All language subtitles for North Square s01e07.e

Billy Guthrie.

He punches Leo Wilson's lights out
in the robing room.

Wilson hates him more than
he's ever hated anything and then wallop.

Door of court, all set for trial.

Wilson pulls the plug.

Why?

Because Michael Marlowe, his excuse
for a senior clerk, told him to.

Why?

Well, what's the most likely hypothetical?

Bob?

Johnny Boy?

Billy gave Marlowe something.

What? Gave him what?

Bob?

Information.

Right...

What kind of information?

- Something that harms us.
- So what do we do?

- You talk to Billy.
- I listen to Billy.

I put myself near him.

And it's so hard for him.

- Seeing me.
- And he talks.

Leave me alone, Marlowe. This is over.

It doesn't go away, Billy.

It's grown. It's a bigger thing now.

What you told me about your head
of chambers sleeping with Judge Martin,

I'm finding it a very hard struggle
keeping it to myself.

- What are you saying?
- Simple.

You leave your chambers
and come and join mine.

And Wendy de Souza and his Honour, the
bigwig who's old enough to be her father,

get splashed all over the tabloids.

Simple.

Think about it, Billy boy.

- What?
- Wendy de Souza's still doing a rape.

And?

And she's leading Billy Guthrie
in the Heat Club murder.

- Tomorrow.
- Today.

Fuck it.

I love this murder. This is the new Leeds.

So?

- 18 minutes to.
So we do it.

Nobody knows we cocked up.

Billy wings it and the throb murders
keep coming our way.

- Billy on his own?
- No.

Not on his own.

- Silence.
- What?

- Silence, Billy.
- Silence?

- It's the best way.
- Do you think so?

I think so.

I once went 60 seconds waiting
for a client not to answer my question.

Blew him out the water with silence.
Brilliant.

Brilliant, but hard.

- You need the courage...
- To shut the fuck up.

Which is a difficult thing
for most barristers.

- Billy...
- Alex, how are you?

Fine.

What?

What?

Yeah, all right. Very funny.

Just shut up, though, eh?

Just shut up with the silence, Alex.

The trial's in 15 minutes.

Are you OK?

- Where's Wendy?
- Stuck in her rape.

- You step up.
- Who's my junior?

It's vital at times like these
to have someone you can trust.

Someone who knows your every move
before you've made it.

Times like what?

Times like when the clock's ticking down.

Alex. You and Alex.

It's a very good murder.
What kind?

- Night club. Salesman comes out.
- Salesman?

Pill pusher.

- Name?
- EEE Cummings.

- Three Es?
- Three Es Cummings.

- Ecstasy for the kids.
- And?

What happened? Big brick brains him.

- Death of a salesman. Forensics?
- None.

- No brick?
- No brick. One witness.

DJ called Mr Hat.

- Our man?
- Repo man.

- Repoof what?
- Dunno.

- You've had this brief for a while.
- Wendy was leading me.

It was a one-witness case.
What was I supposed to do?

Come on. Repoof what?

Cars? Debt?

It's probably cars.

Or debt.

Supermarket trolleys.

You repossess supermarket trolleys?

6,415 in the last 12 months.
I've brought them back.

- It's a massive achievement.
- It's a massive achievement.

I've got the biggest work ethic
you've ever seen.

Right.

- The Germans don't do it.
- No?

Only us.

Trolley theft is a British disease.

- It's a disgrace and a...
- Disease?

But it's not the ethic
that's the driving force in my career.

It's Jesus.

What did he say?

And 6,400 trolleys is a huge number of
sinners, wheeling their way downstairs.

I don't just repossess trolleys, Mr Hay...

...Mr Guthrie.

I repossess souls.

I bring them home for Jesus.

Are you certain the man
you saw attacking Mr Cummings

was the same man you later identified?

Certain.

I'm a DJ. I look at a sea of faces
all night every night.

I know about faces.

You do it.

- What?
- Just fucking do it, all right?

What's your nightly drug intake?

What?

I think you heard the question.

And you don't have to answer it, Mr Hat.

No witness is obliged
to incriminate himself.

I don't think I'll answer the question.

All right, then. Um...

What drugs did you take
on the night of the murder, Mr Hat?

Two Es, which, in case
you're interested, sharpens perception.

Sharpens the belief
perception is sharpened.

Do you know that from experience?

Or is it something
you read about somewhere?

Mr Hat?

It's just Hat.

Not Mr. Just Hat.

Like Sting or Bono.

Mr Hay is asking the questions,
you are answering them.

Not the other way round,

Hat.

Who supplied you with your two Es?

- I don't want to say.
- Why not? He's dead, isn't he?

EEE Cummings?

Yeah, he killed him.

You know Mr Blatter, don't you?

Yeah, he hangs around the club,
talking to the kids.

What about?

- He's a God guy.
- What's he against?

He's anti-drugs. He's anti-club.

He's anti-me.
He's just anti, anti, anti.

- Anti, anti, anti.
- You don't like him?

He's everything you don't like.

You were off your face.
The lighting was poor.

The man attacking the victim
you saw for no more than five seconds

and he was running away
with his back to you.

You haven't identified the murderer.

You've identified the man
you would like to be the murderer.

The hat. He always wears it.
He was wearing it that night.

It was him.

- Hat?
- Yes, a blue and white checked thing.

He was wearing it. Definitely.

Is this the hat?

No.

But it is the one taken from my client
on arrest soon after the murder.

There is noother hat, except perhaps
the one being worn by the real killer,

Mr Hat.

- You had no idea what was in that bag.
- Absolutely none.

You may sit down now, Hat.
- Winging it.

Brilliant.

You can slag me off.

You can slag off what I do.

But I know for definite
that it was him that did it.

- Michelangelo.
- What?

It's a Sistine Chapel moment.

God forgives you.

Alex, the punter over there.

God, I can't believe
she's going out with him.

- What?
- Black Dr Martens.

- Sharp suit.
- Short hair.

- Top button...
- Undone.

What's a copper doing in our chambers?

The question is,

who is representing him?

I am.

- Good lunch?
- Yes.

Beef.

- First time since mad cow.
- Good.

- Feel OK?
- I do feel a bit strange.

Quivery, legs a touch unreliable.

- A bit Grobbelaar.
- Probably the beef.

- Mad cow.
- Or love.

The legs always go.

One of the two.

You interviewed him without a solicitor
even though he had asked for one?

You know how it is.

Yeah, sure, and you sat opposite him
in the interview room for seven minutes

in complete silence,
which is very, very oppressive.

Isn't it?

I've seen a lot worse.

And you got the caution wrong.

I got it mixed up with the old one.

How long has the new one been with us?

- A while.
- Five years.

DC Ezra, the man you oppressed
the hell out of is black.

I'm not a racist.

I made some mistakes.

Mistakes are mistakes.

- They've set a date for the meeting.
- What meeting?

The chambers meeting to decide
which one of us gets taken on.

Three weeks' time.

Right.

- And who told you?
- Peter McLeish.

He hasn't told me.

Probably he thought I'd pass it on to you.

- Probably.
- Which I am.

- And when did he tell you?
- A few days ago.

Right.

May the best man win.

Do you want to rephrase that?

That's not my phrase.
That's what McLeish said.

Brief for you. It's a straightforward plea.
Right up your street.

And you don't think
I can handle complicated trials?

- I didn't say that.
- You very nearly did.

Old man runs over a ten-year-old kid.

Paralysed from the neck down.
It's a moving case.

I thought you'd do moving well.

Then the solicitor would put the word
around that you're a good thing and...

there'll be more chance you'll spend
the rest of your life with us.

May the best man win.

You're sniffing around her.

I can smell the sniff and
it stinks so stop it.

Or I'll peanut-butter
your excited little peanut.

Anything for me?

No, sir. Sorry, sir.

R versus Boswell. Previous...

Since when did we start
looking after police officers, Miss?

Is that a proper question or something
you stick on the front of statements

to make the statement feel nice and fierce
and the recipient nice and small?

Will you give us a minute, Miss?

- Not a proper question, then.
- Do you know what we are to coppers?

Do you know how the pigs think of us?

We're the abattoir.

Abattoir bloody chambers. We bleed pork.

That reputation's priceless.
It's what we're built on.

- What our punters love. Cutting up pig.
- One police officer?

One police officer
is all it takes to burst the bubble.

Would you come here
if your job was armed blagging

and you heard you were likely to bump
into DC Wonderful in the waiting room?

- Peter...
- No, end.

I've got it right, you've got it wrong.

I just happen to think
this is a very good cop,

maybe even a very brave one.

Fine.

If that's what you think.

A touch of womanly
instinct there, Rose, eh?

Good for you.

We need to decide
if you're going in the witness box.

- I want to.
- I'd advise against.

Why?

Because we've done well up till now.
We're in decent shape

and we stand to lose more
than we gain by you going in.

- Is that it?
- Yeah.

I'm not persuaded. I want to go in.

- Juries don't necessarily like...
- What?

My type?

Those of us who are close to Jesus?

It's only fear, Mr Guthrie.

People can get past fear
if you talk to them.

It's your choice.

And I've decided.
Do you know what I say?

To sinners?

One question, but it's the only one.

Do you have Jesus in your trolley?

We should get going.

- Talked him out of giving evidence?
- No, he's going in.

What? Jesus, Billy, he'll blow it.

- He's barking.
- It's what he wants.

When has what the client wants
ever actually mattered?

Give me an example in your career when
a client has overridden your judgment.

What's wrong with you?

Keep a lid on him.
Don't let him thump the tub.

This incident happened at 3am.
Where were you?

I was a couple of streets away.

Had you been at the Heat Club?

- Yes, because...
- How long before three did you leave?

- A few minutes, I think...
- Why were you there at that time?

- Looking for trolleys. It's my job.
- Thank you.

- When I look for trolleys...
- You find them.

Mr Guthrie is leading the witness.

And finishing his sentences for him
goes well beyond leading.

- The day before this happened...
- I'd like to turn to...

Let the witness say what he wants to say.

I went to an abattoir.
- Sit on him, Billy.

Mr Hay?

- Nothing, your Honour.
I saw a trolley being taken in.

And do you know what I found? 85 trolleys.

85! Do you know
what they use them for at the abattoir?

Testicles, penises, hooves, claws.

All the bits you can't use. Detritus.

They cut them off, put them in trolleys
and wheel them to the furnace.

I saw hell that day, twice.

Once in the abattoir.

Blood and bits and stolen trolleys.

Then in the Heat Club.

Hot, poisoned lunatics.

Spinning and twisting and grinning

and feeding on pills
like fish in a frenzy.

- Oh, shit!
- You represent these people, Mr Guthrie.

- Can't be easy.
- Mr Blatter.

Knowing that you're looking after
these poisonous people.

I don't know how you do it.

Things are black and white.

Either you have
a clear conscience or a bad one.

You speak the truth or you lie.
That's how it is in my domain.

Mr Guthrie, sitting down won't help.

Let the light in, Mr Guthrie.

Stand up.

Stand up for truth.

Dead in the water.
Why didn't you get him to shut up?

- I tried.
- Really? You could have fooled me.

- The judge...
- What?

You shut up because the pudding
on the bench says so suddenly?

- That's not the Billy Guthrie I know.
- The jury can see past his noise.

You don't believe that.
I hardly recognise you, to be honest.

- Yeah, well, hard case.
- It's a murder. We're deeply unprepared.

The stakes are high but it's not that hard,
nothing like your first rape or trial.

- You stayed in shape during those.
- How's Stevie?

- Stevie's fine. How are you?
- Not what I've heard.

All right, Billy. I'll let you avoid
answering my questions. Fine.

There's a lot of sex.
There's a lot of sex with Stevie.

But the sex is a bit... you know...

- Actually...
- Actually, no.

Boring. It's not boring boring.
Not that kind of boring.

Boring because there's so much of it.
Even when we talk we're having sex.

- Sex, sex, sex,
- Terrible.

- Yeah.
- I hate that, the too much sex thing.

Absence of context.
McLeish set us up together.

Fucking Stevie, the shit hot solicitor,
was good for the chambers.

So it's artificial.
There's no tones, no undercurrent, no...

Helen. No Helen.

You all right?

- My policeman.
- What about him?

- He's not what he seems.
- What does he seem?

On paper, racist cop behaving badly.

But you think there's an underneath?

Mmm.

You've got good instincts, Rose.

You know things before they're said.

Yeah?

You think he's a good man.
If that's what you think, then you're right.

Why does a good man behave badly?

I drug women.

You drug them?

Slip a little something in the cocoa.

Then they sleep. Not they, she.

Just the one, Mandy.

Then what?

Then I cosy up.

Cosy up?
Imagine that!

How's your father
with a sleeping Doris called Mandy.

Actually, I rest my head
on the breasts of the sleeping...

- Doris.
Then what?

I go to sleep, too.

Even weirder.

Is it some kind of mother thing?

Why sleep?

I come from Vienna,
Freud and Lederhosen.

What's a boy to do?

My mum, she worked in a factory,

making glow-in-the-dark.

Illumination, yellow.

She had a laugh, my mum and her mates.

They'd come home at night with the stuff
all over their faces and tongues,

jumping out on people on the way home,
all illuminated.

She'd knock on the back door

and we'd answer, pretend to be scared
and scream our heads off.

She'd laugh some more, big laugh.

Aaaargh!

They cut out her tongue.

Radiation.

Big Scottish surgeon bloke said,
"Your mum's had her tongue away."

Glow in the fucking dark!

Killed her.

I believe in evil.

Fucking up happiness,

fucking up families.

I've got to go.

You too, sir.

Why? Where?

Put your head on the breasts
of the sleeping Stevie Goode.

Coppers and Austrians all of a sudden.
What's happening to us, eh, Billy?

- How's it going with repo man?
- Oh, he's a bit... unpredictable.

- Is he?
- Yeah.

Anything else?

- What?
- Anything else?

No.

I heard you were being a bit...

- Heard?
- From Alex.

What, you're upset he confided in me?

- He's worried about you.
- A bit...?

- Yeah.
- A bit what?

You tell me.

I should...

Billy?

Oh, Rose. Sorry.

- Why did you think I was Billy?
- Don't know.

- Good morning.
- Good morning.

- I've got to...
- Yeah, your police thing.

Yeah.

Rose?

- Morning.
- You got the Ezra stuff?

- Yeah.
- There's nothing there that helps.

- You've read it all?
- Last night.

Morag was busy
preparing her own case, so...

- I sorted it for you.
- Thank you for letting me know, Hussein.

I'm free this morning. I'm not in court.

I thought I could give you
the benefit of my presence.

- Presence?
- Or should I say my not-whiteness?

Get your coat.

The man you arrested was black.
Yes.

- Or coloured?
- What? Black.

- Why not coloured?
- Because coloured is...

- Yeah?
- It's the wrong word.

- Wrong?
- Inappropriate.

- Why do you care?
- It's the wrong word.

It's pejorative.

- You don't know what pejorative means.
- Don't patronise me.

DC Ezra, you're an intelligent,
sensitive police officer.

Or that's how it seems to me.

And yet here we are,
square peg, round hole.

DC Ezra, look at me.

Look at him.

Tell me you're a racist police officer.

Tell me this behaviour
was motivated by prejudice.

This was sabotage, wasn't it?

Not bigotry.

Well, that takes real courage.

What else could he do?

He knew the arrest had been motivated
by prejudice and bigotry.

He knows the culture
of the police force is racist.

And he knew that noone is going
to stop the arrest of this man

because a lowly detective constable
felt it to be racially motivated.

So he did a very brave thing.

He used racism to sabotage the arrest,

the investigation, the whole case.

It's the ultimate irony.

Fake racism stops racist case.

The little man who made a difference

and now has to pay for his actions.

I'd ask you not to use the ultimate
sanction and dismiss him from the force.

The police needs men like DC Ezra.

Good eggs, however wrong-headed,

are badly needed
in the police force today.

Brave and principled ones.

Priceless.

Jesus.

- It was him, the hat.
- It's blue.

Not on the inside, it isn't.

It's amazing how crap the police can be.

Breathtaking.

Very touching.
Still surprised by police incompetence.

Not them, him.

Blatter. His hypocrisy is breathtaking.

- We should...
- What? We should what?

We've got a duty not to mislead the court.

Oh, I see. Since when have you started
doing the prosecution's job for them?

They fucked it up.
It's not for us to unfuck it, is it?

Is it?

Yeah.

What?

Right. OK.

It's Daniel. He's not well.

Go home.

The judge will give us time.

We've gone through this case
at a million miles an hour. Goon.

- Is he OK?
- The doctor's here.

Right.

Is he OK? Peter?

- Where's the doctor?
- He's hot. He's got a temperature.

I'm the doctor. Alex called me.

He's fine.

How are you?

There's something I want to tell you.

I know.

- Marlowe.
- What did you tell him?

About Wendy.

- And her judge?
- Yes.

Is that all?

That's all.

Ohh.

- What are you doing?
- This is what you are without me.

Nothing. Naked.

A blank thing.

With me it's all possible.

This is Pel?.

This is a brain surgeon.

This is a brain surgeon what plays for
Brazil and flies jets, everything, with me.

Get out of here.
There's a murder you're late for.

And stay schtum.

For the moment. About all this.

Oh!

I told the judge you were unstable
and needed a break.

He was fine.
The jury speeches are in the morning.

- Was he OK?
- Who?

- Who? Daniel.
- Yeah.

What's the question?

Aren't you even going to ask the question?

The question is,
why am I being so fucked up?

And what's the answer?

Hm?

Alex?

Jesus, listen to me filling the silence.

With?

With?

With what?

There's something I have to tell you.

Wendy. The name.

- Sorry?
- Peter Pan.

First time it was used.
The first ever Wendy.

What do you want?

Everyone grows up, Judge.
Some start later than others.

Some cling onto Never Never Land
for a very long time, but in the end...

Can't stay a boy forever.

No more Wendy. Over. End.

- What gives you the right?
- If you don't do as I suggest,

the next lot through that door
won't be barristers, they'll be reporters.

With a lot of saliva on their chins
on account of the fucking drool.

Goodbye, Mr McLeish.

- Marlowe.
- Marlowe?

He's got it, too. What I know.
That's two senior clerks.

One of us I can trust.
The other I wouldn't know.

- What have we ever been for?
- Sorry.

- You could have...
- Told you?

I told you about Stevie.

What's Stevie? Who's Stevie?
It's not the same thing at all.

I could have told you about Stevie
and sex being boring if I had a Stevie

but this is 1oo times more than that.

I did tell you, which is
what we're for, I thought.

- Alex...
- No, fuck it, Billy. Fuck it!

- I know why you're here.
- Do you?

You wouldn't have come to chambers
to tell me anything else.

Wendy, the thing is...

- There.
- What?

I'm right. "The thing is."

Those three words,
then a pause, then bad news.

Why?

Because...

It's becoming impossible.

Yes.

It's never been possible.

No.

You're right.

Bye, Wendy.

I had no choice.

Marlowe got to hear about it.

I'm sorry.

I got my copper off.

I knew it.

It wasn't racism, it was sabotage.

Wendy?

What is it?

Martin.

Martin?

You don't know, do you?

I don't think I do.

I told Billy.

I assumed he'd tell you.

Tell me what?

Judge Martin and me.

I love him.

- I really love him.
- Oh, that's OK.

No, it isn't.

It's not OK.

Hi, Stevie. Um...

No message.
I was just ringing to say hello.

Hello.

Bye.

Zara, hi. Alex Hay here.

Um... give us a call sometime.

Bye.

- I do want to.
- Good.

Um... That's a problem, probably.

With er...

getting going.

Getting the old fellow to pay attention.

It's because I really want this to be...

I know.

It's not just something in passing.

I know.

Thank you, doctor.

Did you see Dan before he fell asleep?

Rose?

- Wendy.
- What?

Yeah.

- You knew?
- Yeah.

- Before me.
- Yeah.

- Yeah.
- And you didn't tell me?

No, don't go quiet on me.
I won't have you go silent on me.

The reason I didn't tell you is...

there's something more.

Talk to me now.

- I told Marlowe.
- What?

Why?

He said he'd get Wilson
to drop the case against me. I had to.

Why didn't you talk to me?
I don't care about "I had to".

I couldn't.

You couldn't?

Whoo.

Who else knew? Peter?

Peter.

Peter McLeish tells you
to shut up and you do.

Is that it? Is that you, Billy?

Peter bloody McLeish runs your life and you
can't do anything unless he wants you to?

Am I married to you and our senior clerk?

And look at what he does.

He gets people
to keep other people in the dark

to suit his dirty politics.

And all the consequences,

Martin breaking Wendy's heart,
me shouting at you,

mean precisely nothing to him.

- Sorry.
- No, you look at me.

No, you look at me. This is too important.

Is there anything more?

Fine.

However many glasses you feel like smashing,
remember, you're not the victim in this.

Victimhood's the easy way out.

Won't work, Billy.

There's nothing you can do about it.

It's the morning stiff.

Always there.

Girl's best friend.

Thank you, doctor.

I thought you'd want to know.
Things look OK.

He was amazing, Peter.

I think he's... forgiving me.

One thing, Billy.

Why is it him you care about?

Why is his forgiveness everything?

It's Wendy you betrayed.

It's Wendy who spent half of yesterday
sobbing her heart out.

Why him? Why is it always him you need?

Sorry.

We had no secrets.

We had truth and you lost us that.

You're a weaker man
than I thought you were.

Certain.

Definite.

Who's speaking?

The first one?

Mr Hat.

The second?

Mr Blatter.

Both these men apply big
words to themselves.

Faith.

Trust.

Conviction.

Words to live up to.

Words we're scared to use.

And here we have two men
making claim to them.

The good news is
that you can ignore the words.

They don't mean very much.

Why? Because you look at the evidence

and you decide
whether you can be sure of guilt.

This is a one-on-one
with nothing else in the equation.

And that's not good enough
when a man's on trial for murder.

Mr Hat believes he is right.

But belief, like faith, trust
and conviction, can be mistaken.

It can be wrong.

And that's what's happened here.

Frank Green, the big one.

- Clashes with this.
- Dump it. What is it?

- A big new police discipline case.
- Dump it.

The high ground, Rose?
Is that where you think you are

because your copper turned out squeaky?

Well, let me tell you.

Squeaky had a buddy.

And Buddy kicked the shit
out of a black guy they nicked.

A full-blown pig-on-nigger thing.

Then along came you with your eyes
wide open and your clever sabotage.

But Squeaky wasn't saving black guy
from an injustice.

He was scuppering the trial
before it got started

so noone got to hear about the big
pig toe-caps on black guy's kidneys.

A racist protecting a racist.

Squeaky and Buddy, bless their hearts.

You knew and you let me
make a fool of myself.

Coppers, blaggers,
they're all dirty, Rose.

Coppers are getting dirtier.

They're scapegoating their bad eggs
like mad to try and regain a bit of face.

But they're not dirty enough
to bring in the work

to justify the blaggers we'd lose if we
show them coppers in our waiting room.

Comes down to money.

And you decided little Rose needed
to learn the big lesson the hard way.

That's what you do, isn't it?

What?

You get information, you hold onto it
and you use it to control people.

- I don't know what you mean.
- I know what you've done to Billy.

He's more concerned about getting
your blessing for everything

than he is about his relationship
with me, Wendy, Alex,

all of us.

And now you've done Billy,
you want to do me.

Well, you can't have me, Peter.

I won't let you.

Do you find the defendant guilty
or not guilty of murder?

Guilty.

Forgive those who trespass against us.

Lead us not into temptation
but deliver us from evil.

For Thine is the power and the glory

forever and ever, amen.

The thing about you, sir,

is that if you hadn't had a gigantic
fucking silver spoon in your mouth

when you shot out of Mrs H's urethra
like a big posh salmon,

you wouldn't know you were born.

What?

You see me sitting here

and you think I'm sitting, but I'm not.

My ear is to the ground
because the ground is everything.

- It knows.
- Everything?

History of the world
on the floor in with the beer.

Falstaff's phlegm,

Chrissy Marlowe's blood,
George Best's dribbles,

sperm of George Michael, all of it.

And I've soaked it all up.

I'm a soak.

I soak up life.
You, you haven't even started.

You haven't even said hello
to the ground, let alone listened in.

This is your first time, isn't it?

Billy's betrayal.

First sticky moment you've had,

apart from wondering which Doris
to stick your silver spoon in.

And it's not so bad, Alex.

In the scheme of things.

I love you

and I love him.

You're my boys.

What are you going to do?
Break your father's heart?

I want something cleaner.

I want straightforwardness.

The rest makes me too tired, Billy.

Too tired.

- Fancy dinner?
- Dinner?

Yeah, what do you say?

Hussein, Mr Mitford needs you.

- What, now?
- Now.

I'll be two minutes.

- Dinner?
- What?

Or a million decibels of fuck-off garage
in a big Merc with the roof open?

Tom Mitford's gone home.

No, I couldn't make head or tail.

See you there.

Wendy?

It was me. It was me who told Marlowe
about you and Martin. It was me.

What?

- What?
- You, the car, everything.

Are you laughing at me?

- Are you laughing at me?
- Yes.

Oh, so what are you going to do?
Never talk to each other again?

Shake hands.

Shake hands.

Dance.

I want to see you dance.

Dance!

Goon.

Coffee?

Tea?

No, I'm all right. Cheers.

Sex?

Faith.

Trust.

Conviction.

Big words, Billy.

Pompous bastard, Alex.

Pompous bastard Alex.

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