All language subtitles for say.nothing.s01e02.1080p.web.h264-successfulcrab[EZTVx.to].c

Next time,
I choose the costumes.

I look ten times more
celibate than you.

You are ten times more
celibate than me...

Shut up!

Sure. On you go, Sister.

Thank you.

And how can I help
you today, Sister?

I, um...

I wanna deposit a check.

Come on now, Ginny.

We've been through
this a hundred times.

No, youse aren't. They
don't let in women.

Well, we're the
first, lady, okay?

So, put the money in the bag.

- Jesus, a gun!
- Alright, all youse, listen up!

We are liberating funds for
the Irish Republican Army!

Mother Superior!

Everyone down on
the ground! Now!

Everyone, hands on your head!

Get down!

Go on, missus.

- On the ground, please.
- No!

This is sacrilege, this is.

I'll not be having
any part of it.

Ach, no, it's just a
bit of flair, love.

Now, go on, pretty please.

No!

You should be ashamed
of yourselves.

She won't lie down. The
fuck am I supposed to do?

I think we're gonna have to
make an example of her, like.

- She's a hundred years old.
- Yeah... Read your handbook.

Anyone who resists is
disloyal to the Cause.

- She's fucking Catholic.
- I'm Catholic too, by the way!

Oh...

Just... shoot her in the foot!

Hey, how come she gets to stand?

- Down!
- Okay!

Okay, okay, okay,
okay. Money in the bag.

Let's go, let's go, let's go!

Okay, Ginny.
Ginny, is it, yeah?

Okay, just relax,
Ginny. It's okay.

I'm doing this for your
family as much as mine, okay?

I just want our kids to
grow up in a free Ireland.

- Okay, love?
- Okay.

It's okay.

Good girl.

Don't be holding
out on me now, love.

Mother Superior, we're away!

Chin up, Penelope. I hear
they've a tennis court.

Welcome to Palace Barracks,
sir. How was your trip over?

45 minutes.

Right. Well...

That's why we need
your daddy, love.

He's come to help win the war.

It's not a war,
it's an insurgency.

Gold star, Penelope.

Remember why we insist
on calling it that?

'Cause calling it a war gives
the terrorists legitimacy?

Very good.

So, this is the war room,

which we need to
rename, clearly.

We'll get right on that.

Just to get you situated, sir...

We've got the
Protestants to the east.

These areas are friendly.

And the Catholics out
here to the wild west.

Both sides have their own
paramilitary factions.

Both are planting bombs daily.

I'm less worried
about the Protestants.

In principle
they're on our side.

Correct. They also have
most of the guns, thank God.

And the IRA, the
Catholic insurgents?

How many of ours
have they killed?

We've lost 40 men so far,

mostly to bombings
and shootings.

They claim they aren't
targeting civilians,

but the death toll
is rising by the day.

I'm not surprised. A bomb
is a blunt instrument

in the hands of someone with
no education or training.

Yes, sir.

And these are the,
uh... major players, hm?

Admittedly, some of
the younger generation

have proved a tad elusive.

We did have one stroke of
luck just last night, though.

It's Gerry Adams' dog, sir.

That's a true story.

The Brits had
stolen Gerry's dog.

- His dog?
- Yeah.

But what you have
to remember is,

at that time, British
intelligence, well...

they were a wee bit shite.

Just ask Brendan.

Oh, aye. Total shite.

I mean, the Brits
were a fucking mess.

The Brits raided a
house in Lower Falls,

looking for me and Gerry, right?

Gerry A?

We're looking for Gerry Adams!

D'you hear that, Gerry?

You're famous.

Fuck's sake, they got Shane.

What they found instead was
one very confused black lab.

You know, if your wee
dog turns informant,

I'll put a bullet in him myself.

Shane'd never do
that. He's loyal.

He's only loyal 'cause
you feed him, dickhead.

Look at that. He's
forgotten you already.

Me and Gerry were
on the run, right...

That meant we didn't
sleep at home.

We slept wherever
we happened to be.

You, stop there!

Anytime
we saw a Brit,

all we had to do was
knock on the nearest door.

Fuck me.

How are you, Geraldine,
love? You okay?

Here... Here, give
us a wee hand.

Here. Take this pistol, right?

Me and Gerry had the
whole of West Belfast

eating out of the
palm of our hands.

And all the Brits had
was that fucking dog.

We used to kick the dog
when Gerry wasn't looking.

Think it was a Protestant
dog. Do you want a beer?

We thought the animal might
lead us to the man himself.

And has he told
you anything yet?

You do not know what Gerry
Adams looks like, correct?

That's currently,
um, accurate, sir.

So, how will you know when
the dog has identified him?

Perhaps that man's Gerry
Adams. Congratulations.

The Brits
had a problem.

They didn't know who was IRA.

The only member of D-Company
who'd been captured

was my partner, Jimmy.

And Jimmy wasn't talking.

His name's Jimmy Dooley.

Word is, he's D-Company.
Works closely with The Dark.

This chap called "The
Dark", what do we know?

Not much.

We know he's ruthless.

His unit's planting more bombs
than anyone in the North.

And we know he's beloved.
Most of these guys, sir,

they say they're fighting
in the name of the people.

You know, in Kenya,

there was one terrorist
unit who were...

beloved by the local tribes.

They believed that their
leader could not be killed.

After we killed him,

the rebellion came apart
like wet tissue paper.

Everything stops until
we locate The Dark.

Sir.

And fetch that fellow a doctor.
He can't talk if he's dead.

They could beat us,
they could shoot us,

they could drive
their tanks over us,

but the one thing they could
never get us to do was talk.

Right? Silence was our power.

IRA women aren't typically in
the habit of robbing banks.

Listen to this.
RTE and Radio 4.

And I was right
about the habit puns.

You know Brendan didn't
authorize this, right?

Isn't he liable to
shoot us in the knees?

Only if we keep the money.

Besides, he should
be thrilled with us.

Dotes, we made 38 quid!

We're all anybody's
talking about.

And that's fucking priceless.

You're wanted at the mortuary.

Who died?

Youse are down the hall.

The one with the black door.

Go on, have a seat.

We should have a conversation
about following orders.

Yes.

Look... we apologize.

We accept full responsibility.

And we're ready for
our next assignment.

Do you know what I'd do
to you if you were my men?

Yeah, well, luckily we're...

We're very sorry.

Did you see we
made RTE at least?

The nuns were a nice touch.

Oh, for fuck's sake, Gerry,
they made about 38 quid.

Told ya.

Well, I did have a wee
idea just this morning.

Something sure to make
the British press.

Go on, then.

Your man, Jimmy, was picked
up by the Brits, wasn't he?

Yes. Why?

We were thinking, you know,
maybe we could liberate him.

- A jailbreak?
- Catch yourself on.

You cannot just storm
the Palace Barracks.

You'd be dead before you
hit the parade ground.

Yeah, but Jimmy's not
in the barracks, is he?

He's in hospital.

Mar, tell him.

Jimmy needs abdominal surgery.

They beat him so badly,
they ruptured his appendix.

They're sending him to the
hospital in the morning.

Mar volunteers in
the children's ward.

- I work with the wee spastics.
- Touching.

Listen, she's seen Jimmy's room.

It's one guard and
a pair of handcuffs.

It's easier than robbing a bank.

And think of the
propaganda value.

I mean, between the
bombs and the dead weans,

this war's right fucking
dreary, but something like this,

if it's successful, it's...

That's a big
fucking if, Dolours.

Well, I mean, I dunno.

People could use a
bit of fucking craic.

Exactly! I'm thinking
you could come, Gerry.

Sure I have the
costumes already.

Don't be cheeky. Gerry's
busy running the war.

He's not got time to
babysit youse two.

- 'Course not.
- Anyway...

It's your company,
Brendan. It's your call.

If they could pull it off,

you'd have the most
loyal unit in the North.

I've already got the most
loyal unit in the North.

What do you think your
men would want, sir?

Drop that, ye fucking
Easter egg, ye.

This man's a prisoner of
war. We're taking him home.

- Give me the keys.
- I've not got them.

I'm not gonna ask
you again, sunshine.

I told you...

Check his pockets.

Don't worry, lad.

I've got you.

- They're not there.
- Fuck...

- Fuck...
- I've got them.

I'm sorry.

Right, get the fucking
door. Let's go.

Let's go! Go, go, go, go, go!

Relax! Relax! We're
liberating you.

Could you not have waited 'til
they liberated my appendix?

My stomach's fucking
on fire here, Brendan.

Whoa, whoa, whoa! Back it up.

Peelers, peelers.

Did they see us?

Don't know.

We're going for
the lift. Cover us.

- Alright?
- Fuck.

Put it down!

Put the gun down!

Let's go!

Into the
back! Into the back!

Go, go, go!

Go, go, go!

Fuck's sake!

Don't fucking move!

Fuck!

Right, girls.

I'll tell Gerry youse
are good wee operators.

What's the craic? How's
your kids gettin' on?

All good, Dark.

Whenever you finished a job,
you'd head to Divis, right...

The place was a
fucking fortress.

You knew the whole
community had your back.

Women, kids...

I mean, they'd have made
anyone good neighbors, see?

There was one woman.

A mother of ten.

Do you know who
I'm talking about?

Aye, you're, uh...

talking about Jean McConville.

A lot of bad things
happened in those days.

Aye, well, that one, uh...

That one was...

That one was particularly nasty.

Can you tell David to
tuck this away for me?

Uh, there's...
There's no David here.

- Is he not...?
- No, this is our flat.

Would you mind, then, love?
Just doing us a wee favor.

- Why?
- 'Cause you're part of Divis.

We look after each other here.

- Just put it in your flat.
- They search my flat.

That's not my problem.

Sorry.

Right.

I'll be sure and pass
that message along.

We're not getting involved.

We live here.

We're involved.

Can you tell us

why the widow was taken away?

I suppose...

I suppose it all came
down to one thing, really.

Loyalty.

Loyalty.

In Palace Barracks

the hospital job was a
finger right in their eye.

The trouble was, you couldn't
pull off something like that

and stay anonymous forever.

Gentlemen, I think some of
these strapping young lasses

are on the wrong
side of the board.

At least that's what
our spies were telling us.

There's a new face
at Palace Barracks.

Brigadier Frank Kitson.

The Brits brought him in after
Colonel Mitchell got the sack.

That's too bad.

That old colonel couldn't find
shite up a dead bear's bum.

Yeah, well, this new fella's
a whole other story, Dark.

He's got every
interrogator in the place

asking after D-Company.

I reckon he wants an informant.

With my men?

No, my men would sooner sell
out their own ma than turn tout.

If we've got spies,
they can have spies.

Fuck's sake, Gerry, you'd
make the coffee nervous.

- What else?
- Not much.

His last posting was
in Kenya somewhere.

He's always reading
the racing form.

What year did he serve in Kenya?

What's the issue?

There was a revolution
in the '50s, I think.

The Brits put it down.

What happened?

No one knows. They
burnt all the records.

Do you wanna do a bit more
sniffing around for us,

see what you can find?

Well done, mate.

What are you shitting
your cacks for?

I'm shitting my cacks

'cause this guy Kitson's
got tanks and bombs

and a £7 billion defense budget.

- What have we got?
- The working man, Gerry.

- The working man?
- The working man.

- Are you the working man?
- I am indeed, aye.

You haven't done a
day's work in your life.

Fuck up!

Sir?

Uh, thought I'd better
sort this flicker out, sir,

before it gives you a migraine.

Sir.

Transcripts of the
Dooley interrogation.

I'd say we've as much chance

of getting that dog to
talk as we do those men.

You're local, Private?

I'm from Londonderry, sir.
Born and bred in the Waterside.

That's the Protestant area, yes?

I'd be curious to
know your perspective

on the interrogations.

Sir, would it not be better

to discuss this
matter in private?

Why?

Don't you trust this man?

I, uh...

I'd really rather just share
my opinion privately, sir.

No, I want you to share
it in front of him.

Very well.

When I see an electrician
missing a finger,

I tend to think IRA bomb maker.

- Uh, I... That's...
- Hush!

Electrical work is one
of the only decent jobs

Catholics can get.

They're often trained
by the government and...

they reward their employer
by joining the insurgency.

That's fascinating.

My record is spotless.

And a man with nothing to
hide has nothing to fear.

- Sergeant!
- Sir.

Escort this gentleman to B-Ward.

Fucking cunt.

Right, then...

I'm forming my own unit.

I need local people,
observant people.

So... unless you've
some overriding passion

for stenography...

No, sir.

And if I may ask, what
is the mission exactly?

D-Company.

After the hospital job,
I didn't sleep a wink.

The cops had seen me. I
knew I'd been rumbled.

So, I did the only thing
I could think to do.

You know, I don't want to brag,

but it was the best fucking
decision I ever made.

You know, that day we
were headed to a wake.

We were meeting the
guys from D-Company.

And, well, you didn't really
see them out much in public.

Not unless somebody died.

Wakes and funerals.

Those were the only times
we'd all be together.

A fact that was well known
by British intelligence.

You seen this yet?

She might be the prettiest
member of D-Company.

She is pretty.

The police officer I talked
to said he saw long legs

and red hair.

I guess we can rule
the Bronte sisters out.

I never should have
taken that stupid wig off!

Relax.

You look good.

You alright, Seamus?

Let me try for a closer look.

Maybe I can pull some prints.

How's your West Belfast accent?

Mm... We'll soon find out.

Just, uh... Just
keep the chat light.

Oh, my God!

Francis is gonna try to
talk to me, isn't he?

If you don't wanna be
talking to Francis,

you shouldn't have shown
him your nans that one time.

Firstly, it was one nan,
and we were 12, so...

Do you wanna head
upstairs, talk to Brendan?

Yeah, but we'll wait.

Play it cool, wait
for Brendan to ask.

How do you know he'll ask?

He'll ask.

Come on.

Oh, my God. I
adore that haircut.

It's so chic.

Thanks.

Been threatening to
cut it off for years.

So, how do you know
our Aoife, then?

Ach, I don't really.

But I go marching with
her cousin Siobhan.

I love that lipstick.

Here. Try some, if you like.

Do you know what?

I don't think I
could pull it off.

Looks gorgeous on you, though.

- Thanks.
- Come on, Mar.

Fuck.

I was at that last
march with Siobhan

and I didn't see her there.

And sharing lipstick? Ew.

There youse are, the
pair of youse. Ah!

Here, come on back. The
lads are dying to meet you.

Come on, the pair of ye.

Can you tell us who
was there at the wake?

Brendan was there.

With his friend, Seamus Wright.

Oh, me and Seamus
were thick as thieves.

We'd spent summers
before the war

laying roads together.

There was an
intelligence officer,

Joe Lynskey.

Joe was an oddball, but
he was fucking sharp.

I think he once
trained to be a monk.

You know, I remember Brendan
telling a joke that night.

I only remember the punchline.

What are you looking at
me for? I'm a Protestant!

- Fuck off!
- That's God's honest truth!

The thing you have to remember
is that I was still on the run.

You know? That meant I
didn't sleep at home.

I never saw my father,
I never saw my brothers,

my sisters.

That's a hard way to live.

Aye, but...

I had the lads
instead, you know?

- God's honest truth!
- It is not!

Uh, gentlemen...

- There she is!
- Here we go!

Lads, I want youse all
to remember the name

Dolours Price.

She's springing our Jimbo
from hospital, right?

Soon as the cops show up,

she pulls the Armalite
out of her trench coat,

blows their fuckin' hats off!

To the crazy Prices!

The crazy Prices! Go ahead!

Yeah, that wasn't me.

That's my sister
you're thinking about.

You? Fucking hell!

Always the quiet ones.

It's always the
quiet ones, Francie.

Come you here and sit down.
Here's a pint for you.

Get that down your neck.

- D'you want a straw?
- Fuck off, Joe!

What? I'm asking if
she wants a straw.

- That's a big drink for her.
- Let her be, Joe.

I'm just saying
that's a big drink

for a wee girl like that there.

I'm only trying to help.

Thank you.

You saw me choke, didn't you?

Ach, I trust the
ones that hesitate.

You know, you
gotta work past it.

But if it's not
there to begin with,

them's the ones I worry about.

Did you ever hesitate?

You're a cheeky wee bitch.

'Course I did.
'Course I fucking did.

I shot this soldier
once, got him in the leg.

I stood over him,

put the fucking gun to
the back of the head.

The wee fucker turns around,
looks exactly like my brother.

Hands start shaking
and I couldn't do it.

I reckon they're all
some mother's son.

What about that security guard?

He was only doing his job.

Sometimes people get in the way.

That can't be helped.

What can you tell
us about Dolours Price?

Well...

the thing about Dolours, right,

is that Dolours could've
been anything she wanted.

She could've been in New York,
she could've been off in Paris,

but instead, she was down
in the trenches with us.

And that meant something.

I also think half the
battalion was in love with her.

I mean, she was
a hopeless flirt.

I never flirted. There
was rules against that.

There was no having
it away in the IRA.

A girl could get her
knees done for that.

Can I borrow the
car tomorrow, Seamy?

I wanna take Eileen
to the pictures.

Sorry, love. Dark
needs me to drive him.

See you, Joe. Mind yourself.

Yeah. Aye.

Ah, for f...
Dirty wee bastard!

- What have you done?
- Stepped in fucking shite!

Fuck's sake, Seamus!
I'm warning you,

don't be tracking that
shite back into this car.

Alright. Jesus Christ!

Dirty wee bastard!

Seamy?

Well, how was the wake?

Aye, it was good craic.

Mar's in
a heap upstairs.

You know some of your
friends made the paper today?

- Really?
- Mm-hm.

Did you tell Brendan
to shave his moustache?

Yeah, Mummy. I told him.

Good.

You can stop this

anytime you like.

Where's Brendan, Seamus?

Come on, now.

He'd talk the hind legs
off a donkey, that one.

You wanna try another angle?

He's got a wife and kid at home.

One summer, ages ago,

I was thrown from a horse.

An Arabian. Gorgeous animal.

She'd been broken that
spring. Gave me quite a shock.

Just bad luck, I thought.

Turned out

the trainer had broken her
in entirely the wrong manner.

Every time the animal was
stubborn, she got the stick.

She was loyal in the end, but...

only out of fear.

That's the trick with horses.

Better the animal trusts you

before putting the
bit in its mouth.

Morning, Seamus.

My name is Frank.

I want to have a word about
this chap they call "The Dark".

Turn that up, lad, will you?

I have a couple of
quid on Lucky Lad.

Oh, they're well into
their final lap now...

Go on, Lucky, ye shite ye.

Go ahead, Lucky.

What happened to
Davey the poke man?

Must have hired some new fella.

Don't even know what
they're doing out.

It's fucking Baltic today.

Aye, it's fucking
freezing, like.

Here, kid.

Fetch us a pistol.

Come on! Come on!

Father's just bought it.

Oh? One
of the moneyed class.

Come on out, Brendan!

We know who you
are, motherfucker!

Fuck...

Fuck...

Fuck!

Get in the van. Go, go!

Go, go, go!

Go, go, go!

Ah, fuck.

Ring the mortuary.

Ah, don't be such a pessimist.

- Hello?
- It's me.

I'm in a wee bit of a spot here.

- Right?
- I got ambushed.

I'm at the call house,
but I caught my wrist

coming through the window.

Right. How much
blood have you lost?

A fair amount.

So, we'll need... We'll
need the doctor, then?

Go to Jimmy.

Tell him to get to Divis
and bring Doctor Jack.

You sure you don't need
me to come down there?

The whole place is too...
It's too risky, mate.

- It's crawling with Brits.
- Right.

Look, Brendan,

if I can't get hold of the lads,

you sure you can make
it through the night?

Oh, aye!

Now, don't you worry
about me, mate. I'm sweet.

Fuck.

You came.

I came right through
the front door.

- You should try it next time.
- Fuck off.

- Fuck!
- Easy! Easy, man.

- Fuck.
- Look, mate.

- This is fine.
- The radial artery's severed.

Gona need to go in with tweezers
and tie a wee knot in it.

I need you to keep him quiet.

These boys in the
ice-cream van...

- Don't worry about 'em.
- These boys weren't Protestants.

They were wearing baseball boots
you said? Fucking trackies?

He's losing blood. Let's go.

They left in a Land Rover.
They were British Army.

Kitson...

Lads, we gotta hit
it! On three, now.

- They knew my face.
- One...

- They knew my name.
- Think somebody shopped you?

- Two...
- How else do you explain it?

- Somebody fucking talked!
- Three!