Original subtitles

This programme contains very strong language

and some scenes which some viewers may find upsetting from the start

I just want to be a good bobby.

I want to do good things, be normal, work on me own.

- Phil's knackered, so he's going home, and she's going with you.

- He shouldn't be in the job, Phil. Look at the state of him.

- Hey, Mam.

- Here's my hero policeman.

- You're working for Carl Sweeney, aren't you?

- Why's he so angry with you?

- Cos I robbed his cocaine.

- Just give it him back.

- I can't. - Why not? - Cos it got robbed off me.

- I've been taking money off Carl for information.

- You ARE corrupt! - Stop!

Who's that with Ray?

Kate!

- I want you out of here today.

- What'd you say? - Please. - Get in the cupboard or I'll kill

If I get home tonight and you're not in this cupboard...

- Carl's gone. He's left me with nothing.

- Sorry, but... - We need money, and you're going to get it.

You understand what I'm saying to you?

- There's enough gear in this bag to set you up for life.

- Anyone going to come after it?

- We both know you can look after yourself.

- Has Chris seen much of Carl Sweeney?

- I thought you said you were here as a mate.

- Steve.

We're finished.

He hits me, he spits at me,

and he tells me that he's going to kill me in my sleep.

- That's not... - You're a liar and a coward.

- I can't keep going home to them like this.

I'm a shell. The job has ruined me.

- I'm worried about Chris.

Is he getting better or is he getting worse?

- Hours of it. Silence.

Just the sound of the blood in me ears.

Unless I put talkSPORT on.

But even then, nobody's talking to me.

Be better off with the blood.

By the time I get to work, I'm going off my head.

I start babbling at the cuzzies

cos I haven't spoke to no-one since the night before.

Can't shut up once I start.

When I had the flu, I didn't speak to anyone for days.

I ended up phoning Babestation.

20 quid just to talk about the weather.

- You rang Babestation and talked about the weather?

- Didn't know what else to say to the girl.

Couldn't even look at the telly.

- Thank you, Dave.

- I'm lonely, Father.

- As I say, thanks so much.

- MAN COUGHS

- Chris.

- Er, no. No, thanks, Father.

- Liam. - Yeah, I know.

Er, but, but no, thanks.

- It's been a few weeks, and I thought you might...

- I don't know. It's...

- Well, it's just good to have you here.

It's a big step walking into a group like this.

That's an achievement alone.

Searching for friendships.

Baby steps, turning into big steps.

- Well, I just saw the leaflet, and, you know...

- Why didn't you ring talkSPORT?

- I'm banned.

- Lurkin' down a backroad Bally with a black coat

Rolling with a pack Biv skin and a graff phone

Trying to keep eyes

No surprise if there's jacks, though

Slipping on the road

That's a night in the cells, bro

Fuck that, I'm not trying to get nicked

I stay switch, no flick on me hip, I use fists

And swing that, I've got me brother on me wrist

So when I swing, I never miss

I've lost my brother, so I'm pissed...

- Hey. Erm...

I was... I was told to come here.

- Yeah? - Yeah.

Do I give it to you, or...?

- Take the lollipop out of your mouth.

- I don't know what to do, so...

- What were you told to do?

- Bring it to you.

- There's a bag there, lad.

- Is that it?

- Looks like.

- When's this fashion show starting, then, eh?

Oh, wow.

Wow. - Can you see the beads?

- Are they beads or are they real pearls?

- You look gorgeous. - Doesn't she? Yeah.

- Etta's doesn't have that. - Oh, you look lovely, darling.

- When can I take it home?

- Erm, I'm not sure.

- We just need to take it in a little bit more,

and then you'll look perfect.

- Oh, you look fantastic.

Erm, sorry, darling, we need to make a move,

so get that off before you get something down you.

Nice one.

Erm, Dolly, would you mind?

I've come out without me wallet, OK? I'm really sorry.

Can I settle up tomorrow morning?

- Oh, don't worry about it, love.

We open at 9.00, all right?

- Thanks for that. Sorry about that. - Yeah, no worries.

- That looks lovely, darling.

- Thank you.

- Welcome.

Are you going to put the kettle on? - Yes.

- You can make me tea now, can't you? - Yeah.

- Erm, they've only just filled the fridge, so it's a bit warm.

Hey, and don't tell your mother.

I haven't got any glasses yet.

- It's your Everton mug. - Mm. Yeah.

Drink out the other side. Avoid that.

Good girl.

Mm. Listen, if I get this day job, and you stay here every night,

you're not having Coke. - Did you get one?

- I said "if". I'm applying, though, yeah.

- You've got no picture of us.

- Mm. - You've got them on your phone.

- Oh, yeah.

- Loads of 'em.

- Three of 'em.

HE CHUCKLES

IRON HISSES

- Bye. - See you, love.

- I love you. - I love you too.

- Hey, babe. - Hi.

- Hey. - All right?

- Yeah. You all right? - Yeah, I'm good. You?

- Yeah, good. - Excellent.

- Yeah.

How many Cokes did you give her?

- Oh, look, I wanted to tell you, I wasn't...

Oh, you're fucking with me. OK.

Yeah, just the six pack.

I meant to say, did you hear about the job?

- Yeah. Yeah, it's looking good, actually.

- Brilliant. - Yeah, you know, Chris, erm, if it happens...

..it will mean relocating - me and Tilly.

- What? - Yeah. London.

- What? London? - Yeah.

- Ah!

Are you serious?

- If I get it, we can talk about it.

- No, no, hang on, hang on.

Talk about it? No. That's a fucking defo not.

- It'll be good for me. It'll be good for her.

- Kate, listen to me. No, you can't do that.

End of.

- If I get it, we're going.

What? With all the shifts that you're doing, you see her

like, what, one week in every three?

- Yeah, I got a day job.

- What? What, you got a day job...?

- Last week. - You didn't tell me.

- I was going to fucking surprise you.

- Yeah, well, it worked, didn't it?

- I can spend more time with her now, actually be with her,

you know, weekends, after school, all that. It's going to be good.

I'm excited, or I was.

Kate, I'm going to fucking beg you.

Do not think of taking that girl away from me,

because she's all I've got left, OK?

- Evening, all. - Hey.

- Mate. - Ray.

- Brew? - Thanks, babe. Yeah.

- Kate... - Look, it's great you've got a day job.

When do you start?

- I don't know. I'm waiting for a date.

- OK, well, I need some time to think.

- Jerry, come on, mate.

- Leave me alone!

- No, can't do that, I'm afraid.

Fuck's sake.

Oh, lad! Fuck's sake.

- Do you want it? - Of course I don't fucking want it, you knobhead.

Just put it down. - Drop the turd now!

- I'll put it in your mouth, you twat.

- Yeah, I'll put my fucking boot up your arse first.

- Didn't go well last time, did it, you mad bastard?

- Fucking hell! I'm the mad bastard,

you're the one with dog shit in your hand.

- Why do you think I've got it in me hand?

- Stay the fuck back! - It's to keep you away from me.

- Mate, this isn't getting us anywhere, is it?

Eh? Why turn a fucking nothing job like this into assault police?

- I'm sick of yous ruining my life.

- Stop robbing from fucking cars, then!

- I didn't! - You did, you fucking dope.

The witness followed you.

- I know where you live, you twat.

- No, you don't, you dickhead.

- Just put the shit down.

- They stopped me money.

They said I was too mobile and wasn't entitled.

- You got down for that shit all right, didn't you?

- Very funny. - Fucking...

- I'm fucking starving.

- Get a job, then, you lazy bastard.

- Hey! - Who's going to give me a job?

- Stay the fuck back!

- Look at me. - Jerry, put the shit down, mate.

We'll sort this out. - I'm fucking starving here.

- I know. I'll do you a microwave thing in the nick, eh?

- Not them chicken ones, though.

- Fucking Gordon Ramsay. All right, lasagne.

All right? Are we good? Are we good?

- Yeah. - OK, good.

All right. - Whoa!

- Hey, hey! What you doing?

HE ROARS

Rach, what the fuck are you doing?

- Just drop the shit, Jerry!

- HE ROARS

- Me eyes! - Mace? Mace?

- I've got shit on me face now. - Good.

- You got gloves? - Yeah.

- Argh! Me eyes!

- Hey.

- What? - You all right?

- Yeah.

- PHONE RINGS

Fuck.

Hey, mate. - I need you to stop a car for me.

- Where are you? - Town? The Strand.

- OK. Well, give us a commentary, I'll give it the bells.

What you driving? - A grey '16 plate Audi Q3.

- And the target? - Black '22 plate Range Rover.

- Isn't it always? What's the story?

- I was going in the Rising Sun... - What you doing in that shithole?

- Meeting a mate.

What's important is that afterwards, I see a head called Mark Hodgkin.

Do you know him? - No. - Major drug dealer.

I'm sitting there and I see him acting dodgy with another bloke

who looks like a player. - Do you know him?

- No, but next thing, a bag changes hands and Hodgkin leaves

like he's won the lottery.

I follow him out, he jumps in his car, and here I am.

- What, you followed him out, and the radio room had nobody for that?

That's a fucking great stop.

- I didn't ring 'em.

I've had a bevvy.

- Oh, mate. Are you pissed?

- I'm driving.

- I didn't ask you that. - I'm all right.

- Fucking hell, Debs. - Are we on?

- HE SIGHS

Yeah, go on, then. Where are you now?

SIREN WAILS

LOUD DANCE MUSIC

Is that you in front of me?

- That's me. - OK. Drop back.

I'll give him a tug. - Roger. Be careful.

It was a black holdall. Check it for drugs.

- SIREN WAILS

Yes, mate, you.

You go, lad.

All right, la...

LOUD KNOCK

- Do you think I'm fucking stupid?

- I'll be out in a second.

- Tell him I'm ten steps ahead of him, all right?

- Mind who you're talking to...

- I'm not fucking stupid, mate. I handed it off.

Tell him he can have his bag back as well.

- All right, that's enough...

- Now, you want to be careful, Alpha 147.

- The cheeky fucker...

Hey, where are you going, dickhead?

- They set you up as well, yeah?

- You what?

Whoa, whoa, whoa. - No, no, no.

No, no, no. You're going to have to ask for a bigger envelope

if you're going to try and plant drugs on me, Alpha 147.

- This is a fucking joke. This is a fucking joke.

Debs, where the fuck did you go?

I've got some guy here taking me picture like I'm fucking bent,

talking about planting drugs, and you drive off.

Do I put this in me notebook or what?

Ring me, will you?!

No. No, no, no.

- I want another scoop of honeycomb.

- You get three scoops and a topping.

- Get me four. - I'm not made of money.

- Can I have a Flake, then? - No.

- You said I can have a topping.

- Flake isn't a topping. It's an insert.

- Can I have an insert?

- Just get your topping. - Raspberry.

- £2.80.

- Give us some of those hundreds and thousands as well.

- She's got her topping.

- No. Hundreds and thousands.

Ta.

- Hey.

Free Flake with the hundreds and thousands.

Am I the only one working here?

- Hello. - You got it? - No, we haven't got it,

because, like I told you last night, and the night before,

we can't get on the docks to get it.

- Is he on again? - Same as last night.

Same as the night before.

The new guy and no sign of Arthur.

- Have you found Arthur?

- I've told you all this. - I know you've told me.

I'm just trying to think.

Look, because you two have fucked up, we've got nothing to sell,

so sort it.

Shit.

- You've been selling drugs in my club.

- I wasn't. - No?

So what's this?

- I didn't do nothing. - Get out!

- KNOBHEAD!

- Listen to me.

Can you listen to me, please, sir?

The police are on their way, but can you listen to me?

- CCTV?

- I understand what you're saying to me, sir,

but your mate drinking your cider - is that really a police emergency?

He's been sick?

Oh, good, well, at least you've got some of it back then, haven't you?

- Hey, have we got any cameras on the Rising Sun in town?

- We've got one on the street, but I don't think it covers the boozer.

- Yeah, it does now.

There's been some disorder down there,

so they've switched the camera back on. It's camera number 28.

- 28, OK.

Debs.

And who's your fucking mate?

- All right, mate?

- All right? - What you looking at?

- Er, I did check...

- Oh, no. It's OK. Just thought I can help.

- No, it's just a job, like.

- Want me to have a look?

- No, I've got it.

- I don't mind. - No, honestly.

- Want me to put that in the...? - No, I... Thanks.

Right, better crack on, mate. - Yeah. Sound

Have a good night.

- MUTTERS: Go fuck yourself.

Debs, fucking call me, will you?

I've seen the fucking CCTV of the pub.

What are you playing...? Call me.

Hey, boss!

- Er, late off, paperwork, end of the month, you know.

- Don't know if I should be... It's, er, me application.

- Oh, right. You're going for it, then?

- Yeah, I want off Response. Fucking get some sleep.

- Er, should really be via email.

- Yeah, I wanted to, you know, put it in your hand, like,

just so I know that, you know.

- Yes. Well, great.

- Goodnight, boss. - Yeah. Go safe, Chris.

Chris?

I can't.

Look, I don't want to mess you about, right? It isn't fair.

Mate, this is a waste of time.

- You what?

- I could go through HR and all that, but I've known you for years,

and I wouldn't want to leave you hanging for no reason.

- Right. - You're not going to get this day job, all right?

It just isn't going to happen.

I-I'm really sorry.

- What are you talking about?

- Well, er, everybody thinks you're a knobhead.

You know that. Of course you do.

Look, I just don't want to mess you about.

I'm sorry. - Yeah. No. Of course. Yeah.

- All right, so you, you take that back, right?

And, er, I won't tell anyone,

and you see out your time on Response.

That's what you do best.

Two years ago, I could stretch to tenor,

but recently, I've been hovering down by bass baritone.

- What?

- I've dropped to bass baritone.

Pretty much shuts me out when it comes to all the leads now.

- No, what did you say? - When?

Shame, cos Pirates Of Penzance is one of my favourites.

- Do you know what? I'm really not fucking arsed.

- HE HUMS A TUNE

- Hey.

- Fuck was all that about?

- Can I get in? - Fuck it, yeah.

Please do.

- Look... - Never mind "look".

Debs, I watched the CCTV outside the pub.

You lied. - Just forget what happened, all right?

What you saw, what you didn't see. It's gone. - Oh, my God.

- Forget... What the fuck are you talking about?

- I need you to search a house.

- Sorry, are you for real?

- Listen... - No, Debs, mate,

don't know what you're into, but you can leave me the fuck out.

- I know you were involved with Carl Sweeney and his murder.

I've got a file. Evidence. Good evidence.

Don't make me use it.

Yeah, you fucked up the stop earlier, but I need to get this guy.

So you are going to do a search of Hodgkin's house tonight.

It's nothing you haven't done before. - No.

- You search the garage, find weed, lock him up.

- Get out. - Do the search.

- Stop! All right? Stop. Fucking hell.

You're outside the pub talking to a man you claim you've never met.

You drag me into an illegal stop and search of a dealer

who claims he's been set up.

And now you're sitting here blackmailing me to search his house.

Debs, I don't know what the fuck's going on with you,

but you need to go to the job and tell them to sort it out, OK?

- Chris... - No, listen to me.

Take it from one who knows. Go to the job,

tell them what the problem is, because if you don't... - I can't.

I need you. I need YOU, Chris.

- Oh! Then you're really fucked.

- Please, Chris, just do this.

I'll get you the day job.

You want a day job, I'll create one for you.

9-5, flexi if you want it.

- Oh, my... - My office, filing, anything.

- RADIO: - Delta patrol to take a look at sus circs...

- I'll get the budget. I'll get you the job.

- Say again, please. Delta patrol for 19 Ardennes Street.

Confrontational burglary. Any patrols?

- RACHEL: - Four seven. Put us down for that.

- Thanks, Rach. Much obliged.

- I know you're thinking of applying for the gig

in Mike Kennedy's office.

I also know there's no way you're getting it.

Chris... - Yeah? - ..you can work whenever you want.

Just do the search of Hodgkin's house and lock him up.

- I can't.

Be a mate. Get out me car...now.

- Come on, Chris. - Get out me car now.

Oh, my fucking...

- You look like a shit with an hat on.

- Err, yeah. Fuck off.

- Give us a chicken burger. - No. - Why not? Give us a burger.

- Fuck off! It's his go.

- You all right, mate?

- Sound, girl. Smashing.

- Give us a burger. - It's £3.80.

- Have you got any gravy? - That's the other place.

- I've got no money. - It's £3.80, Casey.

I'm not giving you a burger.

- I got robbed and beaten up and he took all me money, Marco, please.

- Three pieces, lad. - Three pieces. What, spicy, Southern, what?

- Erm...gravy.

- No, we don't do gravy.

- Sound, yeah.

- Please!

- Do you want a drink? - I've had a few, yeah.

- No, do you WANT a drink, with this?

- Er, yeah.

- OK, what? - What?

- CASEY LAUGHS

- What do you want to drink, lad?

Coke? - Coke, yeah.

- He'll have a Coke.

- And a burger for me.

- Hey, I need you to look after our Adele tomorrow morning.

I'll drop her at yours at 9.00, so be up, and make sure you feed her.

- Take her to your ma's. - I can't take her to me ma's, dickhead.

She'll be in court with me. - Look, I'm here all tonight,

and I'm back in tomorrow morning, so it's not going to work.

- You said you wanted to be a dad, didn't you?

- That's why I'm working in this shithole.

- You want to be Adele's dad, tomorrow is where it starts.

Look, I'll only be in court till dinner time.

I'll come and get her as soon as I get out.

- What did you do?

- The bizzies said we beat up the paedo at the top of our road.

- Did you?

- Hey, he won't be in till 1.30 tomorrow.

Tell her.

- Sorry, mate.

- Give us some gravy with that, lad, will you?

- £4.80.

- Hey, you all right?

- Yeah.

- OK.

Hey.

You all right?

- Yeah, all good.

- RADIO: - Delta Patrol to attend a call marked IRIR.

Auto alarm at Hastings Fabrics, Denning Road Industrial Estate.

Call marked IRIR.

- RACHEL: - Four seven. Put us down for that.

- Thanks, Rach.

- Sorry, Tom, I've got to go.

We're all secure now, so... - Oh, right, that's OK.

But take some cake. - Yeah? - Yeah, go ahead.

- Me, er, me colleague here will, you know...

- OK. - Right, pal. - OK.

- Cheers, mate.

All right, Dad?

- What the fuck are you doing here?

- Just came to see if you were OK, but, er...

Yeah.

Oh, er...

..me mam's dead.

- You want some cake?

Have a piece of cake. - No.

- She was a good woman.

What?

- There's no pictures.

- What?

- No... There's no pictures of me.

- Why should there be?

- You what?

- I never knew you.

- You nev... I'm your son.

- Your mother and you left.

- WE left? - Your mother took you and left,

and that was it. I never saw you. - Fuck off, Dad.

- I never knew you. - Fuck off.

You weren't interested.

And when you were here, you made our lives a fucking misery.

- I worked my tripe out for yous two.

I worked like a fucking dog.

- You were in the pub. - Because I had nowhere else to go.

I couldn't go home cos she was there.

"Where have you been? Have you been drinking?"

- You had been fucking drinking, hadn't you? - Yeah.

Because I was lonely.

- OK, I'm off. - No, w-wait.

Er, how's, erm... How are they?

- Who? - Kate and Matilda.

- Tilly.

We've split up.

- Oh. Oh, well, there's a spare room upstairs.

- HE CHUCKLES

- Er, joke.

- PHONE BUZZES

I'm going.

- I still loved yous, though. - Fuck off! Don't say that!

Don't fucking say that! - No, I did. - Did you?

- You fucking loved us? - Yes.

- I remember you putting her fucking head through a door

just cos I spilt your fucking baccy on the kitchen lino, fucking cunt.

Yes, I remember that.

Fucking love? No, thanks.

Fucking dirty. Dirty fucking...

GLASS BOTTLES RATTLE

You dirty...

BOTTLE SMASHES

If I've fucking got to do it, I've fucking got to do it.

LINE RINGS

Yeah. What's the address?

Just give me the fucking address, Debs, OK? I'll do it now,

but I'm telling you, fucking listen to me,

no messing me about with this day job, OK?

That's the fucking condition. No messing.

Yeah, address?

Right.

Fucking hell. Fucking hell.

Boy, you're a lucky cunt.

HE EXHALES

SIREN WAILS

- We're no good to them if we don't get there.

- Fuck off, Eric.

If you'd got off your ass instead of eating cake...

- He's on his own, he's lonely, and he needed a bit of our time,

so eating cake is part of our job.

You're going too fast! - Shit!

- SIREN CHIRPS

- You just bought me a new conservatory.

- RADIO: - Delta Romeo four seven, four seven Delta?

- Go ahead, Delta.

- You free, Chris?

- Not really, mate, no.

- It's just Delta Romeo two seven's been subject to an RTC.

Fire Service and Ambo are en route, but I wondered if you could support

until we can find some supervision, please?

- Er, injuries?

- We've spoken to Rach, and we're waiting for an update re Eric.

- OK. Er...

Er, yeah, send the location, Delta, er, I'm en route.

SIREN WAILS

CAN OPENS

- Hey, did they batter you?

- Just, erm, kicked me out. Robbed me gear and me money.

Two grand.

- Two grand?

Shit.

- Devvo'd.

Thing is they could be making wedges a night in there.

The bouncers haven't got a clue.

They're just flogging what they confiscate.

But they can make proper money if they had a supplier

with decent graft.

- They made decent money tonight.

- If I could just get some stuff

and someone to scare off them dickheads, I'd make a fortune.

- I might know someone, you know.

- KNOCK ON WINDOW

- Fucking hell.

I've got to get back,

but I'll bell you later and we can talk about it.

- SHE SIGHS

HE GROANS IN PAIN

- Excuse me.

Steve's ex? Came down the station kicking off?

How you doing?

- Good.

- You not injured?

- No.

No. My colleague...

Well, he's taking the piss, to be honest, but what can you do?

- Can I just ask...

..why you never made a formal complaint? - What?

I couldn't suspend him because you didn't put pen to paper.

I had to offer the prick support and counselling.

- You blaming me?

- I'm just saying, if you'd made a formal complaint,

I wouldn't have to spend every night worrying about his new girlfriend.

- He's got a girlfriend? - Yeah. A few months now.

- Not my problem, so...

- Hey. You all right?

Rach?

Breathe.

No, really fucking breathe. I think you're in a bit of shock.

OK? Good.

One of them fucking nights?

Attagirl.

How's your partner?

- Don't.

- Radio room rang me. Duty Super's been on.

You're grounded pending an investigation.

They want you to jump in with me for the night.

- Fuck's sake. - Yeah, I know.

- I spent six months trying to avoid you,

and now I'm back in the car with you.

Can't believe it.

- Hey, you can always pretend you've got whiplash.

- I'm in enough shit.

- Now, that's true.

- One minute, I've got the shittiest copper alive,

and the next, I've got the angriest. - Yeah, I've got the fucking rudest.

Sure you haven't got whiplash?

- I wish I did.

- Come 'ed.

- Thanks. I'll get my stuff.

- Oh!

BOOT SLAMS

Hey. All right?

- Fucking Eric winding me up while driving.

I so want to get off Response.

Fucking failed the sergeant's exam, too.

- Yeah, I know.

- You know? - I heard.

- Have you ever wanted to touch a hot iron?

Just thought with all your, you know, issues.

- A...a hot iron?

You fucking...mad?

No. Why? Have you?

- Recently, yeah.

- Christ. Why?

- I think I'd rather burn my hand on a hot iron than

come in here and...

..and do this shit with you lot every night.

I need to get off Response, Chris. It's doing me head in.

- To be honest, mate, I think you're talking to the wrong fucking person

about getting off Response.

- If I could just get in the morning briefings

till the bosses start to notice me a bit.

A couple of big jobs, become a star.

- HE TUTS

- What?

- Er... - What?

- Erm...

Do you want a good job?

- I need a good job. - OK. I think I might have a good job.

Good intel. It's drugs. Nicking a fucking major player.

- Where's the intel from? - You don't need to know that.

- OK. - All right, it's fucking Deb Barnes,

but we can't put her in the write-up.

- Debs? - Do you want this or not?

- Yeah. - OK.

OK.

You might want to talk to someone about that iron thing, you know.

- You might want to just drive the fucking car.

- So fucking rude.

- I'll need you in at 1.00 tomorrow.

- Erm, no. I've got my kid. Her ma... Er, I can't.

- You've been here three weeks, Marco, and I'm not seeing commitment.

- I put chicken in boxes, girl. I mean, commitment-wise...

- As your supervisor... - What do you mean? There's only two of us.

- Look, you're not happy and we're not happy.

I'm going to speak to Raj. I think it's time we let you go.

- You serious?

Ah, whatever. I'm not even arsed, mate.

- So, who's this guy?

- A bloke called Mark Hodgkin.

We find his drugs, call it in, and arrest him. - OK.

- Hey, hey. You smell gas?

If we smell gas, we are obliged to enter this property

to protect life and limb, OK?

So...can you smell it?

Oh, f...

Fuck. - What?

- Go. Go. Get in the car.

- What you doing? - Get in the fucking car!

- What's going on? - You wanted a job that'll kick-start your career,

not kill it. - It's a gun. That's got to be good.

- Mm. - It's a gun. We have just found a gun.

- If you smell gas and find a bit of weed or some coke,

that's a good job, OK?

You smell gas and find a load of coke or a fucking weed farm,

that's a great job.

But if you smell gas and find a gun, that is a fucking shitshow

ready to go off in your face. - Why? - Because a bit of weed or coke,

they're going to go guilty for a reduced sentence.

If we go in there and lock him up,

he's never going guilty on a fucking gun.

They'll tear us apart in the fucking witness box.

Smelling gas won't stand up, and me and you are going down.

Fucking hell, I mean, like, ten years easy.

Ten years for me and you.

Oh, there's kids in the house.

Right. All right.

All right. Fucking...

Yeah. All right. Let's fucking have it.

- Fuck's sake, Chris.

I've been in the car with you for two minutes.

- It's good, innit?

- Where are you going with me gun, dickhead?

Get your feet off the rug.

All right?

- You come here to talk business?

- Erm...

Yeah, well, trying to help her out,

and I thought it might be good for you too, and maybe...

- What? - Little introduction fee?

You know, like when I send people to the shop.

- You're a cheeky fuck.

- I've just lost me job.

- Quick, before me daughter comes down.

- I know a gaff where no-one else is working,

and the bouncers are dopes.

Gets packed with loads of cuzzies,

so I just need something to sell there, and a bit of backup.

- How many cuzzies? - Loads.

- How long have you known her? - Donkeys. She's sound.

- Do you want a cup of tea?

- Yes, please.

- Sugar?

- She's Carl Sweeney's missus?

- Yeah. - You brought me here? I robbed his drugs.

- It's all right. He's dead.

- But I kicked it off, though. I'm the reason he's dead.

- Just don't tell her. - As if I'm going to tell her!

- Me mum said do you want toast?

- Oh, yeah. Lovely, that. Yeah, sound.

- WHISPERS: - Fuck you, Steve.

- PHONE BUZZES

Fuck.

- Hey.

- Not now.

All right?

- Your mate's a fucking idiot.

- I can't go to prison, Franny.

- I know. You won't.

- You've got to sort it.

- I will.

Don't worry.

Love you.

"Love you too, Dad."

- You all right?

So, er, 290, less the £50 deposit you paid last month.

- Right.

Er, can I put 75 on there?

- 75? - Please.

Nice one.

BEEP

OK.

Erm, and, er...let's say, erm...

Yeah. Can I put, er, 60 on there?

- 60.

- Thanks.

Actually, you know what? Sorry.

Any chance I could pay the rest at the end of the month?

- No.

- Right. Cos, the thing is like, you know, communion's on Saturday.

- Yeah, I know.

- I'm good for it, you know.

- That's not going to pay my rent.

- Dolly, it's for me fucking daughter. Sorry.

- 60.

And I want 105 by Saturday.

We close at 11.00. - OK.

Right.

- Want a receipt? - Yeah, aye. Yeah, please, yeah, thanks.

11.00, is it?

- 11 o'clock, we close, Saturday.

- OK. Yeah, I'll be there. Thanks.

- One more.

- CHATTER

- Bastards!

- HE GROANS

PHONE BUZZES

Erm, I came cos, er, you know, last night.

Did you sleep down here?

- By the time it takes me to get up them stairs,

it's time for me to come down them stairs.

Anyway, the television's here.

- Do you want a brew?

HE GRUNTS

- Christopher. - Mm?

- There's cake in the tin, if you want it.

- Run from me, darlin'

Run, my good wife...

- Thanks.

- Run from me, darlin'

You'd better run for your life...

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