Original subtitles

JUDGE:

Norman Stanley Fletcher,

it is now my duty to pass sentence.

You treat arrest

as an occupational hazard,

and presumably accept imprisonment

in the same casual way.

We therefore sentence you

to the maximum term:

you will go to prison for five years.

(DOORS SLAM SHUT)

You made the team, Lennie?

Yeah. Well...

- The Champ, is it?

- Not yet.

Double rations?

If I WANT 'em.

I thought double rations

was the point of boxing.

Double rations HERE!?

I'd be an OVER-weight!

I trust you're not complaining

about the prison food!?

No, sir.

It's better than many get at home.

I speak from experience...

Of PRISON food, that is.

It's not much to look at.

Neither is ready-mixed concrete...

I'm glad you're taking a sensible...

Pardon!?

Thank you, Sid.

Hi, Sid.

- Hi, Fletch.

- Oh, Gawd, the athlete!

It's better than draughts.

You should lose a couple of pounds.

Thanks to draughts

I just WON a couple of pounds.

- You cheat at draughts.

- I'll knock your block off!

- You won't, 'cos I made the team.

- Gerroff!

Where's your guard...?

He's outside, will I call him in!?

Siddown and shurrup! Boxing, huh!

You've taken every

naffing course in this prison!

'O' Levels, pottery, Spanish!

- Going to be an interpreter (?)

- Si, senor.

Six months of intensive study

and all I get is "Si, senor"!

No, listen... No tiene vacca...

pero tiene uno burro.

Go on, then, I'll buy it.

I haven't got a cow,

but I have got a donkey.

Oh, that'll come in very handy

on your first Spanish holiday (!)

A shy little senorita whispers

sweet nothings up your nose

and you say "I haven't got a cow,

darlin', but I've got a donkey."!

Vaya con Dios. That's Spanish.

You Brummies would do better

learning English!

I wish you'd stop boxing.

You bring a terrible smell 'ere.

Takes away the smell

of your after-shave.

- I'm chuffed about making the team.

- You're only boxing for our wing.

Hardly Madison Square Gardens (!)

Sport is the great working-class

escape, like Rock and Roll.

You'll get round to that!

I've got the credentials.

Deprived childhood...

Mr Bayliss says I got natural ability.

If you show all the flair that you did

for Spanish, you're due a clobbering!

Que sera, sera.

Kiss a WHAT!?

- Grouty wants to see ya.

- Pardon?

Grouty wants a word.

Are you running for Grouty now!?

One of his Firm.

- He IS scraping the barrel!

- Watch it!

Now he's under Harry's wing

he's full of bravado, eh?

Will you come?

- I might.

- I'm supposed to take you with me!

I'm a bit heavy to lift, Jackdaw.

Tell him I'm going to cut me toe-nails.

- On your head be it.

- Yaergh!

- Was that wise?

- Yeah...

I know Harry's got a long history

of mayhem and violence behind him,

but this is the last year

of a long, long stretch, innit?

He won't cock-up

his release at this stage.

Suppose not.

He's happy runnin' all the rackets.

Why does he want you?

He may want a slice

of my draughts action.

Where's me clippers?

- You're not cutting your toe-nails!

- I ain't growin' them indefinitely!

Me foot won't reach out the window.

Not on MY bunk!

Sorry if I offend your sense of propriety (!)

An' I wish you'd take a shower.

The place is full of linament.

It smells like

a Turkish wrestler's jockstrap!

Well, you should know about that!

Yes!

Don't get up, Godber.

Well, I'm told congratulations are in order.

- Oh, the boxing...

- Fine sport, boxing.

The Noble Art.

Teaches discipline, team spirit...

'Course, I was no slouch myself

at your age. Oh, no.

I once boxed for Midlothian Boys.

Oh? Who against? Lancashire Girls?

I boxed for my battalion.

- Did you?

- Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders.

A great regiment

I was proud to serve.

And now defunct. Despite the nerks

who put stickers in car windows.

I expect YOU were in the

Ordnance Corps, out of the line of fire.

Probably served your time

embezzling stores

somewhere cushy

like Shoeburyness! Ha-ha (!)

You're wrong.

I saw active service - Malaya.

Kuala Lumpur,

that's where I did my embezzling.

And it was the RASC.

- What's that?

- Run Away Someone's Coming.

Service would have done you good.

Army looks after its boxers.

I don't reckon boxing's such a noble art.

- You wouldn't!

- I had a friend once...

He was a light-heavy. Strong lad.

He won a few fights.

So he thought he was the bees' knees.

Fast cars, loose women.

Classic story. He just blew up.

Got into debt.

Know where he finished up?

In a boxing booth in a fairground.

Four fights a night, 7 days a week.

The body can't take that.

His brain went soft, his reflexes went.

He just became a vegetable;

an incoherent, non-thinking zombie.

What became of him?

He became a prison warden.

He's doing very well.

Hello, Grout...

(CLOSING MUSIC FROM

The Archers PLAYING)

Archers. Never miss.

They still on?

Doris is in a state.

She's got Dutch Elm Disease.

- Poor old Doris.

- Don't you follow it?

No, not since Grace copped it

when I was in Shepton Mallet.

I like radio, mind -Desert Island Discs,

Gardeners' Question Time...

A Book at Bedtime -

never miss that.

'Course, we're not

allowed wireless that late.

No-one ever told me!

No, I don't suppose they dared.

- Nice place.

- You like it?

Yeah. I like the lamp.

It's a memento of Alassio - that's in Italy.

- They extradited you from there?

- That's right.

I came back handcuffed

to Scotcher of the Yard on Alitalia.

I paid the extra for first-class.

Bit of a perk for him.

He'd never been south of Worthing before.

He bought the Chianti

and I got him some Sambuca.

- Very nice.

- Come in, Jackdaw.

- Cocoa, Fletch?

- Oh, thanks. Ta.

- Sugar?

- Thank you.

Short on sugar, are you (?)

- Shall I feed Seymour?

- Yeah, go on.

Seymour?

Oh, our feathered friend.

He provides a bit of company for me.

In Parkhurst I had a pigeon.

Oh, like the Birdman of Alcatraz!

Not really. No.

No, not really, no...

- A pigeon must have taken up more room.

- Just a bit.

But it kept me in touch

with the bookmakers.

- Oh!

- Brought me a few bob.

What did you do with it when you left?

I ate it.

That's very nice... Yeah...

You better watch your step, Jackdaw.

- Will that be all?

- Probably, but hang about.

Oh, Jackdaw, we're in conference,

so do the minding, right.

Right.

Do you want a Bath Oliver?

You got a BATH!?

Oh, a biscuit. Yeah.

No, I got to watch the weight.

- Well then, Fletch.

- W-well then, Grouty.

There's a boxing match?

Yeah, inter-prison championship.

- Money to be made.

- You mean a flutter?

Competition means there's

a winner and a loser.

Which is all right,

provided you're on the winner.

Y-e-a-h... Forgive me,

but do you really need the funds?

People GIVE you money, don't they?

Where's the fun in that?

We're talking of SPORT.

Speculation, tension,

the thrill of the outcome.

Thrill of the outcome. Yeah, yeah.

That's why I want you to fix the fight.

You WHAT!?

That's putting it a bit strong.

I want you to feed me information,

so that I get all my thrill

of speculation and excitement

from knowing I'm on a certainty.

But what "information"?

There's SEVEN fights.

But they all train in the same gym,

so it just needs someone with

an expert eye to run over the form.

Someone like yourself.

(CRUNCH OF PLASTIC SPOON)

Now, as you know,

in this nick I got a bit of a rival,

that presumptious upstart, Billy Moffat.

- That nerk! It's no contest.

- Nevertheless, he's running a book!

So, I'd like to take him to the cleaners.

I see your point, but, well,

I've always been a bit of a loner.

I see myself as the Randolph Scott

of Slade Prison.

I don't want to be responsible to no one,

even someone as distinguished as you.

So it's best if I say, adamantly,

that I must decline your flattering invitation.

Thanks for the cocoa.

You disappoint me, Fletch.

Well, when do I start, then?

Keep the elbows up. That's it.

That's right, follow him.

Break!

What do YOU want!? Charity walk (?)

You know I don't get involved

in the recreational pastimes here.

When all around me is a frenzy of activity,

I'm happy to be on me bunk, whittling.

But I was lying there, thinking

about the honour of the wing.

It would be a crime

not to offer you my experience.

What experience is this, Fletcher?

Oh, hello, Mr Mackay.

My experience of ringcraft - the Noble Art.

It's at Mr Bayliss' disposal.

We don't know what to say!

We are overwhelmed (!)

Right. In the ring.

In the ring...? In the RING!?

- To show the lads a thing or two.

- No, I'm here to offer my ADVICE.

Must show the lads the old magic's

still there, or how will they believe in you?

England believes in Don Revie

but he don't get on the park!

Angelo Dundee doesn't spar with Ali

but sits in the corner

minding the gum-shield.

If he wants to work for the sqaud

he has to show willing, hasn't he?

- Yeah.

Come on!

Out you get, Larry.

(HE GROANS)

Easy, sonny, or I'll lose my rag.

Keep your guard up!

Seconds out.

(RINGS BELL)

The Fire Drill! Back to the cells.

FLETCHER!

- Ahem...

- Come in, Fletch.

How are you, then?

I'll survive, I suppose.

- Should I...?

- Yeah, keep an eye.

I preferred your other place.

The less we're seen together, the better.

So, eh, what's the form, then?

It's anyone's guess

who'll win the flyweight,

since they are equally

stupid and cowardly, see.

Just a question

of who bursts into tears first.

- Big Mac's a certainty for heavyweight.

- We all know that!

The other certainty is Godber.

Being his second I've been able

to give him a bit of the old...

I've heard he's well favoured.

And Nesbit, his opponent,

he can't do it. It's no contest.

That's the one, then.

- You won't get good odds on Godber!

- But I will on Nesbit.

..Oh, no, Harry, PLEASE!

Tell your lad

to go down in the second.

Oh, come on, Grouty, not the lad!

It means a lot to him.

And to ME.

Billy Moffatt will be on your boy.

Why not nobble Big Mac?

You'd get twice the odds.

Where's the credibility

in Big Mac going down!?

He put four screws in hospital when

someone knocked his jigsaw over.

Can you see Hermiston beating HIM?

David beat Goliath.

Yeah, with a sling full of shot!

Put some shot in his glove.

It's gotta be Godber.

I don't reckon he'll do it.

He's young; idealistic.

He's still got scruples.

He may not have 'em much longer!

(GRUNTING)

Anybody we know?

23...24...25...

- Twenty five, Fletch.

- Very commendable.

Thank you.

And I did twenty pull-ups

on the wall-bars in the gym.

- Twenty? Really?

- Pull-ups, yeah.

Is it worth it?

- How d'you mean?

- I mean, is it worth it?

All these pull-ups

and press-ups and exercises.

It's a bit daft. It's all punishment, innit?

- It's for the boxing...

- I know.

- And that is my worry, you see.

- Why...?

Well, my concern,

my very real concern,

is that you have

neglected your pottery class.

And all the artistic activities

that you used to indulge in.

And your Elementary Plumbing...?

That's gone right down the drain.

Boxing's a mug's game, innit?

Want some snout?

- No, I'd better not.

- Suit yourself.

I've got some of your favourite chocolate.

- Fruit and nut.

- Thanks very much.

That's very kind of you.

I'll save it till after the fight.

Suit yourself.

- Are you all right?

- Eh?

Well, tea, chocolate, snout.

Normally you're so mean.

Me, mean!?

Maybe my right cross

did you permanent brain damage.

You should see the M.O.

and have your bumps felt (!)

- Listen, you cheeky young scroat!

- That's it. That's the old Fletch.

It's NOT the old Fletch you see,

but a very troubled man.

Oh...?

I'm cynical 'cause I've seen it all,

but YOU haven't seen NOTHING!

You haven't had the idealism

ground out of you...YET!

I-I've got to ask you...

Well, I've got to TELL you...

what someone has asked me...

well, TOLD me...

Well, they was wondering, you see...

Well, they was INSISTING...

if you could see your way clear...

not that you got much choice...

Gawd, I don't know how to say this.

What are you trying to say?

Tomorrow ain't gonna be your night.

How?

Big Grouty wants you

to take a dive in the second.

Don't look at me like that.

I know you're shocked. I'm ashamed.

- I can't do it...

- I know, I know.

I respect you for it. But you gotta

try and see it from MY position.

I just CAN'T.

Why not? What is it, anyway?

It's meaningless.

I know that.

Then why can't you do it? For ME?

I already promised Billy Moffat

that I'd go down in the first.

You what...!?

- YOU PROMISED BILLY MOFFAT...

- Ssshh!

(SOFTLY) You promised Billy Moffat

you'd go down in the first!?

Yeah.

Well, I just do not understand

the modern generation!

- Would you mind telling me why?

- He asked me first.

That's all right, then (!)

Case of the highest bidder, is it!?

Come off it! I might be innocent,

but I'm not bloody daft.

I'm au fait with reality inside.

It's the easy way out.

No skin of MY nose.

It's ME that'll get skinned!

And NOT off me nose!

I suppose you want

your fruit and nut back?

I certainly do!

I'm really disappointed in you.

You could have been a contender.

- But you said...!

- Never mind that!

Nothing to do with you what I said.

Our relationship has changed entirely!

I've not been so let down since

my son crept back into his school

and peeped at the exam papers.

- Did he...?

- Yes, he did!

And he STILL didn't bleedin' pass!

I don't know what to make

of youngsters today. No moral fibre.

- They won't be told, will they?

- Poses a problem, though, doesn't it?

Oh...! Godber's still gonna lose!

We're all on Nesbit to win,

so there's no conflict of interest.

There's no odds! All the big money

in this nick is on Nesbit.

Could we just withdraw gracefully?

It's getting very complicated.

Couldn't you just

demand money with menaces?

It doesn't satisfy my sporting instinct.

I told you before,

I like the excitement, the old adrenalin.

No, there's only one thing for it.

If they've nobbled Godber,

we've got to make sure that he wins.

But HOW?

You nobble Nesbit.

(MEN TALKING)

Hoi...!

- What's up, Fletch!?

- I want a word.

- What?

- The fix is on.

I know. I go down in the first.

Yeah. So does Nesbit.

- What!?

- Yeah.

- Which is very serious for all three of us.

- THREE of us?

You win - trouble with Moffat.

Nesbit wins - trouble with Grout.

Whoever wins,

I'm in trouble with BOTH.

One of us will suffer.

I think it's gonna be me - TWICE.

It ain't the outcome of the fight I worry

about, it's the outcome of the outcome.

It's not good, eh?

The one speculation

is who hits the canvas first.

What'll we do!?

(RIBALD CHEERING AND BOOING)

Right lads, I want a good fight.

And you fight fair, all right?

All right, go on in there, son.

And may the best man lose.

(BELL RINGS)

(ANGRY BOOING AND JEERING)

Two...

Three... Four...

Five...

Six...

Seven...

Eight, nine, out!

Thanks. I don't seem to have

any small change. Awfully sorry.

Put it on the bill.

You all right?

'Course I am. He hardly touched me.

- Did Grouty suspect?

- No!

All the bets were null and void.

So he didn't gain anything,

but he didn't lose anything either.

Nor did he lose any prestige.

- Nobody won, and nobody lost.

- Yeah.

- Well, that's not exactly true.

- How do you mean?

There was SOMEONE

who came out ahead.

..You?

I won quite a few bob off

that bent warder in the bakery.

How!?

I was the only bloke

what bet on a draw!

Chocolate?