All language subtitles for Babylon s01e02.eng

Liz Garvey,
Head of Communications.

.. since it involves the incident
you were involved in the a ...

When I shot that bloke.

It's time you stepped
up or stepped down.

I want Grant Delgado
stripped naked and his bollocks nailed to the wall.

Let's have a few deep breaths.

~ Shut up, you fucking yoghurt.
~ OK. Look, Finn, let's not fight.

Let's harness our talents.

Let's give it a go, yeah.

All right, knobhead.

~ It's Davina. Apparently, she's got
a cheeky one. ~ Who's she riding?

~ I dunno, some hunk of spunk.
~ Oh, you're definitely going to die.

Last day before you head off for
weapons training, mate, guaranteed.

There's a gap in the wall,
there's shit pouring through.

Don't worry, we'll just stuff some
cop in there.

Could you say that again?

~ We have to change and stay the same.
~ That's obviously impossible.

Oh, yeah, it's impossible. Did no-one
tell you that at the interview?

It's definitely fucking impossible.

WOMAN SCREAMING

Armed police! Occupants of the house,
show yourself!

Armed police!

Armed police! Come out the door with
your hands in the air!

~ Please, help me! ~ Knife down!

Get that knife down now! Drop
the knife! Drop it or I will shoot!

Gun down! Get that gun down!
Get that gun down now!

And X. OK, everyone,
that completes the morning exercise.

Robbie, talk me
through your inaction.

I dunno. I wasn't looking for that.

If that was your final exercise,
right now, you'd be back in the TSG faster than you could say,

~ "I let a man get shot because I'm
a dopey twat." ~ Yeah, but...

Let me know if you need a hand
with anything else.

I could pop round later, cut
your sausages up into little pieces.

There you go.

I've got to be honest with you, Liz,
it was weird hearing from you.

It was weird calling you.

~ You know you never actually broke up
with me. ~ Pretty sure I did.

Nah, we stopped talking
and then, the next thing, you've moved to San Francisco.

Well, in my defence, I would say
that moving 5,000 miles is

in and of itself a kind of
unambiguous form of breakup.

~ Is that how far it is? ~ Approximately.

So, what's it like at the cop shop?

Everyone's a racist,
we're all corrupt and at night

we lock ourselves in the holding
cells and fuck each other.

Yeah, come on, cut the bullshit.
Tell me, what's it like?

~ I came for the challenge. ~ Uh-huh...

Taking a dinosaur
and teaching him how to drive.

It's not making some Ivy League
prick another ?5 million after tax.

We serve the people

and, yes, he is not always perfect,

but it is something to get out
of bed for - saving an institution.

~ Plus, I have a thing for
uniforms, so... ~ You said he.

~ Figure of speech.
~ So, you've settled in.

You're making friends
and influencing people.

~ If I was making friends, do you
think I'd be calling you? ~ Hah...

You seem vulnerable.

I might be
interested in exploiting that.

Hah...

Whoa, whoa,
I am so not OK with that.

Liz, I'm not going to
peer pressure you,

but this is why you have no friends.

HE SNORTS COCAINE

If you're thinking to yourself,

"That looked delicious",
you'd be absolutely right.

RADIO CHATTER

Did you get my e-mail?

~ Which e-mail? There's two.
~ The second one.

~ I sent the first one halfway through
so I sent it again. ~ There's one labelled "ignore".

It says "ignore" in the subject
and the other e-mail in the body.

So, read the one marked "ignore"?

Is this a bad time?
Because we can reschedule.

There's a gossip piece in my
favourite rag, I want a retraction.

What is it?

It doesn't matter what it is, it's
bullshit and I want a retraction.

~ Can you take care of that for me?
~ Sure, I'll deal with. ~ Good.

So, the e-mail, talk me through it.

Who makes more content than we do?

Who generates more news or more
footage than the police?

And what do we do with it?
We give it away.

We give it away to news outlets, who
chew it up and spit out the facts

and serve out their own slobbering
mess to whoever's still listening.

Sit down.

The Metwork - our own news division.

We keep our content,
we turn it into news

and we put it out there ourselves.

We shut out the press
and go directly to the public.

~ It's a website. ~ It's a news network,
like BBC or CNN,

but exclusive to us.

Sounds like state TV. The evening
news from North Korea,

Kim Jong-un doing a piece on funny
pets.

No, we hire proper journalists.

They have a degree of latitude,
but I set the agenda

and there is only one rule -

we get it wrong, we air it.
We get it right, we air it.

This is how we rebuild the trust.

Crunch that down into a couple
of pages,

~ I'll raise it personally at the next
MOPAC meeting. ~ Sounds good.

Nice work, Liz. Interesting idea.
Catch you later.

~ You look tired.
~ You've got sperm on your lapel.

~ So what is it then? ~ It's nothing.
I think Warwick's all right.

But also, you know, he might not be.

Well, like what? Shooting up
Sainsbury's, massacre in the meat aisle?

Nah, nothing like that. We...

We got him to shoot a horse
and he definitely seems a bit sharper, a bit more on it.

What are you saying, Tony? It sounds
to me like you're saying that Warwick's a bottler.

~ I never said he was a bottler. ~ Johnny
No Shoot with his big floppy glock.

Boss, I've done my bit.
I've passed it up the chain.

If you really want to pass
this up the chain, let's sit down and put it down on paper.

Occupational health.
Let's do it properly.

Ach, doesn't matter.
I'm talking shit, forget it.

The stuff I used to see when I was
doing nights, I shit you not,

I could write a book.
The amount of fingerings.

West End, Saturday night, girls
getting fingered left, right and centre.

And you could tell they
were loving it.

What about you, Davs?
Like a bit of fingers?

Knobbo, I am a lady of taste and
decorum -

~ of course I like a bit of fingers.
~ Hm.

~ What do you reckon? ~ Bit petty.

Good on the board though, get those
arrest numbers ticking over.

God's sake, boys and their high
scores.

What, you don't want to beat T Unit?

Yeah, of course I want to beat T
Unit,

but I want to do it the right way.

I'm here for the big fish,
not the minnows.

Talking of minnows, Clarkey,
hung like a tadpole

and his balls, like frog spawns.

~ Are we going? ~ Yep, we're going.

~ Excuse me, lads, you got a sec? ~ It's
not really a good time, mate.

~ We're late for kick-off.
~ What have you got there?

It's a baguette.
What does it look like?

Ah, a comedian, eh? Very funny.

Can I ask you to step
up against the wall, please?

Oh, oi!

Get down!

~ Easy does it. ~ Get off me, man.

So, we have the Initiatives
on Policing Conference on Tuesday.

~ PoCon! Yes, it's erm... It's very
much our Glastonbury. ~ Yeah?

Well, it's a stage and it's going to
have Richard on it,

so I want to get out in front
of as many stories as possible.

Batten everything down,
squared all the way.

A despot rounding up the stray dogs
before the big rally.

Kind of, yeah.

So, what's on the radar?

~ Coroner's verdict's due on Taser guy.
~ Remind me.

Some coke nut took 50,000 volts in a
pub toilet and his heart imploded.

Boo-hoo.

~ The Times Online has been sniffing
around the armed robbery spree. ~ Let's get on that.

Speakers of the conference,
the Deputy Mayor's due to give his speech just before Richard's.

Ah, bummer. Bad support act. That's
going to bring the whole vibe down.

Any idea what our friends at
City Hall might be planning on squirting in our eyes?

We think they're going to
take the opportunity to float the idea of corporate sponsorship.

Jesus, that whorey old clagnut.

I don't know. Ads on vans,
cash in the bank,

I think we should be open to it.

Seriously? Police sponsorship?

What, this kettling was
brought to you by Morphy Richards?

ASSISTANT LAUGHS

No, you're right, Finn, because
it would be a mistake to explore

alternative sources of funding
at this point.

Liz, this is the thin
end of the wedge.

And the fat end, that's the end
they're going to use to prop open our bum cheeks

while we're being fucked from behind
by the privatisation lobby.

12:19 and we're making references to
anal rape. OK, well...

We're all done here.

~ Did you find that gossip
piece on Richard? ~ Yeah, eventually.

It's tiny.

Richard makes a speech
every year at the passing out parade.

He talks about Northern Ireland,
a firebombing near Cookstown.

He saved three people, only now

~ they're saying he didn't save three
people, he only saved two. ~ That's it?

Well, he's still a hero, it's just
33% less of a hero than he thought.

I can't ask for a retraction
on this, it makes us look fucking coconuts.

He gets a bit like this about things
that mention him by name.

We just file it in a special box
marked Richard's Massive Ego.

Fine. Let's sit on it.

Do you love women, Robbie?
Is that why you can't shoot them?

Oh, come on, I just hesitated,
that's all.

So, you'd do it then, you'd shoot a
woman?

Hell yeah, mate, I'd fuck a woman
up.

~ Jesus, what are you,
a wife-beater? ~ Nah.

Only if it was the right thing to
do, innit? Operationally.

Anyone else you can't shoot that
I should know about?

~ What about plumbers. Shoot a plumber?
~ Course I'd shoot a plumber. ~ A child?

~ Hesitation, just been shot. ~ Well,
it depends on what he was doing.

He's holding a gun at another child

~ and the other child's holding a gun
back at him. ~ That wouldn't happen.

No? You tell that to my mate who
works up on Merseyside.

I don't know about you, Rob.
Don't know if you've got the edge.

I've got edge. I'm all edge.

We'll find out soon enough. Today's
the big one, Robbie Fucknuts.

Final drill. I call it the badger
because it's basically one big cull.

~ Robbie, mate, all right?
~ Oh, look what the wind blew in.

~ It's you, the fucking bystander.
~ Who are you?

Matt Coward,
Rough Collar Productions.

If it's tough guys shooting
guns you're after then you've come to the wrong place, eh, Rob?

POLICE RADIO CRACKLE

Yeah, yeah, I'm on it. Yeah, what was
it again?

Two cans of Lilt and a what?

~ How are you doing? ~ Amazing, thanks.

20/20 vision, top of the shop
for verbal reasoning.

~ They tell me what to say,
I tell it right back to 'em. ~ Sweet.

You up for doing a quick interview?

Film this if you want.

It's me mugging you off.

It's not a spree, Liz.

They're not skipping around London
with their shopping trolley.

Spate. A spate of armed robberies.

We have the Policing Conference
this week

and I am keen to avoid any
difficult headlines.

OK, we'll just stop all crime.
It's fine because I've got a hotline to the robbers.

I'll tell them to take the day off,
they can go to Alton Towers.

Charlie, I don't want to
tread on your toes.

~ Don't worry, you wouldn't reach.
~ I'm sorry, how do you mean?

~ Do you have enormously tall toes?
~ It's a priority, Liz,

one of my many priorities,

like taking guns off the street

and finding out who killed the funk.

Charles, this is a big story.

A run of bank jobs,
it makes us look inept.

I'm not asking you to catch them,

it's very difficult catching
criminals, I get that.

But anything you could do to
help would be greatly appreciated.

~ Get me Armed Response. ~ There's been
five in the last six weeks.

They seem to have a
thing about branches of Santander.

~ Maybe they've got something against
the Portuguese. ~ It's Spanish.

~ Santander's Spanish.
~ Nando's is Portuguese, Banj.

All right, Professor Chicken,
same difference.

We've had some
heat from upstairs on this one,

so, any downtime, I want you parked
up outside your designated

branch as a visual deterrent.
That's your lot.

Bank robbers.

What is this, 1971? Who are the
suspects, fucking Bay City Rollers?

Some arsehole's been
watching The Sweeney.

Why would you rob a bank anyway?
You want to do a Gala Bingo.

That's the dream.

Warwick, can I have a quick word?

~ You OK? ~ Yeah, I'm fine.

I need a shit, but then I'm always
like that before I get in a car and start getting shot at.

You, erm...
You got much planned this weekend?

I don't know.

I... got you a,
got you a sausage roll.

And any time you need to
talk about stuff...

Whatever.

All right.

Yeah, have you got
a return on that name check? Over.

Just pulling it up now, two secs.

Uh-oh, look what I just found
on the spice rack. What's this, then?

~ An eighth of fennel? ~ Just write me up
please.

Give me a ticket or
whatever. It's not even mine.

~ Can you just confirm that name,
Jason Delgado? ~ That's the one.

Does the name Grant Delgado mean
anything to you?

Shit...

Yeah, roger that.

Davs, quick word.

You were right, he was holding.

~ His dad's the Deputy Mayor. Grant
Delgado? That's his son. ~ Which one?

~ The black one. ~ Right.

He was running away,
I had to tackle him.

~ And we definitely saw him with a
joint beforehand. ~ Yeah, definitely.

Both of them.

Look, it's an eighth, probably less.
Is it worth the headache?

So we let him go
because we're scared of his dad?

No. We'll give him a gypsy's warning,
clip round the ear and "On you go, son."

I think we need to run this one
upstairs.

~ I'm not going to dress this up,
Sharon. I'd like to tase you. ~ Hm?

We've had a tasing fatality,
which is obviously tragic,

but what compounds the tragedy is
that the

results of the inquest are due on
the day of the policing conference.

Oh, great. Maybe could you tase me
then, on stage, in front of a room

full of my peers, let off a confetti
bomb as I hit the ground.

A practical demonstration
in front of the press.

It kills the story stone dead.

Come on, you know
that Charlie would eat this up.

He'd be out in front of the cameras
with a target painted on his chest.

"Tase me, tase me!"

You know why?

Visibility.

You're the invisible woman, Sharon.
Get tased. Be seen.

Oh, so now you're doing me a favour?

Wow. Thanks, Liz. Big pals.

~ I'll think about it. ~ Mm-hm.

Heard you'd been in pitching big
ideas to Richard without me. Network.

~ Great name. ~ It's funny, Finn, I've
found a workaround that basically

involves me shutting my eyes
and pretending you're not alive.

A news network. It's a
vanity project, Liz.

It's a 20ft-high statue of Liz Garvey
made out of cat shit and tinfoil.

You are obsolete technology, Finn.
You are a solar-powered fax machine.

~ Fuck you. ~ Have a great afternoon.

Sir, we've just had word. TSG are
saying

they've just picked up
Grant Delgado's son.

Possession of a Class B.

He's currently being detained,
awaiting further instructions.

We've brought it directly to you,
no need to involve the PR team at this point.

Yeah, reading between the lines,
I think they're awaiting our input.

What's that, Tom? I can't hear you.

You want me to speak up?

I don't want you to speak at all.

I don't even want you to be here.

I want you to
collapse your spine like a squid

and disappear through a fucking
crack in the window.

Did anyone see you come in here?

I've got Greg from the Home Office
due in five minutes and you two

brainless schoolgirls prance in
going, "Guess what I know?"

Well, I don't
want to know what you know.

Jesus, Charlie, have you had your
head turned again?

Taken your eye off the ball?

Go on, get out, the pair of you.

And waft this eggy stink out with
you.

~ Hopwood just gave me
a sausage roll. ~ What for?

Either he's shagging my missus,
or someone's had a word with him?

What, me? Oh, yeah.

Yeah, because I always go around
talking about you, cos I'm so obsessed.

You always this paranoid when men
buy you sausage rolls?

What about Tony?

Has he said anything to you?

I don't know.

Erm... no, not really.

He's been a bit concerned about you.

You know, just getting your head
back in the game.

Don't spit.

Do NOT spit.

~ Well, what am I supposed
to do with it, then? ~ Swallow it.

~ Are you kidding me?
~ Yeah, roger that.

They're washing their hands of it.
It's our call.

~ Just seen.
~ He still gets a bollocking.

Yeah. And instead of four hours'
paperwork, we're boots on the ground.

HE FARTS

Right, that's it.
You're under arrest, the pair of you.

But it was an accident. Yeah, I've
got something wrong with my stomach.

~ We need a van, Sergeant. ~ Oh, great.

Oh, shit.

~ All right? ~ All right.

Can you do us a favour?

Will you spar with me?

What, is this like
when your uncle wants a tickle fight

because he really wants
to touch you up?

No! It's just they're ragging me.

"Robbie Fucknuts, can't shoot a
woman."

It's starting to get inside my head,
and I know it's stupid but...

I'm second-guessing myself.
What if it's a woman on the exercise?

Robbie, this is fucking 101. It's
not the person, it's the intent.

It doesn't matter if it's a lollipop
lady or your mum.

If they've got a Glock, you
pop-pop-pop.

~ You'd shoot your mum?
~ You wouldn't?

All right. I'm going to come at you.
At some point during the day

I'm going to come at you. If I've
got a weapon, then you attack,

and if I don't have a weapon,
then you don't.

All right. Yeah.

Thanks.

But in no version of this do you get
to touch my tit.

Clarkey.

Nice arse.

Tell you the best thing to do -
work till you're 59, then die.

Family gets a lump sum,
missus gets a widow's pension,

everyone's a winner.

Do you want to play a game?

~ What sort of game? ~ We used to play it
on car journeys when we were going on holiday.

It's called Who's The Cunt In The
Car?

Let me guess, was it your mum?

Right, I'll go first.

Banjo, are you The Cunt In The Car?

~ No. ~ Now you've got to ask me.

Warwick, are you The Cunt In The Car?

Nope. That's weird, innit?

Because there is definitely a cunt
in the car,

and if it ain't you, and it ain't
me...

You all right, Tony, mate,
you feeling all right?

~ Yeah, not bad. ~ Cos I'm fine, thanks
for asking, I'm just fucking peachy.

Shall we play again?
Banjo, you start.

You know when you have a big idea

and you wake up the next morning
and you're like, what is this shit?

Total opposite of that.

The more I think about it,
the more I realise how huge it is.

Yeah, it's huge.

I'm super excited.

We're just knocking around options
re processing Grant Delgado's son,

which, erm...

Paddington Station or Maze Hill?

We arrested the Deputy Mayor's son?

It was an operational matter,
until it became a press matter.

Which is now.

Well, Paddington's a bad idea.

~ I mean, there's a backlog, it'll get
jammed up. ~ Yeah, Maze Hill does seem

to make more sense, bearing in mind
we've got the policing conference next Tuesday.

Maze Hill.
Famously leaky custody sergeants.

I'm not sure Metcalf's
working at the Maze any more,

~ so we may have to give them
a helping hand. ~ He's a child.

He's a minor
and we're leaking his name.

OK, Liz,
you're putting words in mouths.

Smearing a child.

Is this really who we are?

It's just possession, Liz, it's a
column on page six.

This is a friendly reminder to our
friends at City Hall.

It's Roy Keane, straight through the
back of you. Welcome to the prep.

I think bearing in mind
the backlog at Paddington,

we're all agreed that Maze Hill is
the preferred option.

Richard,
could I have a word in private?

Thank you, everyone.

With respect,
I am getting a little tired of being

the angel on your shoulder every
time the shit starts to fly.

In three days' time that bleating
crow's anus is going to stand

up there at MY conference
and he's going to posit a bright,

shiny new future where this
old institution is forced down onto her knees to start sucking corporate

sponsorship dick and before you know
it, every copper in London will be running around

~ with a fucking Umbro helmet and a
McDonalds logo. ~ So we're sacrificing children now? for the greater good?

Why don't we just paint ourselves
with chicken blood and burn them out front?

I have a son, Liz. I don't like this
either.

But this story is going to break
eventually. If his name gets out there

in three days it's no good to me, if
it gets out today, he's sunk.

We're on the same page, Liz.
But we need to work together.

I need your big ideas, that's key,
but I also need a little elbow room.

OK.

The gossip piece -
where are we on the apology?

I read it, I think
we're really splitting hairs.

Liz, yesterday I saved three lives,
today I saved two.

Tomorrow I'll be a balloon-popping
meth addict.

My name is my currency.

It's the stack of 50 pences
I use to keep the meter running.

This matters.

You're right. I'll fix it for you.

MOBILE RINGS

BEEP

RAPID GUNFIRE

ALARM SOUNDS

PHONE RINGS

~ Matt Coward. ~ 'Matt, it's Miles.
What are you up to?'

Er... Nothing. Just rattling around
the flat. Watching TV.

~ Bored out of my brain.
~ 'Change of plan for tomorrow.

'We'll get Leon to roll with
the transport lot.

~ 'I want you to get with the frogmen.'
~ Amazing. Frogmen.

I'm so jazzed. I've never been
so jazzed. I'm DJ Jazzy Jeff.

'Just get the footage, Matt.

'You never know, they might dredge up
something fucking interesting.

'I mean, they won't find a body,
God forbid. They never do.

'That's what they dangle, but it
never happens, thank the Lord,

'but you might get a domestic
pet of some kind...

'What's that noise?'

Just watching Reservoir Dogs
again. See you later, man.

Thanks, mate. Rob!

No cameras.

Just a coffee. As mates.

Grant, Richard Miller.

'Richard?
I'm seeing you at conference?'

God knows what I'm doing
with my speech.

My assistant's done a draft

which means I'm going to have to do a
new draft and take out all her jokes.

'She seems to think I'm Lenny Bruce.'

I'm calling as a courtesy.

It's a private matter, and I thought
it best if it came direct from me.

OK. Sure.

Jamie, hi, it's Finn.

Now, I don't know
where you heard this from,

because it certainly wasn't from me.

Grant Delgado's son
has been arrested.

Right.

When?

~ 'What for?'
~ Possession of a Class B substance.

Around an eighth of grass.

It was deemed to be sufficient
grounds for arrest.

Right.

So, what's the next step?

Well, we've had to notify
his parents,

which has obviously been done
with great sensitivity.

We'll charge him
and then he'll be free to go,

so you can head down to Maze Hill
station to collect him.

OK. Well, thanks for letting me
know. Appreciate that.

No worries.

No worries at all.

'See you at the conference.'

Richard, is he OK?

He's fine.

Savour that one, guys. Drink it in.

That'll keep us warm
on those cold winter mornings.

That was invigorating.

I should go down to the station
to deal with Grant when he arrives.

Absolutely. Extend him every
courtesy. This isn't personal.

Shall we play another game?

Ah, you know what, Warwick?

~ Yeah, I had a word with Hopwood.
~ About what?

About nothing, stuff, just keeping
an eye on you, as a mate.

~ What, so you think I'm a bottler?
~ Er, no... God, no.

~ Look, me and Banj were talking.
~ Oh, so you're in on this and all?

~ What? No. Piss off, Tony. ~ No-one's
having a go at you, mate.

No, course not, you just think
I'm a pussy.

~ Ah, no-one called you a pussy.
~ No, not to my face,

cos you prefer going behind my
back, like a fucking woman.

You busy prick.

Fuck.

RADIO: 'Armed robbery.
Whitechapel High Street.

'Blue Peugeot 207
travelling eastbound.

'Cashbox taken from van.
No tracking device.'

Yep, yep. Trojan 131 on it.

So, what about your Neil?

What about him?

Big scary ARV man.

I bet he's well hung.

Big fat dong like a rubber bullet,
right up your guts.

You want me to tell you
about Neil's penis?

Cos I can show you some photos
if you're that interested.

Oh. Oh, Neil.

Is that your baton? It feels more
like your battering ram.

Oh. Oh, go on, bang my back door in.

We only do anal on Sundays.
It's a religious thing.

What are his balls like?

Bit like the ones you've got
on your forehead.

Oh, yeah. Get them resting
on your chin.

Little gonad beard.

Eh, it's not a goatee,
it's a scrote-ee.

Neil's nice, big, weighty balls
sitting on your face...

Give it a rest, Nobbo, yeah?

Oh, Clarkey loves Davina.

I've just had enough of this
in my ear all day.

Do you love her?
Do have dreams about her?

Do you want to take her
to the cinema

~ to see a film with Colin Firth
~ in it? Piss off.

Maybe I just don't have it.

I'm like a dog with no teeth.

It's you or him. That's all
you've got to think.

Hunger Games, right? There's
a KFC bucket. Me against you.

You better believe I'm slitting
your throat for a chicken wing.

Really?

Shit, man, that's...
That's a bit cold.

I thought you media types
were all soft little bellies.

Nah, law of the jungle.

Sometimes you've got to do whatever
it takes to get ahead. You know?

Dog eat dog.

Yeah. Yeah, you know what,
you're right.

Thanks.

~ Shit. Oh, my God! ~ That was amazing!
Wicked reflexes.

Are you all right? Well, in a way
that's a bit of a result, right,

cos I didn't even hesitate,
but, also, are you OK?

~ I've got to get a photo of this.
~ Yeah, come here.

This is what happens when you mess
with the Big Dog.

Yeah, big man, yeah.
Punching a girl in the face.

I can't help it,
it's just natural instinct,

but, seriously,
are you all right, though?

~ Come here, let me have a look.
~ Get off me.

They're sending someone down
from upstairs.

They just want you to walk them
through your report.

Yeah, no problem.

Shit, man. Get that dog off me,
yeah?

You did search his trainers,
didn't you?

Another three baggies in his shoe.

That takes us up to five eighths in
total, which is approximately...

Sorry, I'm just trying to convert it
into metric.

~ Then he's been a very naughty boy.
~ Three baggies.

It's possession with intent. I mean,
that's worth a knock on the door

~ and a sneaky look under the
mattress. ~ What's the address?

About 17 grams.

Oh. Erm.

156 Tadmarton Road.

Same address as mum and dad.

So now we're raiding
the Deputy Mayor's house,

two days before
the policing conference?

Bit of a sidebar.
He's making a complaint.

Says we split his chin open.

This was supposed to be a slap
on the ankles,

not a nail bomb down the back
of his fucking pants.

Then, fine. 17 grams.
We say it's personal use.

It's a little on the heavy side,
but it's a valid call.

Charlie, this is out there.

Is this out there?

Which means right now every
fascinating prick with a blog

is watching me, eyes like a hawk,

with his big fat fingers
on the keys.

And what then? I'm the bent copper
handing out grubby favours?

~ Cosy little reach-arounds?
~ His son's a dope dealer. It's a ruiner. He's over.

If he's not, he's a wounded bear
with an arrow sticking out of his eye, he'll break into my house

~ and eat me in my pyjamas. ~ Shall
I reach out to Grant as a courtesy? ~ Brilliant. Let's phone the criminals

before we raid their houses.
"You might want to hide the guns,

"fellas, cos the boys
are on their way round."

Let's just do it
quickly and quietly.

Make sure Liz is up to speed.
I need her on this.

Mr Delgado, could you comment
on the arrest of your son?

I don't know what you're
talking about.

Well, based on the quantity
of cannabis we requisitioned...

Which we... We dropped on the ground.

As you can see from the detritus.

We, erm, made the decision
to instigate an arrest.

Anything else I should know?

One of them farted.

~ Farted? ~ Aggressively.
It was an act of aggression.

Whether or not it's an assault, I
mean, well, it was a nasal assault.

Right. And is that
a separate charge or...

The fart won't be in the report.
It's a detail.

Liz, I've got the Deputy Mayor
for you.

~ Nasal assault? ~ What?

Where are we on the gossip piece
on the Commissioner?

Oh, I've been digging. I've tracked
down two guys that he saved.

Not the third.

Do you think Richard's lying?

Honestly? I don't know.

Mr Delgado, I wanted to come
in personally

to make sure that this is taken
care of.

You don't mess about, do you?

You've got the press out there
already.

I can assure you whoever is out
there has nothing to do with me.

Business as usual down
at Scotland Yard then, is it?

Same shit, just a nice
new shiny wrapper.

~ Oh, God! Stop, stop!
~ Can you control your dog, please?

~ Right, fucking get off my leg.
~ Control your dog!

Right, she's Head of Comms,
can you move it along?

I'd like to take my son now, please.

Yes. Let me get you
an update on that.

Well, you dodged a bullet there, Liz.
You big druggie.

Yeah. Funny.

Blue Peugeot.

Is that a 206 or a 207?

~ It's a 206. ~ It's a 207.

Well, it looks like a fucking 206.

~ All right, lads. Here we go.
~ Yeah, we got a blue Peugeot 20...

I don't fucking know...
Blue Peugeot travelling eastbound.

Yeah, that's it, mate. You keep
swerving because that'll lose us.

Fuck's sake.

Lights are flashing.
Move out the fucking way!

Fuck! Fuck!

They've triggered the smoke pack
on the cashbox.

Absolute nob-clowns.

Ah, shit. Ah.

Go, go, go, go, go!

~ Armed police! ~ Armed police!
~ Armed police!

~ Get out of the way! ~ Armed police!

Armed police, stop!
Move, fucking move!

Fucking stay down!

Fucking stay down!

Get down on the ground
and drop the weapon!

I tell you what. Why don't you
shut the fuck up?

Warwick!

Don't come any closer,
silly bollocks.

Warwick!

Warwick!

Drop the fucking weapon!

Warwick!

Warwick!

Ha-ha! You fucking nutter!

Did you fucking see that?

Good job, man.

Warwick? Warwick?

Don't call this a comeback.
Return of the Mad Man.

Wozza the Warrior.
The Viking of Hounslow.

~ Jesus, Warwick. ~ Christ's sake.

My head's gone. I'm fucked.

~ All right, mate. Let's just get you
out of here. ~ I'm fucked.

Come on, man.

Ah, come on.

Thank you, everyone. Updates, Finn.

Sharon.

I hear you're doing a tasing.
That's a good move.

I just want us to get
the message out there.

~ You know, reassure the public. ~ Yeah.

You're not worried about evacuating
yourself?

~ No. ~ No? ~ No, no. The likelihood is...

It's marginal.

Well, it's pretty brave.
All them cameras about.

I had a look at Liz's e-mail.

Metwork, the news idea.

Interesting.

Tighter control of the press,
a better handle on the agenda.

Yeah. My only worry is your
exposure. Do you really want to be

the Commissioner who shuts out
the press?

Because if you stick your head in
the hornet's nest and shout,

"Fuck hornets," you are liable
to get stung.

Finn, I know this doesn't apply
to you because you're a good man,

but I don't like backstabbing.

I think it's a wanker's game.

How about you?

~ Absolutely, sir.
~ PHONE RINGS

Excuse me.

Yep.

Can someone kindly tell me what
is going on with Grant's son,

because I have a very angry man
on my hands

and I am running out of chit-chat.

Yeah, change of plan. It's now
Possession with Intent to Supply.

~ We're searching his house.
~ Are you joking me?

Finn, I have the Deputy Mayor
down here

eating soup out of a fucking
vending machine

and we're off raiding his house?

Got to dash.
I'm just in with Richard.

We're thrashing out your
Metwork idea. All the best.

Clarkey and Davina,
sitting in a tree.

F-U-C-K-I-N-G.

At least we know he can spell.

Is that right, what you were saying
in the van? About you and Neil?

What? Like anal on Sundays,
dong like a rubber bullet?

Because me and Sandy we...
We don't. We've stopped.

~ Yeah, we don't do it any more.
Because of us. ~ Oh, right.

~ I didn't realise it was like one or
the other, sort of thing. ~ So you are?

I don't know. Well, yeah, sometimes.

~ Right. Nah. That's just good to
know. ~ But not loads. You know.

Just like... I mean we're not
at it all the time.

I don't really want to know, thanks.
Shall we get going?

So you lure me down here,
and, meanwhile,

you're off terrifying my wife?
Are they still out there?

~ There's seven or eight, plus a
camera crew. ~ For God's sake.

It's amazing. Your ability to screw
me over knows no bounds.

This really is a 360 degree shafting.
So, yeah, kudos.

Trust me, this is not how I run
my communications.

Is that right?

We could arrange for a car to
collect you from the rear entrance.

What would you do?

I would go out the front.

You're the law enforcement
administration,

and that goes double
for your own home.

You are going to come down hard,

but there isn't a household in the
country that won't relate.

And I would praise the police
to the heavens

for bringing this to your attention,

and this is why London works.

You're wasted over there in
The Swamp. You do understand that?

Oh, and Richard Miller,

he's like an iceberg.

It's what's below the surface
you need to worry about.

But you're a smart girl,
you'll figure that out. Hmm?

Nice to meet you, Liz.

Safety off!

Armed police! Knife down! Knife
down! Drop your weapon! Drop it!

Get down on the floor! Look at me!
Look at me!

Fire!

Nice one, Robbo. You nailed it.

I did it. Matt, I did it.

This is what happens when you mess
with the Big Dog.

Yeah, big man, yeah.
Punching a girl in the face.

In two days' time, this man will be
armed and on the streets of London.

The pin has been pulled
from the grenade.

Thank you so much for stepping in
so last minute.

Sharon's just feeling
a little bit iffy.

No. Glad to be of service.

I was under the impression Liz
might be present?

Oh, she got caught up in something.

Right. And pretty sure I know the
answer on this one,

but bearing in mind the...

associated risks,

might it be advisable for me
to wear some kind of...

absorbent pad?

Not like a nappy?

No, not a nappy, no. God.

Something in that wheelhouse.

It feels like it's slightly bumping
against the reassurance vibe.

No. Totally. Couldn't agree more,
actually. Couldn't agree more.

I shall...

hold on tight.

OK, if we're all ready?

OK, sir. Brace yourself.

Taser. Taser.

Down he goes. Clean. Simple.

And, as you can see,
totally immobilised.

TOM GRUNTS LOUDLY

Any questions?

JOURNALIST: Mr Delgado, how do you
feel having a stoner for a son?

I'd like to thank the police
for their robust response.

We like to think of ourselves as the
law enforcement administration

~ and that goes double for my own
home. ~ So he'll be grounded?

Well, that's just for starters.

Once he's been interviewed and
processed, I'll be taking him home

and then we'll sit down together
as a family...

'I've got my binoculars out,
Richard. I'm watching you.

'And I've got my little pad
and my pen.

'So keep an eye on the papers.

'Because I think they could be
very interesting for you

'over the next couple of weeks.

'All the best. See you
at the conference.'

Absolutely. I look forward to it.

Well, he's upset, but I don't think
we're going to have a problem.

~ We tracked down Kevin McSorley.
~ What did he say?

He was there the night of the
firebombing. He backs your story.

Let's get him on the phone, I want
to put a statement out tonight.

He was working out of security
services at the time.

He's very sorry,
but he can't go on record.

I wrote the two-pager on Metwork.

Take a look, see what you think.

Yeah, I've been thinking,
we're going to need to park that.

I've got enough people trying
to chew my bollocks off

without marinating them
and firing up the barbecue.

Is this coming from Finn?

It's not happening, Liz. No website.

Let's not get pouty.

OK. Point one. It is not a website.
It's a news network.

Point two. We do not park it
and move on.

I am trying to dig this place out

and you keep shooting holes
in my bucket.

You know what? I want this idea.

And I want Finn gone,
and if you won't back me, I walk.

When you throw mud,
we all get dirty.

My name, my reputation, we're all
sinking in this swamp together.

'It's been a difficult day for
Deputy Mayor Grant Delgado

'since the arrest of his son was
leaked to the press,

'but the consensus appears to be

'that he has escaped significant
political damage.

'Even the Home Secretary,

'with whom he's had a notoriously
strained relationship,

'has come out in support, saying
that the Deputy Mayor came across

'in public statements as a

'"Family man doing what any family
man would..."'

Don't.

Look. Pack it in.

What? Really pack it in?

I said get off.

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