All language subtitles for The.Duke.2021.720p.WEBRip.800MB.x264-GalaxyRG-English

Will the defendant please stand?

Kempton Bunton,

you are charged that
on the 21st March 1961,

you stole from the National Gallery,

the Portrait of the Duke of Wellington
by the artist, Francisco Goya,

to the value of one hundred
and forty thousand pounds.

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, luv, not guilty.

Mr. Cussen.

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.

- 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.
- Alright.

We'll come back.

- I know he's in.
- Right.

He's cooking.

All right, cup of tea
and then we're gonna go.

"Evening Chronicle," how can I help you?

Is Barry Spence there, pet?

- Just putting 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.

Will I finish the fire place first?

It's entirely up to you,
but I'm playing this afternoon.

Busy, busy.

Dorothy, as I was passing
Phoenix the other day

I noticed that they had a sign up

Storeman.

Just in case your husband...

I just mention it...

- Mr. Bunton.
- The curtain's raised.

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 a sense of having one,

or not having one.

Gentlemen, join me,
"Robin Hood" after the adverts.

- Can we see your license, sir?
- Don't need one.

We only watch ITV,
which is paid for by this.

This is a mistake.

I can go to the post
office in the morning.

This is not a mistake,
that is a political act.

Witness, I cannot receive the BBC.

To the left, ITV.

I've taken the band-1 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 license.

I've only got 16 bob here.
Jackie, fetch the kit keys from the...

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 are a movement.
- I'm not.

Our aim is to persuade our government

that all people should have
free televisual viewing.

Well, the law is the law,
and no one is above it.

Especially a nobody like you.

Oi! You can't talk to my dad
like that in his own house.

- Or what?
- You all right, Kempton?

Don't know, Barry. Never think about it.

You, back again, stirring it?

- Who are you?
- "Evening Chronicle."

- By statute...
- Free TV for the OAP.

I like it.

I was pleased.

Not a lot range 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.

Hold it.

Thank you.

Sorry, dad.

Where to? Home?

To Marian's.

Sorry, love.

Porridge.

Thirteen days.

Broke the law,

upset your mother,

again.

Why doesn't mum ever come?

I don't know, Jackie,
you have to ask her that yourself.

When England faced the 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 a hundred and forty thousand pounds
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 chubby, love.

A bit of 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.

Jackie.

Not the Duke of bloody Wellington.

I sold one of my boats.

So you didn't go at the night class?

I thought you'd be happy for us.

I 'd be happier if you were
getting yourself qualified.

What's the armada down to then?

Just the one left.

Are there any prices, sir?

We're not in the place of putting
a price on the Nations heritage.

They don't have to.

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

Since when have you paid any tax?

Welcome home, Kempton.

Do you know what's
going off here, Jackie?

Toffs 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

- and who voted against universal suffrage.
- Against what?

The vote.

The Duke of Wellington didn't
want you to have a say

on how this country was run
when he was a Prime Minister.

Think what they could have done
with all of that money?

Give us thousands and thousands
of free TV licenses

to war veterans and pensioners,
that's what.

Are these speeches of yours
gonna put food on the table?

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

No decision has yet been taken
by the British government,

on the question of the common market.

One who hopes,

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

I'm not paying for conversation.

I'll keep my trap shut then.

In fact, he was a Polish eye doctor,
L.L. Zamenhof,

his dream was to bring humanity together,

by means of a universal language...

Beecham Pills make life worth living

Fuckin' hell.

- What are you doing, kiddo?
- Putting a cabin on it.

Boat building, eh?

The Swan Hunter will
be shitting themselves.

You're gonna live on it?

Get out of the house?

I sell them on, as working boats.

- What are you doing home?
- Keeping my head down.

Are you in trouble?

Not in Newcastle.

Got a little job for you.

I wanna keep my nose clean.

- I'll source the car.
- No.

- You have to drive it and get rid off it.
- No, I said no.

- You did it before.
- Yeah, and I regret it.

Well, think about it.

A business opportunity.

How's hostilities?

He's writing away, and mum's
scrubbing the world clean.

Bloody Marian.

Aye.

Bloody Marian.

She normally sleeps through.

You'll be fine, don't worry.
She knows you, she likes you.

Oh, Dorothy, would you mind?

Sorry.

I have always liked this dress.

It's taffeta and I hate it,
it's so uncomfortable.

Dolly, it's 7:30 to 8:00,
not 8:30 to 10:00.

Oh God, Bennet.
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 civilization.

So, is your...

is your husband out?

I mean, back. I saw the paper.

- Do you want me to stop coming?
- No.

No, it's...

It's fine, Dorothy.

We are very happy with you, really.

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

No, we couldn't possibly have that.

My husband's a counselor.

It's a real conundrum there, isn't it?

I mean...

If you can't receive the BBC.

Why should you pay the tax?

I'll see you later.

Any time this week?

It doesn't take 5 minutes
to look like this.

Let's just get going.

- Where's my bag?
- On the **.

- Have you got keys?
- I don't need keys.

Susan, I'm not going down.

You will like this one, love.

Get yourself in there.

Just take it easy, would you?

The return of the prodigal son.
Don't give him any money.

I haven't got any.

Where have you two been?

To the "Green Tree."

Traitors.

I know you're still barred from there.

Pint in there isn't a pint.

You could start a fight
in a ploughed field.

They 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, mum.

Fish pie, Kenny? You look thin.

What are you fussing around him for?

For a change from fussing around you.

Babycham for the lady.
Dad, yours.

- Thank you.
- Bubble Brown.

Be sure to use the coasters,
you're not in Leeds now.

Yes, civilization here...

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

- 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

that won his battles for him.
We should be celebrating.

- Kick down every door.
- Quiet.

- That's what doors are around for.
- Quiet!

I hope you are proud of yourselves.

They don't swallow up what
the establishment tells them.

I'm proud of that.

- Am I making a bed up for you?
- Aye, a couple of nights, mum.

She'll miss you, your dolly bird.

Who are we talking about?
I heard that she's married. Pammy.

She's separated, mum.

If she is not divorced,
she is still a married woman.

She was only married two months.

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

I'm the devil incarnate, eh?

We don't know anything
about your life in Leeds.

Plenty of cash,

never in work.

I'm in construction, it's seasonal.

You are always welcome here.
Back room's yours.

I wouldn't be surprised to hear
she's in the family way.

Fuck it! I've had enough.

I'm not gonna have language
in this house!

See you, dad, it's been lovely.

No, I said you're welcome.

I'm welcome, yeah?
I heard you.

- I'm never welcome in this house.
- I don't want any swearing in here.

You wonder why I take months away...

I'll go and be United Nations.

All I asked of you was just not to swear.

The Portrait of the 1st Duke of Wellington

set a record price for Goya

It was knocked down to an American
after 90 seconds, for 140,000 pounds.

# What do you want
if you don't want money #

# What do you want
if you don't want gold #

# Say what you want and
I'll give it you darling #

# Wish you wanted my love baby #

# What do you want
if you don't want money #

I might have the body of
a weak and feeble woman.

Elizabeth I.

But I've got the testicles
of Henry VIII.

You are 3 and 10 pence
short on yesterday, Bunton.

Aye, an old fella, skint.

- Why is he taking taxies then?
- He's a war veteran. Can't walk.

I am running a taxi farm.

Not a charity.

- Dig it out my wages.
- I've had complaints.

One, you talk too much,

and two, it's utter bollocks.

You are sacked with immediate effect.

I haven't been paid.

Sue me then.

But fuck off first.

Hello.

Yes.

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

Thank you very much,
will be there in a tick.

There is nothing more powerful

then 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?
- We have just set off.

Kempton Bunton?
That's not even a real name.

Rome wasn't built in a day, Jackie.

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

Oh, hello.

Didn't know you were political,
Jackie Bunton.

Yeah, it's my dad.

His latest campaign.

My nan would love a telly

Why don't you sign
my petition then, love?

I don't know about that.

The hat suits you.

I'd like to sign, Mr Bunton.

Unless you have any objection.

Au contraire, Mrs. Gowling, 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.

It will be the straw, I promise you.

You can do your petitions,
write your plays in prison.

They will do your cooking and
your washing for you and all.

But I've had enough,

Had it up to here.

A peace offering.

- Good dunkers, them ginger...
- 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.

I promise, two days.

To change anything,
you have to go to Parliament.

You are 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 beggin' you,

stop all your agitations.

Two days, that's all.

If I hit a brick wall down there,
that would 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 Lott.

Two days.

One last chance.

"Wish you had a chauffeur? Next time..."

Do you have an appointment?

He will want to see me.

I'm sorry.

I sent him my trilogy of plays,

each one tackling a different aspect
of social injustice.

He is not here.

Not here?

He's gone to Granada.

Granada TV?

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.

- Shall I buy you..
- I don't do lunch.

Another time.

Friends, members and citizens of
this great Mother of Parliament...

Members, representatives...

Friends...

Fellow citizens...

Elected representatives
of this noble house.

Lend me your ears.

Let's just move on quietly, sir.

I come not to bring a protest,
but to demand this government

Alright.

Line up to meet the Duke.

The portrait was missing when the
first shift of attendants reported to duty

there at seven this morning.

When the gallery closed last night,

The Goya was still in its usual place.

The National Gallery is appealing
to anybody who was here yesterday

and who saw anything or anybody
they think was suspicious

to get in touch with the police.

Will it be out of the country, Sir?

Well, looking at the degree of planning
and expertise involved

we are convinced that the Goya
has been stolen to order

by a well-funded, highly professional
international criminal gang.

Any suspects yet?

Not very good, is it?

What about the police?

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

- Christ!
- 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.

The next step, communication.

Cut letters out of the paper?

No, do that, and you'd 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 cords, and
that's when they've got you.

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

Query not that I have the Goya.

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

A bit of "Robin Hood". Like that?

- Mum.
- Christ!

- How was Aunt 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?

I exercised my democratic right,
now it's up to them.

What matters is, I'm back.

So, you'll be going
to the labor exchange?

Tomorrow, first thing.

Shall I put the kettle on?

If you think it will go with your outfit.

So...

Gonna 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?

That blocked drain.

We don't have a blocked drain.

Next door's.

We don't talk to next door.

You've gotta build bridges.

Paris, Vienna, and London.

- I'm off.
- Where to?

Rainbow Rooms.

Why in God's name would
you wanna go to a club

with music and drinking and girls,

when you could stop in and watch
telly with me and your mum.

Don't drink too much
if you are on that bike.

- I'll be careful, see you later, dad.
- And wear your helmet.

We show our great appreciation
to the Government of Australia,

Now then.

Oh no, what have I done?

Kempton Bunton.

I want you to swear to me,

that you have given up
all your nonsense.

I swear.

I swear.

Promise.

Dolly, love,

I've learned my lesson.

No more secrets.

Nothing, rien, nada.
I promise.

Meanwhile the hunt for the
missing Goya portrait continues.

I feel I can trace out
the thief pretty well.

He's most likely highly physically tuned.

Almost certainly a trained "commando",

or ex-Special Forces.

And in cases like this...

You alright?

Do you expect the criminals
to eventually make contact?

It's the biscuit.

We are expecting some communication
from the thieves.

When it comes, we will respond.

Do you remember Fat Stan?

- Track marshal at the docks.
- What?

Well, his brother-in-law

Geert, nice fella, Dutch.

He's the foreman at this
plastics injection-molding plant.

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

But it's ten o'clock at night.

He is on night.

Who? Geert or Stan?

Stan.

I mean Geert.

He is night-shift foreman.

At night.

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

Ta da.

The National Gallery announced

a 5000 pound reward for anyone
who provides any information.

- How far are you going?
- Morecambe.

Morecambe will be just champion.

Would you like a wine gum?

What are you doing?

Have you read this one?

What's it called?
The girl on the bicycle.

No.

- I don't think you should either.
- So, you have read it.

He's told me what's it's about.

Making money out of our grief.

- It's just writing.
- Well, it's wrong.

What else can he do?

- You will never talk about it.
- What's there to talk about?

It's done, isn't it?

She's dead.

I'm back.

Where did you find that?

In the wardrobe in the back room.

What were you doing in there?

I live here.

They've got that West Side Story out
on the ABC Percy Street.

You fancy, tomorrow?

We can't afford to waste money
going to the pictures.

It's "Romeo and Juliet,"
but with singing and dancing.

And it's set in New York,
not Stratford-upon-Avon.

How far have you got?

Far enough.

It's not Marian.

There is a girl who dies
in a bicycle crash.

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

Our Marian came off her bike
going downhill in the country.

- Who's read this?
- Nobody, I should...

thinking of only sending one copy out.

Who to?

Telly.

So, the world and his wives gonna know.

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

I bought her that bike, if I got her
anything else she'd still be alive.

Well, she isn't.

He is not a writer.

He has potential, 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 his poor education,
he's an autodidact.

A car mechanic?

He's self-taught over a lifetime.

I'd put him somewhere in his late fifties.

So, what is his mental state then?

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

He is a fantasist, who believes
he's an idealist.

A kind of Don Quixote.

The windmill fella.

He'll be active in his community.

Known for his local campaigns.

Parking, litter, pub hours,
that sort of thing.

Thank you, it was very helpful.

My pleasure.

Can someone show me out?

I wouldn't dare, you'd be telling
everybody what I ate for breakfast.

Nice ass.

You are a married man, Reg.

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

So this fella got the painting, yeah?

Time-wasting bastard,
he's just after the reward.

The Italian is still favoured then?

It's where the clever money is.

My first day.

Might be your last.

Watch these buns man, they're fast.

Get three like bricks, yeah?

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

Yeah, I can't wait.

The likes of me and you
will spend our day

developing our minds for the
literature and orchestra concerts.

Please, just keep working.

Come on, mind your bloomers.

It's his first day, Mr. Walker.

Well, you can watch it now.

I'm still getting used to your
lot touching our white loaves, eh?

Yes, sir.

Come on.

Nothing.

Do you want them papers, Mister?

No, you have 'em, bonnie lad.

Good firelighters, but you wouldn't find
any of them speaking truth.

What are you playing, lads? Tip and run?

- Can I have a ball?
- No. You're alright.

Christ.

You are Kempton Bunton and I claim
my five thousand pound reward.

Jack, bugger, I nearly shit myself.

Why did you open it up for?

No reaction to my first communication,

so I took the ticket off the back.

Proof positive that I've got it.

This, to the working man's paper,
the Daily Mirror.

- Mum!
- Quick! Sort this lot out.

What?

# And round about 11 my idea of heaven,
is a nice cup of tea #

- I'd 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 in Whitley Bay.

I always said we should have
entered that competition.

We'd never have won.

Swept the board.

You are looking' at
Hollisons new star baker.

"Hollisons"?
I thought it was plastics.

No.

I'm Lord Bunton of the buffs.
Number two oven man.

- Much better, you can't eat plastic.
- So, will it be regular?

I am sticking to it like a swan to water.

And a free loaf every day.

- Tomorrow, a pork pie.
- Pork pie?

- Slightly damaged.
- You're slightly damaged.

Today, 14 ounces of Danish.

Slightly damaged?

Light and airy, for ladies who
are watching their figures.

I'm not the one.

You better off wobbling than **.

# I like a nice cup of tea
in the morning #

# I like a nice cup of tea
with my tea... #

# I like a nice cup of tea
in the morning #

# For to start the day you see #

# And at half past eleven #

# Well my idea of heaven #

# Is a nice cup of tea #

# I like a nice cup of tea
with my dinner #

Jackie Bunton.

Is this your idea of a
Saturday night out?

Just wait, would ya?
Come on, follow me.

# And when it's getting late #

- Jackie.
- # Almost anything can wait #

- What are you doing?
- # For a nice cup of tea. #

Madam, care the view?

What do you think?

Yours are there?

One day, aye.

We'll gonna be millionaires.

That's what I wanna do.

Build boats like this.

On the Tyne?

Nah.

California, New Zealand,

Australia.

You just wanna get away.

Mum wants me to wear a shirt & tie.
And dad wants me to punch the Pope.

What's the pope done to upset your dad?

The Pope,

Prime Minister...

Dolly love,

It's bad enough we have to get up.

It's a crack of a sparrow's 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?

Not as such.

But we know where this note was posted?

Central Birmingham.

The Italians?

We are re-evaluating the
aspect of the inquiry, sir.

But we can pinpoint precisely
the whereabouts of this person.

Also we're pretty sure he resides
between Morecambe and Birmingham and he's

traveled 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 known conformist
type of person,

with the 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. Auden up at last.

What's he actually asking for?

One hundred and forty thousand pounds,
Home Secretary.

Good grief, for what?

For charity.

As yet, unspecified.

Clearly a lunatic.

We will, of course, follow any credible...

Now be quiet, MacPherson.

Sir.

Gentlemen, I am 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.

I'm back.

Where have you been?

Large white slice.

Slightly damaged.

This came for you.

BBC, the play.

The one that's not about the accident.

They really want me
to go down to London,

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 replace, can't be
writers. That's all I can say.

Whoever they are...

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

Aye.

What's for tea?

Sausage and mash.

Done.

Pair of kings.

- Three aces.
- What? No!

There he is.

I might have known, Mr. Akram.

- You're still on parking time, are you?
- No, sir.

- Had your 10 minutes.
- Sorry, sir.

Let him finish the game.

What?

Me and Javid broke at the same time.

Kempton, please, it doesn't matter.

It does 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.
- Hey.

I like Pakis, mate.

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?

I'm going back up now, sir.

Sit down, Bunton.

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 tell you what, Bunton.

Get your card,

clock off and fuck off.

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

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.
- Thank you.

Where were you?

What's your answer to that then?

What are you doing here?

Stopping over for a couple of night, dad.

This is Pammy.

Hiya, Mr. Bunton.

What do you want?

Talking to your 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... Alright.

Kenny should've given evidence yesterday
at Leeds Crown Court

but he did a runner.

- What've you done, Kenneth?
- Me? Nothing.

They want me to grass on 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'm writing here.

But mum said it'll be alright.

Where is she?

Shops, I gave her some money.

Not enough dinner now over here?

"Dinner" is 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 mate stole a car, Dolly.
He won't be hung for that.

Hanged.

It's "hanged."

I love your toad in the hole, mum.

Thank you, Jackie.

So...

Pamela,

what is your current domestic situation?

Give it a rest, mum.

I work for Ms. Gowling.

That's the wife of Counselor Gowling.

You may have heard of him.

And what's it got to do with him?

There's a 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?

"Play For Today" is on in five minutes.

Can't get BBC.

Why not?

Dad took the band-1 coil out.

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

But you've got one still attached
to this side of your television.

No, we haven't.

That's mine.

What did you do that for?

To be normal.

Just fit the gizmo back in then.

Dad's lost the coil.

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

We don't like "Play For Today."

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

Did you set your alarm, luv?

What for?

Aren't you six to two tomorrow?

Ah, you're right.

Don't embrace this.

- Sandwich loaf tomorrow if you can manage.
- No problem.

Will you piss off?

Language!

She's got a nerve.

Count your blessings they're only arguing.

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

Fast, very smooth.

But inside he's a hard nut.

And fingers, slim, elegant things.
Everything he touches...

It was there for six weeks.

It must've been a big source of anxiety
for the National Museum staff.

The evidence they put together...

Did he steal before? Never. Never.

Not since the gallery opened in 1824.

What have you been thinking
about the thieves themselves?

Well, we don't think that they were
professional criminals in a strict sense.

We think they...

- Doll.
- What?

... more likely to have
been misguided people.

What?

They spoke about charity in their note.

Nothing.

The best sort of charity they can do
would be returning the portrait.

You like it. I want you to say.

I need to piss.

And I thought you were Cary Grant.

- You beauty.
- Dad.

Three horse accumulator, twenty quid.

The Mirror, they're making you an offer.

I'll give 'em the painting,

they put it on the exhibition,
charge the public to see the Duke

and give me the proceeds.
Bingo!

How much will the exhibition raise?

Thirty thousand?

Fifty thousand? Who knows?

The painting
has not been out in the news, has it?

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

You're not really gonna 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 a rake off?

Jackie, Robin Hood?

What if they are in it with the coppers?

You'll give them the painting.

They're doing cov-op, and they shop you.

"The Mirror"?

This is the workers' feed
we're talking about.

How are you gonna get them the painting?

We'll worry about that tomorrow.
Tonight, celebration.

Fish supper. Family outing.

No, but Dad, Irene is coming around.

The more the merrier.
Bring her along.

So, Mrs. Bunton,
How did you and Mr. Bunton meet?

At his mother's pub in Tynemouth.

He wiped my table four times.

It worked, you came back.

When she saw he was sweet of 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 wanna be dragged
by your balls from here to Tynemouth.

Kenneth, language.

Irene is new to the family.
And she hasn't been married.

No,

I'm still looking for my prince charming.

Good luck finding him in Benwell.

Benwell village.

You are so harsh, mum.

Here, come here.

No, no, my God.

- Chariot for the Queen.
- Stop it.

Make way for the queen.
Here she is coming.

Four pie and chips, two corn chips

mashed peas, three
and two pots of tea, please.

Four pie and chips,

two corn chips, three mashed
peas, and two pots of tea.

On second thought I prefer a lemonade.

And a lemonade, please.

And a lemonade.

Anything else?

- What are you gonna do with it?
- With what?

- The painting?
- What painting?

I don't know, the painting of Duke of
Wellington by Francisco Jose de Goya?

What are you suggesting?

I'm suggesting that if you were to move
the painting somewhere neutral,

safe, out of the house,

I could tell the authorities where it is,

and we could split the 5000 reward.

- Or?
- Or...

You can hang on to it.

And one day some very public minded
assistant 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 with 2500.
- What do you wanna do?

- Help people.
- Or help yourself more like.

Are you short of money?

Who isn't?

She knows about it.

What?

The Duke.

- Who? Mum?
- Pammy.

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

- But what about the "Mirror" offer?
- I know.

But if she goes to the police now,
we're done for.

I'll take it back tonight.
Maybe they'll go easy on me.

- What would you tell mum?
- What can I tell her?

Here, I'm gonna slip back.
Keep them entertained.

- What am I supposed to do?
- I do not know.

Take them to the Green Tree.

Kempton?

I can explain.

Oh my good God.

It was you?

You stole the painting?

It's not theft, for money,

it's for the campaign.

You're a madman.

I'm living with a madman.

But you swore to me, you promised.

If you involved our Jackie in this...

Jackie has nothing to do with it.

Why was he wearing rubber gloves
half of the time then?

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 he'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 of this would stop.

You don't care, do you?

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, five thousand.
She's after the money, so if...

- She'll go to the police.
- It's possible but...

- And they'll come here.
- Yes, only if it's...

In the street.

They'll drag you out in handcuffs.

- Listen, calm down.
- I can't calm down. I'm at top pitch.

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

That would be the best thing
for us, for all of us.

I might have to do a bit of time.

It's a hundred and forty thousand
pound painting. You'll do life.

No, luv, it's not like that.
I was gonna use it...

you know, the greater good of mankind.

Mankind? What about your own kind?

You've broken this family.

You're disgusting.

Get out, you bastard. Just get out!

Dad.

Dad, I'm coming with you.

No, you're not. This is my thing.
It has 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 of 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 has
simply walked in off the streets

with the painting under his arm
wrapped up in a bit of old brown paper.

And when our reporter tried it
nobody batted an eyelid.

...looked up and said,

"Mr. Hutchinson, are you trying
to show this court contempt?"

I said, "My Lord, no.
I'm actually trying to hide it."

First rule of advocacy:
don't be funnier than the judge.

Yes.

Mr. Bunton,

I'm your barrister, Jeremy Hutchinson.

That's a shame, I thought you were
gonna offer me a gin and tonic.

While I'm out tonight

my wife is in Cherry Orchard.

Playing "Ranevskaya"?

Indeed.

Like life I can never decide
if The Cherry Orchard,

is a tragedy or a farce.

Do you know the play?

It's one of my favorites.

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
overfond of his kings.

Eric Crowther, junior counselor.

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

Yes.

You are 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.

They didn't have Mr. Hutchinson
defending them.

Who's prosecuting?

Neddie Cussen.

- Score is seven to two.
- To you?

To him.

Born prosecutor, Neddie.

Defendants are always guilty
until proven innocent.

Can you get me off?

Mr. Bunton,

You've 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, Kempton Bunton,
a 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 entrance.

- Did you steal the Goya, Mr. Bunton?
- No, I borrowed it.

- Why?
- For the greater good.

We can still get there.

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

The most of the day was taken of
with empaneling 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 the 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 off ticket.

- Are you Kempton Bunton?
- Aye.

But not named after Kempton Race track
as some might have it.

Even though it is probable
that I was conceived there.

It is a "yes" or "no" answer?

Yes, My Lord.

My mother named me after Kempton Cannon.
The jockey who rode St. Amanat.

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 pounds,

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 Francesco Goya,

to the value of one hundred
and forty thousand pounds.

- 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, luv, not guilty.

Mr. Cussen.

Thank you, My Lord.

And at 5 a.m.

when you returned from your rest break,
what did you see?

The 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,

singly and entirely my own.

And that statement is signed?

Kempton Bunton.

Thank you, detective inspector.

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

Mr. Hutchinson.

The defense has no questions
for this witness.

At this rate we'll be finished by tea.

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

The child-like scrawl across
all the ransom note 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 the 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 has got to keep this place clean,

Lord knows your father will
drag us into the gutter.

That's not true.

And it's not dad's fault Marian died.

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

Do 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 you like.
- I stole the painting.

Did you hear me? I stole the Goya.

What?

No.

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

Aye, it was me.

Not dad.

No, please, just please tell me
it's all nonsense, Jackie Bunton.

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

I'm shaking.

Look at me, I'm shaking.

Stop it, you're just
making yourself shake.

Sit down.

When did you go to London?

It was that week I took off work.

But you...

You said you went to Leeds.

You lied.

I'm sick of you skivvying for Lady Mogue.

Sick of 'em all laughing at dad.

I thought the painting might be...

I thought it might change everything.

So you are a liar

and a thief.

I just thought if he had something

them bloody toffs wanted
they'd have to listen...

You know, his TV crusade.

Crusade? Jesus Christ is he now?

But how?

I mean how did you take it?

I cased the gallery.

Goya was just out 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 down.

There was a courtyard below

with all builder stuff and ladders.

Excuse me.

I went up to the security fella.
And asked him how you get a job.

You can try the office.

Cleaners work early mornings.

Four thirty.

Get a night rate, son. Lucky buggers.

I was born lucky.

Then, I figured...

If the cleaners were half past four,
they'd have to turn the alarms off.

So I went back early morning.

Put a ladder up just
below the toilet window.

Climbed up and...

I could hear one of them,
automatic floor polishers.

So I waited until he passed and then...

I just walked across the floor.

I don't suppose you've
ever been to Newcastle.

What did your father say
when you told him?

Fucking hell!

- What do you think?
- I think...

Fucking hell!

A hundred and forty grand.

If you can sell it, which you can't.

I know.

I'm not daft.

But for pictures the insurance will
pay out 10 percent for safe return.

Have you got a screw loose?

- Are you angry with this?
- Angry? No.

I'm furious, you stupid penis

you've nicked the best known
painting on the planet.

Good lord.

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

Blackmail the bastards.

Or to bargain a ransom? To betterment
of none other than common men?

One problem.

What's that?

Two words.

Mrs. Dorothy Bunton.

We 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 the blame.
- I...

stole it.

On the telly it was in the frame.

Shit.

I took it off.

I must've left it under the
bed in my 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. Thank you.

How old are you, Mr. Bunton?

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?

Byker.

If Newcastle was a dog,

you lifted its tail,

that hole there, that's Byker.

Your father...

fought in the first world war at Ypres.

Wipers, he wasn't an officer.

He came back in a wheelchair?

Aye.

A tank ran over his legs.

How did he feel about
the Germans after that?

Never a bad word.

The 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 you 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.

It was a rough game, but she had
a left hook like Henry Cooper's.

Luckily she didn't cut quite as easy.

In WWII you were refused service
on medical grounds?

I've done my bit. I drove lorries.

You married young?

I had to marry.

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 TV license?

Aye, I told them I had no intention of
paying it because I couldn't receive BBC.

- You went to prison for not paying?
- I did.

On your release,

you continued to campaign for free TV,

for pensioners and war veterans,
is that correct?

I could afford a license 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've just finished reading
Joseph Conrad's "Heart of Darkness"

and I felt the need to explore Sunderland.

But I got distracted and found myself
on a South Shields beach.

I chugged myself into sea to cool down.

A rip 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 my energy

by floating,

not swimming.

Looked at the sky...

Smile on my face.

You could call it trust.

An hour later

the light boat pulls up alongside
and hauls me in.

The skipper was a milkman from Blyth.

By all accounts a bit of a bastard.

Excuse my French.

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

He saved my life that day.

It could've 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.

A bit useless.

What good is a brick on its tod?

But you put a lot 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 are over 65 now. Pension has
been not two pennies 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,
that "I'm you, 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. Bunton,

I suspect the jury are asking
themselves how any of this

applies to the theft of the Goya.

- I saw on the news.
- The ITV news?

Very good.

I've seen that the government was paying
out a 140,000 pounds for this painting.

That for me became about numbers.

If you put all that money
into a bank account

earning 10 percent interest

you could pay for 3500 TV licenses a year,

and reconnect with all of them people.

No further questions, My Lord.

You saw the painting on the ITV news

and realizing it was worth 140,000 pounds

you decided 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?

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'd get directions?

Everyone knows where you can buy a bucket.

Do you know the address of the shop?

Why? Do you need a bucket?

No, we need... Excuse me.

We need the address because you said
that you removed the frame

and hid it under the bed in your lodgings.

So is the bucket shop still there?

I have no idea. I've not been back.

I'm not short of buckets myself.

Mr. Bunton, you are on trial.

This is not an audition for a music hall.

Sorry, My Lord.

What am I looking at?

Ten years?

I'll make my closing speech and then
the judge will give his summing 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, direct us.

"God, help us" more like.

Well, I'll give you two some time.

Please.

Well, you are all over the papers.

Am I?

You could've told me.

We could've dealt with it together.

Could we?

I read the rest of your play.

I'm sorry you felt you're 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?

I don't know.

Ten years?

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 alright.

As the night follows day

Kempton Bunton stole the Goya.

So say the prosecution.

No.

That puzzled me.

Because nothing

is a crime in this country
unless it is expressly forbidden

by law.

If your neighbor

borrows your lawn mower and
doesn't return it for a month.

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.

It a world where

I'm 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 lawn mower.

When all of this 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 it 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 it on the hallway to impress
the chair of the Rotary Club.

Can this country really
allow such behaviour

to be placed outside our criminal law?

Now that is the question
I urge you to focus on now

as you retire to consider your verdicts.

This is a good sandwich.

It is.

I felt cheese.

Will the foreman please stand.

And the defendant.

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,

have you reached a verdict upon
which all twelve of you are agreed?

We have.

On the charge of the
theft of a picture frame

to the value of 80 pounds,
property of the National Gallery.

Do you find the defendant
guilty or not guilty?

Guilty.

Establishment fix up!

- Establishment fix up!
- There will be silence.

Or I shall order the
public gallery cleared?

On the charge of a 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.

Silence!

Silence 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...
- Not guilty.

Silence!

Silence in court!

I will have silence.

Silence in court!

Remove that woman.

I'm not going anywhere.

Kempton Bunton served three months...

for the theft of the frame...

which was never found.

Thank you.

Give us one of those bags.

- You're here?
- Of course I'm here.

Where else do you think I'd be?

I hadn't been wasting my time,
I've put up a couple of plays.

Shakespeare must be shivering in his boots.

I suppose so.

And Chekhov.

Who's Chekhov?

Do you remember that play we went
to see about the three sisters?

Here she is.

Welcome home, dad.

I'll put the kettle on.

Is one of those for me?

Wet your whistle.

- Cheers.
- Cheers.

- I needed that.
- I'm glad 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
offense 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? Do 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. No.

It depends, Mr. Bond,

on which side of the glass you are.

A medium-dry martini, lemon peel.
Shaken, not stirred.

- Vodka?
- Of course.

It's that bloody picture again.

You should put that into the wardrobe.

You'd have to get Jackie to fix it.