All language subtitles for 2e2

No! No!

It's all right, Miss Shelby.
We work with Tommy.

We're Peaky Blinders.

(GRUNTS)

My name is not Shelby!

(SOBS)

(DOOR OPENS)

NURSE: Ready for
a visitor, Mr Shelby?

No.

CAMPBELL: I'm here
on the King's orders.

I'm afraid I must insist.

(DOOR CLOSES)

Ah.

You paid extra for daylight.

The racketeering
business must be booming.

(LAUGHS)

Are you not going to thank
me for saving your life?

Pass my cigarettes?

Three nights ago,

at the co-operative
stables in Montague Street,

there was a murder.

A man named Duggan.

The Oxfordshire constabulary

found his body
in a shallow grave.

I need to piss.

Nurse?

I know it was you who carried
out the murder of Mr Duggan.

(SIGHS)

Oh, by the way.

Grace, she went to New York.

A place called, er...

Poughkeepsie.

She's married now.

To a banker. He's rich.

I'm sure she's very happy.

You have been under my
microscope for some weeks now.

I have been observing
every move you make.

And that is why I was
on hand to save your life.

I imagine being shot by a woman

hurts the same as
being shot by a man.

Just a bit more shameful.

You know, Mr Campbell,
when I got shot,

they gave me a medal. Yeah.

No medal for you, I bet.

(CANE THUDS)

Mr Shelby,

our reunion

is part of a very
carefully worked out plan,

which has been in
place for some time now.

Every time you
lean on that stick,

I bet you see her face.

And as a result of the
information in my possession,

I can charge you with
murder at any time

and provide two
impeccable Crown witnesses

whose testimony will lead
you directly to the gallows.

(GROANS)

You are on my hook, Mr Shelby.

And from this moment forward,

you belong to me.

So, get well quickly.

I'll be in touch the moment I
hear you can piss standing up.

Then I will send
you your instructions.

- (DOOR OPENS)
- (SIGHS)

(GATE RATTLES)

Curly, you left the gate open?

No, I locked it. I pinched
myself when I did it.

- Get that stuff under cover.
- Yeah.

Hey.

Who goes there?

Tommy?

Curly, get that oil you put on
the legs when they go lame.

Are you fucking mad, Doyle?

The yellow stuff. Go on.

(GROANS)

They said you'd be in
for another three weeks.

I need to get on
a boat to London.

Tonight.

You discharged yourself?

I'm a fucking sitting
duck in there, Charlie.

Sabini could send
a man at any time.

I need to get some things done.

You're burning up.

Here.

Oh, Tommy! That stuff's for
rubbing into fucking horses.

Ha! I am a horse.

If you were a horse, they'd shoot
you with this many broken bones.

Get the black powder, Curly.

- Go.
- Yeah.

The black powder.

You pay for a bloody hospital
and you're using witchcraft?

I need to sleep in the open air

and feel the boat
under me, Charlie.

Oh, Tommy.

You're just like your mother.

Do you have a boat here?

Only the January. She's heavy.

London will take four days.

That'll do. Can you spare Curly?

He'll be my doctor.

(SNICKERS)

Then God help you.

TOMMY: You have tobacco, Curly?

And tea and whisky.

We'll have you running
around like a colt.

Ah, get him
aboard. I'll fill her up.

(COUGHS)

If I sleep all the way, it's
Camden Town we're heading for.

What business do you have
in Camden Town, Tommy?

Tell Polly she's in
charge while I'm away.

If I don't come back,

tell her she's in
charge for good.

(SLOW MUSIC PLAYING)

You hungry yet, Tommy?

You know what, Curly?

I think I am.

Where are we?

Heathrow. One more
day and we'll be there.

I'll put something in the pan.

- Can you steer?
- Give it a go.

You're almost there,
too, Tommy. (GIGGLING)

Fucking hell, lads. Calm down.

Put him down, Ollie.

Put him down,
mate. He's only little.

You on your own?

Seems so.

Well, you're a
brave lad, ain't you?

You want to take a
look at my bakery?

We bake all sorts
here mate, yeah.

Did you know we bake
over 10,000 loaves a week?

Can you believe it?

We bake the white bread,
we bake the brown bread.

We bake all sorts.

Would you like to try some?

Bread?

Yeah?

All right.

What would you
like, brown or white?

Try the brown.

Brown, right.

Not bad.

Not bad, eh?

Not bad?

It's fucking awful, that stuff.

The fucking brown
stuff is horrible.

It's for the workers. Yeah.

The white stuff, now
that is for the bosses.

Come look.

Well, I've heard very
bad, bad, bad things

about you Birmingham people.

(TUTTING)

You're gypsies, right?

So what, do you live in a
fucking tent or a caravan?

I came here to discuss
business... (CLEARS THROAT)

with you, Mr Solomons.

Well, rum's for fun
and fucking, innit?

So, whisky, now that...

That is for business.

Let's talk first, eh?

Suit yourself.

They say you had your
life saved by a policeman.

I have policemen on my payroll.

Well, I don't like policemen

because policemen,
they can't be trusted.

Mr Sabini uses
policemen all the time.

That's why he's winning
the war in London

and you are losing it.

A war ain't over
till it's over, mate.

You were in the war?

(DRAWER OPENS)

I once carried out my own personal
form of stigmata on an Italian.

I pushed his face
up against the trench

and shoved a six-inch
nail up his fucking nose

and I hammered it
home with a duck board.

It was fucking biblical, mate.

So don't come in here and
sit there in my chair and tell me

that I'm losing my
war to a fucking wop.

That war was a long time ago.

You need to be more realistic.

Realistic, yeah?

Realistic?

Well, if you weren't
losing the war,

then you wouldn't have
sent me the telegram.

Really?

You forget your
fucking telegram.

The telegram just said, "Hello."

Very simple, you want
to sell me something.

What?

- We join forces.
- Fuck off.

No! Categorical.

Fucking ridiculous.

Mr Solomons.

Your distillery provides
one-tenth of your income.

Protection is another 10%.

And the rest you make
from the race tracks.

I know you keep a
gun in the drawer.

I know you keep it
beside the whisky.

I know you offer
a deal or death.

I know what I'm saying
makes you angry.

But I am offering
you a solution.

You see, Mr. Sabini is running
all your bookies off your courses.

(SOLOMONS CLEARS THROAT)

And he is closing down the
premises that take your rum.

And people don't trust
your protection any more.

You're the bloke who
shot Billy Kimber, right?

You did, you fucking
shot him. That's you.

You fucking betrayed him, mate.

So it'd be entirely appropriate

to do what I am thinking in
my head to you right now.

I can offer you 100 good men.

All with weapons.

And a new relationship
with the police.

Intelligence.

Intelligence is a very
valuable thing, innit, my friend?

And usually it comes
far too fucking late.

Let's say that I shot
you already, right,

in the fucking face.

And the bullet goes bone,
mush, bone, cabinet over there.

Which is a shame, innit,
'cause that cabinet's fucked now

and I got to get shot of it.

So, what I'd do is this...

It's fucking simple, mate.

I cut that cabinet
in half, don't I?

I do. I just literally... I
cut the cabinet... I cut...

I cut the cabinet
literally in half, mate.

And I take one half
of the cabinet, all right,

and I put it into a barrel

and I take the other half of
the cabinet and all its pieces

and I put that into
another barrel, right?

And I send this
barrel off to Mandalay.

And the other barrel
off to somewhere like...

I don't know...

Timbuktu.

- You ever been?
- No.

No?

Would you like to go?

No.

You know, I always thought that

you'd have a great big
fucking gold ring in your nose.

I'm sorry, go on.

Tell us your plan.

(HORN HONKS)

Ada.

How the fuck did you find me?

What, are you
reading Polly's letters?

Polly showed me the letter.

Look, you think you're safe because
you moved flat, but you're not.

Polly thinks the same.

When will you understand? I
just want you all out of my life.

Ada, look at us, eh?

And it'll happen again.

Yeah, well, next
time I'll be ready.

In fact, I want them to try again
'cause I'll shoot their balls off!

- Ada, put the fucking gun away.
- Get away from me. I'm late for work.

All right, fine. Fine.

Just take this.

Take it.

Where you're living now is right
on the edge of Sabini's territory

and all the coppers
round there work for him.

I've got a lot of money coming in
that I can't put through the banks.

My accountant says the best
thing is to buy property for cash

and put it in the name
of a family member.

A house? A whole house?

It's all yours.

Four storeys, eight bedrooms,

kitchen, scullery.

Rooms for a maid, if your
political conscience will allow.

At least go and have a look, eh?

- (SCOFFS)
- (DOOR OPENS)

(FOOTSTEPS APPROACHING)

Shoot the fucking lot of them.

(CLEARING THROAT) Mr
Sabini? The police are here.

(SNIFFS)

Tell them to wipe their feet.

So why do I have to
tell you everything?

We can't search every
train that comes into London.

They don't use
trains, they use boats.

The boatmen are all
gypsies. He's a fucking gypsy.

Why do we have to
tell them everything?

Okay, we can't
search every boat.

Lucky for me, I have a
boy in the Jews' rum house.

The gypsy went to meet Solomons.

And after, they drank
whisky and shook hands.

And then Alfie
gave him some salt

or some such kike
thing that means peace.

What exactly do you
want us to do, Mr Sabini?

(SNIFFING)

Did you bring dog shit
in here on your shoes?

Check, have a look.

(SNIFFS) I can smell something.

You've got photographs of this
Tommy Shelby, though, right?

We have military ID photographs

from his time with the
Warwickshire Yeomanry.

Shelby won medals.

(SCOFFS)

(SPEAKING ITALIAN)

Okay, so you've
got his fucking photo.

If he shows his face
in Camden Town,

your coppers
lift him. All right?

You know... (SNIFFS)

Sometimes when
I smell something,

it's something that's not real,

it's something more like
a... Like a premonition.

It's like sometimes
I smell something,

but it's not a smell, it's just

something isn't right.

Mr Sabini, we'll do everything
we can to deal with this man.

Deal?

Did you say, "Do a deal"?

I didn't mean that.

DARBY: Fuck.

Fuck.

(SPEAKING ITALIAN)

- You've been fucking got at.
- No, you're being ridiculous.

Somebody's fucking sat you down.

Somebody's fucking sat
you down and talked to you!

- Mr Sabini...
- We should go.

This fucking gypsy has sat
down with the fucking coppers!

Mr Sabini.

(SHOUTING)

And you're taking
with both fucking hands

off of me and off of him!

Okay, so now you
fucking follow Shelby.

You fucking follow
him and you finish him!

(SHOUTS IN ITALIAN)

(BELLS TOLLING)

(MUTTERING)

Oh, shit.

(SIGHS)

I told youse, boys, 'ere she is.

(ALL APPLAUDING)

What the bloody
hell is going on?

When did you get back?

I didn't want to miss
your birthday, Pol.

ARTHUR: Back to work.

How do you know it's my
birthday? Nobody ever knows.

Ah, it's different this year.

John, Finn, bring the car round.

Where are we going?

To unwrap your birthday present.

After you.

Good morning!

You said you were
gonna buy Ada a house.

Yep, that's right, I did.

Just had a bit
of cash left over.

This is ours?

No, Polly,

this is yours.

'Cause you deserve it.

What would I do
with all these rooms?

(CHUCKLES)

Well, you could,
uh, relax for one.

Come here at weekends.

It has a garden, eh?

You love gardens.

You can grow roses, Pol.

I don't know, have a piano.

Have people round, they
can have a singsong, eh?

God help the bloody neighbours.

Fuck the neighbours.

Welcome home, Pol.

Arthur, why don't you
take the boys outside,

wait by the car?

(TOMMY CLEARS THROAT)

Pol.

I know you haven't
been happy for a while.

And I know why.

Esme is all right, you know?

She's got a good heart, she has.

I've spoken to her
and she told me.

Told you what?

She told me what it is
that would make you happy.

I've spoken to our
contacts in the police.

They have contacts
in the council,

and they have contacts with the
people who keep the parish records.

Records of adoptions,

and of confidential
forced removals.

Now, with your permission,

I'd like to grease a few palms

and take a look at the
records they never showed you.

Pol,

I am going to find
your son and daughter

and I'm gonna bring them home.

That's what this house is for.

So that you can bring your
family home where they belong.

We're moving up, Pol.

(KARL LAUGHS)

Go have a look what you think.

(KARL GIGGLES)

Can you hear that?

(KARL BABBLES)

Silence at last.

- And it belongs to us.
- (KARL BABBLES)

Mummy, there's loads of chairs.

What's in there?

TOMMY: Still here?

Well, there's a lot coming
in and a lot going out.

Well, as long as there's
more coming in, we're all right.

This came for you today.

It's all the way from
America, New York.

Somewhere called Poughkeepsie?

And the decorators doing
The Garrison want paying.

Arthur forgot and pulled a
gun when they asked, so...

They've stopped and
everything's green.

All right, well, just pay it.

Oh, and we need to
put an advert in the Mail,

"Garrison: Grand Reopening."

Oh, and you said there's a
letter that had to go today.

Special delivery.

I wrote it in the diary.

Yes, I haven't
written it out yet.

Well, you can just tell
me and I'll write it down.

I've learnt shorthand.

Fair enough. (CLEARS THROAT)

Dear Mr Churchill...

Has your pencil broken?

No. No, do go on.
(CLEARS THROAT)

Dear Mr Churchill,

I've been approached
by an agent of the Crown

to carry out a task,
as yet unspecified.

"His name is Major Campbell

"and I believe
he reports to you.

"Therefore, I decided to
make direct contact with you

to make sure that certain
things are clearly understood.

"Mr. Churchill, you should know
that I am a former British soldier

"and if you look
at my war record,

you will see that I fought bravely
at Verdun and at the Somme.

"Also, you will see
that my actions at Mons

"saved thousands
of Allied lives.

"I know that you resigned
your ministerial position

"and the safety of an office

to go and fight on the
front line with the men.

"I read that you fought
bravely, Mr Churchill.

"Therefore, I hope
I will be treated

"in any dealings we have
with a degree of respect,

"soldier to soldier.

"My demands are slight

"and my sacrifice in
service of my country

"will no doubt
once again be great.

"Yours sincerely,
Thomas Shelby."

Military Medal and the DCM.

Distinguished Conduct Medal.

Hands up in this room,
those who were at the Somme.

Those who were at
the Battle of Verdun?

Thomas Shelby was a tunneller.

His demand is rather amusing.

He has asked that the Colonial Office
grant him an Empire export license.

(MEN LAUGHING)

And specifically a
licence covering India,

Malay Peninsula,
Canada and Russia.

He plans to transport
certain manufactured goods

from Birmingham
to the Poplar Docks.

And you plan to
agree to this demand?

Dear God, Major Campbell,

we will be asking this man

to carry out an assassination
on behalf of the Crown,

once more risking his life.

These demands by
comparison are slight

and easily met with a
few quiet words over lunch

with the appropriate ministers.

Sir, with the greatest respect,

Thomas Shelby is a murdering,

cut-throat, mongrel, gangster.

And yet, the tunnels
were dug beneath our feet

to silence the guns
pointed at our heads.

Get Thomas Shelby's
details from Campbell

and get some kind of
royal appointment stamp.

Temporary.

Temporary?

Just until the deed is done.

Agreed, Major Campbell?

And then I can
proceed as discussed?

Agreed, sir.

HENRY: Come on, let's go inside.

Here, pass the ball!

Come on.

MRS JOHNSON: Come on in, boys.

Did you have a good game?

HENRY: I'm starving, have
you done anything for lunch?

MRS JOHNSON: It'll be
on in a minute, in you go.

Go in and wash your
hands, boys, all right?

HENRY: Come on, mister.

Mrs Johnson?

Yes. Who are you?

I'm from Birmingham
Council, Bordesley parish.

No one wrote to me.
What do you want?

I would like to talk about
your son, about Henry.

Can I come in?

Oh, I'd rather you didn't. He
doesn't like to talk about this.

I see.

So what does Henry know about
his real identity, Mrs. Johnson?

I only deal with Mr
Ross from the agency,

and he only ever writes, so...

Why are you here in person?

Well, the boy is
approaching his 18th birthday.

This isn't right.

You're not from the
council. Something isn't right.

Hmm. What does he
know, Mrs Johnson?

He knows his
mother couldn't cope.

She drank too much,
she used opium.

She used to beat him.

But that isn't the truth, is it?

Look, I think you should come
back when my husband's here.

Does he know what
his real name is?

His real name is
Johnson, Henry Johnson.

Now I would like you to go away

and come back when
my husband's here.

The truth is, he was taken from
his mother without her permission.

Henry, go back inside, please.

Who are you?

Please, Henry, go on!

- Your real name is Michael Gray.
- No!

Your real mother
wants to see you.

Her address is on
the back of this card.

She just wants to talk.

- Go away.
- She just wants to talk.

Go away and leave us alone.

Go away!

Come on, let's go back inside.

Come on, I'll get
you something to eat.

Come on, Henry.

Come on. Come on.

(GRUNTING)

Call yourself a Shelby?

Fucking hit him, Finn.

Hit him, that's right.

All right, Isiah, your turn.

Finn! Call yourself a Shelby?

Fucking hit him,
for fuck's sake!

(GRUNTING)

Hit him.

(LOUD GROANING)

Get him out of
there, get him back!

- Get him back!
- Arthur, for fuck's sake!

Get him out of there!

(ARTHUR GROANS)

(ARTHUR GROWLS)

MAN: Rockfair is down to sixes.

(FOOTSTEPS APPROACHING)

Right, what happened?

It was a fair fight.

Yeah.

Arthur just caught
him with a good 'un.

I saw the body.
Don't fucking lie to me.

I saw the body. What
fucking happened?

I'm not family.
I'm saying nothing.

Arthur...

He's blown a few times lately.

Six, seven.

It's like he's not
there in the head.

He can't even hear "stop".

Even his own name.

And then he cries.

Right, listen to me.

That's two fucking stories.

Your brother killed a boy.

There were witnesses,
there will be questions,

get your story straight,
it was an accident.

Fuck off.

TOMMY: I spoke to the doctor.

He said the kid probably
had a weak heart.

We'll look after his mother.

It'll be fine.

Polly said I should have
stuck with the medicine.

I said that you know best.

It's like a fucking boat, Tommy.

Full of heavy cargo,
like coal or iron.

Sometimes it slips to one end.

And the boat tips.

I can feel it slipping.

And I can feel the boat tipping.

But there ain't nothing
I can do about it.

It's like me fuckin' head's just
like this fuckin' black fucking barge!

And it just fucking drifts

in and out, in and out.

Well, we're home a
long time now, Arthur.

We're home a long time.

- I thought you were all right.
- Yeah, well...

(STUTTERING) I
don't think I am, Tommy.

Take this fucking
thing away from me.

Just fuck off, Arthur.

You know what?

I've had enough.

I've fucking had enough.

Just fuck off!

(SNIFFLES)

What?

I'm supposed to treat you
like a fucking kid again, eh?

Keep you away from guns
and fucking rope, is that it?

(YELLS) You think I
haven't got enough on!

- Stop it, Tommy.
- Arthur?

You think I haven't
got enough on?

- Stop it.
- The war is done!

- Shut the door on it!
- Stop it.

Shut the door
on it like I did, eh?

- Can you do that?
- Yeah?

- Like I fucking did.
- I'm not fucking you.

- Shut the fucking door, eh?
- But I'm not fucking you!

I am not fucking you!

Everyone fucking knows it!

(ARTHUR PANTS)

God!

Look at yourself. Eh?

Look at yourself.

Take a long, hard,
fucking look at yourself.

(DOOR BANGS)

(ARTHUR SOBS)

(GLASS SHATTERS)

(DOOR OPENS AND SHUTS)

(MOUTHING)

Time for lunch, sir.

I thought we could eat at
the desk, like the old days.

(CHUCKLES)

You remembered.

Tongue and pickle, sir.

But it's the single stroke
of mustard, that's the thing.

- Hmm.
- The fine detail.

Speaking of detail...

How much is Thomas Shelby
paying you in bribes per week?

Hmm?

Actually, I already know.

Two pounds a week,
eight pounds a month,

plus extras for
specific favours.

When I left, you
were an honest man.

And now you're on the
Peaky Blinders' payroll.

Shelby is a worm and feeds
off the rotten parts of your mind.

He gets in through
your ear, with a whisper.

He crawls in over your tongue as
you lie to the judge and the pastor.

Mr Moss...

We are entering a bloody
phase of a bloody war

with no quarter asked or given.

But as of this moment, you are
now back on the side of the angels.

Shelby thinks you work for him,

but in truth, you work for me.

And I will use you mercilessly.

Polly, these are the files
for Michael and Anna Gray.

As you can see, one is white

and one is black.

What you saw in your dreams

was right.

Your daughter is dead.

You do it. I can't read it.

After Anna was taken from
you, she was put with a...

With a family of a railway
station master in Stafford.

She never settled.

So she kept running away.

She got on a train
to Birmingham once.

Eventually they
sent her to Australia

where she died of
something called spring fever.

So my little Anna

travelled all the way
back across the world

to be with me in my dreams?

She came all by herself.

Well...

That's one train they
couldn't get her off.

But, Pol, Michael is alive.

(EXHALES SHARPLY)

He's in England.

(PANTING)

And I know where
he lives, I went there.

- But, Pol...
- And?

Okay, Polly, listen to me.

Just listen to me, please.

Pol!

The woman that he calls "mother"

will never let him come here.

Just tell me where he is, Tommy.

Polly, if you go there
and you get mad

and she gets mad
and she calls the police,

they will never let
you anywhere near him

and the boy will get scared.

That's what will happen, Pol.

Polly.

Polly.

You just tell me
where he is, Thomas.

Tell me where he is, Thomas!

Polly...

Pulling the gun...

Pulling the gun is
why I can't tell you.

Pol, I'm sorry, you're going
to have to wait till he's 18.

Till he's old enough to
make his own decision.

Wait!

You tell me where he is!

If you shoot me,
you'll never know.

(GUNSHOT)

(ROCK MUSIC PLAYING)

FINN: Mickey! Hurry
up, the party's starting.

Good, carry on.

Finn, where you going?

- To talk to Arthur.
- Right.

Arthur?

Go away.

What's wrong? Why
aren't you ready?

For what?

The Garrison.

The reopening of
your pub. It's tonight.

Tommy don't want me there.

It was Tommy who
told me to get you.

He says it's your
name above that door,

so you've got to be there.

No... No, look at me.

I'm staying away.

Go away.

Get out.

I told you to go away.

Sometimes,

when we boys are feeling blue,

this is what we do.

It's called Tokyo.

It's good stuff, Arthur.

It'll help you.

For special occasions.

(ARTHUR SNORTS)

(SNIFFS)

Oh, boys!

My fucking Garrison!

Take that. Take that an' all.

'Ere you are, Lizzie.
Let me get you a light.

There you go, my darling.

Jeremiah, I'll be
with you in a second.

Oh!

Look at the place!

You all right?

Busier we are, the
faster time passes.

Yeah?

Arthur. Tokyo, it's
fuel for races, eh?

But you've seen a
doped horse after a race...

Oh, yeah.

Grand openings and
race days only, brother.

- All right?
- Go on then, Tommy!

- There you go, come on, drink up.
- Boys.

- All right, Mick?
- Tom.

Finn! Gimme that.

Keep him off the whisky, John.

(LAUGHS)

(DOOR OPENS)

Pol.

(LAUGHS)

Ada! I didn't know
you were coming.

- There's Aunt Polly.
- Aw.

Hi!

Hey, who's that?

D'you want a cuddle?

Polly, that's right.
Take him. Polly...

Oh, Ada, why don't you
think about coming home?

Hello, Ada.

Say you'd...

- Tommy.
- (TOMMY CLEARS THROAT)

So what do you think, eh?

It's very...

- Gold?
- Yeah.

Hello, Ada.

Hello, trouble,
how're you doing?

- Mmm.
- Oh, you're spilling my drink!

Hey, Arthur, look who it is.

So what d'you want
me to say to her?

Just talk to her.

No one can get through to her.

Tell her I had no choice.

I appreciate this.

- Hello, brother.
- Ada, come here, you!

You big bear!

Polly? Why don't
you come and join us?

- What?
- I'm not an idiot.

He asked you to come, didn't he?

I don't want conversation,
I want an address.

Until I have that, I've
not got anything to say.

Now, it's a party!

Yeah, it is! Oh!

And I'm going to enjoy myself.

No, Pol, don't be silly.

Excuse me?

Would you care to dance?

It'd be my pleasure.

My love, pleasure
hasn't even begun.

Excuse me?

I'm looking for someone
called Elizabeth Gray.

I was told she lived
here at number 17.

I came last night but
there was nobody here.

So I waited.

What do you want
with Elizabeth Gray?

I think she might be my mother.

(THEME SONG PLAYING)