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For fuck's sake.

Out of my way. I want to see him.

Tony, I can't let you in. You're drunk.

I want to see him.

Tony, I can't let you in. You're drunk.

I'm not fucking drunk.

You fucking cunt. This is my door.

Get him out here now.

This is his door, you jobsworth cunt.

Now get that fucking looking cunt out here.

You owe fucking money.

Oi, come out.

Give me my fucking money.

The Falklands War was a conventional conflict

with a known enemy.

48 men were killed when the Sir Galahad

was hit by Argentine jets.

We were all covered in burnt flesh.

Many survivors suffering from shock.

Many who had heard their own friends screaming

in the locked dormitories, unable to get out.

Britain is not prepared to be pushed around.

We have ceased to be a nation in retreat.

The Argentine forces surrendered

to British forces.

UK troops returned home triumphant,

having secured the island's sovereignty.

For fuck's sake, Frampy.

Why do we always draw the short straw?

Stop moaning, Pete.

- It ain't that bad. - Ain't that bad?

We're hitching a lift on a fucking supply plane.

Everyone else is sunning it up on the cruise ship.

Well, you don't see little Jacko complaining,

do you?

Oi, Jackie, you all right, son?

No, no.

I fucking hate this bit.

Whose bright idea was this, anyway?

Prepare for landing, chaps. Going down.

Oh, thank fuck.

So, what are you going to do when you get home, Jacko?

I'm going to wipe my arse.

Right, you fuckers.

You're going to get up, single file,

and keep it orderly.

Then you're going to get out and fuck off.

Don't forget to check your weapons

with Corporal Rollins.

Right, move. Come on, then. Chop chop.

This ain't a tea party.

Move. Let's go.

Tucker. Tucker.

Sir.

Ain't you got a home to go to?

Wait a minute.

The war's over, son.

If you need someone to talk to,

the Army's always here, all right?

Off you go.

Sorry, guvnor.

Cunt.

Ooh, aye-aye.

Hello darling, you all right?

Fuck off.

That's nice, isn't it?

That's the fucking third time

he's been mugged off tonight, third time.

Third time I've been mugged off?

You're the one that's losing your touch, Tone.

I saw you blown at by the fat bird.

Fuck all that, come on, let's get a kebab.

Hey mate, you all right?

Just doner meat and chips, yeah? Chilli sauce.

All right.

Hey, fund us a doner kebab will you?

Yeah, no worries, mate. Sweet.

Here, what's all that?

Empty your fucking pockets.

Do you know who the fuck I am?

Can you hear me? Empty your fucking bag.

Oi, get off me.

Come on, lads.

Don't get involved, Tone. I'm starving.

Let's get a kebab.

He's always got to be a hero, hasn't he? Come on.

Leave him alone.

Oi, fucking leave him alone.

What the fuck has it got to do with you?

They're trying to nick our car.

Do yourself a favour and fuck off back to your boy band.

Boy bands, yeah? I like Wham.

Tone, Tone, you're going to kill him.

You're going to kill him.

Fucking cunt.

Come out the way, come out the way.

Pete, get back to the club and get help.

What are you doing?

Just stand back.

What the fuck are you doing?

He's swallowed his fucking tongue.

Jacko, get her the fuck out of here.

He knows what he's doing, come on.

He knows what he's doing.

Sit up, son. Sit up, son. Sit up, sit up, sit up.

Tone, come on. The old bill.

We'll be doing statements all night. Let's go.

- Right. - Come on.

Let's go, come on. He's all right.

You all right?

You Tony Tucker?

Who wants to know?

Get in.

You looking for this, by chance?

Cheers.

Been fucking looking for that everywhere.

Ian Jarvis.

Nice to meet you.

I want to thank you for helping my grandson out

last night.

His girlfriend tells me if it wasn't

for your quick thinking,

he might not have made it.

If there's anything I could ever do for you, son,

you let me know.

I will.

I could do with a job.

Look at that motor.

His fucking bird's a bit tasty and all.

Fuck him as well, cunt.

Oi, Tucker, I'm going for a smoke. You got this?

Yeah, sweet.

Thanks a million.

All right?

What's all that about?

Don't worry about it, mate.

Where the fuck do you think you're going?

It's sweet. He's with me.

He's far from fucking sweet, mate.

He's the mug who turned over tan's grandson last week.

You're mistaken.

I don't make mistakes.

He's coming in.

He ain't fucking coming in now, is he?

Give me my fucking wages. I'm off.

What's the problem, Tony?

I'll tell you what the fucking problem is, Ian.

Where I'm from, it's about loyalty

and watching people's backs.

That little fucking mob down there,

that ain't loyal and it definitely ain't got your back.

Your head doorman is all pally

with that mug who kicked seven bells of shit

out of your grandson the other night.

That's quite a serious statement, Tony.

Are you sure?

I'm never wrong.

Mr. Jarvis?

Send Adam up here, will you? Now.

Of course.

I hope you're right about this.

You wanted to see me?

Tony here tells me that you know the man

that attacked my grandson.

Well, Tony's got a lot to say for himself.

You fucking grass.

Leave out, you'll fucking break my arm.

Fucking tell him, you cunt,

or I'll snap it off.

All right, all right.

I'm sorry, Ian, it wasn't meant to go down like that.

I told him not to hurt him.

I just needed the money.

You little cunt.

Fuck off. Get your shit and get the fuck out of my club.

What do you think I should do?

It's pretty simple, Ian.

Give me control of the door.

Fuck off, cunt.

Come on, you can fucking do it.

Keep going, come on.

Don't come in.

I'm coming in.

Fuck off.

You fuck off and all, pair of cunts.

Push it out, son. Come on, that's it.

Sorry, mate.

There's no way you're coming in here

dressed in that clobber.

Come on, two more, two more.

What? Can't hear me up there, Stretch?

Fair dos.

Oi, Ian.

We should start letting birds in free before 10.

Do you think it'd work?

Here, Tone, you heard that acid house music?

No. Should I?

It's all the rage now.

Centre Force Radio are putting on parties

for 20 to 25,000 people in fields.

I reckon we want to change our music policy

in here, you know?

You know someone, do you?

It's pretty fucking good.

I told you, didn't I?

What's your name, mate?

Brandon.

What?

Brandon Block.

Come on, lads.

Fucking come on. You cunts just see that?

You fucking want some?

You fucking see that?

Arse sniffer, arse sniffer, arse sniffer.

Fucking little bugger cunt.

Fuck off.

Here they are, look. Come again.

Where's your fucking mouth now?

Where's your mouth now? I'm here.

Fuck you.

Me and you, come on.

Fuck this.

Come on, let's fucking have it.

Fucking hell, geezer.

You going to sort that beer out or what?

I told you to wait your turn, you cunt.

You're a cunt.

Let's go fucking mental, let's go fucking mental.

Harry, come here.

What the fuck are you doing, letting that mob in?

What?

What? They've been barred three times.

I've just seen one of them selling fucking drugs.

I don't see the problem, Dave.

At least they're buying beer.

I thought you'd be happy.

You thought I'd be happy, you dozy fuck?

They're helping themselves.

Whoa, whoa, girls, girls, girls.

Where you going?

Anywhere but here, mate. This club is fucking shit.

Happy? You're having a fucking laugh. Dozy...

Girls, girls. Here you are.

Fuck off.

Charlie?

Speak.

It's David Simms. Got a slight problem.

I know just the man.

Oh, fuck off, you cunt.

80, you come highly recommended, Bernard.

A man who knows how to fix problems.

I've been known to. So what's your problem, Mr Simms?

That's my problem.

Get it down you, you bald mug.

Give me a minute.

Fucking kill us.

Get them out, get them out, get them out.

Can we calm it down a bit, lads, please?

What?

I said, can you calm it down a little bit?

Oh, who the fuck are you, then?

Oh, I'm sorry.

My name's Bernard, and I'll be running things around here

for a while.

Oh, really?

You hear that, Tell?

Apparently, this is Bernard, and he's running things now.

You couldn't run me a fucking bath.

See this mob here, right?

We run this fucking club. Not you.

So do yourself a favour and fuck off

back over there, all right?

Look, come on, mate, we don't want any trouble.

Tell your mates to fuck off

before I break your neck.

All right.

Fuck off, lively.

Fucking mug, get out. Go on.

You fucked up, mate. I'm telling you.

Get your fucking hands off me.

Do you know who I'm with? Fucking ask about me.

I'm fucking Basildon Joe. You're fucking marked, you cunt.

You watch. Get off me. Fucking cunt, I'm going.

Very impressive.

Don't get too excited. They'll be back.

So what's next?

Sort out your doorman.

Fair enough. What about the punters?

Who's your biggest competitor?

That'll be Hollywood's in Romford.

Well, I'll have to check it out.

Thank you very much, Bernard.

You was here last week.

Yeah, you was here last week. I know it's you.

Go on, fuck off. Go, go on. Keep going. Another time.

Oi, Jack. Pipe the size of that cunt.

Who's in charge, mate?

I am.

And you are?

Tony Tucker.

What's the problem?

There ain't no problem, mate. Just a proposition.

I've recently taken over the door at Raquel's.

I wonder if we could have a chat.

All right. But not here.

Okay. What about the club tomorrow? About six o'clock.

Okay, have a good night, lads.

What do you reckon that's all about, Tone?

Not sure yet.

Fuck me, it stinks in here.

This is a shithole, Tone.

What the fuck are we doing here?

What's wrong with Hollywood's?

Oi lads, have a look round.

Tony Tucker. David Simms.

Very pleased to meet you, Tony. Take your seat.

I'll leave you gentlemen to talk.

Bernard tells me have a proposition.

I've got situation, Tony.

I bought Raquel's six months ago.

And unfortunately I've inherited all the shit

that goes with it.

Local scum, and a bunch of fucking morons

who think it's funny to smash it up on a regular basis.

I've got Bernard down here to help me clean it up.

So what do you need me for?

Listen, his firm wouldn't work here.

They're from Birmingham.

Anyway, he's not going to be hanging around too long.

Look, Tony I need two things.

One; a door I can trust. And two; a club full of punters.

Now, Bernard tells me that you've got both.

I want what you've got.

Right. This is how it works.

You give me 20% of the takings.

That's the door, the cloak room and the bar.

20% of my takings?

It's a little bit steep, Tony.

If I pack the place out,

20% ain't going to sound too bad, is it?

Because right now 20% of nothing is nothing.

And I'm going to pay for all the security out of my end.

But I don't want any interference from management.

So I say who comes in. I say who goes out.

My word is final.

Okay. It's a deal.

Sort out the details with Bernard.

Now, if you'll excuse me? Very nice meeting you, Tony.

I thought you weren't sticking around.

You changed my mind.

So what do you want?

10%.

Five.

Done.

It's going well, Tone. Filling up nicely.

You're getting it, Jacko.

Here he is. Let me do the talking, all right?

Hello, Bernard, my old mate. You remember me?

Basildon Joe.

Yeah, I remember you. Not tonight.

Oh come on, don't be like that.

We just want to come in and have a little look.

Heard this place is the bollocks now.

Don't tell me you've still got a needle. That was weeks ago.

Look, mate, you don't want to carry this on. Not with me.

So, be a good boy, let us in,

and we'll behave ourselves, all right, Bernard?

Is there a problem here?

Do you mind, mate? We're talking.

Talk to me, you fucking cunt.

Oh, hold on a minute.

What are you, his fucking hairdresser?

So, tell you what.

I'm good at cutting hair, as it goes.

Connie, he's got a knife.

Shut up you, you big mouth slut. I'll-

- Shut your mouth.

Fucking do him, then.

Come on, then.

You mugs, I'll blow your fucking heads off.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, all right, all right.

Well, you want to play that fucking game, do you?

You really want to go down that road?

Okay, then. Sweet. We can go down that road.

Two can play that fucking game, mate.

Don't worry about that.

You're going to fucking regret this, mate.

I'm telling you.

Yeah, well you know where we are.

Fuck me, Bern, where the fuck did you get that from?

Not bad for two broom handles and a bit of duct tape,

is it, son?

Here you are, George.

All right, ladies and gentlemen, show's over.

Get your money out.

You all right, babe? You coming in?

Is it safe?

Of course it's safe.

No, no, darling. It's on me.

Thank you.

- Thanks. - Welcome.

Oi, watch what you're fucking doing.

What's the problem? Meant to be a doorman.

So where are you girls from, then?

Well, I grew up in Surrey, and now I live in Basildon.

Don't mind if I have a bit of this, do you?

Mate.

Mate.

You're in my seat.

Ain't got your fucking name on it.

Watch this. Why don't you fuck off, you little rat?

Look at your hair. You look like a fucking bird, mate.

Are you a fucking rent boy, are you?

Shut up.

You're out.

Whoa, whoa.

What's going on?

Been watching him all fucking night.

He's just done a geezer with a bottle.

No, no, no, let's have it right, mate.

I spent 400 quid on champagne,

and this mug comes over sniffing around my pals

and ruined my night.

Right, Bernard, get rid of that cunt.

What?

Listen, mate, use your fucking loaf.

That fella's over there spending money on champagne.

He's got two fucking lovely-looking birds

wrapped around him, and that prick's over there

laying on the floor, eating the fucking carpet.

Now, get rid of the cunt.

Sorry about all that.

No, that's all right. Sit down and join us for a drink.

No, I'm working, mate.

We're all going to mine after.

You can come and join us if you like,

it's just across the road.

Yeah? All right.

I'm Lucy, by the way.

Tony.

Oi, mate, get this lot a bottle of champagne on me.

What's your name again, fella?

Tony.

Nice to meet you.

I'm Craig.

Girls.

Yes.

After you, Tone.

Not for me, mate.

Hey.

Come on, Tony. I thought we were having a party.

Fuck it.

Mate, can you drop me home?

Fuck that, you cunt. You got me in this state.

You can drive.

Oi Craig, you ain't got a bit more of that gear for me,

have you?

No, no, we done it all, mate.

But there's plenty more where that come from.

Yeah?

I fucking rob it.

You rob it? Who off?

I rob drug dealers.

As long as it's off the manor, though,

and I knock it out to local divs around here.

There's something fucking wrong with you.

You know what?

You should come and graft with me.

We'll make a blinding team, mate.

Sounds good.

Make sure you bring my car back, yeah?

And get me that Lucy's number.

Sure you want me to drive?

What the fuck you doing?

What the fuck's this?

It's 40 quid. What's it look like?

You've been out all fucking night, Craig,

and you've come back with a poxy 40 quid?

Where's the rest of the money?

Donna, it's not what you think.

You're supposed to be out earning money,

not pissing it up the fucking walls.

What are we going to do, Craig?

We've got a mortgage payment due the end of the month.

I still owe my mum 100 pound

that you made me borrow off her.

And our daughter needs food,

you absolute selfish cunt.

What the fuck do you think I'm doing

out here every night?

I've been with my new business partner,

trying to make things happen for us.

Fucking business partner?

Don't lie to me, Craig.

You've been wrapped around a no-good tart, ain't you?

Don't be silly.

What's his name then?

Who?

This business partner you've been with.

Tony. His name's Tony.

Okay. Let me smell your cock.

What?

Let me smell your cock.

If you ain't been hanging out in the back of no slags,

then fucking prove it.

You know what, Donna? Fuck you.

I fucking go to work to put a roof over our head,

and food on our table, and I come home to this shit.

Come here. Look out the fucking window.

You see that car?

Whose fucking car do you think that is, eh?

Do you think I can afford to run a car at the minute?

That's my business partner's, and he's give it to me,

you stupid fucking cow.

So why don't you just fucking leave me alone and fuck off?

That's it, go on, run away, like you always do.

You always think the worst of me, Donna.

Why don't you try trusting me for once?

Look, babe, I'll have the mortgage money

by the end of the week.

You promise me?

Yeah, I promise.

Can I please go and get some sleep?

Ken.

You all right, Joey?

I fucking look all right?

What the fuck happened to you?

Where is he?

He's at the back.

Pat.

Pat.

- Pat. - What do you fucking want?

I need to talk to you.

About what?

We got a problem.

Whoa, whoa, whoa.

What'd you mean, we?

I don't like that fucking word, we.

All right, then. Me. I've got a problem. That better?

Yeah, that's better.

Now you, fuck off.

What?

You heard me. Fuck off.

Sit down.

Look, I don't think I'm going to be able to take the usual

off you this week.

What you talking about?

There's new door staff at Raquel's.

They fucking elbowed me out.

Well, use your fucking loaf.

There's loads of clubs along the strip.

Fucking deal from there.

You don't understand, Pat. Raquel's is my gaff.

Fucking it's heaving every night of the week now.

It's a gold mine.

The other clubs ain't got a patch on it.

Now you listen to me, you cunt.

Because we had a fucking deal.

I supply the gear and you fucking knock it out.

You know something? You make me fucking laugh.

You begged me for this,

and when I told you how much I had wrapped around me,

you said it weren't a problem.

You do realise I could be doing bird any day now?

Down to that fucking Happy Eater thing.

I'm warning you, Joey.

Do not make your fucking problems my problems.

Pat, I don't know what you want me to say.

Because I ain't got the answers.

They won't let me in the club.

All the punters are in the clubs,

so I can't knock out the gear.

I need to get back in.

But there's these two fucking spiteful cunts on the door.

Look what they done to my face.

Fucking embarrassed me in front of everyone.

They've got to have a comeback.

Oi.

What the fuck are you doing, eh?

Two minutes ago, you were telling me

how you were going to suck my cock,

and now you're fucking laying over these two cunts?

What's the matter with your fucking soppy face?

You think it's fucking funny, do you?

All right, mate. Calm down.

Don't fucking mate me, you cunt. You don't even know me.

What's your problem, you big cunt?

- My problem? - Yeah.

I'll tell you what the fucking problem is.

I'm sitting over there, trying to...

You still think you're fucking funny?

You ain't fucking laughing now, you cunt, are you?

You got a problem, fat bollocks?

No, mate. No, no problem.

You sure?

Yeah, it's all good, mate. No-

- You fucking animal, Pat Tate.

You can suck yourself off, you cunt.

Fuck.

Fucking wanker.

Pat.

Pat?

Now you listen to me.

You're going to take the full amount again this week.

You got me?

If you've got a fucking problem, you sort it out yourself.

Take Kenny with you.

For fuck's sake, Pat, not again.

So how'd you get my number?

Some fella in the pub told me

your gear was proper.

It is.

You'll be up for days on that little lot.

Good, good.

So you got the money?

Yeah, of course.

Fucking hell.

Fucking cunt.

What are you doing?

Fucking cunt.

Fucking come here, you cunt. Fucking come here.

Put all that fucking stuff in the bag.

We haven't done anything, mate. We ain't got anything.

Put it all in the bag, or I'll rip his fucking face off,

you cunt.

And the fucking watch.

But my mum gave me this watch.

I don't give a fuck. Put it in the fucking bag, cunt.

All right, just fucking take it, take it.

You set me up.

The fuck you talking about? We both lost out here.

I don't give a fuck about you.

As far as I'm concerned, you fucking owe me now,

and I'm calling it in.

Oi.

My mum gave me that watch.

Babe, I'm working.

No, but I'm fucking working.

That's bang out of order, babe.

No.

Give me your fucking money.

Fucking hell.

Fuck me, you almost gave me a fucking heart attack.

Your fucking face.

Here you are.

Mate, you know what?

That was a really nice touch, that. I really like that.

Who's next?

Hello, babe? Babe?

All right, Craig. You got the money?

Yeah, of course.

Come off the street.

Give me the fucking drugs.

Fucking cunt. Give me your fucking money.

That's him.

So, how do you want to handle this, then?

Joey, what the fuck are you doing?

I thought you just wanted to talk.

It's gone beyond words, mate.

Fuck him.

Stay back.

Fuck off.

You cunts. I'll find you, you cunts.

Cheers, babe.

You are fucking disgusting.

I'm out.

What you talking about, out? Out of what?

This.

Turning people over.

We could get some serious bird for this, you silly cunt.

And for what?

That fella we turned over the other week.

What did we get? 300 pills?

And you fucking ate half of them.

You're eating more than we rob.

It ain't fucking funny, you cunt.

Listen, Craig, I like you.

You're a good mate.

But the risk just ain't worth the reward.

I hear what you're saying, Tone.

But how about I bring us a nice big fish, eh?

I've had my eye on this geezer for awhile.

Cunt right books himself as well.

Got all the flash motors, always holding.

Do you know where he lives?

Course. I followed him home a few weeks ago.

Make sure he's the real deal.

You fucking horrible little cunt.

Here, Ro, got any brown sauce?

Look who it is, Ken. It's only Bernard.

Fancy seeing you here.

What's that smell, Ken? Can you smell it?

Smells like petrol.

What did you fucking say?

I said, can you smell petrol?

Next time, it won't be your car.

Your whole fucking family's going up.

Excuse me, boys.

I'll be seeing you really soon, yeah? Bernard.

That's the gaff over there.

Nice.

Told you, didn't I?

Here, look, that's the fella there.

Essex police are looking to question

Patrick Terrence Tate of Basildon,

in connection with an altercation at the

Hotel last night,

where a man was left brutally beaten.

What's he fucking up to?

What do you think he's got in the bag?

Fuck knows. We're going to find out.

- Fuck it. - What you fucking doing?

Fucking jackpot.

Oi.

Come on, Tone.

We fucking did it, Tony. Fucking did it.

That fucking plumb.

Fuck.

Fucking hell, faster, Tone. The geezer's fucking on us.

Go, go, fucking go.

Oh, fuck.

Shit. Fucking drive. He's going to catch us.

He's going to fucking catch us.

Slow down, slow down.

I don't want to fucking die.

Fucking hell, it's a dead end, it's a dead end.

What are we going to do? What the fuck are we going to do?

What the fuck are you doing, Tone?

Shut the fuck up.

Fucking got you now, you no-good cunt.

Whoa, whoa, whoa.

I'll be fucking seeing you, fella.

Fuck me, Tone. Where'd you get that?

Is it loaded?

Give me the fucking gear, Craig.

Give me one minute.

Who's the geezer in the leather talking to Pat?

That's Andy.

The geezer behind Sunrise and all

the other major raves in Essex.

And the big fella?

Fuck knows. Never seen him before.

What do you want?

Two pints.

All right, Kenny boy?

How's your old man?

Yeah, he's good.

You send him my love.

Yeah.

Everything all right?

Yeah.

Andy's contact trying to sell me some moody pills.

Told him I weren't interested.

Anyway, you got something for me?

Yeah, it's...

It's a little bit light, because of that problem

I've been dealing with.

Yeah? And how's that going?

Yeah, sorted.

Well, good. That's really good.

Now, remember, you owe me more,

so I'm going to be fucking on you this time next week.

Whoa, what are you doing? Fuck off.

Standing around here. Go.

All right, well I'll see you soon then, yeah?

Talk to me.

It ain't all sorted, mate.

That cunt's just started world war fucking three.

I think you might have to step in on this one, Pat.

Fucking hell. That's more fucking like it.

- Is that it? - Yeah.

What you doing?

I want a fucking line of gear.

Can I have a line?

No you fucking can't. Get back in the fucking kitchen.

Fuck off, Tucker.

We just landed the score of a lifetime,

and you pair of cunts want to get fucking high.

This could be the start of something big, Craig.

For fuck's sake.

It's like Piccadilly fucking Circus in here.

It's Kevin.

What's happening, man? You all sweet?

Come through here. Let me do the talking, yeah?

Tone, this is Kevin.

Remember I told you about my mate? Kev. Kevin.

No.

Well, anyway, I thought he could do

some running about for us, you know what I mean?

You think you can knock some gear out for us, do you?

Course.

Here. I want tenners back on each of them.

Tenners? I can get them for eight quid a pill.

Like you got fucking eight quid to your name,

you fucking silly cunt.

If you can't sell them, give me them back.

Look, it's all right. I'll sort it.

He's on you, Craig.

Sweet.

Hello? What?

What's his fucking problem?

What are you piping up for?

I told you I'd look after you.

Look, cheers, Craig. I fucking needed this.

Sweet. Just don't let me down, all right?

I won't.

Go on, fuck off. I'll see you later.

I'm round the fucking corner. I'm at Lucy's.

For fuck's sake. I'm on my way.

Everything all right?

There's a problem at the club.

I'll leave you in charge of that little lot.

Turn one into three.

Luce? Want a line?

No fucking chance.

You fucking what, mate?

Go on, out of it.

What, you his fucking dad, are you?

Maybe, yeah.

Listen, we haven't come down here for agg, just a chat.

Not what he said last time when he pulled a machete on me,

was it, son?

Yeah, but it weren't fucking me, was it?

You didn't no fucking thing to stop it.

Look, look, look. You seem like a nice fella.

I've just come down here to keep the peace.

You can keep the peace and jog on, son. Go on.

Okay.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.

What's going on here? Fucking break it up.

You all right, Pat?

Yeah.

Bern, go back inside the fucking club.

You lot on, get in here before the fucking old bill come.

Framps, hold the door.

Is it all right if I hold my fucking nose?

We need your office for five minutes.

Can I help you, Tony?

Are you fucking deaf? Don't fucking look at him.

I said we need the office.

Right, let's drop all the fucking playground bollocks.

And Bern, tell me what the fuck is Pat Tate doing here?

Do you know him?

I've heard of him.

This fucking wannabe cunt, his mate Joey Waller

has made himself fucking busy.

Well, let me just stop you right there.

Joey Waller is a little fucking shit cunt slag,

who deals a little bit of gear for me.

Now, Kenny's filled me in on the situation.

I've come down here to keep the peace,

before it fucking escalates and gets out of hand.

But I'm telling the pair of you now.

You want a fucking war?

I'll give you a war you'll never fucking forget.

Will he fill you in that Joey Waller

pulled a fucking machete on me and threatened

to burn my wife and kids?

Did you tell him that, you cunt?

I fucking didn't think so.

Listen, Pat. What you selling?

Pills.

Hold on. What's that got to do with this?

Calm down a minute.

I think I've got an easy way to fix this.

Joe, are you busy?

Yes.

A lady called. She wants evaluation on a flat.

I take it you're free.

I'm always free to help a lady.

Good. That's the address. Two o'clock.

Don't be late.

She sound fit?

Good afternoon, Madam. I'm here for the valuation.

Oh.

They didn't say they were going to send such a handsome man.

Please, come in.

Thank you.

Got the decorators in?

Do you want a drink? Tea, coffee?

Or perhaps I could interest you in something

a little stronger?

Maybe.

What do you have in mind?

Gin and tonic?

Smashing.

Good.

Why don't you go in the front room,

make yourself comfortable, yeah?

I'll be in in a bit.

Ken? Pat, what are you doing here?

What the fuck, Pat? I thought we were partners.

No, Joey. These are my partners.

What did I tell you about making your fucking problems

my problems?

I'm sorry, Pat. All right? I'm sorry.

Well, you should have fucking thought about that

before you started running around

setting light to people's motors.

And pulling out fucking machetes

and threatening to burn someone's wife and kids.

I mean, what was you thinking, you soppy cunt?

Pat. Come on, mate, please. Don't do this.

Now, listen to me, Joey. You're off the fucking firm now.

If we see you anywhere around the town,

or even at the club ever again, you're fucking dead.

Are we clear?

Pat, crystal. Crystal, mate.

Good boy.

Oh, by the way.

Bernard wants a word.

What?

All sorted?

He'll live.

So what now?

Let's go to work.

Gentlemen, what about the paperwork?

Come on, then.

Tony Tucker.

Tommy fucking Mac.

We're going to Legends.

Right, I'm with you.

Bern, have you got the door, yeah?

Tommy, I've got our usual table ready for you.

Lovely.

You've got to meet this geezer. Tony Tucker.

Meet Nigel Benn.

Pleasure to meet you, Nigel. Massive fan.

Nice to meet you, mate.

So what you do then, Tony?

I'm in the security business, Nige.

Oh, quality.

Listen, you should get down one of my fights then.

I could always do with the extra security.

Yeah?

I fucking love that.

You guys up for something a little stronger?

Well, where the fuck is he?

This is the third week on the trot, Bernard.

The third week he hasn't turned up for work.

What the fuck am I paying him for?

And when he does come in,

all he does is drink and sell fucking drugs.

What, you think I don't fucking know?

I've had the old bill round here sniffing about,

making themselves busy, asking for him by name.

By fucking name.

That stupid cunt is going to have me shut down.

Okay. I understand. I'll have a word with him.

No, mate. No, I'm sorry.

No. I can't take any more of it. I want him out here, now.

Okay.

What's the matter, Pat?

You don't look like you're enjoying your going away party.

That's more like it.

Pat, you're going away, but how long are you going to get?

What do you fucking know, eh?

Look at you, you fucking soapy junkie cunts.

Try some, Pat. It might mellow you out a bit.

I tell you what, you keep on

and I'll fucking iron you out.

And don't worry about me. Got fucking plans.

Postman Pat.

Look at them lot.

Hmm?

I don't know how you have him and his fucking

bollocking mate Kevin wrapped round you.

They're all right in small doses.

That reminds me.

Oi. What's up with that two grand that Kevin owes us?

He already gave to you.

No, he fucking didn't.

Oi.

Fucking rat.

Got your affairs in order?

What is it with you and him, eh?

You're driving me fucking mad.

What?

Don't worry about me, because everything's taken care of.

Oh yeah?

You want to put that gun down, Pat?

That depends, doesn't it?

On what?

On whether you ask me fucking nicely or not.

You want to put that gun down, please?

Tony. We got to talk.

Go on, then.

In private?

No secrets here, mate. Say what you got to say.

All right.

Simms down the club, he knows you've been dealing.

He's had the old bill round.

Pointed out you by name. It's over, mate.

Fuck the old bill.

Ain't got a clue, and they got no fucking proof, Tone.

He's trying to fucking frighten you.

Who you talking to anyway, you little jobsworth cunt?

Coming down here, stirring up fucking shit.

Talking to my mate, Pat.

Your mate?

He ain't your fucking mate.

You may have brought him in,

but that's as far as it fucking goes.

You see this, all of this? We did this, not you.

You're just a fucking errand boy who holds his hand out

every fucking week.

So you can fuck right off to where you come from.

And you can tell that no good fucking midget weasel cunt

it's over when we say it's over.

You got me?

Yeah.

Oi.

Remember, if it's over for us, then it's over for you.

Bern, Bern, wait up. I'm really sorry about him.

He's got a lot on his fucking plate.

It's looking like he's going to get banged up somewhere

for five years.

I'm not bothered about him.

He's just a fucking bullet.

Listen, you got to sort your life out, Tone.

Pat Tate will be the death of you.

What the fuck do you know about it?

Pat was right.

You're just a little cunt who wants what I fucking got.

Oh yeah? House full of fucking junkies?

You done real well for yourself, Tone.

I suggest you fuck off.

You tell that fucking cunt Simms

I'm going to be coming down the club

and I want my fucking cut.

Course you do.

Patrick Terrence Tate.

Never in my six and a half years presiding

as a judge in this country

have I ever been so unfortunate as to come across

a case with such unnecessary violence.

I therefore have no hesitation in handing down

the custodial sentence of five years.

And I hope that this gives you time

to reflect upon your conduct that day

in the Happy Eater restaurant.

Bailiff, take the prisoner down.

So what you got, then?

Whatever you want.

Pills, sniff, ganja.

Pills and sniff then.

All right, sweet. You got the money then or what?

Yeah. Course I've got the money.

What you fucking in on it, you little fucking pussy, eh?

Mate, mate, we made a big mistake.

You're right you made a mistake.

Empty your pockets. Empty your pockets.

Empty your fucking pockets.

Put all the shit in there now. Come on.

Live-o, put it all in there.

You can fuck off. Go on, fuck off. Jog on.

Open the fucking door. You can fuck off and all.

Fucking hell.

You're lucky, you little bombaclat.

You stupid fucking cunt, Craig.

Fucking hell, Tone, I didn't see he had a fucking gun.

You fucking useless, no-good cunt.

You better start coming up with some fucking ideas, Craig.

Because it's fucking on us.

What about Kevin?

What about Kevin?

Well, he still owes us two grand for them pills.

That's more fucking like it.

Do you know where the cunt lives?

You see that fight the other day?

Billy and Johnny?

Yeah.

Billy got beat up bad.

His nose was all bleeding, and had blood

coming out of his lip and that.

That was bad.

That's it over there.

You all right, Craig?

Yeah, I'm all right. How are you, Shaun?

Yeah, I'm all right. You looking for my brother?

Yeah we are, as it goes.

You ain't seen him, have you?

Maybe.

I'll tell you where he is for a tenner.

Give him a tenner, Craig.

What? I ain't got a tenner.

What have you got?

Here you are, take that.

Don't take the piss.

Here you are, you little cunt.

Now, where's your fucking brother?

Oi, Kev. You might want to run.

This pair of cunts want a word with you.

I've got him.

Fuck off.

Kev.

He just wants to speak to you.

Fuck, fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

No.

Don't do it, Tone.

Where's my money, you little cunt?

Please, Tony. I ain't got it.

What do you mean you haven't got my fucking money?

My legs are broke. Please help me.

Fucking break your legs.

I'll break your fucking head you cunt.

Tone, Tone, stop it. Stop it. You'll fucking kill him.

Look, Tone, we've got to get out of here.

Old bill are on their way. You got to go.

You're fucking dead, man. You're fucking dead, man.

Help me, Craig. Please, mate.

I told you not to let me down.

Craig. Craig. Craig.

Craig, please.

Craig.

And where the fuck do you think you're going?

I'm going to see Tony.

He got weighed in last night.

I've got to make sure he's okay.

Tony, I can't let you in. You're drunk.

I'm not fucking drunk.

Here you are, you cunt. Give me my fucking money.

You fucking piss-taking cunt.

You're fucking nothing without him, nothing.

Shut up, Craig.

Take him home.

What is it with you and this geezer anyway?

He's my mate.

Oh, he's your fucking mate, is he?

Well, why don't you go and ask your fucking mate

to pay our mortgage this month, you useless bastard?

Why don't you fuck off, Donna?

Fuck off, yeah? Okay.

Fucking birds.

Now you fuck off.

Take all that fucking shit with you.

Because I'm changing the fucking locks, you cunt.

What the fuck do you want?

Mrs Whitaker?

Yeah.

We're here for Kevin's statement.

He told you up the hospital,

he don't want to make a statement.

Don't you understand no comment?

Mrs Whitaker, this is a serious charge.

We're talking attempted murder on your son.

Now we need his help to find out who did it.

Why don't you just leave him alone?

Do you not think he's been through enough?

Now fuck off.

You two old bill?

Yes, little man. Can we help you?

You looking to find out who run over my brother?

Yes, mate, we are. Do you know who did it?

I can tell you for a tenner.

Do you mind if I crash here for a few days?

Whatever.

You sweet, mate? What are we going to do about Bernard?

You remember that house?

What house?

The house.

The big house, what we followed that flash cunt out of.

Yeah, yeah, of course. What about it?

It's pretty obvious.

That place is a fucking gold mine.

What you saying?

Do you fancy doing some gold digging?

Fucking come back here, you cunt.

Cuff his hands. Cuff his fucking hands.

Lie still.

Where's the fucking money?

I'm going to say this once, and once only.

I will fucking find you.

Yeah?

Yeah.

And I'm going to say this once and once only.

If you don't tell me where the money is,

I'm going to blow your fucking brains out.

You need to understand something.

We're in a pretty fucking desperate situation.

And we ain't fucking leaving here without any money.

You ain't got the fucking bottle.

You want to be a cunt?

What you doing, Tone?

Get off her, you fucking cunt.

Get the fuck off her.

Sharon. I'll kill the fucking lot of you. Sharon.

Don't worry about her. She ain't dead.

But she fucking will be if you don't fucking tell me

where the money is.

All right, all right. It's in the fireplace.

It's in the fucking fireplace.

Get up.

That cunt moves, shoot him.

Fucking sweet.

Right, let's fucking get out of here. Let's go.

I'll be seeing you, Tone.

All right, Tone? I got your message.

This is Andy, bloke I was telling you about.

So you're the bloke who's going to sort us out, yeah?

So what you after?

Pills?

What we talking about?

30 grand.

That's a lot of pills.

Why so much?

I'm done in Basildon.

I'm setting up in Southend.

What about Bernard?

Fuck him. Can you sort it or not?

Yeah. I can help you.

Be at this address tonight at 10 o'clock with the money.

You best not be fucking us about.

Come on, Ken.

Well, he's hardly going to be in my drawer, is he?

Dickhead.

Let us do our job, Miss.

Well?

He's not here, Sarge.

Fucking told you.

Where is he, Donna?

Look, how am I supposed to know?

I kicked the useless twat out.

Probably with his new boyfriend, isn't he?

Oh? And who might that be?

Tony Tucker.

Get out of the fucking car.

Yeah, I'll meet you the same time.

The same place. Cheers.

Keep some fucking stamps...

- Right. - All clear, guv.

Evening, gentlemen.

Sorry about all these dramatics.

Only, you can never be too careful.

I had some dramatics myself last night.

Don't I know you?

No, I don't think so.

Unless you've been to Glasgow lately, pal?

You. Got the money?

Aye.

What are you, the quiet one?

Aye, aye, that's right.

He's a wee quiet man, so he is.

Well, it's a pleasure doing business with you, boys.

Oi. Hold up a minute.

You forgot your pills.

Cheers mate.

We did it. We fucking did it, mate. We're back on top.

Yeah.

And this time, we ain't going to fuck it up.

Get your fucking hands off me, you cunt.

Fucking get off me.

Fucking get off me, you fucking cunt. Fucking pigs.

Get your fucking filthy hands off me.

you fucking fat cunt.

Anthony Tucker.

I'm arresting you on suspicion of the attempted murder

of Kevin Whitaker.

You do not have to say anything,

but it may harm your defence if you do not mention

when questioned something which you later rely on in court.

Anything you do say may be given in evidence.

Do you understand?

What you talking about? You've got fuck all on me.

Sarge.

Think you need to take a look at this.

Well, I've got something on you now, though,

don't I, Tucker?

You're nicked.

Take a seat please, gentlemen.

Don't say a fucking thing.

For the benefit of the tape, I'm DCI Jones.

With me is DC Monroe. Time is now 7:02 AM.

We know it was you that run over Kevin Whitaker.

Do you want to make a statement?

No? Well, it's your lucky day.

Mr. Whitaker doesn't want to press any charges,

so I guess you're free to go.

Just so you know, your cards are marked, Tucker.

I will be watching you.

Right, now sign this, and then you can go.

Oi.

Wait a minute.

You forgot your pills.

What?

Just one question.

What are you two doing with all these contraceptive tablets?

It's better to be safe than sorry.

Fancy a pint?

No, you're all right, mate.

It's over.

Don't say that, mate. We'll get it all back.

You're not fucking listening to me, Craig. I'm done.

I need to fucking sort my life out.

I suggest you do the same.

All right?

What do you want?

Bought you a new plant.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Fucking hell.

You want to be fucking careful with that bar, son.

Hits you on the throat, could be game over.

Yeah, cheers.

I'm Carlton.

I'm Tony.

Oi. Hold up a minute.

Forgot your pills.

Cheers, mate.

Should have fucking done them, bruv. Soppy cunts.

No. I got darker plans for this little mob.

Mickey, you got them?

Yeah. I got them.

J Help me, lord, no J

I Help me, no, no J

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