Dom Hemingway (2013) Movie Script
Is my cock exquisite?
Oh, cos I think it's
fucking exquisite.
I think it's a fucking work of art.
Like a Renoir.
Or a Picasso.
The painting of my cock
should hang at the Louvre.
They should study my
cock in art classes,
spend whole courses...
studying the splendid contours of
its exquisiteness, don't you think?
They should also study
my cock in science class
cos it defies nature.
My cock is hard.
It's metal, it's steel,
it's titanium.
It does not break.
It does not weaken.
My cock can stand all day
like a good soldier trying
to impress his superiors.
If my cock could win
a medal, it would.
If they could name a school
after it, it should.
If it could save small Somali
children from starving,
it would and should, and it'll have
a Nobel fucking Peace Prize for it,
the first such prize
ever given to a cock.
My Nobel Prize-winning
cook's like a cheetah,
all sleek and dangerous and deadly.
Sonnets should be written about
how dangerous my cheetah cock is.
Poems, plays.
Wars should be won over it,
kingdoms fallen because of it.
My cock is lightning. It is fire.
It is a volcano brewing with
the sacred semen, lava...
Sugar and spice and all things...
nice.
Sorry for the lack
of warning, dearie.
Things happen.
Sometimes you expect 'em,
sometimes you don't.
I said, "Give me 200 quid, I'll light
my fag off two fucking fireworks."
- Dickie nips off round the corner...
- Hemingway.
I'm eating my pudding.
I couldn't give a toss
about your pudding.
Put your fork down
and get over 'ere.
I'll put my fork down when I'm
ready to put my fork down.
I'll finish my pudding when I'm
ready to finish my pudding.
You wanna disrespect
me, disrespect me.
But then I won't be able
to tell you what I know.
And I know you'd like
to know what I know.
- What would I like to know?
- Wouldn't you like to know?
- I would like to know.
- Yeah, you would, wouldn't ya?
- Tell me.
- Fork.
Fuck.
Oh, for Christ's sake, Dom,
just put the fork down.
Tell me what it is
you have to tell me.
Call came in.
Call?
The call.
The call?
Came in.
Dom! Dom! Dom! Dom!
Oi! Where's Sandy Butterfield?
- Dom? Dom, is that you?
- Where's Sandy Butterfield?
Dom, you really don't wanna...
Where's Sandy Butterfield?
Where?
He's still working at the depot.
- Hey, where are you going?
- Where's Sandy Butterfield?
- Sir, I...
- Where's Sandy Butterfield?
Sandy.
So that's what you do, is it, mate?
You fuck other men's wives
while they're in prison.
That's what you do with yourself,
how you conduct yourself, how
you conduct your business.
- I don't know...
- She was my wife. My wife!
- You were divorced and in jail!
- She was still my wife.
Always my wife, you fuck.
You fucker! My betrothed.
You're nothing but a pestilence, an
uphill gardener with a weak chin.
You're a filthafising thief,
that's what you are. You
think you can steal from me?
- From me? From Dom Hemingway?
- God...
God!
Hello, Billy.
Andrew.
Hello, Dom. Long time.
Welcome home.
Thanks.
You good? Betty good?
Yeah.
Charlie just graduated university.
Little Charlie with his hair all growing
in his eyes graduated university?
Can you believe it?
I should fucking kill you,
but I fancy a pint instead.
I've got anger issues,
Dickie, I just do.
Always have, haven't I?
I tried to work on 'em, you know,
in prison. Took some classes.
I tried the yoga, inspirational
CDs, I did it all.
But the anger's still inside of me.
I just lost it, I guess.
He married Keethy.
What's a man to do?
Well, I broke his fucking nose.
He wasn't so good-looking
to start with.
He wet himself.
He had it coming.
Still...
Er, sorry, Dom, you
can't smoke in here.
- You what?
- They banned it, smoking.
In a pub? You can't
smoke in a fucking pub?
Bad for your health.
Being a cunt is bad for your
health, I'm just smoking a fag.
Got one for me while you're at it?
He's expecting you
in France, you know,
Mr Fontaine.
He knows what you did for him.
Mr Fontaine's a man who
doesn't forget his friends.
- I'm his friend now?
- You did right by him.
You'll get your due.
12 years, Dickie.
12 years of my life.
I missed a lot doing right by him.
Missed Keethy's funeral.
Missed out on my
Evelyn's childhood.
My daughter.
You got to see her yet?
I'm working up the marbles.
You've had 12 years to
work up the marbles...
I just made Bolognese out
of her stepfather's face.
As if she didn't hate me enough.
Mr Fontaine, he
bought them for you.
A little welcome-home present,
if you're interested.
- For me?
- For you.
Oh, I love this fucking song!
You hear that, Dickie?
- Yeah, Dom.
- You hear that? You know what that is?
What, Dom? What is it?
That's the sound of
fucking freedom!
Innit, Jeanie, eh?
Oh, my love! Innit?
Hello, ladies.
- Whoa!
- Come on, then.
No one call me for three days.
Oh, my head's throbbing.
It's fucking throbbing, Dickie.
Like a disco in my head.
Like a fucking Manila disco
full of transvestites
and suckling pigs.
I've got a seizure in my brain.
A diabolical seizure of
fucking and sucking coke.
I did too much.
I tried to make up for
too much lost time.
I fucked myself to death.
My head's gonna explode.
Bits of my brain's
gonna go everywhere.
I'm gonna ruin your blazer.
You're gonna be all right, Dom.
Fuck you. You don't know my head.
You don't know the
revolution going on...
inside of it.
Fucking insurgents inside my brain.
Cossacks sodomising my cranium.
- Here.
- What's that? A hand grenade?
- Hair of the dog.
- That dog shat on my soul.
Drink it. It's mother's
little helper.
My mother left me when I was
three. Fuck my mother.
Oh...
Fuck, I'm dying.
I'm dying. I'm gonna
die on this train.
If dying on this train will
shut you up, I'm all for it.
Some fucking friend you are.
You can't make up for 12
years in three days, Dom.
Well, I tried.
I fucking tried.
Mr Hemingway?
Mr Dom Hemingway?
What?
I've been sent by Monsieur
Fontaine. Follow me.
Oi, lardo!
If you're sent by Mr Fontaine,
then carry my fucking bag.
Someone's feeling
his old self again.
Damn right. Now let's go
get my fucking money.
It's interesting, the
French countryside.
Looks like a barmaid's snatch
after a Cup Final weekend.
Fontaine better have
a well-stocked bar.
He was raised in a Russian orphanage
and kills people for a living.
Of course he has a
well-stocked bar.
South of France.
Afternoon.
Dom, don't think what
you're thinking.
That's Mr Fontaine's property.
Property is a relative
term for a thief.
- Still.
- I'm just looking.
Admiring.
- She's rather fit.
- Not her, not Paolina.
- Fit to fiddle, I'd say.
- Dom!
- You don't admire that.
- Bugger off, Dickie.
I'll admire what I wanna admire,
think what I wanna think.
Fiddle who I wanna fiddle.
Domingo Hemingway!
As I live and breathe,
the Ghost of Christmas Past.
Mr Fontaine.
Call me Ivan. Are you crazy?
Ivan Anatolivich Fontanov,
like the old days.
I never called you Ivan
Anatoli in the old days.
Well, you will now.
Do you hunt, Dom?
No, I don't, Ivan.
I only use a gun to
hold up a place,
or threaten someone, or rob 'em,
or pistol-whip 'em, or scare 'em.
- But, no, no hunting.
- Shame.
It is the sport of princes.
Well, I'm a peasant at heart.
A petty serf with nice
hair and a strong liver.
I'll eat what you hunt,
unless it's rabbit.
Rabbits are pets. I don't eat pets.
Oh, these French rabbits are
something else, though, Dom.
I think you'll like 'em.
They taste like a revolution.
If that's an advert,
I'm not sure it's working.
It's good to see you, Dom.
Dom Hemingway is free!
Dom Hemingway is free!
Dom Hemingway is free!
You look good, Dom, you really do.
Well, what can I say?
I'm an handsome fucker.
I see you've retained your vanity
and your sense of humour.
Lefty was right.
- Lefty?
- Yeah, Lefty, he was right.
- Who's Lefty?
- Who's Lefty?
You serious, Dom?
You blind?
You lost your eyesight in prison?
What?
Lefty! Lefty, your best friend,
Dickie, with one fucking hand.
You lost your hand?
Yeah, 'course.
You lost your bloody hand?
Yes, Dom.
Why do you think I'm wearing
this black glove all the time?
I thought it was a fashion
statement or something.
Fashion statement?
I've been in fucking prison
12 years. I missed a few things.
I thought it was the latest
fashion. I don't know!
You always were a bit of a clothes fag.
You lost your fucking hand?
It was shot off three
years ago during a job.
How do I not know that?
They found his fingers strewn
all over the high street.
Fucking hell, Dickie. I'm sorry.
I'm good, Dom. It's all good.
Yeah, Dickie's a good soldier.
Mmm, tough guy.
Stand-up man.
So are you, Dom.
The most stand-up man
I have ever met.
- Dom is that.
- Yeah.
Well, a rat is a rat
and a teat is a tit.
Still, others would have broken.
Those are others,
not Dom Hemingway.
- No, not you.
- Not me.
You've done all right for yourself
the last 12 years, Mr Fontaine.
Ivan, please.
Ivan. You've done all
right for yourself.
The art, the house.
Or estate. This is an estate, right?
That's what they call it. It's very nice.
It's a villa, Dom, a holiday home.
But thank you, thank you.
I appreciate it.
Is Ivan short for Ivana?
No, just Ivan.
Could be Ivana, though, right?
It's Ivan, Ivan
Anatolivich Fontanov.
Ivan, sorry. Ivan. Sorry.
It's OK.
I could have ratted.
I could have mentioned your name.
I could have said Ivana Anatoli
Fontaine was the leader of the group.
Maybe you are tired
from your trip, Dom?
I kept my mouth shut and
I sat in that tiny cell
while my wife died of cancer in the
arms of some other fucking bloke.
I've heard about
that and I'm sorry.
- Sorry?
- I'm sorry.
- Try 12 years.
- I'm sorry, Dom...
12 fucking years. Missed
my Evelyn growing up.
I said I'm sorry.
- Words are easy.
- And it's all I have.
- You have something else.
- You are due and you will be paid.
- Plus interest.
- Plus interest.
Plus a present.
- Present?
- For being so quiet.
Those girls were a present.
Did you like them, Dom, huh'?
The coke and the girls,
that was a present.
Oh, you really think two birds and a
bit of blow are a worthy present?
- After what I done for you?
- I was not suggesting...
Cos that don't even come close
to a present, not even close.
It's not even a stocking stuffer,
barely an opening act.
Barely a fucking appetiser,
barely an amuse-bouche.
It's nothing. It's nothing but a bit
of confetti in my ticker-tape parade,
and I want the full fucking parade.
My ticker-tape parade, Ivana.
I want the fucking band.
I want the fucking float.
I want the parade, the float,
the band and what you owe me.
What you owe me
is what I fucking want!
I said, you'll get what is yours.
Plus a fucking present!
- A real present.
- OK, Dom...
Let's say, your girlfriend.
The one with the bicycle.
What's her name?
Paolina? I want her.
Don't be crazy, Dom.
I'm not crazy.
I want her, naked,
like she likes it,
with a little red
bow on her clitoris
- for me to untie with my teeth.
- Enough. The joke is over.
- I think you should sober up, OK?
- Joke's on you, Ivana.
- Go rest. We'll see you at dinner.
- Ivana Anal-toli.
I have been nothing but polite.
Polite? Polite! Aren't
you the bee's knees?
Cunt.
Fucker.
Cunt.
You don't want me to get rough.
Trust me, don't go there.
Don't presuppose to
know what I want.
You don't threaten me,
not with that girl's name.
Not with that little
girl's name, Ivana.
Ivana. Ivana? Ivana?
You don't scare me.
You don't fucking
scare me, Anal-toli.
I've seen death. I've seen evil.
I've seen fire. I've seen rain.
I've seen lonely days
I thought would never end.
You don't fucking scare me.
I eye-fuck you. I throat-fuck you!
- Dom!
- Shut it, Dickie!
You one-armed fuck. You freak.
You one-armed fucking fuck freak!
No one's talking to you! No
one's ever talking to you!
I'm fucking bored.
I'm fucking drunk.
I'm fucking drunk and
I'm fucking bored.
I said what I wanted to say.
I said it and you heard it.
Now I'm gonna take a nap.
I'll see you wanks at dinner.
And no fucking rabbit.
Dom, you up?
It's 6:30, it's dinner.
Dom, mate!
Dom?
Jesus Christ.
Dom! Dom!
- Dom, are you fucking mad?
- I screwed it up, Dickie.
I screwed everything up.
Really? Cos I thought you
were just mentally retarded.
Like those boys with the
bowl cuts on the telethons.
- Dickie, I'm a mess. Look at me.
- I'm trying not to.
I'm pathetic, I don't belong here.
I'm a monster. I'm a dinosaur.
- Don't forget nudist, Dom. Don't forget
that! - I ought to be thrown away.
Sent to a leper colony, forgotten
about, left to rot with the maggots.
Jesus, Dom, you've got to
get control of yourself.
You've got to beg
forgiveness of him.
- You've got to put on trousers.
- I've been locked up for so long, Dickie.
I see the light, the air.
It's been so long since
I breathed clean air.
I look at the clouds, I go nuts.
You mix in the whisky, you mix
in the pussy, I go crazy.
I'm a crazy man.
I'm a fucking nutter!
- I mean, I'm afraid to see my own daughter.
- Really?
But not too afraid to insult one of
the most dangerous men in Europe.
Unfortunately, you had
the brass for that one.
He's gonna kill me. I insulted
him in his own villa.
- He'll forgive you.
- He's gonna fucking kill me, Dickie.
He's gonna make Blinis out of
me balls and no one will care.
- Fontaine's not gonna kill you.
- He could.
No one would give a toss,
not even me own daughter.
I would give a toss. She would too.
12 years, Dickie, 12 years for
that money and I just blew it.
You apologise to him.
You be a gentleman and
he'll be a gentleman.
It'll be all right.
Yeah? You promise?
Yes. But you don't insult his girl.
You don't call him fucking Ivana,
you don't call him Anal-toli
and you don't let him
see your pecker!
You thank your goddamn lucky stars
that he's a kind and gracious man.
Do you understand?
- Yeah...
- Do you understand?
- Yeah.
- Cos I ain't burying your body out here.
I'm too fucking old and I
didn't bring the right shoes.
Sorry I'm late.
And sorry I was such a cunt.
You must be Ivan's lady friend.
You're a vision. You're an angel.
Again, Ivan, Mr Fontaine,
sorry.
Me and, er, drink don't
always dance well together.
I acted up. I acted outrageous.
Sorry.
Sorry I'm late for your dinner
and sorry about before.
When you were a cunt?
Yeah, when I was a cunt.
Dom, it is water under the bridge.
You are forgiven.
- Thank you.
- Now, sit, sit.
Dinner is ready. The
rabbit is getting cold.
Fantastic.
I'm starving.
Everyone sit.
Get comfortable, please.
Because you so enjoyed
the rabbit, Dom,
I have a real treat for you.
We were two friends in love
Fanette and I
The empty beach was
warm and sleepy in July
Isn't she great, Dom?
She likes singing almost as
much as she likes my money.
Fanette each day
You know I could have killed you for
saying what you did today, Dom?
Yeah, I do.
She was
She was as beautiful
as rainbows in the sky
She was so beautiful
and not at all am I
When I was 14,
my very best friend in the world
was riding his bicycle and
he accidentally crashed
into this girl I liked.
Her name was Tatiana.
We went to school together,
though we hadn't ever talked.
But I liked her from afar.
Anyway, my best friend
accidentally crashed into her.
She got banged up,
got a black eye, crying,
the whole thing.
I went over to my friend, took
the bike from him, lifted it up
and smashed it over his head.
Then I stomped on his hand with my
boot until every bone was broken.
Then I took a rock
and smashed it so
hard into his face,
he not only lost most of his teeth
but most of his jaw as well.
This, Dom
is what I did to my best friend
for having a fucking accident
involving a girl I hadn't
even ever talked to.
Now,
do you know why I didn't do
anything to you today, Dom?
Do you?
Cos,
you're a kind and gracious man.
Yes, that, but really because
after everything has
been said and done
I do owe you, Dom.
I do owe you.
I'm going to make
right by you, Dom.
- Would you turn around?
- What?
In order to make right,
I need you to turn around.
Oh, yeah, 'course.
I know telling a safe-cracker to
turn around is kind of a funny thing
when you're opening a safe, but...
OK, Dom.
Your share, plus interest.
This is a quarter of
a million pounds.
And this
is another half a million.
This, Dom.
Is your present.
Take it. Go on,
take it, it's yours.
Oh, watch out!
Oi, oh! Watch out!
Ladies.
Here, jump on.
Whoo!
Go, Dom!
You're so bad!
Whoo!
You got a noble chin.
Some people have weak
chins or sad chins.
You got a very sturdy,
very noble chin.
I know it's kind of a weird thing to say.
I mean, to just say out loud.
But my mother told me there's
no better time for a compliment
than the moment you think it, so...
Well, you have very noble breasts.
My name's Melody,
though I've been told
I can't keep a melody.
I'm gonna call you Lisa,
if that's OK with you.
Lisa's the name of my cousin.
Yeah, she's an actress.
- I think she did a commercial.
- I acted once.
Played the apothecary in Romeo
and Juliet. Reform school.
I was pretty good, but I didn't
have the stomach for it,
what was needed to
get the good parts.
I didn't wanna have to
service the drama teacher,
if you know what I mean. The
poor bastard who played Romeo,
he was being tossed
since he was 13.
The perv gave him all the good parts
even though he couldn't act a damn
and his skin was volcanic
with pus and pimples.
Ooh, I hate bad skin.
- What's your name, anyway?
- I told you, Melody.
Melody, Melody, with
a face so heavenly.
What about you? What's your name?
Me?
I'm Dom. Didn't you know?
Mmm-mmm.
I'm Dom Hemingway.
Dom Hemingway.
I am Dom Hemingway!
Oh, listen up, you owls and bears!
You cocksuckers, plebeians
and moral cowards!
You foxes, lions and paedophiles!
Listen up, you freaks,
Philistines and otters!
You queens, queers and
little-girl tears!
I am Dom Hemingway!
Dom Hemingway!
And for my years of silence,
I have been granted lordship
over everyone on the planet...
12 fucking years
I kept my mouth shut.
The most stand-up
man I have ever met...
And I sat in that tiny cell
while my wife died of cancer.
I do owe you.
- Missed my Evelyn growing up.
- I do owe you.
- 12 fucking years.
- Dom.
Kept my mouth shut.
Missed my Evelyn growing up.
You are due and you will be paid.
Dom, can you wake up?
Dom.
Dom.
Were you sleeping?
Dom, where is the money?
I want the money.
The money.
Oh...
Oh, fuck.
Oh, the money.
Dom. Dom!
My hand, I've lost my hand.
I've got to find my hand.
I think I have a splinter.
What?
I think I have a splinter in me.
Do you know where Paolina is?
Paolina!
I think she might
have some tweezers.
Paolina!
Paolina!
I think I'm just gonna wait
here and rest for a minute.
All right, Ivan. Just rest.
Just rest.
Fuck.
Oh...
Oh!
Girl?
Girl?
Girl!
Come on.
Fucking...
Fuck!
Come on, girl.
Come on, girl.
Come on, girl. Come on!
Come on, girl.
Come on!
Come on. Come on,
my love. Come on.
Come on, love. Come on.
Come on, love.
Come on, my love!
Come on! Come on!
Come on.
Come on, live!
I found it, Dom.
I found my hand. It was hiding
underneath one of the cars.
Good on you, Dickie. Good on ya.
- You saved my life.
- What?
- You saved me.
- Nah.
When you save a person's life,
it means good luck
will smile down on you
when you least expect
it and most need it.
Thank you.
I think everybody else is dead.
Though I did see Paolina before.
- Heading towards the road.
- The road?
- Towards the villa.
- My money.
- What about it?
- You wait here.
For the police and the medics.
But we weren't here. You
didn't fucking see us.
My money's at the villa.
Fuck me with a javelin!
- Do you have a key?
- Why would I have a key?
I don't know, you could
have asked Mr Fontaine.
Mr Fontaine, with a
fender in his stomach?
Poor man's key.
- Where you going?
- To get into dry clothes.
- Where are you going?
- To get my money!
Fucking harlot.
Fucking Romanian fucking harlot.
What are you talking about, Dom?
You're frothing at the mouth.
She come back and she took
my bag with the money.
My fucking money.
Paolina!
Paolina! That was
my money you took!
My money!
Paolina!
That was my money.
Mine, it was mine.
I bled for that money.
I bled for that money.
Dom!
Paolina!
Shit!
Paolina!
Paolina!
What?
Why?
Do I strike you as the type of
woman who wants to be poor?
You've gotta be fucking kidding me.
Shh.
What are you talking about?
He says that wound on your
head is going to leave a scar.
He a doctor, is he?
He washes dishes at the
restaurant I work at.
Oh, fucking hell.
But he was a doctor in Senegal.
He also says you are
one ugly bastard.
Well, he's right there, ain't he?
Not sure what happened to
you, but it wasn't pretty.
Misfortune.
Misfortune befell me.
You need to rest now, Dom, OK?
Evelyn said that as soon as
you could pee on two legs,
you'd have to go.
By the look of you,
I'd say that's today.
- So she's not talking to me?
- She's at work.
She's just throwing me out,
judge, jury and executioner.
Just like that.
- She hates me.
- She's mad at you.
A lot of years of hurt. That
just doesn't go away like that.
If anyone has the right
to be mad at life, it's me.
I've had the shittiest luck in
the history of shitty luck.
Look at me.
I'm a mess.
Face like an abortion.
Broke as a teenager. Pissing
next to Afrika Bambaataa.
You going there, Dom?
Right. Sorry.
Is that my grandson?
I see your gene's a bit more
prominent, if you know what I mean.
His name's Jawara.
- You're kidding?
- It's Senegalese.
- Diddle me with a voodoo doll.
- It means 'peace-loving'.
I'm Dom. Dom's English for
'unlucky son of a bitch'.
We're playing music tonight,
at Cargo. You know it?
I can't guarantee anything,
but Evelyn will be there.
- So maybe she'll talk with you then.
- You think?
I don't really. But
it's worth a try.
I'm scared.
I would be too.
She's a tough one.
I wish I was a fisherman,
tumbling on the seas
Far away from dry land
and its bitter memories
Casting out my sweet line
with abandonment and love
No ceiling bearing down on
me save the starry sky above
With light in my head
You in my arms
Ah-ha...
Bloody fuck.
- You all right, Dom?
- Fucking table.
What's a fucking table doing there?
Anyone can knock into it.
I'm gonna fucking burn
that table, I swear it.
I take it, it didn't
go as planned tonight.
It was just peachy, just peachy.
Like one of them TV shows
where everyone's all huggy
and kissy in the end.
You didn't even say hello, then?
God, I'm a shit.
But you're her shit.
I called her boyfriend
Afrika Bambaataa.
That was smart.
She don't want me, Dickie.
Who can fucking blame her?
Get near me, you're likely to die,
or at least lose all your money.
Oh, yeah, sorry.
This wasn't how it
was supposed to be.
I know.
What are you gonna do, then?
A man with no options suddenly
has all the options in the world.
- What the hell does that mean?
- Don't know.
Doomsday plan.
- I gotta see Lestor Junior.
- No.
Yeah.
- Bugger.
- Fucker.
Shit, Dom. The son's
worse than the father.
Yeah. Shit, Dickie.
But Fontaine ain't
exactly hiring, is he?
All right, son?
Dom, Dom Hemingway.
I didn't think I'd recognise you...
Seeing as I was barely a
teenager and everything.
- That's right.
- But I did. I'm proud of myself.
Fucking hell.
Why did you kill my cat, Dom?
You're gonna bring that
up after all these years?
I am. What did that
cat ever do to you?
It was your father's cat, Les.
That was your father's cat.
He was competition.
No matter. I loved that cat.
That cat was my friend.
Sorry, OK? I'm sorry.
I bet you are.
But you disrespected my cat
and I can't forgive that.
I was just a little boy, you know.
Well, I'm ready to put
the past to rest, huh?
Let bygones be bygones.
Thought maybe we could do
some business together.
You're a killer of cats, Dom,
and I want nothing to do with you.
I said I was sorry.
I know you're sorry, but that
don't bring Bernard back to life.
See, that's what I'm talking about.
Who calls their cat Bernard?
'Course I killed your fucking cat.
Come on.
Damn it. Come on!
You know I'm good at what I do.
Your father wanted
me to work for him.
But you never said yes, Dom.
You never said yes.
I worked for Mr Fontaine.
I couldn't say yes.
You could have, but you didn't.
- I didn't cos I couldn't.
- You couldn't cos you wouldn't.
I wouldn't cos I couldn't.
That's why I didn't.
Fuck you! Couldn't,
wouldn't, shouldn't.
I got the magic fingers.
You know that, I always did.
You must remember that.
Magic fingers, Lestor.
You could use that. Your
business could use that.
I run clubs, Dom.
Bullshit, Lestor. You
know what you do.
It's no secret. It's
your family business.
See, there's a part of me
that wants to put you in the
trunk of my sister's Prius,
drive you up to Canvey Island and bury
you up to your thick fucking neck,
cover your fat fucking
face in hamburger patties
and let the creatures of the night
eat you to death while I watch.
That's what I want,
you eaten to death
bite by fucking bite,
peck by fucking peck
and fang by motherfucking fang.
See, I heard Belly retired and
his replacement's disappointing.
So you come to the son of the
man you was at war with?
He was competition.
You come to the little boy
whose pussy cat you murdered?
You need me, Lestor.
You're an old man, Dom.
You should retire, too.
I meant to.
Yeah, I bet you did.
It's not like the old days, Dom.
They've got electronics now.
A safe's a safe.
Until you can't open it.
Come by my club tonight at 11:00.
Sugarfix.
I have a new electronic safe there.
If you can open it in 10 minutes,
you can come and work for me,
bygones be bygones.
I'll have plenty of
solid business for you.
However, if you can't open it,
I'm gonna chop off your tiny
dick and use it as a doorjamb.
It's your call, Dom.
Show up or not.
Open the safe or not.
Piss standing up again or not.
Those are your options.
Those are your choices.
And that was for Bernard.
- I thought that's what the last
one was for. - Nah, nah, nah.
That was for my daddy.
This one is for Bernard.
He was a good fucking cat
and didn't deserve your ugly face
to be the last thing he saw.
Thanks, Jeanie.
Are you sure you should be
drinking like this, Dom?
I'm good, Mum.
I'm serious.
You've got to open a safe later and
you haven't opened one in 12 years.
I'm steady as a trapeze
artist's cunt.
- Let me see your hand.
- What?
Your hand. I want to see
if you're really steady.
Look at your own hand, Dickie,
if you haven't lost it again.
Seriously, put out your hand,
Dom. Let me see it.
Fucker.
I could do surgery with this hand,
operate on your caper-sized brain,
finger a nun from five feet away.
That safe don't scare me.
Lestor McGreevy don't scare me.
Nothing scares me.
Well, you're scaring me,
that much is true.
I'm good.
You're penniless, homeless. You're
fast on your way to being pissed.
Your wank's on the line
and you haven't opened
a safe in 12 years,
and not an electronic
one, not ever.
Aren't you the Easter
Bunny, hopping around,
spreading good cheer
wherever you go?
I'm just stating what I'm stating.
- Stop stating what you're stating.
- I'm not gonna stop stating it.
I'll state what I want to state
in whatever state I want to.
State it again, I'll
knock your teeth out.
Knock my teeth out,
I'll cut your ear off.
Cut my ear off, I'll carve
your eye out with my big toe.
- Fuck you.
- Fuck you.
Fuck you.
You think I ain't gonna
be able to do this?
Me, Dom Hemingway?
Think I can't do this?
There hasn't been a safe I
ain't been able to open, ever.
When I was four months old, I could
open a safe from my fucking pram.
I'm just saying.
Don't say nothing.
I'm gonna do this, Dickie.
I'm gonna do this.
I got no other choice.
State of the art. Had it
installed four months ago.
- Made in Japan.
- I'm big in Japan.
You have 10 minutes. Do you
want me to start the timing now?
Or do you want to say a little
prayer for your friend Tiny first?
I just want another pint.
Is that OK?
Another drink before we start.
Have all the beer you want, Dom.
Right, let's get started.
Clock says 11:35.
It means you have until 11:45.
Easy-peasy lemon squeezy.
What the fuck is that?
Equipment.
Bloody hell!
Fuck you and fuck your cat.
I said, open my safe,
not destroy my office.
Fuck your office, fuck you,
fuck your father and fuck your cat.
In nine minutes your balls
are becoming trinkets.
Fuck your trinkets, fuck
your cat, fuck your father,
fuck your office and fuck you!
Not sure what you can do
in the time you have left,
except maybe have a heart attack.
I got to do a piss.
- What?
- Piss. I got to.
I'm not stopping the clock.
'Course you aren't.
You're pond scum, Lestor.
Garbage, refuse.
Your father was a class
act compared to you.
You're shit on my shoe.
You're a cunt in gold chains.
A misery in size 10 Adidas. Now,
where's your fucking toilet?
- Who designed this place, anyway?
- I did, actually.
It's like a brothel
by way of Elton John.
Stick to thieving and nepotism.
What are you looking at?
Five minutes left, Dom.
Might be the last time
you piss standing up.
I assume the cables in
the back of the safe
are attached to some
security company.
Yes. They promised a
five-minute response.
I promised not to come
in your sister's mouth.
We all make promises we can't keep.
Don't worry, I'm not gonna
do anything to Lestor,
as tempting as that may be.
Four minutes,
or less if security comes.
The fastest fingers guy I ever saw took
10, 12 minutes with a safe like this,
and he had state-of-the-art
equipment with him.
- I ain't like most finger guys.
- No, you're not.
- You're old.
- I'm old-school.
Old, old-school, same thing.
I got magic fingers,
Lestor. I told you.
So?
So...
Whoa!
Yeah, yeah...
- What the hell are you doing, man?
- Fuck you.
You trying to screw the safe, Dom,
or are you trying to impregnate it?
Do you want me to get
you guys a room?
Seriously, what the hell
are you doing, man?
I'm winning the bet.
Japs sold you a cheap safe
and he's gonna win because of it.
It wasn't fucking cheap.
Then you got ripped off, Lestor.
Fucking ripped off.
Ha, ha, ha!
So what's he trying to do, Dickie?
Most safes, the cheap ones
at least, like yours,
if you bounce them enough, there's
a moment when the pins are shaken
and not lined up, even
the electronic ones.
If you're pulling the handle
at that moment, it opens.
Well, nothing's happening here
except Dom getting a fucking hernia.
And you've only got two...
No, one minute and 55 seconds left.
God save
The Queen
Pints are on me!
And that, my friends,
is how you open a safe.
You did it, Dom. You right did it.
I knew I would. I told you I would.
I knew I'd beat this
arsehole at his own game
and prove to him what the
world already knows,
that Dom Hemingway is the greatest
safe cracker known to mankind.
That I am a legend, a myth.
A glorious tale to be handed down
from generation to generation.
I am impressed, Dom, I must say.
Fucking right, Lestor, Chestor,
Chestor the molester, Uncle Fester.
And only 52 seconds left.
Exactly, Fester the
fucking court jester.
I won the bet. You owe me work.
Big-paying work.
Actually, you didn't win the bet.
What are you talking about?
I'm saying, in 30 seconds
I'm cutting Little Dom off.
I opened your safe.
You opened a safe.
But my safe, my safe is this.
You have eight seconds
to open it, seven...
- That ain't fair.
- Fuck fair, it's the bet.
Five, four, three,
two, one.
Poor Dom Hemingway.
Poor, poor Dom Hemingway.
All that time in prison, only to
come out and be humiliated
by the son of the man
he always hated.
You're not really gonna do
what you're saying, Lestor?
If I were you,
I'd keep quiet, Dickie.
You know I'll kill you too
and no one will give a shit.
- Now, take off your trousers.
- Come on.
- Lestor.
- I'm serious.
Aw, fuck!
A deal's a deal, a bet's a bet
and a dick doorstop
is a dick doorstop.
Lestor, come on.
I hate you, Dom. I always
have. You killed Bernard.
You can't out off my dick
because of a fucking cat.
- Yes, I can.
- No, you can't.
OK, no, I can't, you're right,
but I can cut it off
cos you said you could open my
safe in 10 minutes and you didn't.
- You rigged the bet.
- Semantics.
- I played by the rules. - People are
dirty, Dom. You should know that.
But I played by the rules.
That's your problem.
You're a fucking criminal.
Criminals don't have rules.
There's a code of ethics. There is!
And where did that code get you?
12 years alone, a dead wife
and a daughter who hates you.
You don't know!
Everyone knows.
You played by the rules in jail and
you got screwed when you got out.
You played by the rules here
and you got screwed here.
You're a dumb criminal,
Dom. A dumb man.
Now take off your trousers.
Lestor.
Now.
Now!
Safe security.
- I'll meet you at the place near the place.
- Right.
You can't fucking catch me.
Oh, fu... Oh, fuck...
Oh, fuck...
Hey, you lot need a back-up
singer, I am available.
What do you want, then?
What? Nothing. I just
wanna say hello.
You look like shit, but at least you're
standing up. That's an improvement.
Yeah, I got that going.
Tell me something, Dom. You know
how old I was when you went away?
Can your fogged-up, whisky-soaked
brain go back that far?
Yeah, 'course.
I remember being in my room
and hearing mum yelling at you when
you left. Do you remember that?
She was just pleading, begging
with you to strike a deal.
If you'd have testified, you'd
have got two, maybe three years.
You'd have been out
before I was 13,
before mum got sick,
before mum died.
I wanna make up for lost time.
That's why I'm here.
I don't.
Come on, now. I made a mistake.
I'm a fucker and I'm a failure.
Oh, Dom, I'm leaving.
I have to go. I...
I don't want you coming
round here any more.
I don't want you coming round
my house or my son, OK?
I don't want to see you.
You have done very little
for me in my life, Dom.
Please, just do that.
It's Dad. It's Dad. It's not Dom.
Evie.
What, Dom?
I'm gonna go and see your
mum's grave tomorrow morning.
I wondered if you wanted
to come. I ain't seen it yet.
What, the grave Sandy
Butterfield paid for,
the guy you beat the shit out of?
Yeah, that one.
I thought it would be
nice if we went together.
You could bring your boy.
You know what would have been
nice? Having a real father.
But I didn't get one, Dom.
I only got you.
Melody.
Wait!
Wait!
Melody!
Melody!
You said I'd have good luck.
Dom Hemingway.
I was so worried about you.
But you're OK.
No, I'm not... I'm not
doing very well, actually.
You said I'd have good luck.
I've had nothing but shitty luck.
I'm so sorry to hear that, Dom.
If I hadn't stopped and helped you,
I'd have had time to save
my money from being stolen.
But you saved my life.
You stopped to save my life.
- I know.
- You did the right thing.
Not everyone would, but you did.
I told you the good luck would
come when you really need it.
Well, I really need it.
- Then it will be.
- How?
What do you want
most in the world?
My fucking money!
- That's what you want most?
- Yes.
- You sure?
- Yes!
- Really?
- Yes.
No.
I want her to talk to me.
Forgive me.
My daughter.
That seems a little better.
Yeah, well...
Just by picking her,
you've already shown
that the pendulum of luck
is swinging your way.
What the hell does that mean?
Love is what you make, Dom.
Oh, Keethy.
I fucked up, didn't I?
And not one of my
minor Dom fuck-ups.
Like spending all our money
down the pub with Dickie.
Going out to a football match
and staying away a week.
Burning down that housing
estate in Leeds by accident.
No.
I fucked up royally.
I didn't get to say goodbye to you.
I never got to say goodbye and
kiss you goodbye, my sweet girl.
Now all I got is this dirt,
fucking grass and dirt in me
hands, and not your sweet face.
Your sweet, beautiful face.
I was a stupid fool.
I lost you.
I lost out on our
Evelyn's childhood.
I lost the two most important
things in my life.
And now you're gone...
and our Evie...
she hates me.
Oh, Keethy...
Beautiful, sweet Keethy. My life.
My heart.
I'm gonna try and make
things better with Evelyn.
I really am.
She hates me now
but I'll wear her down,
bit by bit.
Day by day.
Hour by hour, I'll seduce
her with my kindness.
I'll blanket her in
warmth and security.
I'll confound her with my decency.
She'll resist my charms
for only so long.
After all, I'm Dom Hemingway.
I'm Dom Hemingway.
I'm your Dom.
Come here. Sit down.
Give us your hand.
That's your grandmother.
Keethy, or Katherine.
She never much liked the dark ones, but
I think she'd have really liked you.
I didn't think you'd come.
Couldn't well take the
bus himself, could he?
Can I walk with you a bit?
In silence, I promise.
Total silence, like... Like a mime.
Like an old lady who lives
in an attic on her own
and stuffs her cats
after they died.
Not today.
Someday, then, eh, maybe?
You can walk Jawara to school
on Monday morning if you like.
If you can wake up that early.
Don't get too pissed
the night before.
Right, then.
Well, I'll be the Vatican's cunt.
I'll see you later.
Right, let's go in.
Paolina! Hello, darling.
Fancy seeing you here in London.
Why didn't you call me?
We could have gone out for a drink,
had a tone-deaf sing-along
to some old records.
Paolina, who is this?
I don't know who this man is.
Oh...
I'll tell you who I am.
I'm the fucker who'll tear
your nose off with my teeth.
I'm the fucker who will gut
you with a dull cheese knife
and sing Gilbert and
Sullivan while I do it.
I'm the fucker who'll dump your
dead body in a freezing cold lake
and watch you sink to the
bottom like so much shit.
I am that fucker.
That's the fucker who I am.
And if you say one word
when I remove my hand,
I'll do all that to you right now.
You say one word and you'll be as useless
as a dried-up, fetid condom after bad sex.
Do I make myself clear?
Do my words translate to you?
If you understand my words, nod.
That's good.
After much heartbreak and ruin,
the pendulum of luck has finally
swung back to Dom Hemingway.
And I intend to enjoy each
moment of its fickle pleasure,
whether it lasts for a minute,
a day or a lifetime.
Oh, cos I think it's
fucking exquisite.
I think it's a fucking work of art.
Like a Renoir.
Or a Picasso.
The painting of my cock
should hang at the Louvre.
They should study my
cock in art classes,
spend whole courses...
studying the splendid contours of
its exquisiteness, don't you think?
They should also study
my cock in science class
cos it defies nature.
My cock is hard.
It's metal, it's steel,
it's titanium.
It does not break.
It does not weaken.
My cock can stand all day
like a good soldier trying
to impress his superiors.
If my cock could win
a medal, it would.
If they could name a school
after it, it should.
If it could save small Somali
children from starving,
it would and should, and it'll have
a Nobel fucking Peace Prize for it,
the first such prize
ever given to a cock.
My Nobel Prize-winning
cook's like a cheetah,
all sleek and dangerous and deadly.
Sonnets should be written about
how dangerous my cheetah cock is.
Poems, plays.
Wars should be won over it,
kingdoms fallen because of it.
My cock is lightning. It is fire.
It is a volcano brewing with
the sacred semen, lava...
Sugar and spice and all things...
nice.
Sorry for the lack
of warning, dearie.
Things happen.
Sometimes you expect 'em,
sometimes you don't.
I said, "Give me 200 quid, I'll light
my fag off two fucking fireworks."
- Dickie nips off round the corner...
- Hemingway.
I'm eating my pudding.
I couldn't give a toss
about your pudding.
Put your fork down
and get over 'ere.
I'll put my fork down when I'm
ready to put my fork down.
I'll finish my pudding when I'm
ready to finish my pudding.
You wanna disrespect
me, disrespect me.
But then I won't be able
to tell you what I know.
And I know you'd like
to know what I know.
- What would I like to know?
- Wouldn't you like to know?
- I would like to know.
- Yeah, you would, wouldn't ya?
- Tell me.
- Fork.
Fuck.
Oh, for Christ's sake, Dom,
just put the fork down.
Tell me what it is
you have to tell me.
Call came in.
Call?
The call.
The call?
Came in.
Dom! Dom! Dom! Dom!
Oi! Where's Sandy Butterfield?
- Dom? Dom, is that you?
- Where's Sandy Butterfield?
Dom, you really don't wanna...
Where's Sandy Butterfield?
Where?
He's still working at the depot.
- Hey, where are you going?
- Where's Sandy Butterfield?
- Sir, I...
- Where's Sandy Butterfield?
Sandy.
So that's what you do, is it, mate?
You fuck other men's wives
while they're in prison.
That's what you do with yourself,
how you conduct yourself, how
you conduct your business.
- I don't know...
- She was my wife. My wife!
- You were divorced and in jail!
- She was still my wife.
Always my wife, you fuck.
You fucker! My betrothed.
You're nothing but a pestilence, an
uphill gardener with a weak chin.
You're a filthafising thief,
that's what you are. You
think you can steal from me?
- From me? From Dom Hemingway?
- God...
God!
Hello, Billy.
Andrew.
Hello, Dom. Long time.
Welcome home.
Thanks.
You good? Betty good?
Yeah.
Charlie just graduated university.
Little Charlie with his hair all growing
in his eyes graduated university?
Can you believe it?
I should fucking kill you,
but I fancy a pint instead.
I've got anger issues,
Dickie, I just do.
Always have, haven't I?
I tried to work on 'em, you know,
in prison. Took some classes.
I tried the yoga, inspirational
CDs, I did it all.
But the anger's still inside of me.
I just lost it, I guess.
He married Keethy.
What's a man to do?
Well, I broke his fucking nose.
He wasn't so good-looking
to start with.
He wet himself.
He had it coming.
Still...
Er, sorry, Dom, you
can't smoke in here.
- You what?
- They banned it, smoking.
In a pub? You can't
smoke in a fucking pub?
Bad for your health.
Being a cunt is bad for your
health, I'm just smoking a fag.
Got one for me while you're at it?
He's expecting you
in France, you know,
Mr Fontaine.
He knows what you did for him.
Mr Fontaine's a man who
doesn't forget his friends.
- I'm his friend now?
- You did right by him.
You'll get your due.
12 years, Dickie.
12 years of my life.
I missed a lot doing right by him.
Missed Keethy's funeral.
Missed out on my
Evelyn's childhood.
My daughter.
You got to see her yet?
I'm working up the marbles.
You've had 12 years to
work up the marbles...
I just made Bolognese out
of her stepfather's face.
As if she didn't hate me enough.
Mr Fontaine, he
bought them for you.
A little welcome-home present,
if you're interested.
- For me?
- For you.
Oh, I love this fucking song!
You hear that, Dickie?
- Yeah, Dom.
- You hear that? You know what that is?
What, Dom? What is it?
That's the sound of
fucking freedom!
Innit, Jeanie, eh?
Oh, my love! Innit?
Hello, ladies.
- Whoa!
- Come on, then.
No one call me for three days.
Oh, my head's throbbing.
It's fucking throbbing, Dickie.
Like a disco in my head.
Like a fucking Manila disco
full of transvestites
and suckling pigs.
I've got a seizure in my brain.
A diabolical seizure of
fucking and sucking coke.
I did too much.
I tried to make up for
too much lost time.
I fucked myself to death.
My head's gonna explode.
Bits of my brain's
gonna go everywhere.
I'm gonna ruin your blazer.
You're gonna be all right, Dom.
Fuck you. You don't know my head.
You don't know the
revolution going on...
inside of it.
Fucking insurgents inside my brain.
Cossacks sodomising my cranium.
- Here.
- What's that? A hand grenade?
- Hair of the dog.
- That dog shat on my soul.
Drink it. It's mother's
little helper.
My mother left me when I was
three. Fuck my mother.
Oh...
Fuck, I'm dying.
I'm dying. I'm gonna
die on this train.
If dying on this train will
shut you up, I'm all for it.
Some fucking friend you are.
You can't make up for 12
years in three days, Dom.
Well, I tried.
I fucking tried.
Mr Hemingway?
Mr Dom Hemingway?
What?
I've been sent by Monsieur
Fontaine. Follow me.
Oi, lardo!
If you're sent by Mr Fontaine,
then carry my fucking bag.
Someone's feeling
his old self again.
Damn right. Now let's go
get my fucking money.
It's interesting, the
French countryside.
Looks like a barmaid's snatch
after a Cup Final weekend.
Fontaine better have
a well-stocked bar.
He was raised in a Russian orphanage
and kills people for a living.
Of course he has a
well-stocked bar.
South of France.
Afternoon.
Dom, don't think what
you're thinking.
That's Mr Fontaine's property.
Property is a relative
term for a thief.
- Still.
- I'm just looking.
Admiring.
- She's rather fit.
- Not her, not Paolina.
- Fit to fiddle, I'd say.
- Dom!
- You don't admire that.
- Bugger off, Dickie.
I'll admire what I wanna admire,
think what I wanna think.
Fiddle who I wanna fiddle.
Domingo Hemingway!
As I live and breathe,
the Ghost of Christmas Past.
Mr Fontaine.
Call me Ivan. Are you crazy?
Ivan Anatolivich Fontanov,
like the old days.
I never called you Ivan
Anatoli in the old days.
Well, you will now.
Do you hunt, Dom?
No, I don't, Ivan.
I only use a gun to
hold up a place,
or threaten someone, or rob 'em,
or pistol-whip 'em, or scare 'em.
- But, no, no hunting.
- Shame.
It is the sport of princes.
Well, I'm a peasant at heart.
A petty serf with nice
hair and a strong liver.
I'll eat what you hunt,
unless it's rabbit.
Rabbits are pets. I don't eat pets.
Oh, these French rabbits are
something else, though, Dom.
I think you'll like 'em.
They taste like a revolution.
If that's an advert,
I'm not sure it's working.
It's good to see you, Dom.
Dom Hemingway is free!
Dom Hemingway is free!
Dom Hemingway is free!
You look good, Dom, you really do.
Well, what can I say?
I'm an handsome fucker.
I see you've retained your vanity
and your sense of humour.
Lefty was right.
- Lefty?
- Yeah, Lefty, he was right.
- Who's Lefty?
- Who's Lefty?
You serious, Dom?
You blind?
You lost your eyesight in prison?
What?
Lefty! Lefty, your best friend,
Dickie, with one fucking hand.
You lost your hand?
Yeah, 'course.
You lost your bloody hand?
Yes, Dom.
Why do you think I'm wearing
this black glove all the time?
I thought it was a fashion
statement or something.
Fashion statement?
I've been in fucking prison
12 years. I missed a few things.
I thought it was the latest
fashion. I don't know!
You always were a bit of a clothes fag.
You lost your fucking hand?
It was shot off three
years ago during a job.
How do I not know that?
They found his fingers strewn
all over the high street.
Fucking hell, Dickie. I'm sorry.
I'm good, Dom. It's all good.
Yeah, Dickie's a good soldier.
Mmm, tough guy.
Stand-up man.
So are you, Dom.
The most stand-up man
I have ever met.
- Dom is that.
- Yeah.
Well, a rat is a rat
and a teat is a tit.
Still, others would have broken.
Those are others,
not Dom Hemingway.
- No, not you.
- Not me.
You've done all right for yourself
the last 12 years, Mr Fontaine.
Ivan, please.
Ivan. You've done all
right for yourself.
The art, the house.
Or estate. This is an estate, right?
That's what they call it. It's very nice.
It's a villa, Dom, a holiday home.
But thank you, thank you.
I appreciate it.
Is Ivan short for Ivana?
No, just Ivan.
Could be Ivana, though, right?
It's Ivan, Ivan
Anatolivich Fontanov.
Ivan, sorry. Ivan. Sorry.
It's OK.
I could have ratted.
I could have mentioned your name.
I could have said Ivana Anatoli
Fontaine was the leader of the group.
Maybe you are tired
from your trip, Dom?
I kept my mouth shut and
I sat in that tiny cell
while my wife died of cancer in the
arms of some other fucking bloke.
I've heard about
that and I'm sorry.
- Sorry?
- I'm sorry.
- Try 12 years.
- I'm sorry, Dom...
12 fucking years. Missed
my Evelyn growing up.
I said I'm sorry.
- Words are easy.
- And it's all I have.
- You have something else.
- You are due and you will be paid.
- Plus interest.
- Plus interest.
Plus a present.
- Present?
- For being so quiet.
Those girls were a present.
Did you like them, Dom, huh'?
The coke and the girls,
that was a present.
Oh, you really think two birds and a
bit of blow are a worthy present?
- After what I done for you?
- I was not suggesting...
Cos that don't even come close
to a present, not even close.
It's not even a stocking stuffer,
barely an opening act.
Barely a fucking appetiser,
barely an amuse-bouche.
It's nothing. It's nothing but a bit
of confetti in my ticker-tape parade,
and I want the full fucking parade.
My ticker-tape parade, Ivana.
I want the fucking band.
I want the fucking float.
I want the parade, the float,
the band and what you owe me.
What you owe me
is what I fucking want!
I said, you'll get what is yours.
Plus a fucking present!
- A real present.
- OK, Dom...
Let's say, your girlfriend.
The one with the bicycle.
What's her name?
Paolina? I want her.
Don't be crazy, Dom.
I'm not crazy.
I want her, naked,
like she likes it,
with a little red
bow on her clitoris
- for me to untie with my teeth.
- Enough. The joke is over.
- I think you should sober up, OK?
- Joke's on you, Ivana.
- Go rest. We'll see you at dinner.
- Ivana Anal-toli.
I have been nothing but polite.
Polite? Polite! Aren't
you the bee's knees?
Cunt.
Fucker.
Cunt.
You don't want me to get rough.
Trust me, don't go there.
Don't presuppose to
know what I want.
You don't threaten me,
not with that girl's name.
Not with that little
girl's name, Ivana.
Ivana. Ivana? Ivana?
You don't scare me.
You don't fucking
scare me, Anal-toli.
I've seen death. I've seen evil.
I've seen fire. I've seen rain.
I've seen lonely days
I thought would never end.
You don't fucking scare me.
I eye-fuck you. I throat-fuck you!
- Dom!
- Shut it, Dickie!
You one-armed fuck. You freak.
You one-armed fucking fuck freak!
No one's talking to you! No
one's ever talking to you!
I'm fucking bored.
I'm fucking drunk.
I'm fucking drunk and
I'm fucking bored.
I said what I wanted to say.
I said it and you heard it.
Now I'm gonna take a nap.
I'll see you wanks at dinner.
And no fucking rabbit.
Dom, you up?
It's 6:30, it's dinner.
Dom, mate!
Dom?
Jesus Christ.
Dom! Dom!
- Dom, are you fucking mad?
- I screwed it up, Dickie.
I screwed everything up.
Really? Cos I thought you
were just mentally retarded.
Like those boys with the
bowl cuts on the telethons.
- Dickie, I'm a mess. Look at me.
- I'm trying not to.
I'm pathetic, I don't belong here.
I'm a monster. I'm a dinosaur.
- Don't forget nudist, Dom. Don't forget
that! - I ought to be thrown away.
Sent to a leper colony, forgotten
about, left to rot with the maggots.
Jesus, Dom, you've got to
get control of yourself.
You've got to beg
forgiveness of him.
- You've got to put on trousers.
- I've been locked up for so long, Dickie.
I see the light, the air.
It's been so long since
I breathed clean air.
I look at the clouds, I go nuts.
You mix in the whisky, you mix
in the pussy, I go crazy.
I'm a crazy man.
I'm a fucking nutter!
- I mean, I'm afraid to see my own daughter.
- Really?
But not too afraid to insult one of
the most dangerous men in Europe.
Unfortunately, you had
the brass for that one.
He's gonna kill me. I insulted
him in his own villa.
- He'll forgive you.
- He's gonna fucking kill me, Dickie.
He's gonna make Blinis out of
me balls and no one will care.
- Fontaine's not gonna kill you.
- He could.
No one would give a toss,
not even me own daughter.
I would give a toss. She would too.
12 years, Dickie, 12 years for
that money and I just blew it.
You apologise to him.
You be a gentleman and
he'll be a gentleman.
It'll be all right.
Yeah? You promise?
Yes. But you don't insult his girl.
You don't call him fucking Ivana,
you don't call him Anal-toli
and you don't let him
see your pecker!
You thank your goddamn lucky stars
that he's a kind and gracious man.
Do you understand?
- Yeah...
- Do you understand?
- Yeah.
- Cos I ain't burying your body out here.
I'm too fucking old and I
didn't bring the right shoes.
Sorry I'm late.
And sorry I was such a cunt.
You must be Ivan's lady friend.
You're a vision. You're an angel.
Again, Ivan, Mr Fontaine,
sorry.
Me and, er, drink don't
always dance well together.
I acted up. I acted outrageous.
Sorry.
Sorry I'm late for your dinner
and sorry about before.
When you were a cunt?
Yeah, when I was a cunt.
Dom, it is water under the bridge.
You are forgiven.
- Thank you.
- Now, sit, sit.
Dinner is ready. The
rabbit is getting cold.
Fantastic.
I'm starving.
Everyone sit.
Get comfortable, please.
Because you so enjoyed
the rabbit, Dom,
I have a real treat for you.
We were two friends in love
Fanette and I
The empty beach was
warm and sleepy in July
Isn't she great, Dom?
She likes singing almost as
much as she likes my money.
Fanette each day
You know I could have killed you for
saying what you did today, Dom?
Yeah, I do.
She was
She was as beautiful
as rainbows in the sky
She was so beautiful
and not at all am I
When I was 14,
my very best friend in the world
was riding his bicycle and
he accidentally crashed
into this girl I liked.
Her name was Tatiana.
We went to school together,
though we hadn't ever talked.
But I liked her from afar.
Anyway, my best friend
accidentally crashed into her.
She got banged up,
got a black eye, crying,
the whole thing.
I went over to my friend, took
the bike from him, lifted it up
and smashed it over his head.
Then I stomped on his hand with my
boot until every bone was broken.
Then I took a rock
and smashed it so
hard into his face,
he not only lost most of his teeth
but most of his jaw as well.
This, Dom
is what I did to my best friend
for having a fucking accident
involving a girl I hadn't
even ever talked to.
Now,
do you know why I didn't do
anything to you today, Dom?
Do you?
Cos,
you're a kind and gracious man.
Yes, that, but really because
after everything has
been said and done
I do owe you, Dom.
I do owe you.
I'm going to make
right by you, Dom.
- Would you turn around?
- What?
In order to make right,
I need you to turn around.
Oh, yeah, 'course.
I know telling a safe-cracker to
turn around is kind of a funny thing
when you're opening a safe, but...
OK, Dom.
Your share, plus interest.
This is a quarter of
a million pounds.
And this
is another half a million.
This, Dom.
Is your present.
Take it. Go on,
take it, it's yours.
Oh, watch out!
Oi, oh! Watch out!
Ladies.
Here, jump on.
Whoo!
Go, Dom!
You're so bad!
Whoo!
You got a noble chin.
Some people have weak
chins or sad chins.
You got a very sturdy,
very noble chin.
I know it's kind of a weird thing to say.
I mean, to just say out loud.
But my mother told me there's
no better time for a compliment
than the moment you think it, so...
Well, you have very noble breasts.
My name's Melody,
though I've been told
I can't keep a melody.
I'm gonna call you Lisa,
if that's OK with you.
Lisa's the name of my cousin.
Yeah, she's an actress.
- I think she did a commercial.
- I acted once.
Played the apothecary in Romeo
and Juliet. Reform school.
I was pretty good, but I didn't
have the stomach for it,
what was needed to
get the good parts.
I didn't wanna have to
service the drama teacher,
if you know what I mean. The
poor bastard who played Romeo,
he was being tossed
since he was 13.
The perv gave him all the good parts
even though he couldn't act a damn
and his skin was volcanic
with pus and pimples.
Ooh, I hate bad skin.
- What's your name, anyway?
- I told you, Melody.
Melody, Melody, with
a face so heavenly.
What about you? What's your name?
Me?
I'm Dom. Didn't you know?
Mmm-mmm.
I'm Dom Hemingway.
Dom Hemingway.
I am Dom Hemingway!
Oh, listen up, you owls and bears!
You cocksuckers, plebeians
and moral cowards!
You foxes, lions and paedophiles!
Listen up, you freaks,
Philistines and otters!
You queens, queers and
little-girl tears!
I am Dom Hemingway!
Dom Hemingway!
And for my years of silence,
I have been granted lordship
over everyone on the planet...
12 fucking years
I kept my mouth shut.
The most stand-up
man I have ever met...
And I sat in that tiny cell
while my wife died of cancer.
I do owe you.
- Missed my Evelyn growing up.
- I do owe you.
- 12 fucking years.
- Dom.
Kept my mouth shut.
Missed my Evelyn growing up.
You are due and you will be paid.
Dom, can you wake up?
Dom.
Dom.
Were you sleeping?
Dom, where is the money?
I want the money.
The money.
Oh...
Oh, fuck.
Oh, the money.
Dom. Dom!
My hand, I've lost my hand.
I've got to find my hand.
I think I have a splinter.
What?
I think I have a splinter in me.
Do you know where Paolina is?
Paolina!
I think she might
have some tweezers.
Paolina!
Paolina!
I think I'm just gonna wait
here and rest for a minute.
All right, Ivan. Just rest.
Just rest.
Fuck.
Oh...
Oh!
Girl?
Girl?
Girl!
Come on.
Fucking...
Fuck!
Come on, girl.
Come on, girl.
Come on, girl. Come on!
Come on, girl.
Come on!
Come on. Come on,
my love. Come on.
Come on, love. Come on.
Come on, love.
Come on, my love!
Come on! Come on!
Come on.
Come on, live!
I found it, Dom.
I found my hand. It was hiding
underneath one of the cars.
Good on you, Dickie. Good on ya.
- You saved my life.
- What?
- You saved me.
- Nah.
When you save a person's life,
it means good luck
will smile down on you
when you least expect
it and most need it.
Thank you.
I think everybody else is dead.
Though I did see Paolina before.
- Heading towards the road.
- The road?
- Towards the villa.
- My money.
- What about it?
- You wait here.
For the police and the medics.
But we weren't here. You
didn't fucking see us.
My money's at the villa.
Fuck me with a javelin!
- Do you have a key?
- Why would I have a key?
I don't know, you could
have asked Mr Fontaine.
Mr Fontaine, with a
fender in his stomach?
Poor man's key.
- Where you going?
- To get into dry clothes.
- Where are you going?
- To get my money!
Fucking harlot.
Fucking Romanian fucking harlot.
What are you talking about, Dom?
You're frothing at the mouth.
She come back and she took
my bag with the money.
My fucking money.
Paolina!
Paolina! That was
my money you took!
My money!
Paolina!
That was my money.
Mine, it was mine.
I bled for that money.
I bled for that money.
Dom!
Paolina!
Shit!
Paolina!
Paolina!
What?
Why?
Do I strike you as the type of
woman who wants to be poor?
You've gotta be fucking kidding me.
Shh.
What are you talking about?
He says that wound on your
head is going to leave a scar.
He a doctor, is he?
He washes dishes at the
restaurant I work at.
Oh, fucking hell.
But he was a doctor in Senegal.
He also says you are
one ugly bastard.
Well, he's right there, ain't he?
Not sure what happened to
you, but it wasn't pretty.
Misfortune.
Misfortune befell me.
You need to rest now, Dom, OK?
Evelyn said that as soon as
you could pee on two legs,
you'd have to go.
By the look of you,
I'd say that's today.
- So she's not talking to me?
- She's at work.
She's just throwing me out,
judge, jury and executioner.
Just like that.
- She hates me.
- She's mad at you.
A lot of years of hurt. That
just doesn't go away like that.
If anyone has the right
to be mad at life, it's me.
I've had the shittiest luck in
the history of shitty luck.
Look at me.
I'm a mess.
Face like an abortion.
Broke as a teenager. Pissing
next to Afrika Bambaataa.
You going there, Dom?
Right. Sorry.
Is that my grandson?
I see your gene's a bit more
prominent, if you know what I mean.
His name's Jawara.
- You're kidding?
- It's Senegalese.
- Diddle me with a voodoo doll.
- It means 'peace-loving'.
I'm Dom. Dom's English for
'unlucky son of a bitch'.
We're playing music tonight,
at Cargo. You know it?
I can't guarantee anything,
but Evelyn will be there.
- So maybe she'll talk with you then.
- You think?
I don't really. But
it's worth a try.
I'm scared.
I would be too.
She's a tough one.
I wish I was a fisherman,
tumbling on the seas
Far away from dry land
and its bitter memories
Casting out my sweet line
with abandonment and love
No ceiling bearing down on
me save the starry sky above
With light in my head
You in my arms
Ah-ha...
Bloody fuck.
- You all right, Dom?
- Fucking table.
What's a fucking table doing there?
Anyone can knock into it.
I'm gonna fucking burn
that table, I swear it.
I take it, it didn't
go as planned tonight.
It was just peachy, just peachy.
Like one of them TV shows
where everyone's all huggy
and kissy in the end.
You didn't even say hello, then?
God, I'm a shit.
But you're her shit.
I called her boyfriend
Afrika Bambaataa.
That was smart.
She don't want me, Dickie.
Who can fucking blame her?
Get near me, you're likely to die,
or at least lose all your money.
Oh, yeah, sorry.
This wasn't how it
was supposed to be.
I know.
What are you gonna do, then?
A man with no options suddenly
has all the options in the world.
- What the hell does that mean?
- Don't know.
Doomsday plan.
- I gotta see Lestor Junior.
- No.
Yeah.
- Bugger.
- Fucker.
Shit, Dom. The son's
worse than the father.
Yeah. Shit, Dickie.
But Fontaine ain't
exactly hiring, is he?
All right, son?
Dom, Dom Hemingway.
I didn't think I'd recognise you...
Seeing as I was barely a
teenager and everything.
- That's right.
- But I did. I'm proud of myself.
Fucking hell.
Why did you kill my cat, Dom?
You're gonna bring that
up after all these years?
I am. What did that
cat ever do to you?
It was your father's cat, Les.
That was your father's cat.
He was competition.
No matter. I loved that cat.
That cat was my friend.
Sorry, OK? I'm sorry.
I bet you are.
But you disrespected my cat
and I can't forgive that.
I was just a little boy, you know.
Well, I'm ready to put
the past to rest, huh?
Let bygones be bygones.
Thought maybe we could do
some business together.
You're a killer of cats, Dom,
and I want nothing to do with you.
I said I was sorry.
I know you're sorry, but that
don't bring Bernard back to life.
See, that's what I'm talking about.
Who calls their cat Bernard?
'Course I killed your fucking cat.
Come on.
Damn it. Come on!
You know I'm good at what I do.
Your father wanted
me to work for him.
But you never said yes, Dom.
You never said yes.
I worked for Mr Fontaine.
I couldn't say yes.
You could have, but you didn't.
- I didn't cos I couldn't.
- You couldn't cos you wouldn't.
I wouldn't cos I couldn't.
That's why I didn't.
Fuck you! Couldn't,
wouldn't, shouldn't.
I got the magic fingers.
You know that, I always did.
You must remember that.
Magic fingers, Lestor.
You could use that. Your
business could use that.
I run clubs, Dom.
Bullshit, Lestor. You
know what you do.
It's no secret. It's
your family business.
See, there's a part of me
that wants to put you in the
trunk of my sister's Prius,
drive you up to Canvey Island and bury
you up to your thick fucking neck,
cover your fat fucking
face in hamburger patties
and let the creatures of the night
eat you to death while I watch.
That's what I want,
you eaten to death
bite by fucking bite,
peck by fucking peck
and fang by motherfucking fang.
See, I heard Belly retired and
his replacement's disappointing.
So you come to the son of the
man you was at war with?
He was competition.
You come to the little boy
whose pussy cat you murdered?
You need me, Lestor.
You're an old man, Dom.
You should retire, too.
I meant to.
Yeah, I bet you did.
It's not like the old days, Dom.
They've got electronics now.
A safe's a safe.
Until you can't open it.
Come by my club tonight at 11:00.
Sugarfix.
I have a new electronic safe there.
If you can open it in 10 minutes,
you can come and work for me,
bygones be bygones.
I'll have plenty of
solid business for you.
However, if you can't open it,
I'm gonna chop off your tiny
dick and use it as a doorjamb.
It's your call, Dom.
Show up or not.
Open the safe or not.
Piss standing up again or not.
Those are your options.
Those are your choices.
And that was for Bernard.
- I thought that's what the last
one was for. - Nah, nah, nah.
That was for my daddy.
This one is for Bernard.
He was a good fucking cat
and didn't deserve your ugly face
to be the last thing he saw.
Thanks, Jeanie.
Are you sure you should be
drinking like this, Dom?
I'm good, Mum.
I'm serious.
You've got to open a safe later and
you haven't opened one in 12 years.
I'm steady as a trapeze
artist's cunt.
- Let me see your hand.
- What?
Your hand. I want to see
if you're really steady.
Look at your own hand, Dickie,
if you haven't lost it again.
Seriously, put out your hand,
Dom. Let me see it.
Fucker.
I could do surgery with this hand,
operate on your caper-sized brain,
finger a nun from five feet away.
That safe don't scare me.
Lestor McGreevy don't scare me.
Nothing scares me.
Well, you're scaring me,
that much is true.
I'm good.
You're penniless, homeless. You're
fast on your way to being pissed.
Your wank's on the line
and you haven't opened
a safe in 12 years,
and not an electronic
one, not ever.
Aren't you the Easter
Bunny, hopping around,
spreading good cheer
wherever you go?
I'm just stating what I'm stating.
- Stop stating what you're stating.
- I'm not gonna stop stating it.
I'll state what I want to state
in whatever state I want to.
State it again, I'll
knock your teeth out.
Knock my teeth out,
I'll cut your ear off.
Cut my ear off, I'll carve
your eye out with my big toe.
- Fuck you.
- Fuck you.
Fuck you.
You think I ain't gonna
be able to do this?
Me, Dom Hemingway?
Think I can't do this?
There hasn't been a safe I
ain't been able to open, ever.
When I was four months old, I could
open a safe from my fucking pram.
I'm just saying.
Don't say nothing.
I'm gonna do this, Dickie.
I'm gonna do this.
I got no other choice.
State of the art. Had it
installed four months ago.
- Made in Japan.
- I'm big in Japan.
You have 10 minutes. Do you
want me to start the timing now?
Or do you want to say a little
prayer for your friend Tiny first?
I just want another pint.
Is that OK?
Another drink before we start.
Have all the beer you want, Dom.
Right, let's get started.
Clock says 11:35.
It means you have until 11:45.
Easy-peasy lemon squeezy.
What the fuck is that?
Equipment.
Bloody hell!
Fuck you and fuck your cat.
I said, open my safe,
not destroy my office.
Fuck your office, fuck you,
fuck your father and fuck your cat.
In nine minutes your balls
are becoming trinkets.
Fuck your trinkets, fuck
your cat, fuck your father,
fuck your office and fuck you!
Not sure what you can do
in the time you have left,
except maybe have a heart attack.
I got to do a piss.
- What?
- Piss. I got to.
I'm not stopping the clock.
'Course you aren't.
You're pond scum, Lestor.
Garbage, refuse.
Your father was a class
act compared to you.
You're shit on my shoe.
You're a cunt in gold chains.
A misery in size 10 Adidas. Now,
where's your fucking toilet?
- Who designed this place, anyway?
- I did, actually.
It's like a brothel
by way of Elton John.
Stick to thieving and nepotism.
What are you looking at?
Five minutes left, Dom.
Might be the last time
you piss standing up.
I assume the cables in
the back of the safe
are attached to some
security company.
Yes. They promised a
five-minute response.
I promised not to come
in your sister's mouth.
We all make promises we can't keep.
Don't worry, I'm not gonna
do anything to Lestor,
as tempting as that may be.
Four minutes,
or less if security comes.
The fastest fingers guy I ever saw took
10, 12 minutes with a safe like this,
and he had state-of-the-art
equipment with him.
- I ain't like most finger guys.
- No, you're not.
- You're old.
- I'm old-school.
Old, old-school, same thing.
I got magic fingers,
Lestor. I told you.
So?
So...
Whoa!
Yeah, yeah...
- What the hell are you doing, man?
- Fuck you.
You trying to screw the safe, Dom,
or are you trying to impregnate it?
Do you want me to get
you guys a room?
Seriously, what the hell
are you doing, man?
I'm winning the bet.
Japs sold you a cheap safe
and he's gonna win because of it.
It wasn't fucking cheap.
Then you got ripped off, Lestor.
Fucking ripped off.
Ha, ha, ha!
So what's he trying to do, Dickie?
Most safes, the cheap ones
at least, like yours,
if you bounce them enough, there's
a moment when the pins are shaken
and not lined up, even
the electronic ones.
If you're pulling the handle
at that moment, it opens.
Well, nothing's happening here
except Dom getting a fucking hernia.
And you've only got two...
No, one minute and 55 seconds left.
God save
The Queen
Pints are on me!
And that, my friends,
is how you open a safe.
You did it, Dom. You right did it.
I knew I would. I told you I would.
I knew I'd beat this
arsehole at his own game
and prove to him what the
world already knows,
that Dom Hemingway is the greatest
safe cracker known to mankind.
That I am a legend, a myth.
A glorious tale to be handed down
from generation to generation.
I am impressed, Dom, I must say.
Fucking right, Lestor, Chestor,
Chestor the molester, Uncle Fester.
And only 52 seconds left.
Exactly, Fester the
fucking court jester.
I won the bet. You owe me work.
Big-paying work.
Actually, you didn't win the bet.
What are you talking about?
I'm saying, in 30 seconds
I'm cutting Little Dom off.
I opened your safe.
You opened a safe.
But my safe, my safe is this.
You have eight seconds
to open it, seven...
- That ain't fair.
- Fuck fair, it's the bet.
Five, four, three,
two, one.
Poor Dom Hemingway.
Poor, poor Dom Hemingway.
All that time in prison, only to
come out and be humiliated
by the son of the man
he always hated.
You're not really gonna do
what you're saying, Lestor?
If I were you,
I'd keep quiet, Dickie.
You know I'll kill you too
and no one will give a shit.
- Now, take off your trousers.
- Come on.
- Lestor.
- I'm serious.
Aw, fuck!
A deal's a deal, a bet's a bet
and a dick doorstop
is a dick doorstop.
Lestor, come on.
I hate you, Dom. I always
have. You killed Bernard.
You can't out off my dick
because of a fucking cat.
- Yes, I can.
- No, you can't.
OK, no, I can't, you're right,
but I can cut it off
cos you said you could open my
safe in 10 minutes and you didn't.
- You rigged the bet.
- Semantics.
- I played by the rules. - People are
dirty, Dom. You should know that.
But I played by the rules.
That's your problem.
You're a fucking criminal.
Criminals don't have rules.
There's a code of ethics. There is!
And where did that code get you?
12 years alone, a dead wife
and a daughter who hates you.
You don't know!
Everyone knows.
You played by the rules in jail and
you got screwed when you got out.
You played by the rules here
and you got screwed here.
You're a dumb criminal,
Dom. A dumb man.
Now take off your trousers.
Lestor.
Now.
Now!
Safe security.
- I'll meet you at the place near the place.
- Right.
You can't fucking catch me.
Oh, fu... Oh, fuck...
Oh, fuck...
Hey, you lot need a back-up
singer, I am available.
What do you want, then?
What? Nothing. I just
wanna say hello.
You look like shit, but at least you're
standing up. That's an improvement.
Yeah, I got that going.
Tell me something, Dom. You know
how old I was when you went away?
Can your fogged-up, whisky-soaked
brain go back that far?
Yeah, 'course.
I remember being in my room
and hearing mum yelling at you when
you left. Do you remember that?
She was just pleading, begging
with you to strike a deal.
If you'd have testified, you'd
have got two, maybe three years.
You'd have been out
before I was 13,
before mum got sick,
before mum died.
I wanna make up for lost time.
That's why I'm here.
I don't.
Come on, now. I made a mistake.
I'm a fucker and I'm a failure.
Oh, Dom, I'm leaving.
I have to go. I...
I don't want you coming
round here any more.
I don't want you coming round
my house or my son, OK?
I don't want to see you.
You have done very little
for me in my life, Dom.
Please, just do that.
It's Dad. It's Dad. It's not Dom.
Evie.
What, Dom?
I'm gonna go and see your
mum's grave tomorrow morning.
I wondered if you wanted
to come. I ain't seen it yet.
What, the grave Sandy
Butterfield paid for,
the guy you beat the shit out of?
Yeah, that one.
I thought it would be
nice if we went together.
You could bring your boy.
You know what would have been
nice? Having a real father.
But I didn't get one, Dom.
I only got you.
Melody.
Wait!
Wait!
Melody!
Melody!
You said I'd have good luck.
Dom Hemingway.
I was so worried about you.
But you're OK.
No, I'm not... I'm not
doing very well, actually.
You said I'd have good luck.
I've had nothing but shitty luck.
I'm so sorry to hear that, Dom.
If I hadn't stopped and helped you,
I'd have had time to save
my money from being stolen.
But you saved my life.
You stopped to save my life.
- I know.
- You did the right thing.
Not everyone would, but you did.
I told you the good luck would
come when you really need it.
Well, I really need it.
- Then it will be.
- How?
What do you want
most in the world?
My fucking money!
- That's what you want most?
- Yes.
- You sure?
- Yes!
- Really?
- Yes.
No.
I want her to talk to me.
Forgive me.
My daughter.
That seems a little better.
Yeah, well...
Just by picking her,
you've already shown
that the pendulum of luck
is swinging your way.
What the hell does that mean?
Love is what you make, Dom.
Oh, Keethy.
I fucked up, didn't I?
And not one of my
minor Dom fuck-ups.
Like spending all our money
down the pub with Dickie.
Going out to a football match
and staying away a week.
Burning down that housing
estate in Leeds by accident.
No.
I fucked up royally.
I didn't get to say goodbye to you.
I never got to say goodbye and
kiss you goodbye, my sweet girl.
Now all I got is this dirt,
fucking grass and dirt in me
hands, and not your sweet face.
Your sweet, beautiful face.
I was a stupid fool.
I lost you.
I lost out on our
Evelyn's childhood.
I lost the two most important
things in my life.
And now you're gone...
and our Evie...
she hates me.
Oh, Keethy...
Beautiful, sweet Keethy. My life.
My heart.
I'm gonna try and make
things better with Evelyn.
I really am.
She hates me now
but I'll wear her down,
bit by bit.
Day by day.
Hour by hour, I'll seduce
her with my kindness.
I'll blanket her in
warmth and security.
I'll confound her with my decency.
She'll resist my charms
for only so long.
After all, I'm Dom Hemingway.
I'm Dom Hemingway.
I'm your Dom.
Come here. Sit down.
Give us your hand.
That's your grandmother.
Keethy, or Katherine.
She never much liked the dark ones, but
I think she'd have really liked you.
I didn't think you'd come.
Couldn't well take the
bus himself, could he?
Can I walk with you a bit?
In silence, I promise.
Total silence, like... Like a mime.
Like an old lady who lives
in an attic on her own
and stuffs her cats
after they died.
Not today.
Someday, then, eh, maybe?
You can walk Jawara to school
on Monday morning if you like.
If you can wake up that early.
Don't get too pissed
the night before.
Right, then.
Well, I'll be the Vatican's cunt.
I'll see you later.
Right, let's go in.
Paolina! Hello, darling.
Fancy seeing you here in London.
Why didn't you call me?
We could have gone out for a drink,
had a tone-deaf sing-along
to some old records.
Paolina, who is this?
I don't know who this man is.
Oh...
I'll tell you who I am.
I'm the fucker who'll tear
your nose off with my teeth.
I'm the fucker who will gut
you with a dull cheese knife
and sing Gilbert and
Sullivan while I do it.
I'm the fucker who'll dump your
dead body in a freezing cold lake
and watch you sink to the
bottom like so much shit.
I am that fucker.
That's the fucker who I am.
And if you say one word
when I remove my hand,
I'll do all that to you right now.
You say one word and you'll be as useless
as a dried-up, fetid condom after bad sex.
Do I make myself clear?
Do my words translate to you?
If you understand my words, nod.
That's good.
After much heartbreak and ruin,
the pendulum of luck has finally
swung back to Dom Hemingway.
And I intend to enjoy each
moment of its fickle pleasure,
whether it lasts for a minute,
a day or a lifetime.