose you've ever been in your castle?

What did your father say when you told him?

Fucking hell!

What do you think?

I think, fucking hell!

140 grand. If you could sell it with your card.

I know, I'm not daft, but for pictures the insurance will pay out 10% for safe

return. Have you got a screw loose?

Are you angry with us? Angry? No, I'm... Furious, you stupid penis! You've nicked

the best-known pain on the planet! Get out!

Why can't we use it to get them free telly licences?

Blackmail the bastards!

Hold the bug in a ransom to better the lot of the common man.

One problem.

What's that?

Two words.

Mrs Dorothy Bunton.

We'll have to hide it from her? You can't hide anything from a woman in her

own house.

No, if she finds it, I stole it.

I'm not having you take... I stole it.

I'm gonna tell you it was in a frame.

Shit.

I took it off.

I must have left it under the bed in me digs. Sorry.

You'd lose your balls if they weren't in a bag.

It's not very good, is it?

I do solemnly, sincerely, and truly declare and affirm that the evidence I

shall give shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Excuse

me.

How old are you, Mr. Bond?

I don't know. I feel about 23.

You don't know your date of birth?

I never had a birth certificate.

1900, I think.

Do you know where you were born?

The back bedroom.

Of your mother's house in Newcastle.

Biker. If Newcastle was a dog, he lifted its tail, that hole there, that's biker.

Your father fought in the First World War at Ypres.

Wipers. He weren't an officer.

He came back in a wheelchair.

Aye. Tank ran over his legs.

How did he feel about the Germans after that?

Never a bad word.

Germans didn't have tanks.

You helped him to run his business.

Aye. He was a street bookie and I did his running for him. It was illegal, but

he could bribe the beat Bobby with 12 shillings.

I was as guilty as anybody. And who hasn't been guilty of a youthful

indiscretion, ladies and gentlemen of the jury? The past, as they say, is

another country.

Your father died and you lived with your mother who ran pubs. Aye.

They were a rough game, but she had a left hook like Henry Cooper's. Luckily,

she didn't cut quite as easy.

In the Second World War, you were refused service on medical grounds.

I'd done my bit. I drove lorries.

You married Jan.

I had to marry.

I had to marry.

It was love.

The decision was made for me.

Did you intend to steal this painting in a sense of permanently depriving the

gallery of it?

Never. Did you ever demand money with menaces at any time from anyone?

No, sir. In 1960, did you communicate with the post office about your

television licence?

Aye, I told them I had no intention of paying you because I couldn't receive

BBC. You went to prison for not paying. I did.

On your release, you continued a campaign for free television for

pensioners and war veterans. Is that correct?

I could afford a licence myself. It was about the principle of the thing. All my

life, I've looked out for other people and got into trouble for it.

When did that begin, looking out for others?

I was about 14.

Summer holidays.

I'd just finished reading Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness and I felt a

need to explore Sunderland.

But I got distracted and found myself on South Shields Beach.

I chucked myself in the sea to cool down.

A ripped tide dragged me out.

I was on my own, exhausted.

about a mile out, and I knew there was no way I'd get back in.

But I had faith, not in God, but in people.

I knew some nosy bugger would see a pile of clothes on the beach and put two and

two together.

So I trusted in that and waited.

Conserved me energy by floating, not swimming.

Looked at the sky, smile on my face.

You could call it trust.

An hour later, the lifeboat pulls up alongside and hauls me in.

The skipper was a milkman from Blythe.

By all accounts, a bit of a bastard.

Excuse my French.

But you know, as a milkman, I mean. But there's good and bad in all of us.

He saved my life that day. Could have been anyone, but I knew someone would.

I'm not me without you. Do you get me?

We all need each other. No, you are me.

It's you that makes me me.

and it's me that makes you you.

Humanity is a collective project.

Look, on me own, I'm a single brick.

Bit useless.

What good's a brick on its tod?

When you put a load of bricks together, you get a building, you build a

building, you create a shadow.

Already, you've changed the world.

Your philosophy, I think it earns the appellation. How did you apply this

thinking to your own struggle?

You can't help the dead, but you can be inspired by them. Some of them kids that

this country sent out to France and Belgium in 1914 came back.

They're over 65 now. Pensioners were not too punished to rub together.

And isolation, or not being connected, to use the modern lingo, is no kind of

life. So what you grandly call my philosophy, the I'm you and you're me

thing, tells me that every time someone gets cut off from the rest of us, this

nation, this country, becomes a foot shorter.

Mr. Branton, I suspect the jury are asking themselves how any of this

applies to the theft of the Goya.

Well, I saw on the news... The ITV news.

Very good.

I seen that the government was paying out £140,000 for this painting. That,

for me, became about numbers. If you put all that money into a bank account

earning 10% interest, you could pay for 3,500 TV licenses a year and reconnect

with all them people.

No further questions, my lord.

You saw the painting on the ITV news and realising it was worth £140,000, you

decide to come down to London to steal it for personal gain, didn't you?

I thought I'd kidnap it for a while, aye.

Where did you stay whilst you planned the heist?

I took digs near a bucket shop.

What's a bucket shop?

A shop that sells buckets.

Was that deliberate?

No, but it came in useful.

In what way?

Well, this isn't my city, is it? I don't know my way around. So I'd get to Camden

and ask a local, do you know where I can buy a bucket?

And that way you would get directions?

Everyone knows where you can buy a bucket.

Do you know the address of the shop?

Why? Do you need a bucket?

We... No, we need... Excuse me. We need the address because you say that you

removed the frame and hid it under the bed in your lodgings. So is the bucket

shop still there?

I've no idea. I've not been back. I'm not sure of buckets myself.

Mr Bunton, you are on trial.

This is not an audition for a musical.

Sorry, my lord.

What am I looking at?

Ten years?

I'll make my closing speech and then the judge will give his signing up.

Which, I warn you, may sound a bit like the second speech for the prosecution.

All the benches up there have this Latin phrase on them.

Domine dirige nos.

Lord Directors.

God help us, more like.

Well, I'll give you two some time.

Please.

Well, you're all over the papers.

Am I?

You could have told me.

We could have dealt with it together.

Could we?

I read the rest of your play.

I'm sorry you felt you were to blame. You're not.

I went to see her.

Nice spot, isn't it?

Lovely.

Cleaned it up a bit?

I like the wildness.

She died in the country.

Any excuse to do nothing.

How long will you get?

You didn't take the painting.

Would you rather Jackie was in the dock?

I'm sorry, Dolly.

It's a mess.

It's a mess, all right.

As night follows day, Kempton Bunton stole the goy.

So say the prosecution.

Now, that puzzled me.

Because nothing is a crime in this country unless it is expressly forbidden

by law.

If your neighbor borrows your lawnmower and doesn't return it for months, it is

frustrating. It is annoying.

But it is not theft.

Because he had no intention of permanently depriving you of it.

Kempton Bunton is your neighbor. He is not a thief.

He borrowed your Goya to... try and do a bit of good in this world.

In a world where... I am you.

You are me.

to try and benefit some of the most vulnerable people in society.

He returned it, delivered it, in person. The Goya, late?

Yes? Yes?

Yes?

Who amongst us hasn't been late returning a lawnmower?

When all is said and done...

He's a pretty good neighbor, really.

Isn't he?

Thank you.

And in response to Mr. Bunton's confession that he took the Goya...

you may consider that as a result of his defense, every gallery in the country

would be powerless to prevent anyone from borrowing the Rubens for the

weekend, to hang in the hallway to impress the chair of the Rotary Club.

Can this country really allow such behavior to be placed outside our

criminal law?

Now that is a question I urge you to focus on now as you retire to consider

your verdicts.

This is a good sandwich.

For cheese.

Will the foreman please stand?

And the defendant?

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, have you reached verdicts upon which all 12

of you are agreed?

We have.

On the charge of the theft of a picture frame to the value of £80, property of

the National Gallery, do you find the defendant guilty or not guilty?

Guilty.

There will be silence, or I shall order the public gallery cleared.

On the charge of the theft of the Goya portrait of the Duke of Wellington, do

you find the defendant guilty or not guilty?

Not guilty.

On the charge of demanding money with menaces for the return of the portrait,

do you find the defendant guilty or not guilty?

Not guilty.

Violence in court.

On the charge of creating a public nuisance by depriving members of the

public of the opportunity to view the portrait, do you find the defendant

guilty? Not guilty.

Silence! Silence! I will have silence!

Silence in court!

Remove that balloon.

Give us one of those bags.

You're here?

Of course I'm here. Where else do you think I'd be?

I haven't been wasting my time. I've written a couple of plays.

Shakespeare must be shivering in his boots.

I expect so.

And Chekhov.

Who's Chekhov?

You were in that play we went to see about the three sisters.

There she is.

Welcome home, Dad.

I'll put the kettle on.

Is one of those for me?

Wait your whistle.

Cheers. Cheers.

I needed that. I bet you did.

The Director of Public Prosecutions and I have considered the evidence in the

case and your confession.

It goes without saying it is an offence of the utmost gravity.

However, in order to prosecute, we would be compelled to call the

original defendant.

It puts us in a delicate position, given the public...

spectacle your father seems to create.

So it has been decided that prosecuting you may not be in the public interest.

What, you mean Kempton would make you look stupid again?

Sorry, I didn't mean... Of course, if a single word of this were ever to go

beyond these walls, we could always change our minds.

Clear? Clear.

Irene. I will. Will you marry me?

I just said, I will.

Just like you on this island, Dr. Miller.

It depends, Mr. Bond.

On which side of the glass you are.

A medium dry martini, lemon peel, shake and not stir.

Vodka? Of course.

bloody picture again he should put that into a wardrobe you'd have to get jackie

to fix it

Thank you.