All language subtitles for Pie.in.the.Sky.S02E02.Brown.Bread.AMZN-Hi OFF

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Thank you very much.
Keep the change.

Thank you very much, sir.

Can I have my bill, please?

Certainly, sir.

Bill for Table 7,
please, Mrs. Crabbe.

Thank you.

Tell old Crabbe to put
his tin opener away

and come and have a drink,
will you, my lovely?

I´ll tell him, sir.

We´ll have the bill,
now, please.

Yes, sir.

Bill for Table 5, please.

Coming up.

Plummer wants you
to have a drink with him.

Oh, God, doesn´t
that man ever give up?

What´s he after?

He wants
to supply us with meat

and he just won´t take no
for an answer.

Oh,
I´ve got a theory on butchers.

I reckon it´s something
to do with

the constant proximity to death.

Henderson,
that three-course meal

I gave you earlier this
evening was in exchange for

the washing up, not for
the meaning of life.

Well, what do you
want me to tell him?

How are we doing in here?

It´s all right, Nicola.
Leave it to Margaret, would you?

Margaret, please, could you
get rid of Plummer for me?

I don´t think
it would do you any harm

to talk to him, Henry.

I am not buying
his meat, and that´s that.

Well, it´s got to be
cheaper than Bedlow´s.

The prices they charge,
we could put a frame

round the beef
and hang it on the wall.

Margaret.

All right, all right.
I´m going.

- Keep the change.
- Thank you, sir.

- Whereabouts is...?
- Top of the stairs, sir.

- Thank you very much, indeed.
- Thank you.

Good night.
Good night, sir. Thank you.

There you go.

I am sorry, Henry´s got
a lot of clearing up to do.

I hope you enjoyed
your meal.

Yeah, not bad, not bad.

Bring on the plastic,
will you, my lovely?

I want to go
for a Jimmy riddle.

Right, ´night, then.

- Good night, Nicola.
- Good night, Nicola.

Thanks a lot.

God, don´t these people
have any homes to go to?

Are you going to be
in there all night?

Oi! Can you hear me?

That little fellow, I reckon
he´s fallen down your loo.

He´s been there for ages,
he has.

Oh, dear.

I was banging
on the door.

I couldn´t get a cheep
out of him.

If he doesn´t come out soon,
I´ll have to tie a knot in it.

I´m worried
about Table 7.

He went to the gents´ ages no.
There´s no sign of him.

- I´ll go and have a look.
- Thanks, John.

It´s all go
in here, isn´t it?

Sir, is everything
all right in there?

Sir, are you all right
in there?

Same sort of thing
happened at my last place.

What was that?

Customer had
a heart attack in the gents´.

I think you
ought to kick the door down.

Ah! The man himself.

Could I have a word,
Crabbe, old bean?

Not now, Plummer.

Oh. He´s not, is he?

Yes, I think he is.

Right. Margaret,
downstairs with me.

John, stay here, make sure
nobody else comes in.

Um, did he, uh,
pay his bill?

Oh.

You´re telling me the geezer
in the khazi´s brown bread?

Keep your voice down!

There´s a slight
problem, sir.

Perhaps you wouldn´t mind
using the ladies´.

Everything all right,
is it?

Oh, yes, sir.
Everything´s under control.

Sorry, sir,
to inconvenience you.

There´s a slight problem,
Mr. Plummer.

It´s that little
feller, isn´t it?

Everything´s
under control.

He´s popped
his clogs, hasn´t he?

- Please, Mr. Plummer!
- Can I have a look?

You don´t have to worry
about me.

I´m a butcher,
I´ve seen everything.

If you wouldn´t mind
just using the ladies´.

Well,
as a matter of fact, I do mind.

You can call me
old-fashioned,

but I prefer to...
hang out with the chaps.

Come on downstairs
and I´ll show you

where the staff lavatory is.

The staff lavatory?
I can´t wait.

No, police
and ambulance, please.

Don´t mention a word
of this to anyone, Henderson.

People get very irrational
about this sort of thing.

You mean they´ll think
it´s the food?

Thank you. Thank you!
They´re on their way.

Good. Oh, no.

I´ve told Mr. Plummer
he can use the staff lavatory.

Mr. Plummer, if you´d like
to just step this way.

Very kind of you, but,
on second thoughts,

I think I´ll wait
´til I get home.

Come on, my lovely,
let´s be off.

At least we´re not going out
feet-first.

I´m only joking, Crabbe.
Night, all.

Wait a minute. He´s
upstairs, all alone, isn´t he?

On my way.

Table 5 have gone.

Thank God.

Where is he?

Upstairs.

- Sorry about this.
- What?

Well, he´s sort of,
um, gone.

Um --

We´ve got a male Caucasian,

aged between 50 and 70.

Gray hair, ginger hair,
or no hair at all.

Possibly a moustache,
possibly not.

Three votes for glasses,
two against, and one abstention.

Thank you all very much.

Right, you lot,
back to work.

Henderson, go and get me
some King Edwards.

Right, bye.

Bye.

Bye.

Really, how much did he have
to drink, Mrs. Crabbe?

Oh, two large gin-and-tonics,

one bottle of claret,
two Armagnacs.

Well, that´s an awful lot,
isn´t it?

Would you like me to work it out
in units for you, Sergeant?

That won´t be necessary, sir.
All I´m saying is --

I know what you´re
saying, Cambridge.

He had too much to drink
and passed out in the lav,

where I mistakenly
pronounced him dead.

And then ten minutes later,
he comes to,

stimulated, no doubt,
by my pathetic attempts

at the kiss of life,

and wanders out into the night.

Well, it does seem

the most likely explanation,
Margaret.

I know, it´s just --
oh, there was something.

Shouldn´t you be doing
origami on your napkins, John?

Yes, Mr. Crabbe.

Now, while I´ve got
all your attention,

can we please put the events
of last night behind us?

Morbid speculation
is going to get us nowhere.

Yes, Mr. Crabbe.

Morning, all.

Oh.

Brought you a present.
Nice bit of beef.

Look, Plummer,
we are extremely busy.

Look at that,
prime Scotch beef.

Hung for 15 days.
Eat it in the next two or three.

Look at that marbling of fat,
look at the color.

No, no, I´m sorry,
I can´t.

No strings attached.

You like it --
and, believe me, you will --

I can let you have that
at £1.70 a pound on the bone.

Hello.

What´s this?

It´s a bit of rump.

Sometimes we use chuck,
it depends on the marinade.

Bedlow´s rump, is it?

Bedlow´s organic rump.

Organic, eh?
How do you know it´s organic?

What are you
suggesting?

You can look at a bit of beef

and tell if it´s got enough fat
in it, can´t you?

You can tell, by the color,
if it´s been hung too long,

and when you eat it, you´ll soon
know if it hasn´t

been hung long enough, but it
could have more hormones

than a Russian weightlifter, you
wouldn´t notice the difference.

It´s a question of trust,
Plummer.

My point, exactly.

Well, I must love you
and leave you.

Oh, by the way,

when Bedlow´s delivers,
do you weigh everything?

No, why?

Just a thought.
Toodle-pip.

What a nerve!

I´ve just found
some car keys.

Oh, just put them
behind the bar, John.

Somebody will claim them,
eventually.

From under his table.

Oh, no.

Oh, no.

Something
has just occurred to me

which should´ve
occurred to me yesterday.

What´s that?

Well, if he wasn´t local and he
was within walking distance

of where he was staying,
that can only mean --

The Crown!

Exactly.

He´s probably tucking into his

Olde Worlde English Breakfast
Special at this very moment.

Well, if he is,
that will be the end of him.

Sounds like
the bloke in 23.

Here we are. Mr. Jones.

Little bloke,
gray hair, gray suit.

On brief acquaintance,
I´d say

that "gray"
was the key word, here.

Yes.
Well, that sounds like him.

He must´ve forgotten
to write his address.

Is he in? I´d like a word.

He´s not here anymore.
He checked out last night.

Oh, he didn´t stay
overnight, then?

Last-minute change
of plan, apparently.

Paid the full whack,
so I can´t complain.

Hmm, well,
at least he´s all right.

Or, rather,
his friend did.

His friend did what?

Returned his room key

and paid the bill. Young chap.

It seems that Mr. Jones bumped
into some friends

at your restaurant and decided
to spend the night with them.

What about his car?

He didn´t come in a car.

He came in a minicab
from the station.

Look, what´s this
all about, anyway?

I´m just trying
to return

some property of his,
that´s all.

Can´t help you there,
I´m afraid.

Yeah.

Well, thanks, anyway.

Um...

did he make
any phone calls at all?

I´d have to check his bill.

Oh, thanks very much, indeed.

But he didn´t meet
any friends here, did he?

Well, perhaps
he met someone

when he left the restaurant.

Oh, yes, he wanders
out into Middleton High Street

at 11:00 at night, having been
unconscious for twenty minutes,

and bumps into some old friends
and decides, then and there,

he´s going to spend the night
with them, yes.

Yes, why not?

Did you know Bedlow´s
are supplying the Crown?

Henry, you´re not
listening to a word I say.

I mean, The Crown!
I was amazed.

Remember, we had a meal there
before we bought the restaurant.

I had steak,
it tasted like a carpet tile.

It can´t have been Bedlow´s.

Henry, I want to talk
to you, outside, now.

Henry, I just think
there is something odd going on.

All right, let´s just
imagine that Mr. Jones

"shuffled off this mortal coil"
in our upstairs loo.

What happened then?

Well, somebody moved him.

Who?
The restaurant was empty.

What about the couple
on Table 5?

They were still there when
John and Plummer came down.

Oh, they took Mr. Jones?
But why, opportunistic theft?

Look, Margaret, I know
people pinch our ashtrays,

but making off with
dead customers

is a bit over the top,
isn´t it?

Well,
I don´t know why,

for heaven´s sake,
I´m not the detective!

All right, well,
we know that Jones

made a couple of phone calls
from The Crown Hotel.

Cambridge is having them traced,
so maybe we´ll have a chance

to sort this thing out
once and for all.

Ah, so you do think
there´s something odd

going on here, don´t you?

Come on, Henry, admit it.

Look, I think Mr. Jones
is wandering around his house,

somewhat hung over,

wondering where on Earth
he left his car keys.

Well,
I hope you´re right.

The Disappearing
Diner made a phone call

to a private address
in Carthage.

Mrs. G. Burgess.

And another to a garage
in Heathrow,

long-term parking,

car serviced while you fly.

Thank you, Cambridge.

You will get your reward
in heaven, if not before.

Thank you, sir.
Mm! I must go.

Aren´t you going to
give me the other half?

Afraid not, sir.

I´m working with this team
from Regional Crime.

They think we´ve got
a perfume factory on our patch.

A what?

Imitation-perfume, sir.

Expensive labels,
worthless muck: huge industry.

Well, I don´t doubt it.

It destabilizes
the economy, sir.

It should be of concern
to us all.

Well, string ´em up, I say.

Bye, sir.

Bye, Cambridge.

And thanks.

Mrs. Burgess?

Yes?

Hello, my name is
Henry Crabbe.

I´m looking
for a Mr. Norman Jones.

I believe you might be able
to help me find him.

Are you selling something?

No, no, no, no,
I´ve got something

a set of car keys.

Oh, I see.

Well, actually,
Mr. Jones is my brother.

Do come in, please.

Thank you.

I´m sorry
about the mess.

Some friends came round for tea.
I won´t be a minute.

Can I get you anything,
Mr. Crabbe?

No, no, nothing for me,
thank you.

It´s very clever, that.

Yes, it is, isn´t it?

My brother loves
that sort of thing.

And I like the duck
over the door.

Oh, you noticed him, did you?
Yes, well, we call him Clyde.

Very nice.

So your brother lives here
with you, does he?

Yes,
but he´s away an awful lot.

He´s away on business
at the moment.

That´s why he was
at your restaurant,

I suppose.

How was he?

Uh, well, he was, um --

Well, to be honest with you,
I didn´t see much of him.

Oh, dear, well, I hope
he wasn´t overdoing it.

He has to be very careful.
Doctor´s orders, you know.

Really?

So he dropped his car keys,
did he? Typical.

Well, he didn´t come
to the restaurant in the car,

so that´s probably why
he didn´t notice

when he dropped the keys.

It´s a red BMW, isn´t it?

Do you know?
I think it´s black.

But I´m not very good
about cars, I´m afraid.

Um --

Ha.

Um -- well, you´re not
going to believe this,

but I think I´ve lost
the keys, myself.

Oh, dear.

Yes, I´ve just got
a picture of them

behind the bar
in the restaurant.

Never mind.

Sorry about that,
Mrs. Burgess.

Perhaps I could pop them
in the post?

Yes,
that would be fine.

Right.
Oh, better still --

get your brother to give me
a call at the restaurant.

Yes, there´s my card.

You haven´t spoken with him
today at all, have you?

Oh, no, I should think
he´s much too busy to ring me.

Right.
I´d best be off, then.

How did you
track us down, Mr. Crabbe?

It was very clever of you.

I got the address
from your brother´s hotel.

Look, I´m sorry
about those keys.

Oh, that´s all right.

Thank you for going
to so much trouble.

It was no trouble.
Bye, now.

Bye.

What the flaming heck
was that all about?

Maybe he was just trying
to return the car keys.

Jason, pigs will fly
before your uncle

writes his real address
in an hotel register.

Something´s happened --

something´s happening,
so he´s keeping his head down.

It´s the bloke
from that restaurant.

What´s he doing here?
Are we missing something?

I don´t know.

Well, whatever.

I think we ought to
wait here, don´t you?

You´re the boss.

Okay, we´ll wait here.

Sooner or later,
one of them´s

going to make a move,
don´t you reckon?

How can I help you, sir?

Detective Inspector Crabbe,
Barstock CID.

I´m looking for a black BMW.

Well,
we´ve got a few of them.

What, been nicked, has it?

Well,
it might have been.

We don´t know
the registration number,

but we think the owner´s name
might be Jones.

Jones?

Here it is.

Registration -- K315 UUT.

Could I have
a look at it?

No problem.
I´ll show you where it is.

Oh, just hang on.

Hello, could you just hang on
for a minute, please? Thank you.

It´s row D. Three cars down.

Cheers.

Yeah. Sorry about that.
How can I help you?

Any joy, Inspector?

Was he a little fellow,
then, was he?

Gray hair and gray suit?

Yeah, that´s right,
a little bloke.

What´s he done, then?

Well, we´re not sure.
When´s he picking it up?

He´s paid up
until next Friday.

Oh. Would you give me a call
on this number when he does?

Pie in the Sky, what´s that?

I´m sorry, that´s a restaurant
I went to once.

There´s the card.

Well, hard to say,
really, but there must´ve been

about, oh,
quarter of a million pounds.

Good heavens!

Yeah, and the car was
registered to Norman Jones.

Mrs. Burgess wasn´t overkeen
to acknowledge

he was her brother,

until I happened to mention
the car keys, ha ha ha.

Well, why didn´t you
give them to her?

Aha!

Well, you see, Margaret,
I´ve spent half my lifetime

sitting in people´s kitchens,
being systematically lied to,

so I know the signs to look out
for, do you know what I mean?

Besides, there´d been
somebody else in the house.

There were cups
and saucers for three,

the teapot was full
and piping hot.

They must have scarpered
right after I rang the bell.

What are you going to do?

Well

I´ve got some of these
herb sausages.

I thought we might
try them tomorrow

with a parsnip
and potato mash

and a cucumber relish
I want to try.

Cucumber relish, eh?

- Yeah.
- Henry.

Just a minute.

You slice them very, very thin,
then salt them generously

and let them stand for,
oh, about an hour.

Then rinse off the salt,
pat them dry, and then add

sugar, white wine vinegar,
and some finely chopped parsley.

Right.

And you might want
to try some thyme as well.

Henry!
What are you going to do?

Well, I thought
I would sneak into the garage

late tonight,
I would grab the money

and stash it somewhere safe,
leave it there

for a couple or three years
and then who knows?

Buy a little farmhouse

in the Vallée de la Loire,
bit of a vineyard --

Château Crabbe,
what do you think?

I´m not in the mood
for jokes.

Look, Margaret, I am not
going to get involved

because it´s not my problem.

I´ve given all the information
to Cambridge.

She can make a name
for herself if she wants to.

I just don´t understand
why you´ve got

such a bee in your bonnet
about this one.

It´s that poor little man,
Henry.

I keep seeing him,
lying on the floor.

I just want to know
what´s happened to him,

that´s all!

Jason´s on the move.

This could be it.
You reckon?

Well, let´s follow him
and find out.

Table for one, is it, sir?

Yeah, looks like it.

In the window, perhaps?

No, this will do.

As you wish, sir.

Can I get you a drink
or anything?

Yeah, scotch and Coke.

- Yes, sir.
- Lots of rocks.

Yes, sir.

Hold on.

Yes, sir?

Is Crabbe about?

I think so, sir.

´Cause he´s got
my Uncle Norman´s car keys.

I´m sorry?

My Uncle Norman,

he left his car keys here
the other night.

Oh, I see.

I will tell Mr. Crabbe
that you´re here, sir.

Mr. Crabbe, there´s
a gentleman on Table 7.

It´s the little bloke´s nephew.

He says he´d like
to speak to you.

Run that by me again,
would you, John?

There´s someone
in the hot seat.

There´s a bloke on
Table 7,

the little chap´s nephew,
come to collect the car keys.

Oh, God!

Oh, my God.

He´s sitting
at the same table.

The table of doom!

Spooky.

I´ll get him his drink.

Tell him I´ll be out
in a minute, John.

Yes, Mr. Crabbe.

Hello, Detective Sergeant
Cambridge, please.

Mr. Crabbe
will be out shortly, sir.

May I take your order?

I´ll have pie and chips.

A very good choice, sir.

Where´s your bog?

Top of the stairs, sir.

Thank you.

Anyone else comes back
down those stairs,

you know what to do.

One pie-and-chips, please.

Where´s he gone?

The loo.
Where do you think?

Did you tell him
about the door?

What door?

The door to the gents´.
Didn´t Mrs. Crabbe tell you?

It sticks
since you kicked it in.

Nobody told me
about that.

The curse of Table 7.

You have to be firm
with that, it sticks.

What?

The door sticks.
Give it a good shove.

Oi! Do you mind?

Well,
it won´t open

if there´s someone in there,
will it?

Oi, are you still out there?

Yes.

Well, give us a hand.
I´m -- I´m stuck in here.

The gents´ door
is causing problems, John.

You´d better take a look.

Bye, all,
back at 5:00.

Stop right there!

Detective Sergeant Purvis,
Regional Crime Squad.

Give me that briefcase, now.

I beg your pardon!

- I think you ought to, uh --
- Shut it.

I said, give me that briefcase.

Certainly not.

I really think you ought to --

I said, shut it!

Oh!

Move away from that door.

I see you´ve met
DS Purvis, sir.

Okay, one more time.
Are you ready, in there?

Here we go!

Sir, DI Ripley,
DS Purvis, Regional Crime.

I told you about them.

Oh, yes,
the perfume patrol.

Perfume business
was a smokescreen.

We´ve been on this investigation
12 months, now.

I don´t want the local
woodentops going round

flapping their mouths.

Uh, what investigation?

The target is
Norman Jones.

Real name,
James Henry Burgess.

One of the top forgers in Europe
and never been nicked.

He was in your restaurant
the other night.

Now, his son, Jason´s, in there,
feeding his face.

I see.

Jimmy Burgess
has been turning out

the best 20-quid
drinking vouchers ever seen.

Last week, he left home
with a suitcaseful.

We reckon over a quarter
of a million, face value.

And what went wrong?

Well, we followed him,
we wanted to nick him

and whoever he was selling
the forged notes on to.

That´s how we ended up here,
but somewhere along the way,

Burgess pulled a stroke
and dumped the money

and we don´t know where.

Cambridge.

Black BMW.

Registration number
Kilo 315 Uniform Uniform Tango.

That´s Burgess´s car.

I reported
the whereabouts of the vehicle

and its contents, sir,
it´s under observation.

Thank you, Cambridge.

You found
Jimmy Burgess´s car?

Yes.

With a boot full of money.

Quarter of a million pounds,
probably.

So the local woodentops

were able to help you,
after all, Ripley.

Your thanks and apologies
are gratefully received.

He´s asked for his bill
and the uncle´s car keys.

Right.

Wait a minute,
what are you doing?

Hmm? Well, I thought
I´d give Jason the keys,

then you could all go
and watch the car

and wait for Jimmy Burgess
to come and collect his dosh.

There´s a problem.

What´s that?

It´s Jimmy Burgess.

He´s dead.

I knew it.

So Jimmy Burgess is
in the hospital

as an unidentified DB.

When he´s been positively IDed,

he´ll be moved
to the coroner´s office.

Ripley thought that
might buy them enough time

to recover
the counterfeit money.

And I´ll bet they
thought it´d give them a chance

to try and find the middle man,

whoever´s been buying
Burgess´s £20 notes.

Are you telling me

they dragged that poor man
out of here,

knowing he was dead,
and dumped him in the hospital,

without even telling
his family?

Well, I don´t care
what that man has done --

He´s done forgery, Margaret.
He makes counterfeit money.

Yes!
That is a dreadful crime.

It destabilizes the economy,
it causes terrible uncertainty,

but nonetheless, nonetheless,
that poor man

deserved better
than being manhandled

by a pair of so-called
police officers!

Oh, you´ve done all right
on the rump, haven´t you?

It´s almost a pound over.

It´s all right,
I won´t tell anyone.

I´ll let you off this time.

Will you be wanting to weigh
the lamb as well?

No, no, no.
That´s fine, thanks, fine, fine.

Okay.

See you next week.

Yeah.

Well, you certainly kept him
on his toes, didn´t you?

- Morning, sir.
- Morning, Cambridge.

Are you all right, sir?

I´m fine, thanks.
What do you want?

DI Ripley would like
to see you, sir.

Well, I don´t want
to see him.

Well,
my new chum Crabbe´s

going to change all that.

Assuming he can follow
a few simple instructions.

Yeah. Ha ha.
Okay, Lorna, later.

You´re working with
the big boys, now, Crabbe.

I´ll just have to try
and control my excitement.

I want you to break
the tragic news to Mrs. Burgess.

Oh, you want me to tell her
her husband´s dead?

But don´t say "Burgess."
Tell her Norman Jones is dead.

My guess is, she´ll be gutted

when she sees her old man
lying there,

and she´ll identify him --
why not?

You don´t know anything
about Jimmy Burgess,

the master forger --
you´re just the local plod.

Oh, right, yes.

And when you tell her
you´ve located

the old boy´s car,
she won´t be able to resist.

She´s hard as nails.

Widowed or not, she´ll try
to cut a deal with that money.

She´ll be down that garage
before she´s dried her eyes.

That´s when we take over.

Not keen
on friend Ripley, are we sir?

No. Well, he´s more
interested in his career

than he is in his work.

Some people --
Fisher for instance --

think they´re both
one and the same thing.

They´re not.

Do you think I´m one
of those people, sir?

No, Cambridge, not yet.

Not yet.

Something wrong, sir?

Don´t be silly, Cambridge.

You´re the man from
the restaurant, aren´t you?

Yes, Mrs. Burgess,
but I´m afraid

I´m wearing
a different hat today.

Detective Inspector Crabbe,
Barstock CID.

I don´t understand.

It´s about your brother,
Norman Jones.

I´m afraid I´ve got
some very bad news.

Mrs. Burgess.

Yes,
let´s get it over with.

Mrs. Burgess,

Can you identify this person?

Yes. Yes, I can.

I´m sorry.
I must ask you formally.

Can you identify
this man by name?

Well, it´s Norman, isn´t it?

Norman, my brother.
What do you think?

You can identify this man
as Norman Jones, your brother?

Yes, of course I can!

It´s what she just said,
isn´t it?

Are you absolutely sure?

Yes, of course I´m sure!

He lives with me.
Lived with me.

It was just a few days ago that
I made his breakfast for him.

I´m not going to forget
what he looks like

since then, am I?

It´s all right, Mum.
What´s your problem, Crabbe?

I´m sorry, um --
It´s very upsetting, I know.

Why don´t you take your mother
into the next room?

So what do you think?

Well, either this is

Norman Jones, her brother,

or she´s the best liar
I´ve ever met.

Well,
let´s see what happens

when you tell her
about the car.

Goodbye,

whoever you are.

Thank you very much,
Mrs. Burgess.

And please accept
our deepest sympathies.

There is
just one other thing.

We´ve managed to locate
your brother´s car.

I know you don´t want
to be bothered

with trivialities
at a time like this,

so if you´d like me to arrange
to have it collected?

That won´t be necessary.

Just tell us
where it is, Crabbe.

It´s in a carpark
near Heathrow Airport.

I have the address here.

Perhaps your husband
could pick it up?

I beg your pardon.

There is a Mr. Burgess,
I take it?

There is, but he is
no longer a fixture.

We don´t mention his name.

You know, a visit
to the mortuary

always gives me
a terrific appetite.

Reaffirmation of life
or something, I suppose.

Good God!

Something wrong, sir?

Pull over just here,
would you?

Oh, hallo.

Just been having
your lunch, then?

What, in there?
Not likely.

You were never
delivering there, were you?

Are you following me
or something?

No, no, no, I just
happened to be passing by

and I saw your van and I stopped
and I thought, Bedlow´s.

I mean, Bedlow´s can´t be
delivering their prime,

grass-fed beef to
Bob´s Big Burgers, can they?

We supply
"100% pure beef burgers,"

that´s the official
description.

I see, "100% pure beef."

Yes, now, what does that
actually mean?

Look, if you got
any queries, you see the top man

and stop giving me
aggravation.

I just deliver the stuff.

Which is what
I should be doing now,

not standing around here,
arguing the toss with you.

Are you listening?

Ducks.

That´s right, ducks.

100% pure duck, as it happens.
Real feathers and all.

Or do you think
I stuck them on meself?

Right, Cambridge.
Back to Mrs. Burgess´s house.

Oh, why?

Ducks.

Ducks?

Well, about a thousand
years ago,

I had the dubious pleasure
of arresting

an elderly housebreaker
called Albie Potts.

Anyway, while I was searching
Albie´s abode,

I came across a sheaf
of blank MOT certificates.

- And?
- They were forgeries.

Very good ones, actually.

Go on.

Well,
Albie had nicked them

from a little bungalow owned
by a Mr. Francis Battle.

Naturally, Mr. Battle denied any
burglary had taken place at all.

But what I´ve just remembered
is that,

on Mr. Battle´s front garden,

there were some rather
beautiful model ducks.

Ducks.

Mrs. Burgess´s.

Yes, sir.

So you think
this man, Battle,

is actually Jimmy Burgess?

Yes,
but the Jimmy Burgess I knew

was 6´0" tall
and at least 16 stone.

Even with the passage of time,
there´s no way

he could be confused
for Ripley´s Burgess.

So you think Burgess
is still alive?

Oh, yes, ha --
Norman Jones really is

Norman Jones,
Mrs. Burgess´s brother.

But Mr. Burgess,
he was never arrested.

There´s no record of him.
He´s not on file anywhere.

Ripley and Purvis don´t even
know what he looks like.

They´ve been following
the wrong man.

We ought to inform
DI Ripley, sir.

Oh, I don´t see any need
to do that yet.

After all, I might be wrong.

Look, sir.

Well, sir?

Hang on. What´s this?

It´s Jason.

Was that Burgess?

How should I know, Cambridge?

It was a very long time ago.

Now, for heaven´s sake,
get the car started.

I´m trying, sir!

What did I tell you?
Sweet as a nut.

On your marks, everyone.

The eagle has landed.

He´s going
into the garage.

Don´t let Ripley
and Purvis know we´re here.

Well, we don´t want
to get in their way, do we?

There´s the car,
Mrs. Jones.

Thank you.

Got those Granada discs
for you, mate.

What discs?

Well, it says, here, "Granada
discs for Pilkington´s."

this ain´t Pilkington´s.

Pilkington´s on the other
side of the airport.

I don´t believe it.
This is my first day and all.

What´s my best way
to Pilkington´s, then?

Stand by.

Go, go, go!

What seems to be
the trouble, officer?

Let´s have a look in
the boot and find out, shall we?

Here comes
the van, sir.

Pull the car apart.
It´s in there somewhere.

Well, this is the bit
you say "go, go, go," sir.

Kindly stop the van,
please, Sergeant.

Well, come on,
Cambridge.

Well, go on, then,
get out there!

Come on, move!

Ugh. God, I hate cars.

James Henry Burgess?

You probably
don´t remember me.

We´re all finished here.

Thanks.

He´s going to claim it
all for himself, you know?

Well,
it´s the work that counts,

not the career, right?

Hmm.

John, pass us
that mustard, would you?

Mmm, that´s a fantastic
bit of meat.

Thank you, Henderson.

It´s marvelous beef.

Beautifully cooked, of course,
Mr. Crabbe,

but it is marvelous beef.

It is actually the tenderest
bit of beef we´ve had in ages.

Great flavor, too.

What is this,

a commercial
for the Meat Marketing Board?

Come on, Crabbe,
what do you think?

It´s not bad.

"Not bad"? Come off it, Crabbe.

It´s bloody marvelous
and you know it.

Everyone working hard, I see.

Have some of this beef,

Mrs. C.,
it´s the real thing.

Not remotely like
those beef-flavored crisps

you keep in the car.

Oh, that´s excellent.
Excellent!

If it´s any help,
Margaret,

I´ve already made an arrangement
with Mr. Plummer,

so there´s no need to pretend
you can taste anything.

Good.

Yeah, that´s the genuine
article, that is.

You can always tell
the genuine article.

Oh, if only that were true.

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