All language subtitles for Barney.Thomson.2015.1080p.BluRay.H264.AAC-RARBG

I've got two styles...

Short back and sides,

and back and sides.

I start at the crown,

and work outwards methodically.

I like a calm
working environment.

Every barber has his quirk...

Well, except me.

I've not got any.
Don't see the point, really.

Head down...

Get on with it.

That's me.

I prefer it
when they don't speak.

I cannae be bothered
speaking to them either.

I like the quiet.

So what makes a legend,
do you think?

Heroism?

Well, that rules me out.

Self-sacrifice?

Not your man.

Nobility of purpose?

Can't help you there, either.

My life's always been boring.

I don't mind that.

There's a place
for being boring.

Cuttin' hair is boring.

Sittin' at home is boring.

That was all right.

I was a boring kind of guy.

If you'd asked me back then,
I'd have said I was content.

Smilin' in the corner,

the rain runnin' down my neck.

Then fate decided
to leap on my back,

and I turned round and saw

that I'd been nothing
all these years

but a howling ghost.

From nowhere, I was alive.

I'd never had to
deal with the law before.

Only had to look at a police
and I shatted.

But circumstances changed

and, suddenly, I had my very own
one-to-one copper

breathing down my neck.

Everywhere I turned,
there he was...

This big slab of bastard
staring right back.

Yeah, I was alive, all right,

but for how long?

I'm Barney Thomson,

and this is the story
of what happens

when you move chairs.

I'm telling ye.

: He's not
in the lynch league yet.

77 wins, and I'm talkin'
the pre-nutrition years.

14 knockouts on a diet
of irn-bru and dog food.

Comics by the door, Charlie.

Thanks, Barney.

: Hang on, sweetheart.
Can we talk a bit?

Don't believe that.

She's a fuckin' liar.
I wasn't at Karen's.

I had to go the hospital.

A shadow on my lung.

Nah, nah. It's fine.
They gave me tablets.

What are we doin' tonight?

Maybe you can come by again,

and I could gie ye
another "Maryhill Moothfae"...

Oh! That's fuckin' disgusting.

All right, darling.
See you in a bit. Bye.

Right, pal, up you come.

Doesn't even make sense.

Barney... can I have a wee chat?

Aye.

All this chatter must
be bothering ye, eh?

- What?
- Well, the boxing chat.

Is it bothering ye?

Och.

I think you might be, uh...

Might be happier up here.

- What, there?
- Aye.

Let me get this straight.

I was in the windae
for eight years,

then I was in the second chair,
then the third.

Now you want me oot by the bins?

I mean, that...

That's not even
a fuckin' barber's chair! Eh?

Fuck!

You have nae patter, Barney.

Nae sparkle.

You hang over the customers
like a shitty cloud.

standing there
like a big streak of piss.

It's like
you've had a charisma bypass.

You look like a haunted tree.
That's all I'm saying.

Well, your dad brought me
into this shop 20 years ago.

I'd like to hear
what he has to say about this.

Eh?

Right.
Let's get my da on the phone.

I'm a fuckin'...

Haunted tree?

You're like a fucking
shitty cloud.

Customers take
one look at you and think

you're a big streak of piss.

You're standing there
like a haunted tree.

You need patter.

All right, who's next?

I'm gonna wait
for Chris, thanks.

Yourself? What about you?

I'm just waitin' for Wullie,
if that's all right.

That's, uh... That's fine.

It isnae bloody all right. No.

Not one of you want to get
your hair cut by me?

Am i... Am I that bad?

What you want to wait
for these two for?

It's half-past three already.

You'll no all get seen!

Are you mental?

Come on, Barney.
That's out of order.

What is this?
Some kind of conspiracy?

First, you bump me
intae the back of beyond,

then you tell this bunch of...

To... to refuse my services?

Is that it?

Ye cannae have a go
at the customers.

Ah! Fuck this, Wullie.

Fuck this!

What's the point
of me even fucking being here?

Fuckin' fuck it!

Fuck!

Fuck!

Never a dull moment, eh?

The lab results came back, sir.

- They're negative.
- -Brilliant.

What are you gonna
tell the public?

The public can fuck off.

To date, there have been

five victims
from the Glasgow area

and you haven't been
able to make a connection

between any of them.

: You don't
even know where the bodies are,

except the bits the killer
sent to the next of kin.

: This case
should be given to someone

with more local knowledge.

: What
exactly are you doing all day?

Late last night...

Officers from this station
came into possession

of a valuable
piece of evidence...

The exact nature of which

I am not at Liberty to divulge.

Oh, come on!

So what's this new
piece of evidence, sir?

Nothing. I lied,

which is why
I'm in the shape of a frog.

Well, the superintendent
wants to see you.

Of course he does.

What are you playing at, 127?

If you walk into
a room backwards,

with your trousers
round your ankles,

don't be surprised
if you get bummed rotten.

And never, never drag
the force in with you.

I'll not have my team
mass-bummed

on your say-so!

Is that clear?

Don't interrupt me.

thinking we've just about
got this thing wrapped up

when, as far as I can see,

in the two months...

Two fucking months...

You've been on this case,

you've managed to narrow
your list of suspects down to

"people in the Glasgow area

who've been to the seaside
in the last 12 weeks."

The killer will
think we're onto 'im,

and might make a mistake, sir.

He'd fucking well better.

Fucking Mcmanaman.

He's got to fill
his day up somehow.

I mean, his in-tray consists of

staring out the window

whilst having a gentle wank
over the "daily star."

What's the big breakthrough?

Fuck off! It's my case.

Is it an actual breakthrough,

or is it just
a we-made-it-up breakthrough?

What the fuck is that?

Inspiration!

Oh, I been meaning to ask ya,

how's "operation:
Touchy little boy" coming along?

Do you want to do this
right now?

'Cause I'm fucking
well up for that!

Get your tits out of my face.

Come on, six. Come on.
Come on, number six.

Come on, number six!

Come on, get a move-on,
get a fucking move-on!

Get a move-on, ye wee shite!

Come on, come on! Yes!

Oh, fuck this shite!

You wee fucking shite!
You're a fucking wee shite!

So fucking shite. Fucking dog.

- Oh, Christ.
- Here you go, mum.

What kept you?

Celebrity booking?

Oh.

Cannae beat a fish supper.

Get off!

- Busy today?
- Aye.

Tips?

Plenty.

Tell ye what...

Hand 'em over to me

and I'll put them
on the next race.

Nah, you're all right.

Bathgate leopard...

Three to one.

No, no thanks.

Oh, come on!

No.

A fiver gets you 15 quid.

I've not got any money!

Nah.

Who'd ever tip you?

Not me.

You not put any vinegar on it?

You didn't put any on.

: Crap.

They talk crap all day.

Boxing.

That's their sole currency.

You know, I was in that windae
for eight years.

That meant something.

I'm 50, Charlie.

What the fuck happened there?

I mean, it's every man's right

to reach
his full potential. Right?

But it passed me by.

Aye.

What am I gonna do?

Nothing.

I've got a mother
that's digging her claws in

like an auld buzzard,

I live in a shitey, wee flat...

And the last time with a bird,

"shakin' Stevens"
was number one.

I've not had
my kick at the ball.

All I've got is that job.

The bastards are trying
to take it away from me.

You want them to like you.

Like me?

I want to fuckin' kill them.

Pew!

: He's fucking
laughing at us, 127.

Yes, sir.

The public are gonna string us
up for this, you realize.

Yes, sir.

Right.
I'm replacing you as lead.

What?

And you, 529.

No, sir, it's 20 past 10, sir.

529's your fucking number!

You're off the case as well.

You'll be taking orders
from 119 from now on.

Thank you, sir.

Just take me...

Uh, take me
through your plans, uh, 119.

so we'll find out
who's recently disappeared,

who last saw them.

I'll put holdall here
out in the field,

investigating
the missing person files.

Don't you think
we should be looking

for the rest of him?

119's in charge now, 127.

Is that plate from the canteen?

Ah, fuck me.

Tell forensics to get
their own fucking plates!

I'm not eating off a plate
that's served up a human arse.

Right. Off you go.

Oh, ho, ho! Listen to this.

"Angelina Jolie seeks Brad Pitt

for weekday dog track evenings."

Give me that.

"Sleek hatchback, low mileage,

"big headlights,

"needing a right good service.

Hamilton area."

Now, they're not shy, are they?

- You want a pen?
- Fuck off.

"Mature woman
seeks adventurous man

for nights of
unbridled passion."

Nah, nah. That's
what we call a "gilf."

What's that?

It's a "granny I'd like to..."

fuck's sake, Chris. Come on.

Right, McAllister this weekend
at bellahouston...

What's his chances?

Good boy, but...

I always loved westerns.

I wanted to be
"the man with no name,"

you know,
the guy who rides into town,

saves the townsfolk,

and disappears
in the dead of night,

shrouded in mystery.

They'd talk about this legend
for years to come...

But no...

I was one of
the pissy, wee townsfolk,

where every fucker
knows your name.

I wanted to grind 'em
into the Lane under my heel.

Well, careful what you wish for.

Barney.

Barney!

A wee word?

I'm not really sure
how to say this.

A pal of my dad's
has moved into the area.

He wants to give him a job.

Eh?

Cannae have ye falling asleep

in the shop, Barney.

And we can't have
any more outbursts

like ye had yesterday.

Oh, no, that was a one-off.

That was not a one-off.

You have regular outbursts.

You cannot talk
to customers like that.

It's not my fault you look like

a fucking cartoon bear,
is it? Up. Oot.

You can work for another month,
if you like.

We'll understand if you want
to leave now, of course,

and we'll keep pay your wage
for the rest of the month.

You don't need to make
a decision now, but...

I'll stay for the month.

But we would be paying
your wage for the month,

whether you're here or no.

Well, I'll be here.

Great.

I'll let my da know.

Jesus Christ.

I'll get a mop.

No, I'll get a mop. I'll get...

Wullie, wullie... Look, please.

Don't do this.

It's not my decision.

Ah, but you see, this place,

it's all I know.

Come on, Wullie.

Be a pal.

I've got nothing else on.

Aw, Barney.

Still, it's not my decision.
It's up to my da.

No, no. That's rubbish!
It is your decision.

You and Chris.
You want me out the door.

Think I'm a fucking idiot?

I'll get the mop.

Oh, I'm so sorry.
I didn't mean that.

I-I-I'll get the mop.
J-j-j-just... listen.

I-I'll be so quiet.

You'll no hear
another peep out of me.

You're embarrassing
yourself now, Barney.

Have a bit of self-respect.

- I'll be so quiet...
- Let me get the mop!

No, please.
I'll be a model barber!

: Oh...

Fucking hell!

Shite...

Hello. Henderson's.

: Is that lazy bastard
husband of mine there?

Uh, no. No, he's not.

Where is he?

Well, he said that he...
He was leavin' early to...

Go do a bit of... shopping.

Well, he's never been
to the shops in his life.

That's what he said.

If he's late back,
I'll kill him.

That won't be necessary.

Well, cheerio.

Goodbye.

Fuck!

Shit.

Fucking hell!

What's that you've got there?

- Eh?
- What's that?

How ye doing, Charlie?

- Nothing.
- What's that?

Nothing!

I'm getting chips.

Good! Cheerio.

Ye cannae touch it!

It's full of hair chemicals

and stuff like that.

Ye need gloves to touch it.

Okay?

Cheerio, then.

Get ye fucked, Charlie!

I'm only trying
to help ye, Barney.

All right, all right, look.
Just...

You can help, but just...
Be quick, will ye?

I tell you what...

I really appreciate it, Charlie.
Just, uh...

You swing by the shop sometime,

and I'll give ye a haircut
on the house, eh?

- Okay.
- Okay?

Uh-huh.

Away and enjoy your chips.

- Right, then.
- Okay.

Cheerio.

Where is it,
where is it, where is it?

Where is it, where is it?

: W-what was
the name of that loch

you, me, and my da went to?

The forest on one side,

and r-really hard to get to.

What loch?

That one,
the one with all the wee boats.

Loch Lubnaig.

Loch Lubnaig! That's it.

Lubnaig, Lubnaig.

Why the commotion?

Uh, n-nothin'.

Just, uh...

I saw a painting in a...

In a charity shop
at the Barras the other day,

and I just wondered if it was...
It was that.

How do you manage to pack
so much excitement

into one life?

Hmm?

Seeing as you're here,

you can give me
a lift to the Barras.

It's my bingo night.

No, I'm sorry, mother, I can't.

I'm... I'm actually quite busy.

You maybe didn't hear me.

It's my bingo night
at the Barras!

Right. I'll see you later.

I'll be needing a lift home.

How long are ye gonnae be?

Couple of hours.

Oh!

I cannae sit out here
for that length of time.

Mum, what're you doing?

I told Lizzie and Theresa

you'd give 'em a lift home.

I've got something on!

Our carriage awaits!

Oh, this is awfully
good of you, son.

On you go!

- Okay, night-night.
- Bye.

- Thanks very much, Barney.
- Watch yourselves.

Don't do anything I wouldn't do.

See ya, Cemolina.

It's Wullie.

I've killed Wullie.

I saw that.

Mum...

It was an accident.

I had a pair of scissors
in my hand,

and-and he slipped and fell.

Then you phone the police.

You don't wrap him up
like a stair carpet!

No, I couldnae phone the police.

He just sacked me.

It's...
They'd say I had a motive.

What'd he sack you for?

'Cause I've no got any chat.

Aye, well.

Mum...

What am I going to do?

For Christ's sake, shut up.

Leave him at mine.

Eh?

Any better ideas?

Ahh.

What now, mum?

I'm gonna have to
fish it out with my spoon.

No, what're we gonnae do now?

How should I know?

Well, don't you be

bringing anybody up here now.

Do you think I'm fucking
stupid or something?

Eh?

For fuck's sake.

: So,
the first one's Mrs. Stuart,

and, uh, then we'll go
to Mrs. McQueen.

When did you last
see Stuart, Sheena?

Tuesday. 8:00.

Now, I wasn't sure about whether
I declare him missing at first,

you know, he's not been
away that long,

then I thought, well, you lot,

you've got nothing
better to do, eh?

Definitely Monday?

Tuesday!

He went missing
on a Tuesday morning.

Definitely.

No, it was Wednesday. Thursday?

Wednesday? Or Thursday?

Friday.

Definitely Friday.

Wednesday, Thursday, or Friday?

Monday.

: I moved up here
at my wife's insistence

of being near her dying mother.

That was 20 years ago,

and I'm still here.

And so is her fucking mother.

Oh... god.

How I loathe this...

Vomit-lashed shit-hole!

Hey, you, you poncey bastard!

Ahem. All right, gents.

Oh... poncey...

You're something special, eh?

Late again, Porter.

Fuck off.

Wullie didn't get in last night.

What?

Moira called.
He didnae make it home.

Maybe he's been got
by that killer.

Maybe his baws are being posted
from arbroath as we speak.

You all right, lads?

You might want
to come back later.

We're a man down.

I know.

I'm detective inspector holdall.

This is detective sergeant
MacPherson.

We'd like to have a word about
your missing colleague.

- For fuck's sake!
- Oh, I'm sorry.

We won't keep you.

Oh, ho, ho, ho, ho, ho.

Benny lynch... mm?

Champion of the world!

Yeah. You know what
his mistake was?

He stayed here...

Eh? With the dregs
and the hangers-on.

Bleeding him dry...
Sucking out his soul.

Can you imagine
what he would've achieved, eh?

Longer career...

The women of the world
at his feet...

If only he'd have
had the courage

to get out of this shit-hole.

Can we sit down?

Yes.

Chris, could you
finish the customer?

Sit down?

I'm fine.

I-I'm fine standing.

This is purely
a missing persons investigation,

Mr. Thomson.

A Mrs. Henderson
reported her husband missing

yesterday afternoon.

Mrs. Henderson says

you were the last person
to talk with Mr. Henderson.

Is that correct?

Yes.

Now, there's no need

to be so nervous, Mr. Thomson,

this is...

- I quite understand.
- Routine.

I quite understand.

Did Mr. Henderson tell you
where he was going?

He... he said something
about, uh...

Going to the shops.

Uh, he asked me to lock up,
and then he... left.

Was it normal

for Mr. Henderson
to go to the shops after work?

You know,
I-I-I don't really know

wh-what Mr. Henderson
did outside of work,

because we weren't really
friends.

Wasn't really friends.

Mm-hmm.

Um, did you suspect

that something
might have happened

to Mr. Henderson?

I quite understand.

Sorry?

Slip of the tongue,
you know how it is.

What?

Speaking to the police.

You know, this?

You know... heh...
You... you feel guilty,

even though you...
You've never done nothing wrong.

I mean, it's not as if
I've stabbed Wullie

with a pair of scissors
or anything like that, you know?

Would... would you like
a glass of water?

No, I'm fine.

Where was your colleague,

Mr. Porter, when you wasn't
stabbing Mr. Henderson

with your scissors?

Oh, he-he-he left early,

because we were nae
very busy that day.

That bit about the stabbing?
That was just a joke.

You think this
is funny, Mr. Thomson?

Not at all.

I'm only joking.

You have no idea
how nervous you look!

Did Mr. Henderson

tell you that he was not

gonna have you
in the shop anymore?

I have no knowledge of that.

See, Mr. Henderson's father
says that Mr. Henderson

was gonna tell you about it
yesterday.

Did he say anything to you?

No.

Oh, well!

That's us.

Would you send
Mr. Porter in, please?

Yes.

Oh.

I used to sometimes
hide in toilet cubicles,

you know, convinced
I was about to die,

and I went to see this man.

Do you know what he said to me?

He said the biggest instigator

of a panic attack is...?

Guilty conscience.

Yeah.

Mum? Mum!

Can I have a word?

What? Carry on, girls!
Regardless!

What are you thinking?

Mr. Johnstone
in the bowling club

has a brain tumour...
Out like a light.

Nobody thought
to arrange anything

after the funeral,

so I brung the girls back here

for a wee Hooley.

Have you seen Mrs. Gaffney?

Last week, she wandered
into the laundrette

in her nightie!

Where the fuck's Wullie?

Cemolina, have you got
a carpet sweeper?

- Eh?
- Barbara's couped the ashtray.

Just down the hall,
next to the toilet.

Mum, mum...

Where did you put the body?

Wait two minutes.

Barbara, what
the fuck have you done?

Is that you making soup
for yer mammy, son?

Uh-huh...

Oh, fuck!

I like soup!

Mrs. Gaffney!

The laundrette's shut.

Cheerio, then.

Soup, you say. Soup!

- Cheerio.
- Oh!

Oh!

Ahh!

Thanks very much.

We all enjoyed ourselves.

Uh-huh. You watch yourself.

Fine, fine.

All right. Okay.

Night-night.

God almighty.

I'm checkered!

I'm no even packed for

my "route to the isles"
discovery tour

in the morning.

Two days, all-in,

including breakfast
and your evening meal...

42 pounds!

You believe that?

How did you manage that?

You chopped him up!

You've even fucking labeled him!

I label everything.

James?

Barney.

On the button.

Appreciate that.

I'll be here until

that son of mine decides
to show his face again.

Right.

Wife's convinced
that killer's got him.

Could be posting his baws
from arbroath as we speak.

Aye.

to what he'll get
when I get my hands on him.

You look hellish.

You found yourself a woman yet?

Nah.

That's a fucking empty
existence you've got there,

is it not?

Sometimes.

Minute late, Porter.

Sorry, Mr. Henderson,
I was, eh...

I was crawling the green there

and I was threatened
by a bunch of, um... wasps.

Get that shite off.

Did, uh...

Wullie have a chat with you
the other day?

Well, did he say anything

about anything?

Not that I can think of.

Ahh.

Glad to hear it.

: Up, down, up, down!

Are we a team?

: Yes!

- Let me hear ya! Are we a team?
- Yes!

For fuck's sakes.

Two, three, four...

Five, six, seven...

: Everybody's looking.

This is the heart attack
capital of Europe.

Look at the state of you!

You look like
a depressed milkmaid.

What is this?

The "river dance" branch?

Update me.

The barber, Thomson,

he was a bit weird.

I think we should have
another shot at him.

What's his connection

Mm. I just think
he's holding something back.

Spare me your woman's intuition.

Go and check on missing persons.

One, two, three!

Fuck off.

Show me what you've got!

Face the front!

Tits and teeth! Teeth and tits!

One, two, three...

Hiya, Barney.

Hey, Charlie.

I'm doing my summer job tonight.

They need two folk on it.

Aye?

Funny, ain't it?

Wullie wanting you
out the window,

you saying
you wanted to kill him,

and him disappearing.

What are you saying?

- It's funny.
- What's funny?

You'll come tonight.

The fair's in town.

: Roll up, roll up.
All the fun of the fair.

Step right up.
Tighten your seatbelts.

It's gonna be a bumpy ride.

Try and look as if
you're having a great time.

We're trying to
attract punters here.

See, the thing is,

I need to be chummed-up,

otherwise, I look like
one of the pedophiles.

Do we no just
look like two pedophiles?

Ahh. Right enough.

Remember, we went
to the circus last year?

I like fairgrounds.
I hate circuses.

Clowns should be tortured.

And as for mimes...

I'd strangle the bastards.

Uh, two big hotdogs,
with onions.

Barney's paying.

Listen, Charlie, come here.

I was thinking. Um...

You see, all that talk
the other day,

it was just talk.

I know. I know. I know!

I helped you put
that bag in your car.

What?

That was the last night
Wullie was seen, was it no?

Fuck off. W...

I didn't kill Wullie!

No. No, I know that.

I'm just saying.

And a big coke!

Barney's paying.

Aren't you, Barney?

Fuck off!

I don't even know

why I fucking bother
hanging about with you.

Look at the state of you.

Mental bastard.

Shouldnae have said that.

: Aye. That's me
away for the day, boys.

Moira's frantic about Wullie.

I'm taking her to the doctor's,

see if he can give her
something to knock her out.

I'm gonnae kick his arse
from here to fuckin' doomsday.

Maybe a wee
online gambling habit

that got out of hand?

You think?

Och, I don't know.

You could be onto
something there.

Right enough.

Wullie's mad keen on the boxing.

Enjoys the odd flutter.

Maybe somebody's after him...

Maybe he's taken to the hills.

You know...

You may have hit on something...

Gah.

What's this
about a free haircut?

Mind. Ye said.

We're about to close up.

Just do it and get rid of him.

Free haircut, eh?

Aye, well, uh...

Just said to him, last week,

I thought he could maybe
do with a wee trim.

Eh, Charlie?

That's unusually
generous of you, Barney.

I'll tell you what.

Uh, you head off. I'll lock up.

Away and see
your girlfriend, eh?

What the hell am I
gonna do with this?

Where's Wullie? On his holidays?

Could be, Charlie, could be.

Is that why you needed my help

with that stuff on Wednesday?

Cannot think
what you're on about.

Away ye go, Chris.

I thought my hands
might get burnt

by they chemicals,

but they're fine!

What chemicals?

Well...

Wullie and I did the tidy-up,

and I took the rubbish out.

but there...
There was chemicals.

I thought you were leaving.

You couldnae lift it
on yer own, eh, Barney!

It was massive. Massive!

Just shut up, Charlie!
Look, just let me do your hair.

That's him done.

No, no, look...

He's done!

Another time, Charlie, eh?

Thanks very much.

You mind the roads now.

So what was in
this "massive bag"

that took two of you's to lift?

Cut a lot of heavy hair
on Wednesday?

Well, it seemed like it.

Did you kill Wullie?

What?

You killed Wullie.

Didn't you?

It was an accident.

You are so fucked.

No, no, no, no.

I'm not bloody well taking this

off the likes of you anyway.

You're come swanning
in here every morning,

half an hour late,

then you spend
the rest of the day

on that phone with
some stupid wee Lassie.

Have ye ever thought who pays
for these phone calls?

Have ye? Eh?

You make me bloody sick.

And it was an accident.

Bastard!

Now, there was a couple of ways

Talking Chris out of
smashing my head in

at this point seemed unlikely.

But fate stepped in once more

and booted me
right in the balls.

And there's the bell!

But no one hears it.

He turns away.
He seems doubtful, muddled...

It's all over...

Chris?

Oh, fuck, not again.

Mum!

Oh.

Mum, wh-where are you going?

I told you,
my trip with the girls!

They'll pick you up
from anywhere

if you give them
advance warning.

Och, two days
of indulgent bliss.

I cannot wait.

I need your help.

Och...

Talk to me through the door.

Okay.

Well...

There's been another...
Wee accident.

What? Hey?

Speak up! I cannae hear you!

What are you saying?

I cannae hear you!

Is this the queue?

It's the ladies.

All right, Mr. Thomson?

H-how did you...

We followed you.

Just as well
we turned up when we did.

Aye?

Yeah, well, you was driving away

when we was coming
round the corner.

Oh, really?

I need to ask you
a few more questions

about Mr. Henderson.

Now, what can you tell me

about associates he might have?

He was a gambler.

He-he was a gambler.

That's right, yeah.

You know, he was always
going tae boxing matches,

casinos...

And that-that kind of thing.

You know, he actually owed

quite a lot of money.

Come tae think of it,

he was in a bit of trouble.

Are you going on your holidays?

Oh, no, no, that's my mum's.

There's a coach trip.

I'm just here to make sure
she gets off safely.

Mum?

Anyway, you got to look out
for your mum, eh?

She'd do anything for me.

Oh...

Anything at all.

Hi, mum.

I'd give it a couple of minutes.

Thanks very much.

Ooh, ooh, pull back
there, Neddy.

Now, do you know

if Mr. Henderson had
any dealings

with a Stephen Murphy,

John Murter,

Richard Colquhoun,

or a Robert Dodds?

Wait a minute,
that's they murdered folk.

I had absolutely fuck all
to do with that.

This is harassment!

I had absolutely nothing
to do with that,

and there's nothing you can say

to prove otherwise.

Mum! Mum!

Mum!

Mum, you okay?

You all right?

Come and have a seat.

Have a seat.

Come here.

There we are.

Are you okay?

Mum...

We can help you take her

up to the hospital if you like.

No, she's fine.

Best leave us to it, eh?

She don't look fine.

Well, it happens
all the time! Just...

I'm better on my own.

You come down to the station

and make a list of all
Mr. Henderson's known associates

over the past six months.

And I want an account

of your whereabouts
for the last week.

Uh-huh.

Okay.

Mum, you okay?

Christ.

Mum, do you want an ambulance?

Just get my fucking keys.

But, mum, see,
these others, it wasnae me.

It had nothing to do with me.

You need to believe me.

Oh, god. God.

Ooh!

Ha!

Oh! I'm here.

Oh, god.

Here, guess who's coming?

Aye, just for a wee bit
of discovery, eh?

I didn't win
a fucking thing that night.

Mum! Mummy!

Mum!

It wasn't me.

The others
they were talking about,

I had nothing to do with that.

Fuck off.

Mum, it wasnae me!

Mum!

Mrs. Gaffney!

Is it?

Have you been here
since the party?

Come on, I'll take you back.

I'll just go
to the toilet first, son.

No, no, no, no!

- Oh!
- Whoa, whoa, whoa, no...

I-I I'll see you.

I think your pal's
ready for his bed.

That's right, there you are.

Fuck me.

Ah.

Sorry, Chris.

Ah, fuck it.

What the fuck?

Oh...

Oh...

Oh, fucking hell.

Oh, mummy.

Montrose.

Pitlochry.

Arbroath.

Fuck.

What do you want?

"Mature woman looking for
unbridled passion?"

Do you mind saying that
again in English, sir?

I can't understand
a word you're saying.

Yeah, I realize you're Scottish.

I know I'm up here.

Why are you here?

Thomson told us

Henderson had
a gambling problem,

and he was in a lot of debt.

Now, I've just spoken
to six bookies

from the local area,

and not one of them has said
that Henderson bothered him.

So, that means
Thomson's lying, right?

He's turning shitting himself
into an art form.

Yeah, well, I'd shit myself

if every time I turned round,

I saw your fucking
big cockney face

staring back at me.

Just... forget Barney Thomson!

This is not
a barber-based crime!

And give me the phone.

Get out there and check on
the missing persons

like I ordered you to!

Give me my phone back.

I need it.

You've got your own phone.

I need two.

Sir!

We've just had a report in,

another missing person.

Fuck 'em.

Sir, it's one of
the other barbers.

From that same barbershop.

That guy called Porter.

Well.

Have you mentioned this
to strap-one-on Robertson?

I was just about
to tell her, sir.

Good.

Right, son,

let's go and interview
the demon barber of Bridgeton.

The next train to depart
from the rear of platform 5

will be the 1712

first rail service to Girvan

calling at Barrhead, Dunlop,

Stewarton, Kilmaurs, Kilmarnock,

Troon, Prestwick
international airport...

No. No sign.

Well, he's probably
up in arbroath,

posting Porter's balls
to his auntie.

Let's check out Porter's flat.

Come on.

Right.

Right.

I had no idea, officer.

I'm absolutely stunned.

Mind you, the...

The dark side of Chris
was never too far away.

He was always, um,

flipping his razor out,

rubbing his self up and down

against the back
of the barber's chair,

you know, that kind of...
That kind of thing.

You know, if you ask me,

I think his childhood
had a part in all of this.

You know that his mother
used to, uh,

lock him in the bunker,

throw in a boiled egg
now and again.

Get him out,

dress him up
in one of her nighties,

and get him to dance
for his uncle Gerald.

Now...

Does that sound normal to you?

Ah.

I have no idea
where he could be.

I mean,

there was a friend in Lewisham,

but, uh, why would he go there?

Right.

The freezer.

What the fuck?

You're that copper
off the telly!

You're Taggart.

You're off the bill?

You're a loser.

Oi, Taggart!

Has there been a murder?

My ma thinks
you're shite, Taggart.

Fuck off!

He killed them,

then he put them in the bin.

He put them in the bin,
because...

He was...

Awfully tidy.

Ah, fuck.

Fucking little sweaty socks.

He fuckin' boiled them.

He cut them up
and he fuckin' boiled them.

You don't think we should
check with Robertson

about a warrant, sir?

Radio reception
round here is shocking.

What are you doing in there,

ya dirty wee bastard?

Yer at it, aren't ye?

With one of
yer dirty wee lassies.

Ya dirty, dirty wee bastard.

What the fuck?

Ya dirty, dirty wee bastard.

Are ya doin' it right now?

Show me, show me.

Do ye want to watch?

'Cause we're doin' it right now.

Come, come closer and see.

Oh aye?

Sir?

The fuck?

What is that?

Fuck me.

Oh, I think we've hit
the jackpot, kid.

That's handy.

You dirty, dirty bastard.

Fuck you, Robertson.

I will have your arse
for disobeying orders!

We couldn't reach you.

We thought maybe
you'd gone deep cover.

In a boys' school's shower.

Don't you fucking start...

Look!

There's a piece of each victims,

some represented
more than others.

There's also a receipt
for a train ticket...

Glasgow to London.

Filed a report yet?

Hey? Hey?

Well, I'll take it from here.

As of now, off you fuck.

Nae Wullie.

Now nae Chris.

Well, Chris likes
a Friday night.

Probably lying
in his own piss somewhere.

It's the middle of the week.

Barney Thomson?

We need to contact him
very urgently,

so, you know, if you could...

up against the back
of the barber chair.

Oh...

And he had a cousin

in Lewisham,

in London.

So, what was your
last contact with him?

Just normal, you know.

He left.

Uh...

I tidied up,

and everything was just...

Perfectly normal.

Yeah.

Okay.

That's fine, Mr. Thomson.

So if you could, uh,

send in Mr. Henderson, please.

Okay.

Hey. Hey...

Shoo. Shoo! Shoo, shoo, shoo!

Go! Well, don't.

Just, fuck off!

Fuck off, dog!

Don't... get fucked.

Just beat it.

Fuckin'...

Well...

So, that's that, then.

My laddie's deid.

I'm afraid so, Mr. Henderson.

If you'd like to accompany us
to the station,

we can fill you in
on the details that we have

up to this point.

Nah, you're all right.

I've got a couple of regulars
coming in an hour.

Life must go on, eh?

Bye, girls!

See you's at the bingo!

Don't do anything I wouldn't do.

I know what you've fucking done!

Less of the language.

Know what?

I've been in your flat.

What the hell were you doing

There's been another accident.

Oh, god.

Who is it this time?

Chris.

Chris? Chris who?

The other fucking barber!

Ooh, well done.

I've been in your freezer.

You're that body parts killer.

I know.

What have you got in there?

Your pals.

Get in the fucking car.

What the hell
are you playing at?

Eh?

Have you been
driving around with...

You cannae keep them in the car!

Are you mental?

Look, I wanted to plant
them in Chris's flat

and make it look like
he was the killer,

but he's got a wee freezer.

What?

His freezer's too wee!

His freezer's too fuckin' wee!

Would you just
listen to yourself?

I never saw
the fuckin' point of you.

Chris Porter, last seen
by Barney Thomson

on Monday evening

when he left
Henderson's barbershop.

His girlfriend
reported him missing

the following afternoon.

Under my instruction,

di holdall and ds MacPherson
were sent on a routine check

to the individual's flat,

where they found
several body parts,

which I believe to be connected

to the serial killer's victims.

We're just waiting on pathology

for confirmation.

We also discovered a receipt

for a train ticket to London

the previous day.

Anything to add, 127?

It's too clean, sir.

It's like the evidence
was laid on for us.

Now, there are follow-ups
I'd like to instigate

before we go public.

Barney Thomson?

You're obsessed.

I talked to the man yesterday.

You know where he was

when Henderson went missing?

The bingo.

Does that sound like

a crazed serial killer to you?

Ah, Jenkins.

I've just completed
the pathology report, sir.

You have the floor.

It couldn't have been Porter
who chopped up those bodies.

It's normal for there to be
skin cells present

on anything we touch,

but with the vigorous
chop-chop-chopping,

those would have been enhanced.

These skin cells determine
the age of the assailant.

I'd state in a court of law

that this was done by someone
in their late 60s,

early 70s.

Well, I'll be fucked.

So Porter's got an accomplice.

Exactly so, 119.

And it isn't Thomson, 127.

Right,

you will now interview
every old lag in Glasgow.

Every last one.

You go near Thomson again,

I'll put you on traffic.

Get out there
and find Porter's accomplice.

Why did you do it?

I don't know.

You do it once,

you sort of get the bug for it.

I can't explain, it's like...

You know you shouldn't,

and that's part of
the kick, you know?

Going on dates,

you never knew what
you were going to get.

Fuckin' hell.

Well, what do you
want me to say?

"Sorry?"

It's Noe as if I'm entirely
without compassion.

I sent the relatives something
to remember them by.

What, an arse?

Get off my back.

Did you kill dad?

Oh...

he fucked off to Australia.

I kept asking you why,

and you couldnae give me
a straight answer.

You couldnae

because you fucking killed him.

Shite.

I never told you

because I knew you couldnae
handle the truth.

So, what's the truth?

He moved to Harthill
and opened a tobacconists.

Harthill's only
five fucking miles away!

See? I knew you'd be like this.

Well, why didn't he
keep in touch?

Maybe he was just
like everybody else.

Maybe he couldn't be fucking
bothered with you either.

Know why?

'Cause he wasn't your dad.

What do you mean
he wasnae my dad?

Him.

That wee prick.

He wasnae your dad.

What's the matter with you?

Well, who-who was my dad?

"Who was my dad?"

- I don't bloody know.
- How no?

- "How no?"
- How fucking no?

I was a very busy
lady back then!

I didn't know
any of the punters' names!

I didn't want to know!

Punters?

As long as they paid up front,
I didn't care.

I just pointed them
round the back,

that way you don't have to look
at their fucking ugly faces.

I had the women's realm

spread out
on the chest of drawers,

I'd be flicking
through that all day.

That's what got you through.

Vermin, the lot of them.

Don't you look at me like that.

You do anything to get by.

Your granny, she had a place
above the butcher shop

on London road.

It's one the nail salons now.

Granny Beattie?

Aye.

Think what she had to do

to keep you in fucking
Dolly mixture.

Aw, Christ...

What? That's life.

Is it fuck!

Oh, you would know, would you?

You, what, all the living
you've been doing.

Look at you.

I thought I'd been careful.

And one day, of course,
the inevitable happens,

and here we are.

Total fucking disaster.

I kept meaning to tell you.

You kept fucking
meaning to tell me, did you?

You kept meaning to tell me?

This is shite!

Absolute fucking shite!

You don't give a fuck
about anything, dae you?

It's all a fucking laugh to you.

This is my fucking life here!

This is shite.

This is fuckin' shite.

Get up.

Get up.

Will ya get up!

Look at you,

a big bubbly bairn!

You make me sick.

Be a man for once, will ya!

"Oh... mummy!"

"Oh, mummy, me want pudding!"

"Mummy!"

"What 'bout me!"

"Me want Beezer! Me want dandy!"

"Me want cuddles!"

"Me want cuddles, mummy!"

"Mummy, where's daddy?"

"Mummy! Mummy!"

"Mummy, I shat myself, mummy!

Mummy, I shat myself, mummy!"

"It's sticky, mummy!"

"Me sticky!"

"I love you, mummy,
I love you, mummy!

I love you, mummy."

"I love you, mummy!"

"I love you, mummy!"

"I love you, mummy, I love you!"

Mum?

Oh, mummy...

Mum...

Where the fuck's the boats?

Fuck it.

Fuck!

Oh, fuck.

Oh, fuck.

Oh, fuck it.

: Is that you taking
your wee boy to school?

See he's out of the shops, then.

: You watch yourself,
MacPherson.

She's spent the last 40 years

cutting up balls
as Glasgow's biggest killer.

Friggin' idiot.

Where's Dodie?

Deid.

"Deed?"

Did what?

Deid.

My Dodie.

Oh. Dodie died.

Fuck.

Forget that, MacPherson.

Chris Porter,

wanted for at least six murders

in the greater Glasgow area.

He had an accomplice,

somebody a bit... older.

You think my Dodie
had something to do with this?

- Well.
- Fuck off.

Dodie never did a favour
for anybody in his life.

The only murdering he did
was for himself and the family.

He'd do anything

for his family.

: You've got
to look out for your mum, eh?

She'd do anything for me.

Anything at all.

Listen, sir,
are you sure about this?

Look, the pathologist
didn't say the gender,

just the age.

she takes the body parts
on her coach trips.

Pitlochry, Fraserburgh,
Montrose, arbroath.

All the prize bingo,

and fuck-me-quick places
these old biddies flock to.

Now, that's where
she posts them from,

you know, giving
the perfect alibi

to her beloved son.

Tell you what,

let's pump this old bag
full of biscuits

and make her fucking squeal.

God bless.

Thanks for coming.

God bless, darling.

Thanks for coming.

I hear they found Wullie
all chopped up.

What?

Are you coming
to the fair tonight?

I'm burying my mother.

I don't have time tae mess about

I'm run off my feet at work
with the two of them dead,

so why don't you just fuck off!

"Two of them dead"?

I thought it was just Wullie.

Shite.

I didnae do it, Charlie.

I thought it was just Wullie.

It was Chris.

The police
are looking for Chris.

It said on the radio.

Well, that's fine.

It was nothing to do
with me, do you hear me?

I didnae kill Wullie,
I didnae kill Chris,

and don't you go telling
the fucking police

any different, you hear me?

Okay, Barney, okay.

I won't go to the police.

Fucking dare you.

You fucking bastard!

What?

I'm sitting here begging you,

and that's all
you can say to me?

- I didn't!
- You bastard.

Don't you fucking dare!

Don't fucking dare, you hear me?

You're a fucking mental bastard.

Mental fucking bastard!

Mental bastard!

Jesus Christ.

Jesus Christ.

Yeah, well, business
is picking up

now you're
a celebrity, Barney, huh?

: Says here that Chris

might have went
to the Netherlands.

They'll never catch him.

Not a chance.

I'm away for the barbers'
college tomorrow.

Should have a couple
more staff by Monday.

That'll make you head barber.

Oh, right.

Well, thanks, James.

Thanks very much.

Bloody reporters.

No, I'll get it.

Henderson's.

Barney Thomson?

Aye.

Maybe you'd better check on
that body you've dumped.

Who is this?

Who... who is this?

: Here we go.

Tell me the mother's name again.

: Cemolina.

That's the most ridiculous
name I've ever heard.

She'd been running
a lonely hearts ad.

I checked the p.O. Box, right?

Several replies.

So that's how the fucker
picked his victims.

Yeah, you were right, sir.

She was the one
posting the limbs

out on the coach tours.

All the dates, they all match.

What mothers will do
for their sons.

Yeah.

Come on.

Don't lose him.

Yeah.

Barney Thomson.

I'm arresting you

for the murder
of your colleagues,

Chris Porter
and Wullie Henderson.

And six other men
from the Glasgow area.

Well, it's a wee bit
more complicated than that.

Is this where you dumped
the body of Chris Porter?

What did you come back here for?

The phone call.

The phone call?

We phoned him.

Holdall.

Great, you're just in time

to watch me make the arrest.

The fuck are you doing here?

I could ask you
the same question.

We were tipped off
by Thomson's pal,

Charlie Taylor.

Great wee pal you've got
there, by the way.

Fucker.

Just kept tabs on him,
and here we are.

You know, it just
confirmed my belief

that Thomson
was our man all along.

Yeah, bollocks.
I solved this case.

Where the fuck were you?

Playing with your Fanny?

It was a double bluff.

I just wanted to let Thomson
off the hook

so he'd make a mistake,
relax a wee bit,

you know, fuck up?

'Course you came along

and nearly screwed
the whole thing up.

Di Fuckwit and ds Debbie McGee.

The only reason he's here

is 'cause we tricked him
into checking on the body.

Hey, I'll remember you

when they promote me
to chief superintendent.

Maybe we'll let you
and your monkey

at some third division
football matches.

Be my guest.

What do you want, monkey?

Fuck's sake.

Whoa!

Guns. Well, I'm impressed.

Ain't you, MacPherson?

Oh, absolutely, sir.

Arrest this pair of bastards.

Oh, fuck...

The fuck are you doing
with guns?

What are you doing with guns?

Of course we've got
fucking guns.

Where did you get yours from?

Oh, not without
my authorization.

Excuse me, can I just...

Okay.

Okay...

What form did you sign?

Uh, blue d 14.

Ha! You should have used
the new pink d 13!

Well, nobody said anything
to me about a pink d 13.

Oh, well, you obviously
didn't see the red c 24.

Red?

Add "incorrect form filling"
to the list of charges.

This is fucking ridiculous.

We're all supposed to be
on the same side here.

All right, give us the guns,

and I'll forget about
the assault charge.

Yeah? Well, what about
the arrest report?

No. I just signed the guns out
for personal protection.

Didn't want Mcmanaman
telling you our plan.

All right, we'll forget
about the arrest report.

you're not going
to fucking jail!

Thankful? I gave you
the fucking suspect, you tosser!

Do you know what?

I've fucking changed my mind.

You're so fucking
shafted, holdall!

Just give us the gun!

I'll give you the fucking gun!

Oh, big man, is it?

You havenae the fucking balls!

I'll fucking blow
your fucking head off.

Oh!

MacPherson!

This is all your fault.

You're a fucking maniac!

Ah...

Shit!

I didn't mean it!

Fuck you.

You thought all your birthdays

had come at once?

Well, forget it.

You are so fucked.

See, I'm out of this.

You did it.

You know what I am?

I'm a fucking hero.

I solved the crime.

I brought down
the master criminal.

No. No, no, no.

See, it wasnae me.

I only killed Wullie and Chris.

And they were accidents.

And that's when
I went to my mum,

and that's when
I found out the truth.

You know, she...

These men,

they answered her ads
in the paper.

Then she shagged them,

then killed them,

and fucking chopped them up,

and I'm the spawn of a monster.

According to the coroner,

the bodies had lain there
approximately one week,

and again, I stress,

the parties concerned
were not on police business.

Do you believe this incident

has anything to do with
the body parts killer?

: The two cases
are completely unrelated.

Completely.

Chris Porter,
he's our body parts killer.

Just a matter of time
before we track him down.

Is there any truth

that the officers were meeting

for some kind of
"menage-a-trois"?

: Well...

I mean, we can't be sure
at this juncture,

but it's-it's beginning
to look that way.

All right, who's next?

"Menage-a-trois"?

But there was four of them.

Aye, aye.

: Busy today.
Filled to the gunnels.

Cut it yourself, buddy.

It's true what they say,

there's no such thing
as bad publicity.

Thank you.

It's amazing
what a serial killer does

for business.

Good to be alive.

How the fuck
did that happen, eh?

Look at 'em, looking at me.

They're saying,

"there's that guy who got lucky.

Just missed being offed
by that other barber."

Celebrity for a day

before I get back to being
one of them,

waiting for the bus,

staring at a pigeon...

Hiya, Barney.

: No chance.

Barney?

Hi, Charlie.

A fresh start, eh?

Fresh start.

Thanks, Barney.

I'll tell you who I am.

That top chair is mine now.

I'm in the window,

looking back at all of you.

If you're passing, drop in.

We're busy, mind.

Everybody wants to spend
a bit of time

with Barney Thomson,

legend.

What about that?

For fuck's sake.

We're off.

Oh, fuck it.

What now?

I'm going to have to
fish it out with a spoon.

No, the fucking...

I'm so sorry.

You stupid bitch.

Evil bitch.

Your fucking face.