All language subtitles for A Touch Of Cloth s02e01e02.eng

So we have to repossess
your house and everything in it

and that stick you're leaning on.

It'll be hard to walk...

Then lie down and drag
yourself along with your lips.

Cashier number three, please.

Today.
Help a Blameless Child?

Thank you, sir, thank you very much.

Lay off it.

Put a smile on a kid's face.

Help a blameless child.

Right. Straight in, straight out.
No messing.

And Twitch, watch that trigger
finger.

Mr Macratty don't want no mistakes.

Go! Go! Go! Go!

Help a Blameless Child?
No change, mate.

Help a Blameless...?
Woo!

Go! Go! Go!

Everybody get down on the floor!

Now!

Nobody moves, nobody gets hurt.

Shut it.

And you.

Uh-uh. Eat it. I said eat it!

That's right! We'll even
stand on the bloody counters!

Any of you try and stop us,
you'll end up like these leaflets.

Woo!

Reckon you'll be telling
your grandkids about this, eh?

I'm-I'm gay.

Right. Well. You can
turn it into a musical

Go on! Oi!

Don't try and be a hero.

Robber number one, please.

It's OK, I'm a cop.

You're Todd Carty.

And a cop.

No-one said it'd be locked.

Why's it locked? New guidelines.

We have to lock the money up
so the notes don't blow away

if there's a draught. Right...

Get it open
or I'm going to do your knees.

I haven't got a niece.

Code! Now!

Two, two, double two,
then two twos and two more twos.

Double two again,
two, two, two, two...

two, two, two, two and two.

Go, go, go, go. Go.

Woo!

Who's whispering?

Ahh...

Hey are you talking to God?

Do you want to talk to him
face to face?

Does God even have a face?

WELL, DOES HE?

Not in any meaningful
anthropomorphic sense...

I don't talk ponce-a-nese.

Leave the ponce alone.

Now drop it.

You ain't got the guts.

Maybe not, but I've got the balls.

Two of them, big as mangoes.

Each as warm and heavy
as a baby's head,

with a similar covering of fine hair

and tendency to wrinkle up
when I need feeding.

Now put the gun down.

No.

Don't I know you from somewhere?

That's rich, coming from you.

You sound just like this
little scrote

that used to cause trouble
on my patch.

They called you Twitch.

No, they never.

What was your guvnor's name again?
Macreedy?

Macratty.

And that ain't his name, anyway.
Stop with the mind games!

Macratty's not going to be
happy with you.

Stay back.

Or what?

You'll shoot me?
Go ahead I don't care.

I've got nothing to lose,
I'm crazy, you see? Loco.

And don't even think about
taking her hostage.

I hadn't.

Good.

Come here!

Now you drop it, otherwise her kid's
gonna grow up a widow.

Go, go, go, go, go, go, go!

Come on!

Woo!

Go, go, go, go, go.

Twitch you idiot,
what did I tell you?

It was him or me. Get up.

Come on.

Out of the way.

Go.

They shot Todd Carty.

Robber number five, please.

Subtitles by MemoryOnSmells
http://UKsubtitles.ru.

We're interrupting that
music for a Crimi-News update.

We're hearing about an armed bank
robbery in the City of Town.

There are reports of casualties

but it's not yet clear how many
are dead,

or which brilliant yet tortured
policeman

might soon be on the tail
of the culprit.

I don't play those games any more.

Sorry, are we going to be sitting
here much longer...?

It's just that my flight's at 2:30,

and the airport's a fair distance,
so...

Oh, great.

When I become mayor, crimes like
this will be a thing of the past.

Like Max Headroom.
Or the Renaissance.

Aggressive armed robbery.

Four armed men wearing stockings,
15 denier, back seam.

�6.49 from department stores
and/or larger branches of Boots.

Who's that on the steps?

Mayoral candidate Hope Goodgirl.

Centre-right, libertarian,
currently unmarried, feisty,

blood group AB,
5,000 Twitter followers.

Mobile number 077...

Whoever she is, she's in our way.

This is a crime scene. Now fold
up your typewriters and leave.

Visible policing.
You're an inspiration.

And you're an obstruction.

The force could use more bodies
like yours.

Here's my card.

Let me slide my fingers into
that warm little pocket of yours.

Help a blameless child...

Witness number one, please.

They even shot the owl.

Why would a bank have an owl?

All banks do.

Where's the manager?

Roger Quiver.

I'm pretty sure that's what
they looked like.

Left-handed, golf handicap 15,
never eaten moussaka,

enjoys Homes Under the Hammer
and Steely Dan.

DI Anne Oldman.

The men who did this, was there
anything distinguishing about them?

Accents? Stature? Hobbies?

Witness number two, please.

Thank you.
If you think of anything...

Wait.

What about their weight?

They looked... normal.
I mean they were made of skin...

But one of them had a tattoo.

Sketch it for me.

Asap. Guv!

Get this to the
boys down the station, Asap.

Des.

Des?

Poor bastard wasn't even on duty.

Just popped in to look at the money.

Paid the ultimate price trying to
save a member of the public.

Killed by his own dedication.

Killed by a bullet, actually.

At least he died a hero.

The kind of hero that shits himself.

It seems fearless Mr Carty bravely
defecated as the bullet went in.

Which either indicates terror or
a severe lead allergy.

Try focussing on the evidence,
Natasha. I have.

Carty may have brown-buttered
his britches like a petrified girl,

but at least he had the presence
of mind to write that as he died.

I assume it's a lead.

It says "Macratty"
not that it's easy to tell.

He ran out of room and had to
scrunch the last letters up.

Hero he may have been.
Typographer he was not.

Should've measured it
out in his head first.

"Macratty".

Is that all he wrote?
No.

He also did some doodling as
they tried to revive him.

Looks like he was bored.

Oh. And he was clutching
this in his other hand.

Some sort of rag.

Perhaps he was planning to mop
up after himself.

At least someone's tried to clean
up this mess,

even if they were selfish enough to
turn dead in the process.

Don't expect you've generated any
evidence of your own?

Not much but whoever did this, sir,
knew what they were doing.

I don't care if they knew all four
members of the Vengaboys.

I'm the big man round here and
I want them caught, and caught hard.

Have you seen our crime
statistics lately?

No. Because someone stole them.

Together with a kilo of heroin
from the vice squad tuck shop.

It's not good enough, Oldman.

OldMAN. Sir.

It's not good enough, Old Man.

You wanted a promotion.

I suggest you earn it.

And I also suggest you watch me
leave, grandly.

Ad break number one, please.

Assistant Chief Constable!

Chief Constable - Mitt Sniff,
The Mirror. How much was taken?

A figure in the region of many
pounds.

Robin Stork, Bird-watching Now.

Is it true they shot the owl?

I heard it was a tawny owl,
they're increasingly rare.

Yes, in the face.

Jill Tits, Pestering Journalist.
Is the force losing control?

What's that word women use?

"No."

What about the rumours
regarding your leadership?

What rumours?
That no-one trusts you

since that string of baroque revenge
killings you carried out last year.

There was a full inquiry.

I apologised and I went
on a rehabilitation course,

so as far as everyone is concerned
that is the end of the matter.

Does "everyone" include Jack Cloth?

Jack Cloth is ancient history.
He's last week's hummus.

Burnt out, washed up and bummed off.
He quit the force.

He's out. He's gone away-o.

And as far as I'm concerned,
that's the opposite of bad riddance.

We never so much as mention
his name round here.

We need Cloth, now.

What?

Look.

Get rid of these vermin.

Dave Clegg, Victim Today.
Are we being led to our deaths?

In my office.

That man turned his back
on the force.

There's no second
chances in this job.

Usually.

I don't like it any more
than you do.

The situation between Jack and me,
it's...

complicated.

"Complicated"?

It's not just "complicated"...

But...

Painful.

Things got messy on Jack's last case.

Too messy.

NOOOOO...!

I know.
But Todd died giving us this lead.

If we don't follow it up,

it's like he died for nothing
in some pre-titles opening sequence.

There's no choice.
We need Jack back.

No-one's heard sight of him
since he left the force.

Do you think he'll ever forgive me
for what I did to Kate?

Jack doesn't blame you, Tom.

He blames himself.

There you go, my love.

All nice and neat,
just the way you like it.

I remember
when you used to trim my garden.

Hello Jack.

I thought you never wanted to see me
again, Oldman.

OldMAN.

I thought you never wanted to see me
again, Old Man.

I didn't.

So then why are you here?

The boys down the station...
they need your help with something.

I don't fix vending
machines any more.

There was a bank job.

I read about it on the radio,
looks complicated.

It also looks like it's
none of my business.

Jack, they shot the owl.

Owls die.

They shot Todd, too.

Don't tell me he's dead.

Is he dead?

Yes. Agh!

I said don't tell me.

Before he died, Todd wrote
a name in blood.

Macratty.

Michael Macratty.

You know him? Only by reputation.

If it's unpleasant and unlegal,
he's into it.

Guns, drugs, gluing dogs to planks

and throwing them out of
helicopters.

What does he look like?

We don't know.

Macratty's like a ghost.

Timothy Claypole?

He can't be caught.

We could catch him.

Together.

Jack, you know Macratty's world.

You've lived on Earth
the whole of your life.

It's like you were born there.

I was born in hell
the day my wife died.

Egg and sweets with toast.

I know you want to bring
Macratty down.

You're still hungry.

I can see it.

You expect me to put this down
and come and work for Tom Boss?

I've got two words for you. No.

Boss went on a course.
He hasn't killed anyone in months.

Both answers are still no. Jack!

If this is about what
happened between us...

Nothing happened between us.

And nothing ever will again.

That's a lie and you know it.

Lean closer and say that.

I said that's a lie and I want you.

Closer.

I want you Jack, is that enough?

I was wrong to leave.

I cry so much these days my face
thinks it lives underwater...

I need you, you bastard...

I need you in me right here,
right now...

When I said no, I meant no.

And no.

Jack, wait.

You don't want me anyway.
You're gay.

Bi, Jack.

Egg and piss.

The funeral of beloved
actor-turned policeman Todd Carty

took place today,

as a stunned nation entered its
fifth official day of mourning.

Friends and colleagues of Carty
continued to pay their respects

and make specific requests of
embittered hard-drinking mavericks.

Why would someone shoot Todd?
Todd never shot anyone.

Not on purpose.

Someone should avenge him.

Someone Scottish.

The person who did this
is walking around free,

while Todd, he's lying in the ground
like a parsnip.

Never been so angry
since Willmott-Brown.

I'm sick to the tits.

In all my years as an officer

I've never seen a crime
shatter a community like this.

I mean look around,
their eyes, they're pissing tears.

It's like they can't believe it.

They don't want to believe it.
They're like "Oh, no - not Todd.

"Oh, no. Not Todd.

"Oh, please, not Todd."
That's what they're like.

Someone in a position to do
something about this has to

ensure justice is done.

They need to stop being so bloody
maudlin,

put down that drink,

rejoin the force and stride manfully
into the briefing room

saying, "OK, listen up.
It's time to catch these bastards."

OK, listen up.
It's time to catch these bastards.

This is crime boss and mega-turd
Michael Macratty.

As you can see, he's mysterious.

So mysterious we don't even know
what he looks like.

But we know he's black.

That's just an artist's impression.

Macratty's as slippery as greased
Hellmann's,

as unpredictable
as a werewolf on malaria pills.

Long suspected to be behind a series

of increasingly audacious
scrap metal thefts...

He's recently graduated to
armed robbery and murder.

We somehow have to prove
a link between him and this.

We need to map Macratty's network.

I want to find out who he knows,
where he goes,

what he does,
in which size gloves...

What he eats, how he sleeps...

Under blankets? Under sheets?

Is he single? Is he taken?

How crispy does he like his bacon?

Upper, middle, working class?

Which hand's employed to wipe
his arse? What's his blood group?

What's his sign?
What's his take on Palestine?

Who's his mother, who's his dad?
Has he read Beevor's Stalingrad?

What's his height,
what's his weight?

How often does he masturbate?

Is he churlish, shy or chatty?

Who is the real Mike Macratty?

Solve these riddles if you can...

and together we can stop this man.

Any questions?

OK.

Let's po-lice.

Qureshi, set up a wiretap,
we're going to need monitors,

microphones, lights,
Steadicam operators

and some sort of distribution deal

for first-run satellite
and DVD rights. I'm on it, guv.

Anne, Des, we're going to sit
in a car looking at a scrap yard.

Think you can handle that?
Is the car on fire?

Absolutely not.
Piece of piss, guv.

What's that?

It's a prehensile extremity used to
manipulate the environment.

To offer friendship.

That hand killed my wife.

Actually that was this hand.

A murderer and a pedant?
You're pathetic.

I hear you're back on board
for the Macratty investigation.

It's good to have you back, Jack.

I'm doing this for Todd -
and the owl.

Not you. You're nothing to me.

I wouldn't cross the street to watch
you urinate into a teacup.

I'm sorry about Kate.

Don't you EVER say her name.

What, Kate? Gah!

Stop it! Jack, stop it.

No-one's expecting you
to like each other.

But you're working together.

Think of Todd. Oh, fuck Todd. Oh!

I'm sorry you had to hear that,
Mrs McCluskey.

And I'm sure Jack is sorry too.

Oh...

Both of you shake hands.

I'll shake your hand.

But don't expect me to hold you down
and kiss you roughly on the mouth.

I don't. Good.

Guy in the T-shirt is
one of Macratty's goons.

You and Des go see
what you can get out of him.

Is Macratty in?

Who wants to know?

Police.

Not here. What's your name?

Who wants to know?

Us again.

Hairy hand.

Oh, you can read then,
whoever you are.

They call me Bullock.

Yah!

Has Macratty been here today?

Who wants to know?

Tell you what, Bullock.

I'll make it simple.

Where were you Wednesday
morning, 12:30?

And before you ask who
wants to know, I do.

I was here. All day.

Anyone that can back that up?

Tumbler can.
Isn't that right Tumbler?

He was here all day.

Where'd you get the tattoo?

I don't ask questions.

Don't you?

Who wants to know?

Thought you said you don't
ask questions.

Where will we find Macratty?

By the way...

there's something
I'm not telling you.

There's something he's
not telling us.

Not yet.

Not with his mouth.

What does that mean?

I don't know.

Our first mark.

Street-name, "Bullock."

Tattoo puts him at the scene.

Get close to Bullock, he'll lead us
straight to Macratty.

The question is,
how do we earn his trust?

With some sausages?

With a disguise.

I'm going undercover.

If they find out you're police,
they'll shoot you in the head.

So what? Or cut your throat open and
pull your tongue through the hole

so it flops around like a necktie.

Nothing I can't handle.

Or drive you to Swanage
and just leave you there.

I love Swanage.

Jack, they're right.

You can't go undercover,
it's too risky.

You could die.

I've got nothing to live for anyway.

That's not true, Jack.

Isn't it?

What do I have to look forward to?

I don't even have any DVD box
sets on the go.

Things change, Jack.

Pain never changes.

Look at me. I've lost everything
I ever cared about.

Even my shoes.

Not everything, Jack.

Don't.

Can't you see?
You'd be kissing a dead man.

Fellating a corpse.

Rimming a... I don't care.

Maybe not. But so do I.

Hello?

Anne Oldman?

It's pronounced "Old Man."

Who is this?

Mayor-in-waiting Hope Goodgirl.
Pronounced just how I said it.

Is this a good time?

Who gave you this number?

999? You're in the book.

This better be important.

I don't have time for a sub-plot
right now.

Prickly. I'll keep it short.

The future fascinates me.
Does it fascinate you?

Yes.

No...

I don't know.

Well, it should.
I'd like to discuss your future.

Maybe... over dinner?

OK, fine, whatever.

Tonight.

Sappho restaurant Ladyglove Street.

Don't let me down.

OK.

These guys are ruthless criminals.

The only way to earn their respect

is to walk in there and pay them
absolutely no respect.

This wire of yours better be
discreet.

Don't worry, guv.
It's invisible to the naked eye.

Apart from this transmitter.

OK.

The important thing about these
operations is to stay in character.

So, ask me some questions. Test me.

Where'd you get the goods from?

Stole them. Illegally.

You done time?
Five-stretch, Belmarsh, GBH.

Kicked a nonce to death
with his own leg.

You a copper? Probably not.

What's your name? Jack.

That IS your name.

This is spelt J-A-C-Q-U-E-S.
Jacques.

But pronouncing it "Jack"
means that if anyone calls my name

I'll react naturally, as though Jack
was my name - which it is.

Try it.

Jack? Yeah.

Jack. Yeah.

Jack. Hello.

Jack, wait...

Don't forget which side you're on.

I'm not on a side.

I'm on the edge,
and edges don't have sides.

No, I meant this side...

opens onto the road.

Check it out.

What's your name?

Jacques. Pronounced "Jack."

Jack what?

My surname?

It's, er...

Copper

Jack Copper?

Pronounced "Coppaire."

Jack Coppaire.

Do you have a name, or do you just
go by that distinctive odour?

Bullock.

I don't like smart arses. Uh-huh?

What kind do you like?
Little pink ones?

He's a comedian.
Tell us a joke, funny man.

What's the difference between a
King Edward and your mother?

Surprise me.

One's a potato. The other's a whore.

He's going to over-cock.

Jack knows what he's doing.

Augh-augh-augh...

Mm-mm-mm...

Ohh...

Augh-augh-augh...

Ugh-ugh-ugh-ugh...

Oh-oh-oh-oh...

Augh-augh-augh...

Pffrrt-pffrrt-pffrrt...

Mm-mm-mm.

Mm-mm... Mmmm.

That's your mother
on What's My Line.

Hope you like the taste of fists,
funny man.

Not as much as she does.

Although she doesn't take them
orally.

He's right.

It's a car.

I've seen cars before. Yeah.

But you break that car down

and you've got at least Ј400-worth
of scrap metal on your hands.

400...?

You can get your hands on more
motors, can you?

Is the Pope a Catholic?

What's a "Pope"?

I can get more motors
than you can think of.

More than six?

Will they all have wheels?

Doors too.

And not just cars.

Trains, planes, submarines,
mole-machines.

You want a battleship?
I can hotwire one like that.

Now, do we have a deal,

or are we just jerking
each other's tits here?

Let's go see the boss.

Sounds like we're in.

Mr Macratty.

This calls itself Jack Coppaire.

Does she, now?

Nice place... if you're into shit.

We've got to get him out of there.

Not yet. Just give him a chance.

I don't like lip.

More of an arse man?
Like boyfriend, like son?

Get us a pint of milk
on your way to the afterlife.

Guv!

Let's get him out of there.

Shoot me if you want.
But I've got something you need.

Oxygen?

Wait...

Jack's up to something.

Merchandise.

Where's this "merchandise"?

Let's just say I had to bring it
through customs...

In my brown suitcase.

It still there?

I don't walk this way out of choice.

Bullock, take a look.

What's happening?

Sounds like...

someone's pulling a large skittle
out of a bucket of wet clay...

They've thrown summat on the table.
What is it?

A kind of furniture.
And the thing they threw?

According to the waveforms...

it's a kilo of pharmaceutical grade
heroin.

From the vice squad tuck shop.

Jack! You've forgotten which
side you're on.

Maybe you should've
washed your hands before dinner.

Well?

Looks like I'm about to
make a new friend.

I'm not on Facebook.

Ahh.

That could've been sticky.

Does this burn DVDs?

Take a good look.

Because this is Michael Macratty.

I thought he'd be bigger.

And rounder.

And have arms and legs.

Well, this is just a photograph.

The real Macratty's 3D
and in colour.

Like Toy Story 3?

Of course I like Toy Story 3,
it's absolutely magical

but that's irrelevant, Des.

We need to take a good hard
look at Macratty close up...

and keep looking at him close up, no
matter who or what gets in the way.

Even if it means we have to steal
heroin from the vice squad tuck shop

to earn his trust?

You can't wipe away vile human scum

without getting your fingernails
dirty.

Ask my cleaning lady,
she'll tell you.

In Polish.

But you stealing that heroin
makes no sense, guv.

Why? Because it's wrong?

Because you weren't even working
here when Boss said it'd gone,

back at the bank. So?

So, it's against all established
rules of narrative.

I don't have time for
rules of narrative.

But in terms of continuity alone...
Forget continuity!

Sometimes you've got to break
the law to protect the law.

I'll steal that heroin before it
exists if I have to.

And there's not a damn
thing you can do to stop me. Jack!

You're forgetting which side
you're on. Not Macratty's side.

Our side. Homicide.

Work it out amongst yourselves.

I've got somewhere to be.

Mm.

I love eating out.

Do you love eating out?

I love eating out.

Oh, um, I'll have the lesbian
special, please.

Mm-hm, OK.

Um... Why don't you try the clam?

It comes drenched in its own juices.
You'll lap it up.

I'll take that. Great.

Here's to our future job prospects.

"Our" prospects...?

When I become mayor, which I will...

I'll need a new chief of police.

What? What about Tom Boss?

Tom Boss will be replaced.

He'll be devastated to lose his job.

He's a big man, he can take it.

He's a great policeman.
Who murdered 13 people.

Apart from that.

A leopard can't change its tune.

Maybe you should keep an eye on him.

When he's not near a sword,
I trust Tom Boss with my life.

Loyal.

I like that.

And you're... upfront.

Upfront is good.

Do you like it upfront?

Or would you prefer us to lie
side by side

and rub our fannies together
like two pieces of chamois leather?

In the nude.

I look forward to us
working together.

Mm. I think your clam is ready.

And it's absolutely steaming.

Hey.

I think Macratty's about to say some
important dialogue to Jack.

I think you might be able to help me
out with something, Jack.

I need an extra pair of hands
on a job that's coming up,

someone high up is calling.

The big man needs us to hit the
local museum,

top secret, top dollar, top pocket,

top gear, top bollocks, top hat,
white tie and tails.

We're not meant to talk about that.

What if someone's listening
on headphones?

Shut it. No, the big man said we're
not meant to...

I said shut it!

Eat your lolly.

There's someone above Macratty.

Run a search for "big man".

I'm on it.

OK...

got a description for "big man."

Black, well-built, distinctive ribs,

wipes clean for storage,

twin-speed with pulse function,
takes 4 AA batteries.

Add it to the shopping basket.

Stay loyal,
and I'll look after you, Coppaire.

Betray me and I'll rip you inside out
from your arsehole to your teeth.

You'll be staring at the back
of your own head

while I use your guts
for a skipping rope.

I'll tear you into eight pieces
and rearrange you into...

sort of an octopus.

Darling?

Katya.

Everything is OK?

I hear men-voices and I scared.

Just business talk, sugar-slit.

Want you to meet our new friend
Jacques, Katya.

Hello Jacques.

It's pronounced "Jack".

I think you should extend
Mr Coppaire the usual hospitality.

Yes, darling.

I don't need second-hand goods.

Oi.

Mr Macratty doesn't like having his
generosity slung back in his face.

And I don't like it
rammed down my throat.

No, but Katya does.

Eh?!

Go on, son.

She gwan gobble yuh up
like rice and pea.

Hm. She slurp yuh down to yuh
bone marrow,

leave you wid hollow legs bwoy.

Hear mi now?

She gwan suck out all
the know-how in yuh brain,

till yuh drooling inna cripple style

like dem Diving Bell Butterfly,
Mistah Man.

Yeah... That's enough Nigel.
This is a classy establishment.

Let's go and listen to them do it.

I wanna hear it going in
to see if he's a cop or not.

Ahh...

You don't have to do this.

You don't have to do that.

You don't have to touch those.

I don't want to hear this.

I'll cover it.
Leave me in here, if you like.

Come, take off shirt.

Just play with those for an hour,
that'll do me.

I want to see what you
have under here.

No.

Why so shy? Why you...?

What is this?

Oh, my God.

She must've found his cable.

Jack? Jack?

Jack? Jack? Jack?

Jack? Jack?

Jack? Jack?

This... shaver with bullet in?

It has sentimental value.

Augh!

I wondered why I put that in there.

No, I'll keep my clothes on.
That's the way I like it.

Complex body-image issues.

OK. You stay dress
while do me up... like this.

I don't think my old man
would approve.

Jack! Jack! Jack! Jack!

Jack! Jack!

Look, I had quite a big breakfast.

You must have me.

Fried bread and everything, so...
Please.

Mr Macratty he throws me
out on streets

if I not satisfy his man-guests.

Well, I'll just tell him I was
satisfied. They listen outside.

We must have sex on here now.

Jack! Jack!

Augh... Jack!

Wait... Bloody hell...

He's turned on.

Oh, yeah... Ah, ah... Ohh...

Bloody hell, that's... Ohh...
Oh, God... Oh, yeah...

You like bum and also buttock? Oh...

Both halves of the bum are... great.

Come round to front... OK...
Conventional orifice is nicer.

Jack's forgotten which side he's on.

Do you think she'll blow it?

I...am... in... your...

balls.

He's in too deep.

If he doesn't pull out soon there'll
be one hell of a mess in there.

Oh... Oh... Oh...

Oh, oh... Aah! Aah!

Ohh! Aah!

Ohhh.

You're not like others, Jack.

Most men do sex,
then turn over and snore

and do guff stink from poo-pipe.

You different.

And you're too good for this.
I know.

Mr Macratty ship me from homeland
inside big tin.

He promise a good job as CEO
of Marks & Spencer with own car,

health insurance and share options.
But when I get here...

It only last nine years.

Now he treat me like rubber dolly
full of air with mouth like this...

I miss family back in Fokkraine.

My little brother Lukaz he loss
eyesight working in egg mine.

My mother go mad, grow beard.

How they cope?

Now Mr Macratty say museum job
very shocking and important,

writer's not certain
this plot point quite clear,

so they record me, say this later.

That's why picture still on you
and not show me talk.

Macratty also say
he kill anyone who get in way.

I not know what to do.

You am help me?

I am help you.

Thank you.

Surely, when you're a
police officer,

you don't have sex
when you're undercover.

Or if you do,
you stick to missionary.

Officers are just people.

Take me. When the public look at me,
they see an ambitious,

confident woman,

destined to rule over millions.

What they don't see is

the frightened little girl
behind the politician.

Jenny, go to bed, me and the nice
police lady are going to have sex.

What?! I didn't come here for that.

We both know that's not true.

We can't do this.

Don't forget, this week it's
Help a Blameless Child, your chance

to help a kiddiewink in need.

They really do need your help,
so please tune in this Friday.

Macratty's been getting inside
information on these bank jobs.

Now, he's got a new plan.
A bigger plan.

That's why this is a two-parter.
But why the museum?

Whatever that's about,
it's incredibly important.

I've got to stay in there,
stay close to Macratty,

keep on top of those
people around him,

keep pumping, pumping, pumping,
till something comes up.

Like Katya? Yes, I like Katya.
But not the way you're thinking.

I thought sex was a fragile,
precious thing to you.

That's what you used to shout
when you were doing me from behind.

At least now I know the truth. You
just ejaculate blankly and move on.

You're no better than
Iain Duncan Smith.

I didn't do anything with Katya!
I've got to stay undercover.

We just pretended to have sex.

Yeah, look at that nice bum.

You like bum and also buttock.

We had to, Macratty was listening
outside, we had to be

completely convincing so Macratty
wouldn't guess what we were up to.

Oh!

Yeah, put your clothes on now,

while I mop my enormous penis clean.

Dammit! I'm this close!
Down. Better? Get down!

Hello, hello, hello...

Enjoying your water, Miss Piggy?

I'm trying to eat. You should try
the breakfast. I hear it's great.

How's yours, pal?

It's not what you think!
I'm my twin brother.

He'll blow my cover, come on!

Oh! Help a blameless... Oh!

Help a... oh!

Macratty, it's Tumbler!

Coppaire's a copper.
He's calling Macratty, Jack!

Do you hear me? A copper!

A pig, a snout, a filth,
a fuzz, a policeman!

Probably got the hat
and everything.

The moment you hear this,
have him killed.

All right? All right.

Come on, Tumbler!
We know where you are. Shit!

Police! Oldman! Old Man!

Drop it!

Still drop it!

I hope you like mortuary food.

Jesus H Bomb.

What kind of monster would do that?

Five of kings.

That is impressive.

And here's me with nothing more
than the 13 of cocks.

Nigel, scotch.

Me not got no more scotch!
Me's only got Dutch whiskey.

Scotch. Office. You. Get.

Did we ever officially
identify this poor soul?

Yes, but it wasn't easy. His DNA was
crushed beyond all recognition.

Just like your career prospects.

If we hadn't stopped him,
the case would never be closed.

Just like your legs.

Bloke-bird. Jezebel. Fucker. Tit.

Call me old-fashioned, but I prefer
my suspects 100% less killed.

This operation had better
be going somewhere.

Macratty's planning a heist
for someone called The Big Man.

We need to stick to him
like pubes on soap.

We've already got enough to have
Macratty sent down for weeks,

maybe even fortnights. You had no
permission to run this wire.

Your "evidence" has broken every
rule in the book. Habeas corpus.

Sanguis bibimus. Agnus Dei-ton.
File this under "shreds".

But... You went against a
direct order.

And Cloth's forgotten which side
he's on. Pull him off the case.

He's already fingered Macratty.

I don't care if he's fingered
Condoleezza Rice,

I said pull him off.

Or do I have to go next door
and pull him off myself?!

Be the first hands-on police work
YOU'VE ever done.

I see your subtle undercover
operation continues apace.

You made so much mess
it showed up on Google Earth.

You were off the chart back there.
Away with the fairies.

Out of Africa. On the buses.

I can't stop now, I am THIS close
to forgetting which side I'm on.

It's over. Finito, what the
Norwegians call Feenee-toss.

If I get so much of a whiff
that you're still pursuing this,

I'll find the staff rota and
have you cut from the same. But...

CUT from the same, Cloth!

He can't shut us down.
I'm THAT close.

I can't keep covering for you, Jack.

First the tuck shop heroin,
now this.

Boys down the station think you've
forgotten which side you're on.

That's not true and you know it.

Jack Coppaire.
Jack, we need to have a chat.

Things we need to discuss.

I'll be right there. Good.

So, what's up?
You heard about Tumbler?

What about him?
He got killed...

19 minutes ago.

Someone put a bulldozer through
his head. You found out quickly.

It's trending on Twitter.
What would you know about that?

It's a social networking service
that lets celebrities

communicate with sycophants.

And Tumbler? Dunno, does he have an
account? Not now he's dead.

How do you think that happened?
Maybe he got sloppy.

So sloppy they had to sluice him
off the ground with a hose.

Where were you when this was
going on?

I had some unfinished...

shopping.

Give him a seat.

Know what I think?
You're a stool pigeon.

A snake. A seat pig. A bench rat.
A shit bull!

Two shitbulls barking up a piss-pipe
with the word 'copper'

on top in big police
coloured writing.

Maybe - but I'm NOT a cop. Slap him.

Give me one good reason

why I shouldn't blow your brains
out right now.

They'll stain your lair.
Tickle him.

You disappoint me, Jack. I told you.

I'm not a cop. Ask me how much
I like doing crime, out of ten.

You'd be surprised. Why don't we put
that to the test?

Bring him in.

This is Twitch. Twitch let me down,
didn't you, Twitch?

Got trigger-happy in a bank,
shot a former EastEnder.

Shoot him. What?

Shoot him in the head.

What you waiting for?

Come on.

Do it for me!

Do it.

You didn't think I'd hand you
a loaded gun, did you?

This one, on the other hand...

At least we know you're not
a policeman.

A pig wouldn't have been able
to pull the trigger.

Because pigs have trotters.

Anyway.

Now we're a man short for the
museum job. Need some new muscle.

Someone smart.

Know anyone with
brains I can stomach?

I'll chew it over.

You do that.

Ours is a proud city,
a city I'm proud to serve

and I'm not ashamed to say that,
I am PROUD.

In fact I'm proud of that pride,

but the city also has a sickness
at its heart, a sickness of crime.

We need boots on the ground,
fists in the face.

But this isn't just about
tackling crime, it's about tackling

the fear of crime. Our police
need to be more visible, that's

why my front-line initiative won't
just put 1,000 extra bobbies

on every single street of this city,
but will dress them in these.

Nincompiffle.
Some might call this nincompiffle.

But those backward thinkers
are precisely the kind of people

I'll replace as Chief of Police
when I become your mayor.

A vote for Goodgirl
is a vote for hope.

One of you needs to join me
undercover. Make no mistake,

entering Macratty's world means
walking from the side

of justice right into a sewer.
That's a sewer side mission.

We need someone who can assume a
character and be utterly convincing.

If only Todd was still here.

I won't lie to you. Out of ten,
your chances of survival are nought.

Out of five, not much better.

To volunteer for this,
you'd have to be crazy or foolhardy.

What does foolhardy mean?

OK, Des, you're in. Nice one, Guv.

Wait. What about Bullock?

He met Des at the scrap yard,

he even mentioned how hairy
his hands were.

Hairy hand.

He's going to clock that immediately
and shoot him in the head.

That's just a risk he'll have to
take. He'll shoot you too.

Well, dammit, who else can do it?!
Who haven't they seen yet?!

If we shave Des's hands, they won't
recognise him! Nice work, Asap.

Des, you're going
to have to be as sharp as him,

or your life's on the line here.

Macratty's gang's got a vacancy,
the question is, can you fillet?

I spent a summer in a fishmonger's
deboning salmon...

That's good to know but be warned,

this is going to take every ounce
of spunk you can muster, Des.

If you come,
I'll expect you to cover my back

and I mean completely cover it.

Had yoghurt for breakfast, Guv.
OK! Let's car.

Excuse me, sir, no men allowed.

I don't give a toss about your
penophobic door policy,

I'm important and angry and you must
let me through in that order.

Ah, Mr Boss, how nice of you to
interrupt our regular power lunch

for a friendly shout.

I don't care for upstart politicians
who publicly undermine me in print.

Would you prefer it in person?

Ladies, this is Tom Boss,
he's a twat.

You'd do well to remember that
you're not mayor yet,

and fortunes change
quickly in politics.

One minute you're taking
Marilyn Monroe up the Oval Office,

the next you've soiled a car seat
by a school book depository.

Call the papers, tell them Mr Boss
has taken leave of his senses.

You'll regret this. And that
his breath smells of Quavers.

I may be leaving,
but I'm not going anywhere,

you won't get rid of me
without a fight.

I hope that's not a threat, Mr Boss.

I suppose you do, Miss Goodgirl,
I suppose you do.

OK.

Should be undetectable unless you
cough or bend over suddenly.

Let's go over your cover story one
more time. Who are you? I'm me.

Good. And where did you two meet?

Guardian Soulmates. Oh, come on,
Des, focus. Sorry, Guv.

And stop deferring to me.
You're not a cop, you're a criminal.

In there, it's dog eat dog. It's a
cathouse. A horse fight. A cow poke.

Concentrate. Where did we meet?

I was doing a five stretch
in Belmarsh. How come you bonded?

He got me a job in the prison
aquarium. What were you in for?

Swearing. What's your blood group?
D minus. Who created Super Mario?

Shigeru Miyamoto. Where was he born?
Kyoto, Japan. What year? Uhh...

19... Uh...

You better hope this
doesn't come up. '52.

Bonus round. What do you get
when you kiss a girl?

You get enough germs to catch
pneumonia. And after you do?

She'll never phone ya. I'll...?
Never fall in love again.

You're ready. Let's go.

Right. Listen up.
This is the big one.

If you can't hack it, there's always
the door. Door's locked, boss.

Some new meat round the table,
so I'll do the how-d'yer-dos.

Me, you know. Bullock. Tiger.
Animal. Coppaire.

Sadly Tumbler, as you all know,
has passed on,

due to circumstances
and a bulldozer beyond his control.

So taking his place is
Des Sergeant here,

vouched for by our man Coppaire.

Haven't I seen you somewhere before?

Depends if you watch your mum
with her clients.

Let me see your hands.

How do we know you're clean?
You can sniff me arse if you like.

We don't need another
joker on this job,

we need somebody who can
handle a shooter.

Des is the best shot on the force.

And when I say "on the force",
I mean "in the world of crime".

I hope you're right. Right. Enough
of the Loose Women. Got a job to do.

City of Town Museum.

A dusty retirement home
for cultural hand-me-downs,

historical bric-a-brac. Also
selling novelty pens, postcards,

and the educational Dino-Cress.

Has it got an owl? No.

But what it does have is this -

the largest exhibit of diamonds,
rubies, coins, cocaine, gold bullion

and more diamonds ever assembled.

Culture section in the Independent
gives it five stars,

says you should
"Fight for a ticket".

The Times calls it "truly dazzling".

I say "let's nick it."

Main road here. Entrance here.

Side exits here, here, here.
Any questions? How's the security?

Tight. One whole guard.
Working legs? Two of them.

And here he is, Doug Handler.
Head of Security. 51, 6'2".

12-10.

6:30 to 12:00, six days a week,
18K per annum, bonus ball 16.

He's a man of routine. 19:30 to
20:00, walks the perimeter.

20:02, does a little burp.

20:04, bends down to
pick up a discarded bag.

That's where you come in.
We'll never fit in that bag.

You won't have to. You'll be outside
in the van. Tiger, you drive.

Pick some proper music this time,
none of your Leonard Cohens.

'That's more like it.

'Make your way up to the museum
just after closing time.

'Get yourselves fired up,
ready to take on the guard as he's

'sitting there obliviously reading
a book with a portentous title.

'He'll put down his book to
go about his rounds.

'When he stretches,
he lets out a sigh...'

'Covers the approach of your van.

'They've put up a new poster
for the swimwear exhibit.

'You have to allow three extra
seconds for him

'to look at that before
he carries on his way.

'Then he goes outside for a smoke.

'He knows he shouldn't,
but he's addicted.

'It's a bittersweet habit for him
because it reminds him of Michelle.'

Michelle...

Now, she was a girl.

Time they spent together
in the summer of '78.

He thought it would last for ever.

But, of course, nothing lasts
for ever, gentlemen.

So here he is now, just another
poor schlub with a bad habit

and a worse back.

And no Michelle. Smoke it up, mate,
bollocks to everything, yeah?

'Anyway, when he lights up,
be ready,

cos the moment
he coughs into his hand'

is the moment you unleash hell.

Go, go, go, go!

Go, go, go, go, go, go, go.

Go go, go, go, go,

get in there!
Go, go, go, go, go.

20... 19... 18...

17... 16... 15...

14... 13... 12...

11... Ten...

Nine... Eight... Seven...

Seven... Seven... Go, go, go. Six...

Go, go, go.

Five... Four... Oi! Three...

Two...

I'm Just going to get my nephew
one of those Dino-cress things

from the gift shop.
Seriously, I will be ONE second.

This diamond job is a smoke screen.

There's something else in
that museum we're after.

The Big Man's offered top dollar for
it. This is where you'll find it.

Sweet child of mine!

Oldman. Old man.

Macratty's not after the diamonds,
that's a decoy.

The real target is a nuclear
detonator. A nuclear whatanator?

It means there's a bomb
out there somewhere.

Call the HAZMAT squad. SOCO, MI5,
CI5, Interpol, Dempsey, Makepeace,

Earth, Wind & Fire.

Jack? Jack?!

Jack? Jack? Jack? Jack? Jack?

I'll take that. Jack? Jack?

Jack? I'm afraid bacon boy is
otherwise engaged but

if you'd like to hear me blow his
pig brains out, stay on the line.

I'm going to enjoy this.
Fine, shoot me like a coward.

You were always gutless.

Hanging round Macratty's tag nuts, crying
because he paid me more attention than you.

You shut yer muncher! Couldn't stand
the way he looked at me, could you?

After everything you did for him.

You even did your hair the way
he liked it. I SAID SHUT IT!

He doesn't respect you
because you're weak. WEAK!

You even flinch at loud noises!
You're pathetic!

Purple Ronnie. Time... to die.

The bloody...

Time to die again.

Jack?! Jack?!

Jack?! Jack?! Jack?!
Jack?!

Jack?! Jack?! Jack?! Jack?!
Jack?! Jack?!

Jack?! Jack?! Jack?! Jack?! Jack?!

Jack?! Jack! Jack! Jack?!

Jack! Jack! JACK!

Jack! Jack! Jack! JACK! JACK!

Jack! Jack! Jack! Jack! Jack! Jack!

Jack?! Oh, help a blameless child.
Jack! Jack!

Jack! Jack! Jack! Jack!

JACK?!

Jack, you're injured!

I'll bleed when I'm dead.

That's not how blood works. Come on.

Got these two, overpowered them by
releasing a scent. Where's Bullock?

Got away with the detonator.

That means there's a bomb out
there somewhere

and I'm going to stop it,
even if I die before I can.

Guv!

Katya! Katya, no!

What happened? Who did this to you?

Mr Macratty. He... He... He...

Try not to laugh.

I know you police, Jack.

How? The phone message.

She's going into flashback.

'Tumbler leave message,
he say you copper.

'I delete before you trouble.'

Why did he do this to you?

He think I tell cops about plan to
steal two-stage bridgewire

thermonuclear detonator -
for how you say - bomb?

What's the target?

The Big Man wants wipe out the kids
who don't be blame...

Help a Blameless Child.

Help a blameless child,
help a blameless child.

Help a blameless child.

They're blowing up the telethon.

Somebody tell the boys
down the station.

Tell the boys down the station.
You say you help me...

I'll help you, Katya, I'll never
let anyone hurt you again.

Somebody call an ambulance.

Katya, Katya. Stay with me.

She's gone, Jack.

NOOOOOOOO!

NOOO! Don't take her, take me!
No, Jack!

That won't bring her back!
You don't know that.

I do!

I also know she wouldn't want this.

She'd want you to catch Macratty
and the Big Man to stop the bomb

and save the day. That way,
her death will have meaning, Jack!

Otherwise she's just another dead
Forkkrainian girl on a

marble-effect museum floor.

Noooo!

Let's go shut down this telethon.
I'll call Boss.

Whatever.

Welcome back to Help a
Blameless Child, where the

totaliser currently is
standing at a whopping...

9,575k pounds!
And 432 pences.

That's amazing. An incredible
figure, but it's not over yet.

Just as well there's still
plenty of goodness to come...

Camera two, close up on Konnie. OK.

Camera three, on the totaliser.
Right you are.

BA753, you are clear to land, over.

Roger that,
wheels to land-mode, over.

Come on, once that thing's set
we've got to be at least 38 miles

away or we'll be incinerated.
And I'm fond of this shirt.

Why does the Big Man want to blow
this place up anyway?

Climactic purposes. Hurry up.
Set the trigger mechanism.

Come on, come on.

Boss isn't answering.

Where the hell is he?

Tom Boss.
What are you doing here?

Handing over a cheque
some of our officers raised with

a sponsored brute-ala-thon.

They threw a suspect down the stairs
for seven hours. Most admirable.

How much did you raise?

100,001 pounds.
Oh, my.

You did do well. Yes.

Almost there, let's do a summary.

So, the Big Man paid Macratty
to commit crimes...

And the bank jobs raised
the money for bomb materials

and the museum heist
provided the detonator.

So The Big Man's been pulling
the strings all along.

Macratty's just a puppet,
like Roland Rat or the Queen.

But we still don't know
who this Big Man is.

Whoever he is, he's Macratty's boss.

Boss... Boss... Boss... Boss...

What about Tom Boss?
He's a big man, he can take it.

I'm the big man round here.

Boss! Boss is the Big Man.

Why would Boss blow up the telethon?

Boys down the station think
Goodgirl's planning to get

rid of him. And she's presenting
a cheque. Come on!

Guv, Guv!

Sorry, sir, that corridor leads
into the bowels of the building

into which no-one shall pass.
Is there a lavatory down there? Yes.

Well, then let me through, I ate
some undercooked chicken earlier

and my backside is about to be sick.
Now, listen. Do you want me

to stand here and defecate?
With celebrities present?!

No. Well, let me through.

Wow, so a big hand
everyone for Hope Goodgirl!

Police, police, get out of my way.
Police, police! Police.

Clear the way!

Where did that come from?

I'll check it out.
You two take the gallery.

Look, sorry you can't come through
here, this is restrict...

So really, any time, here's my card.
Oh, thanks, but... You will take it.

That's what I like to see.

Police! What's going on?

There's a nuclear device
in this building.

We need to shut down this broadcast
now. But it's for charity.

Millions will die
if you don't evacuate now.

But Richard from Pointless
is about to juggle grapefruit.

All right, after that. But not a
moment later. OK, Richard, stand by.

Give it up, Tom. It's over.

I said give it up!
He can't hear you, Coppaire.

The blast from my gun
popped his eardrums.

Why do you think I'm wearing these
protective headphones?

What protective headphones? What?

Will you at least let me
warn the talent?

Just do it.

Rufus, Konnie?

Guys, it's going really well,
great energy, but there is a nuclear

bomb in the building so we might
have to wrap things up a bit early.

All right. So will we throw
to an ad break or...?

Yeah, maybe, we're going to play
that by ear. Cool.

You thought you could fool me,
Coppaire.

I knew you were filth
from the start. No, you never.

But Boss was the Big Man. He just
come in here looking for the toilet.

He was never the Big Man.
Well, that...

only leaves one other
major character.

You didn't honestly think a powerful
lesbian would turn out to be

benevolent, did you?

That must never be allowed to
happen. But why do this?

Isn't it obvious?

Celebrities and blameless children,

blasted to oblivion on
live television?

In HD?

The viewers would be horrified.

Then they'd watch it a
second time on catch-up

and be horrified all over again.

The word "yikes"
would trend on Twitter

for 100,000 years.

And when the public is afraid,

they yearn for a strong hand
to guide them.

Someone with a record for being
tough on crime.

And the City of Town
is just the start.

Once I control this backwater,
who knows where I'll rule next?

I could take this to Downing Street
or Swanage.

I love Swanage.

I love Swanage. I love Swanage.
I love Swanage.

You're insane.

Is it insane to thirst for power?

Is it insane to reach out and take
what's yours, even when it isn't?

Is it insane to stand naked,
bathed in the moonlight, screaming

"I laugh at the blood of the fallen,
for I am the taker of souls"?

Yes, it is.
I don't want to rush you Hope,

but we'd best shit off out of here
before this goes pop.

Agreed.

You're going to like this Cloth,

that bomb is hooked up
to the totaliser. What?

The moment the donations hit
ten million, then farewell,

blameless children,
and hello, Fuhrer Goodgirl.

Not if I shoot you from the ground
unexpectedly first.

Ow!

Come on, Macratty, come on.

Turn yourself in,
while there's still time.

Work it up, you dirt box.

Oldman - The Big Man is Goodgirl.

I repeat - the Big Man is Goodgirl.

Oh, my God. Goodgirl's the Big Man?

That too, and listen,
the bomb is linked to the totaliser.

If it hits ten million, it'll blow.

I'll take care of Goodgirl.

You stop the viewers donating
any more money.

How am I going to do that?

Use the autocue.

You'd better hurry.
We're coming back from a break

in five... four... three...

Hello and welcome back to
Help a Blameless Shit,

where our totaliser currently
stands at more than we need

and every penny you donate is spent
on providing backrubs for racists.

Yeah, because most of the kids we've shown
you are simply making their symptoms up.

In fact, the only thing they're
suffering from is

acute lying syndrome.

And remember every child you've seen
tonight is a holocaust denier.

Oh, keep... still... I'm trying!
No, hold his head. I'm trying. Argh.

This one's for Tumbler.

This one's for Bullock.

No, you killed Bullock, actually.

Do you want me to shoot you again?
No, thank you.

And this one's for being a...

What does it taste of?

Copper.

Thanks, Oldman.
Old man.

Thanks, old man.

Goodgirl's still out there.
I'm on it.

Tom!

It's no good, Jack,
it's not good.

I'm fading... everything's
turning sepia...

No!

Tom, stay with me, hold on. Hold on.

So George Osborne is standing
inside this costume, right now,

with a huge erection and the more money
you pledge, the harder it gets.

So for God's sake, stop pledging
money, you dreadful, stinking scum.

Get out of my way!

Hope, no!

Venereal disease,
Ebola virus and pancreatic cancer.

Camera three, close-up on the
dark-haired one kneeing

the other one in the face,
camera two,

see if you can get an
up-skirt shot...

Konnie, it's not safe! Come on!

We could have gone places together
you and I. Like Centre Parcs?

Yes, like Centre Parcs!

I offer you love and boundless power
and you toss it all away. For what?

A man called Cloth? Yes. Well.
I hope it was worth it.

Camera one, a bit of windpipe has
just landed in Rufus' hair,

zoom in on that.

Camera two,
close up on the owl's wound.

Camera one, see if you can get me
something, anything with the geckos.

Thank you, Jack.

You need to brush your teeth.

I never can save the good ones.

Kate, Todd, Katya.

A stranger dressed as an owl.

Owls die, Jack. You taught me that.

Coming for a drink, Guv?

I've got to be somewhere.

I'll give you a lift.

I'll walk.

But you live 12 miles away.

And you're barefoot.
And it's freezing.

Do I? Am I? Is it?

I hadn't noticed.

I thought maybe you
and I could... catch up.

I'm catching up with someone else.

But I don't understand. Nor do I.

That's just how feelings work.

But you hate him.

Love and hate don't mean anything,
they're just words

we use to describe
meaningful feelings.

He killed your wife.

No-one's perfect.

But I love you, Jack!

I love you!

Anne, you're a lesbian.

You've forgotten which side
you're on. You can't love him,

you're straight.

Bi, Anne.

Blameless child?

We're all women on the first day.
Is it that obvious I'm new?

Welcome to the rest of your life.
Welcome to Hell.

Oh, I got you that Twix, Guv.
Thank you.

It's my brother. Your brother?

His brother? His brother.

You don't have any respect for
anything with knockers or a fanny.

I believe the medical term
is quim, inspector.

Des, I would love to invite you
upstairs but...

But, this car hasn't got
an upstairs.

It's good to know
there are female officers

I can really look up to round here.

Please, not the face,
it has sentimental value.

Noooooo!

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