He Kills Coppers (2008) s01e01 Episode Script
Episode 1
We're getting the lot: fraudsters from Mexico, dipsters from Italy, drug-pushers from Holland and, believe it or not, we're getting second-storey hotel thieves from America.
I never knew they played the game.
I personally nicked a couple of Argentinians doing the three-card trick on Tottenham Court Road last week.
The home crowd are no better.
Pick-pockets, stall and hook merchants.
Kids on the wiz.
Nipper Read's World Cup Clean-Up Squad.
As temporary secondments go, it wasn't bad, a bit of fun maybe.
Cleaning up the West End for the tourists.
I was fresh off the 1 year special class at Bramshill College, waiting to make my way up to Flying Squad.
Eyed with suspicion by old-school coppers who'd been around longer, but hadn't got as far, not that I gave a shit what they thought.
I was a bloody good thief-taker and I knew where I was going.
Frank.
Jon Young.
We were bucks together in Shepherds Bush and best mates ever since.
We made a good team.
We're a great double act, sir, We compliment each other.
You'd be mad not to pair us up.
- All right, Taylor.
- You won't regret it, sir.
Sergeant, bring me those boxes, please.
- Same old Frank.
- What? Asking if we can be partnered-up before asking me.
Are you complaining? No.
No, I'm not complaining.
Well, good.
You could do a lot worse.
Just as long as you behave yourself.
The draw of the World Cup brought in tricksters of every ilk, but it was clipping that took up most of our time.
The tart promises a punter sex, gets the money up front and then arranges to meet them later, only she never shows up.
Sure, it was hard to catch'em in the act, but if she takes the punter to a club, you can do her for soliciting under the '59 act and turn the place over while you're at it.
Here comes trouble.
You might not have noticed at first.
But your second glance - that was the killer.
Because that was when you realised how beautiful she was.
Fancy a good time boys? And it was like you'd discovered her.
I know a great bar.
You can buy me a drink? To Jeannie.
Our hostess with the mostest.
All drinks are de-alcoholized by law.
- It's the law.
- Well, never mind.
More Champagne! Thing is Jeannie, my friend here is looking for a good time, aren't you, Jon? Do you think, Jeannie, as our hostess, you could arrange something? Yeah, maybe.
We'll see.
Gentlemen, it's time you settled your bill.
- What are you talking about? - 30 quid?! You expect us to settle this? I most certainly do.
All right, let's settle this.
We are police officers and you're fucking nicked.
Gentlemen, let's not be hasty.
Maybe you would like a real drink? A real drink.
We all know what that means - a nice little envelope.
I could see this winding Jon up and then Jeannie really let the cat out the bag.
But we've already paid.
- What do you mean? - She doesn't mean anything.
Paid who? I mean, "you've already paid".
Yeah, well, we haven't.
Paid who? Right, you're nicked darling.
- Blimey, something's going on.
- All right Show's over.
Go on, piss off.
Go on.
Hop it.
And you.
Go on.
So the club bungs some to the Old Bill.
Happens.
Yeah? Well, it shouldn't.
I don't like it any more than you do.
You're off to Flying Squad and don't want to make waves? Yes.
That sort of shit sticks to you for good.
We've got special circumstances, Cleaning up Soho from top to bottom.
If we can't catch these hookey coppers now, we never can.
- All right.
All right.
- Come on, Frank! Get her statement.
Go on, mate.
She naming names? No.
Watch her for me.
I'm going to Nipper with this.
With what? Let me have a go at her.
The old good cop, bad cop? Fun's over, Jeannie.
All the clip joints are being closed down, but your boss will have other plans for you.
How long will you keep me here? Nice little flat in the cheap end of Mayfair.
A new punter every quarter of an hour.
You think the sun shines out of your arse, don't you? We'll start with your boss's name.
- Arthur Springer.
- And I'm the Queen of Romania.
Attilio.
- I don't know his last name.
- This business about bribing policemen? I don't know nothing about that.
- That's what you told my friend? - Yep.
If that's your story, better stick to it, right? He wants me to talk, you want me to shut up.
You like my friend, don't you? Yeah, he's a lot more nice than you are.
Do you think you'd give him one for free.
Yeah, maybe I would.
He's a lot more handsome as well.
There I was about to let you off with a caution.
Oh, well, then let me retract that, officer.
He's not my type.
Really? What's your type? Maltese.
Big belly, big cock.
This is just for show.
I hope you appreciate this.
I hope you appreciate this.
I'm gonna keep my mouth shut.
Where do you live? I might look you up.
No promises.
- Well? - Nothing.
She didn't flinch.
- Nice piece, er - Tony.
Tony, yeah.
The public love a bit of squalor.
But they hate it, too.
You get that.
No, there's no chance of a staff job.
I'm a good reporter.
You said so yourself.
Budgetary restrictions.
I can't go handing out permanent contracts.
Jack Appleyard's on permanent contract.
Jack Appleyard's our chief crime reporter! Well, personally, I found his coverage of the Moors Murders a little tired.
- Tired? - He did nothing with the extraordinary forensic evidence, like the dog hairs found on the boy's anus.
I should hope not.
This is a family paper! But he was so fixated with Myra Hindley's hair he missed the real story.
Go on, enlighten me.
The motivation behind the killings, the twisted romantic angle.
It was a classic folie à deux.
Folie à deux? What the fuck is that? Two French birds with their tits out? 80 quid? 80 fucking quid? Everyone's watching the match.
- This is taking' too long.
- What do you take me for? A mug? - A fucking gas meter bandit? - I'm sorry.
- We gotta go! - What do you take me for? - Now! - Shut your mouth! He's having a bloody heart attack! Jesus, Stan, what you gonna do? Give him mouth-to-mouth? - I'm nae here! - You're fucking useless, Stanley! - We never cased the job properly.
- Here we go.
- Bloody amateur hour.
- You are a fucking amateur.
- Speak for yourself! - What you say? I killed people, you prick.
- All right, easy.
- Go on Jimmy, give us the big talk.
Was it the MO? Did I get the MO wrong? What's the MO again? Oh, you don't fucking know.
It's something you picked up in the exercise yard.
I did time with you, you prick.
You think I don't know what you are? We need to hit somewhere else soon.
That bookie.
- Think we should call an ambulance? - Idiot! Meehan, I want you to work something up for me.
- Right.
- How To Spot A Homo.
We'll look at that spy scandal.
We've gotta weed 'em out, these queers and pansies.
Sure, Sid.
So how do you spot a homo? Start with the obvious.
The middle-aged man who lives with his mum, spends all his spare time working with young boys.
Two, the fussy dresser/ over clean man.
Three, the eccentric, unemployed character adored by older women.
Four, the Four The man in the bar who drinks alone, forever looking at other customers over his glass? Exactly.
Perfect! Many as you can and still fit in the Doctor Writes column.
A word with you, Taylor.
Go on sir, tell us.
Tell us I've made Flying Squad? The next 2 weeks, you belong to me, don't you forget it.
Yes.
Oi! Where do you think you're going? Early start.
Why don't you apply? How great has it been working with each other again? What? Me in the Heavy Mob? Can't see it.
Well, seems half of them are on the take.
- That's fucking bollocks.
- No smoke without fire, Frank.
Then I'll say thanks, but, no, thanks.
- You think it's that simple? - I'll find out, won't I? Good for you.
Congratulations, I'm happy for you, mate, I really am.
Always liked me more than you trusted me, didn't you? Actually, I never liked you much either.
Yes.
Excuse me, girls.
You look like you're out of cigarettes? I was trying to give up anyway.
Mind if I join you? So, where are you from? What's it to you? Christ, I'm only asking.
Have you run away or something? You're full of questions, aren't you? Another cup of tea, mate, and one of those frothy coffees for my friend.
No problemo.
Billy.
Sandra.
Pleased to meet you, Sandra.
Jeannie? She's not in! Can I have a Scotch? That's nice.
Unusual.
Got it done in Malaya.
Did my National Service out there.
Was it dangerous? Yeah.
It didn't bother me, though.
I wanted to stay on, join the Paras.
My borstal record put paid to that.
So what do you do now? For work? Oh, you know, this and that.
You all right? Yeah.
I should've got an early night like you.
I've been thinking.
It'd be good to get Attilio's last name? Why? To find out who he's been paying off.
What about the kind of shit that sticks to you for ever? Any big collars, Nipper will get the credit.
Without Jeannie's statement we've got nothing.
Maybe we should have another run at her.
Maybe we gave up too easy? - Short of torture, what else to do? - There's an idea.
No, you're right.
She won't talk.
She won't talk.
Right then and there, I knew we were done as partners, and I was going to have to kick this one into touch on my own.
For Christ's sake, Tony, can we please get out of here? Two minutes! "Incredibly it has become commonplace for British women "to sunbathe topless in certain parts of the Mediterranean.
" - For God's sake, Tony! - Julian! God, doesn't football bring out the norms? Look at them all, norming about.
You shouldn't be on a rag like the Daily Illustrated.
Let me take you to the south of France, introduce you to Somerset Maugham.
Another time, perhaps.
Listen if I do take you, and he sets his hand on your knee like this do not recoil as you do from me.
Little bitch! We've been invited to a party.
Right.
Well, have a nice time.
Come on, live a little.
Who knows, we might find someone for you.
No thanks.
Got a light? This is me.
Wanna come in? Yeah.
That'd be nice.
Police! Open up! All right! I'm coming! There's no need to barge past like that.
All right.
We'll work this out.
Call me tomorrow.
All right.
Goodnight.
Hello, Jeannie.
Busy night? Stay away from my friend.
- The friend you lied to, Frank? - What are you talking about? You told Jon you'd get me to talk.
That's not how I remember it.
Don't think I don't know what you're doing.
Who are you more jealous of? Me or him? - Neither.
Don't flatter yourself.
- Got his interests at heart? - I bloody do.
- And you won't let me ruin him.
What? What? - Nothing.
Just something Jon said.
- What did did he say? You wouldn't believe nothing's going on.
You don't have imagination.
I'd easier to believe if I hadn't seen four different fellas here tonight.
That's why we want to wait.
- There is no fucking "we"! - He's gonna help me get away.
- Get out of this.
- He wants to know what you know - and get his fucking leg over.
- You don't know him at all, do you? I know he's not gonna walk off into the sunset with some tart.
I'm not a tart.
No, course you're not.
I'm not a tart.
What are you playing at? Come on, Frank.
Who are you kidding? No, Frank, come on.
It's a free one.
It's the DC I'm working with, sir.
- He's got friendly with some tart.
- Oh, dear.
- He's a good cop.
It isn't like him.
- Well, it happens.
- What should I do? - Nothing disciplinary, just a return to his old factory.
- Out of harm's way? - Yes, sir.
Well, thank you for bringing this to me, son.
Anything else? Yes, sir.
I wondered if I may be taken off the duty too.
What? Can't wait a bloody week to join the Flying Squad? - Job's done.
Soho's like Eastbourne! - Ambitious, aren't you Taylor? Yeah, I suppose so.
Not too ambitious, I hope? I love the job, sir, that's all.
Final Saturday, tourists gone home, West One's as clean as a whistle.
But no-one else has been transferred.
Just you and me.
Nipper's probably reducing the squad gradually.
- Did you know about this? - About what? Us getting transferred? If you must know, I had a word with Nipper.
You what? Jon, I know you've been seeing that tart Jeannie.
Yeah, to find out who's been taking the bribes from that clip joint.
- Come on, Jon.
- It's the truth.
Why didn't you tell me, then? - Because I don't trust you.
- Thanks very much, mate.
See, the whole idea of good cop, bad cop, Frank, is you both want the person to talk.
Only you wanted Jeannie to shut up, didn't you? - She told you? - You'd deny it? I was protecting you.
You're over the side.
You're such a prick.
That tart could've been trying to set you up.
She's fucking clever.
Oh, come on, Jon.
Jon! How's my Billy been behaving, then? - Ma, please.
Leave it out.
- He'd been with a bad lot in the past.
I'll take care of him, Mrs Porter.
Call me Lily, dear.
Everybody does.
So how's the building firm? Er, yeah, it's erall right.
- Good.
- Got a big job coming up.
Yeah? What's that? It's a er It's a new car park.
Yeah, one of those new ones.
You know, lots of levels.
Well, that'll keep you busy, won't it? Yeah.
I'll be turning work away.
He is a good boy, really - Billy.
It broke my heart when he went inside.
Oh, he has told you, hasn't he? He did mention it.
What was he in for? Well, he broke into a house in St John's Wood.
The silly man wouldn't tell him where the safe was, so Well, you know Billy, he has got a bit of a temper.
I mean it wasn't easy, you know, bringing him up on my own.
I'm just a daft old woman.
Ah.
No, you're not.
I'll tell you something.
Do you want to see something? Look at that.
See? Mummy's little soldier.
I spent my first few days in Flying Squad getting used to procedure.
And picking up wardrobe hints.
Tailor-made suits, rather than off-the-peg Burtons, and leather or sheepskin topcoats, so you look less conspicuous plotted up on surveillance.
But that palaver in the West End had left me itching - to get my teeth into something.
- Frank! - Thanks mate.
- Sure, Vic.
- Settling in OK? - Great, thank you.
- Fancy a job, son? - Definitely.
Something from an informant.
A lorry load of phosphor bronze lifted last week, and my snout says it's in a warehouse in Harlesden.
Get the door, Jack.
Oh, shit, someone must have grassed.
Well, I'd never heard a villain say anything so pat.
Right then I should've been suspicious.
Where's the bronze? And there it was.
My first week in Flying Squad and I'd got a result.
Nice job, Frank.
The warehouse in Harlesden.
Pretty straightforward, guv, really.
Anyway, look erm That's for you.
Sir? My office.
You've probably heard that I set great store by cultivating informants.
And they do need cultivating.
Sometimes you've got to keep your boot on their neck, and other times you've got to sweeten them up a bit.
You with me? Not really, sir.
The insurance reward.
Some of it goes to us and some of it goes to the gang that blagged it with the understanding that we want bodies handed up from time to time.
So the gang informed on themselves? - That's one way of putting it.
- The bloke I nicked for receiving? He'll get his share so he'll gladly do his six months.
That's all that really matters - that things get divvied up properly.
Welcome to the Firm.
- Look, sir.
- Pick it up, Taylor.
Nobody got hurt and everything weighed off nicely with a little sweetener.
It'll buy us information for next time.
Sir, I'd just rather not, if that's okay? No, it's not OK.
Do you know how long it took me to make DI, college boy? 15 years.
No Rapid Promotion Scheme for me, just a long hard bloody slog.
Now, we keep the peace, we take a few heavy villains off the street now and then and the great British public sleeps soundly in its beds.
We deserve a little extra for that, don't we? Let me help you reach a decision.
We believe that trap was meant for your partner.
So this was my dream.
What I'd been working towards all this time.
A firm within a firm.
Dirty cash in a dirty envelope.
I needed to get away.
I needed to think.
What the fuck do I do now? Boils down to the following ninety minutes.
The atmosphere is charged.
The pitch in many places uneven, but the final of the 1966 World Cup has begun.
Come on you, Krauts! Piss off, Jimmy! She's 15 if she's a day.
- All right, love.
- As soon as it's over, they're gone.
Let's hope it doesn't go to extra time, eh, Mrs Mullins? And they have! Germany has equalised in the dying moments.
- What you doing, just standing there? - Get out of the way.
Get out of the way.
Jesus! We're gonna be here a while.
Extra bloody time! This is gonna screw our deadlines good and proper.
Meehan, I want you to get out there and get me some colour.
Make sure you phone it in by six.
Oh, yes! - That was never in.
- The linesman says no.
The referee's said yes! It's in! What's the matter, mate? We won.
- Leave it out, Stan.
- Oi! What? Bread and circuses.
A post-Empire consolation prize.
"In Trafalgar Square the scene is one of deafening jubilation.
" "Jubilation.
" J-U-B-I-L-A-T-I-O-N.
All right? Full colon.
All this for a poncy bloody game.
- Come on, Billy.
- Let's go home.
But we won.
We should be celebrating.
What about Malaya? No celebrations then.
I knew kids your age that didn't make it back.
I just don't like crowds, that's all.
Right, love, let's go home.
"I want three cocks.
" You escaping the rabble too? What? Jon! You all right, mate? You wanna go for a drink or something? - You look like you've had enough.
- Come on, for old times' sake.
Something I want to talk to you about.
What am I going to do? You'll get used to it, Frank.
No.
No way.
No way.
You took the money, didn't you? Yeah.
Yeah, but I didn't have a choice.
Of course you did.
God, you can be such a prick sometimes.
Look, mate.
No, look I am, I'm sorry, mate.
I am.
OK.
- I'll just ask you one thing.
- Frank.
Are you still seeing her? - No.
- No? I think it's for the best, mate, I do.
I know you don't think it, mate, but it is, all right? Couldn't do it, could you? What? You couldn't leave it at "sorry".
For Christ's sake, I'm looking out for you.
I'm your friend.
- You don't know what that means.
- Yeah, Jon, I do.
Friends look out for each other.
Friends tell the truth.
I mean, you always give it to me straight, OK, Frank.
Tell me what I need to know.
- Tell me the truth.
- Forget about it.
Spit it out, you're dying to.
All right.
All right.
I went round her house to warn her off.
I was worried about a blackmail angle, right? And she gave me one for free.
For free.
And the crowds singing You'll Never Walk Alone.
"Do you wanna bet," I think.
But everyone's happy, delirious, so what's wrong with me? And then it hits me.
The dirty money, Jeannie.
I can make everything all right.
I can give Jeannie the dirty money.
I can make her dreams come true and then everyone will love me again.
Even Jon.
No, you don't understand.
I don't want to hurt you, I want to help you.
It's all for you.
You're so pretty.
Really pretty.
We won the cup, Jeannie.
Everything's going to be all right.
It's gonna be all right Everything We won the cup We won the cup Ee aye addio Jeannie? Jeannie?! My false plates are a match for those.
We just nick another blue Humber, stick them on, and they'll trace it back to this one.
Why not just nick that car? What do you think? Well, I think it's complicated, Jimmy.
How many villains get traced through their getaway car? Head up Regent's Park.
What are we doing here again? I heard commuters park here during the day.
It's Sunday, Jimmy.
Oh, shite.
Hurry up! Yeah, I'm doing it.
Wires snapped.
- What's the matter? - The wire snapped.
So er what's the headline gonna be? Front Line Of The Drugs War.
Fuck this! Fuck this! We're hitting something today! Now! Bill, come on, we need a plan.
Don't say nothing about banks, Jimmy, because it's fucking Sunday.
Bill, have a look at the car behind.
What do you reckon? Slow down.
Let it pass.
- The Old Bill.
That's all we need.
- Stay calm.
Ah, shit! It's all right.
Nice and easy, you'll be OK.
What seems to be the problem, officer? You're running around three-handed in the middle of the day? We're off to the pub.
For a game of darts.
We've got a darts team here, sir.
They're some kind of team, that's for sure.
Your tax is out of date.
Yeah, well, I've put in for another one.
- It's in the post.
- Driving license and insurance.
What's in the bag? And the rest.
Empty the bag! Now! - This is out of date, too.
- Give us a break, guv.
Oh, fuck! Bill! Bill.
Just fucking drive! All right, boys, let them go.
Right, no arrests.
We're done here.
There's been a shooting.
Q car in Shepherd's Bush.
- A Q car? - Yeah.
- Shall we stay? - Fuck that.
Let's go.
There's another body under the car, it's a massacre! Get in closer! - Closer! - No way, Tony.
I've got plenty.
I never knew they played the game.
I personally nicked a couple of Argentinians doing the three-card trick on Tottenham Court Road last week.
The home crowd are no better.
Pick-pockets, stall and hook merchants.
Kids on the wiz.
Nipper Read's World Cup Clean-Up Squad.
As temporary secondments go, it wasn't bad, a bit of fun maybe.
Cleaning up the West End for the tourists.
I was fresh off the 1 year special class at Bramshill College, waiting to make my way up to Flying Squad.
Eyed with suspicion by old-school coppers who'd been around longer, but hadn't got as far, not that I gave a shit what they thought.
I was a bloody good thief-taker and I knew where I was going.
Frank.
Jon Young.
We were bucks together in Shepherds Bush and best mates ever since.
We made a good team.
We're a great double act, sir, We compliment each other.
You'd be mad not to pair us up.
- All right, Taylor.
- You won't regret it, sir.
Sergeant, bring me those boxes, please.
- Same old Frank.
- What? Asking if we can be partnered-up before asking me.
Are you complaining? No.
No, I'm not complaining.
Well, good.
You could do a lot worse.
Just as long as you behave yourself.
The draw of the World Cup brought in tricksters of every ilk, but it was clipping that took up most of our time.
The tart promises a punter sex, gets the money up front and then arranges to meet them later, only she never shows up.
Sure, it was hard to catch'em in the act, but if she takes the punter to a club, you can do her for soliciting under the '59 act and turn the place over while you're at it.
Here comes trouble.
You might not have noticed at first.
But your second glance - that was the killer.
Because that was when you realised how beautiful she was.
Fancy a good time boys? And it was like you'd discovered her.
I know a great bar.
You can buy me a drink? To Jeannie.
Our hostess with the mostest.
All drinks are de-alcoholized by law.
- It's the law.
- Well, never mind.
More Champagne! Thing is Jeannie, my friend here is looking for a good time, aren't you, Jon? Do you think, Jeannie, as our hostess, you could arrange something? Yeah, maybe.
We'll see.
Gentlemen, it's time you settled your bill.
- What are you talking about? - 30 quid?! You expect us to settle this? I most certainly do.
All right, let's settle this.
We are police officers and you're fucking nicked.
Gentlemen, let's not be hasty.
Maybe you would like a real drink? A real drink.
We all know what that means - a nice little envelope.
I could see this winding Jon up and then Jeannie really let the cat out the bag.
But we've already paid.
- What do you mean? - She doesn't mean anything.
Paid who? I mean, "you've already paid".
Yeah, well, we haven't.
Paid who? Right, you're nicked darling.
- Blimey, something's going on.
- All right Show's over.
Go on, piss off.
Go on.
Hop it.
And you.
Go on.
So the club bungs some to the Old Bill.
Happens.
Yeah? Well, it shouldn't.
I don't like it any more than you do.
You're off to Flying Squad and don't want to make waves? Yes.
That sort of shit sticks to you for good.
We've got special circumstances, Cleaning up Soho from top to bottom.
If we can't catch these hookey coppers now, we never can.
- All right.
All right.
- Come on, Frank! Get her statement.
Go on, mate.
She naming names? No.
Watch her for me.
I'm going to Nipper with this.
With what? Let me have a go at her.
The old good cop, bad cop? Fun's over, Jeannie.
All the clip joints are being closed down, but your boss will have other plans for you.
How long will you keep me here? Nice little flat in the cheap end of Mayfair.
A new punter every quarter of an hour.
You think the sun shines out of your arse, don't you? We'll start with your boss's name.
- Arthur Springer.
- And I'm the Queen of Romania.
Attilio.
- I don't know his last name.
- This business about bribing policemen? I don't know nothing about that.
- That's what you told my friend? - Yep.
If that's your story, better stick to it, right? He wants me to talk, you want me to shut up.
You like my friend, don't you? Yeah, he's a lot more nice than you are.
Do you think you'd give him one for free.
Yeah, maybe I would.
He's a lot more handsome as well.
There I was about to let you off with a caution.
Oh, well, then let me retract that, officer.
He's not my type.
Really? What's your type? Maltese.
Big belly, big cock.
This is just for show.
I hope you appreciate this.
I hope you appreciate this.
I'm gonna keep my mouth shut.
Where do you live? I might look you up.
No promises.
- Well? - Nothing.
She didn't flinch.
- Nice piece, er - Tony.
Tony, yeah.
The public love a bit of squalor.
But they hate it, too.
You get that.
No, there's no chance of a staff job.
I'm a good reporter.
You said so yourself.
Budgetary restrictions.
I can't go handing out permanent contracts.
Jack Appleyard's on permanent contract.
Jack Appleyard's our chief crime reporter! Well, personally, I found his coverage of the Moors Murders a little tired.
- Tired? - He did nothing with the extraordinary forensic evidence, like the dog hairs found on the boy's anus.
I should hope not.
This is a family paper! But he was so fixated with Myra Hindley's hair he missed the real story.
Go on, enlighten me.
The motivation behind the killings, the twisted romantic angle.
It was a classic folie à deux.
Folie à deux? What the fuck is that? Two French birds with their tits out? 80 quid? 80 fucking quid? Everyone's watching the match.
- This is taking' too long.
- What do you take me for? A mug? - A fucking gas meter bandit? - I'm sorry.
- We gotta go! - What do you take me for? - Now! - Shut your mouth! He's having a bloody heart attack! Jesus, Stan, what you gonna do? Give him mouth-to-mouth? - I'm nae here! - You're fucking useless, Stanley! - We never cased the job properly.
- Here we go.
- Bloody amateur hour.
- You are a fucking amateur.
- Speak for yourself! - What you say? I killed people, you prick.
- All right, easy.
- Go on Jimmy, give us the big talk.
Was it the MO? Did I get the MO wrong? What's the MO again? Oh, you don't fucking know.
It's something you picked up in the exercise yard.
I did time with you, you prick.
You think I don't know what you are? We need to hit somewhere else soon.
That bookie.
- Think we should call an ambulance? - Idiot! Meehan, I want you to work something up for me.
- Right.
- How To Spot A Homo.
We'll look at that spy scandal.
We've gotta weed 'em out, these queers and pansies.
Sure, Sid.
So how do you spot a homo? Start with the obvious.
The middle-aged man who lives with his mum, spends all his spare time working with young boys.
Two, the fussy dresser/ over clean man.
Three, the eccentric, unemployed character adored by older women.
Four, the Four The man in the bar who drinks alone, forever looking at other customers over his glass? Exactly.
Perfect! Many as you can and still fit in the Doctor Writes column.
A word with you, Taylor.
Go on sir, tell us.
Tell us I've made Flying Squad? The next 2 weeks, you belong to me, don't you forget it.
Yes.
Oi! Where do you think you're going? Early start.
Why don't you apply? How great has it been working with each other again? What? Me in the Heavy Mob? Can't see it.
Well, seems half of them are on the take.
- That's fucking bollocks.
- No smoke without fire, Frank.
Then I'll say thanks, but, no, thanks.
- You think it's that simple? - I'll find out, won't I? Good for you.
Congratulations, I'm happy for you, mate, I really am.
Always liked me more than you trusted me, didn't you? Actually, I never liked you much either.
Yes.
Excuse me, girls.
You look like you're out of cigarettes? I was trying to give up anyway.
Mind if I join you? So, where are you from? What's it to you? Christ, I'm only asking.
Have you run away or something? You're full of questions, aren't you? Another cup of tea, mate, and one of those frothy coffees for my friend.
No problemo.
Billy.
Sandra.
Pleased to meet you, Sandra.
Jeannie? She's not in! Can I have a Scotch? That's nice.
Unusual.
Got it done in Malaya.
Did my National Service out there.
Was it dangerous? Yeah.
It didn't bother me, though.
I wanted to stay on, join the Paras.
My borstal record put paid to that.
So what do you do now? For work? Oh, you know, this and that.
You all right? Yeah.
I should've got an early night like you.
I've been thinking.
It'd be good to get Attilio's last name? Why? To find out who he's been paying off.
What about the kind of shit that sticks to you for ever? Any big collars, Nipper will get the credit.
Without Jeannie's statement we've got nothing.
Maybe we should have another run at her.
Maybe we gave up too easy? - Short of torture, what else to do? - There's an idea.
No, you're right.
She won't talk.
She won't talk.
Right then and there, I knew we were done as partners, and I was going to have to kick this one into touch on my own.
For Christ's sake, Tony, can we please get out of here? Two minutes! "Incredibly it has become commonplace for British women "to sunbathe topless in certain parts of the Mediterranean.
" - For God's sake, Tony! - Julian! God, doesn't football bring out the norms? Look at them all, norming about.
You shouldn't be on a rag like the Daily Illustrated.
Let me take you to the south of France, introduce you to Somerset Maugham.
Another time, perhaps.
Listen if I do take you, and he sets his hand on your knee like this do not recoil as you do from me.
Little bitch! We've been invited to a party.
Right.
Well, have a nice time.
Come on, live a little.
Who knows, we might find someone for you.
No thanks.
Got a light? This is me.
Wanna come in? Yeah.
That'd be nice.
Police! Open up! All right! I'm coming! There's no need to barge past like that.
All right.
We'll work this out.
Call me tomorrow.
All right.
Goodnight.
Hello, Jeannie.
Busy night? Stay away from my friend.
- The friend you lied to, Frank? - What are you talking about? You told Jon you'd get me to talk.
That's not how I remember it.
Don't think I don't know what you're doing.
Who are you more jealous of? Me or him? - Neither.
Don't flatter yourself.
- Got his interests at heart? - I bloody do.
- And you won't let me ruin him.
What? What? - Nothing.
Just something Jon said.
- What did did he say? You wouldn't believe nothing's going on.
You don't have imagination.
I'd easier to believe if I hadn't seen four different fellas here tonight.
That's why we want to wait.
- There is no fucking "we"! - He's gonna help me get away.
- Get out of this.
- He wants to know what you know - and get his fucking leg over.
- You don't know him at all, do you? I know he's not gonna walk off into the sunset with some tart.
I'm not a tart.
No, course you're not.
I'm not a tart.
What are you playing at? Come on, Frank.
Who are you kidding? No, Frank, come on.
It's a free one.
It's the DC I'm working with, sir.
- He's got friendly with some tart.
- Oh, dear.
- He's a good cop.
It isn't like him.
- Well, it happens.
- What should I do? - Nothing disciplinary, just a return to his old factory.
- Out of harm's way? - Yes, sir.
Well, thank you for bringing this to me, son.
Anything else? Yes, sir.
I wondered if I may be taken off the duty too.
What? Can't wait a bloody week to join the Flying Squad? - Job's done.
Soho's like Eastbourne! - Ambitious, aren't you Taylor? Yeah, I suppose so.
Not too ambitious, I hope? I love the job, sir, that's all.
Final Saturday, tourists gone home, West One's as clean as a whistle.
But no-one else has been transferred.
Just you and me.
Nipper's probably reducing the squad gradually.
- Did you know about this? - About what? Us getting transferred? If you must know, I had a word with Nipper.
You what? Jon, I know you've been seeing that tart Jeannie.
Yeah, to find out who's been taking the bribes from that clip joint.
- Come on, Jon.
- It's the truth.
Why didn't you tell me, then? - Because I don't trust you.
- Thanks very much, mate.
See, the whole idea of good cop, bad cop, Frank, is you both want the person to talk.
Only you wanted Jeannie to shut up, didn't you? - She told you? - You'd deny it? I was protecting you.
You're over the side.
You're such a prick.
That tart could've been trying to set you up.
She's fucking clever.
Oh, come on, Jon.
Jon! How's my Billy been behaving, then? - Ma, please.
Leave it out.
- He'd been with a bad lot in the past.
I'll take care of him, Mrs Porter.
Call me Lily, dear.
Everybody does.
So how's the building firm? Er, yeah, it's erall right.
- Good.
- Got a big job coming up.
Yeah? What's that? It's a er It's a new car park.
Yeah, one of those new ones.
You know, lots of levels.
Well, that'll keep you busy, won't it? Yeah.
I'll be turning work away.
He is a good boy, really - Billy.
It broke my heart when he went inside.
Oh, he has told you, hasn't he? He did mention it.
What was he in for? Well, he broke into a house in St John's Wood.
The silly man wouldn't tell him where the safe was, so Well, you know Billy, he has got a bit of a temper.
I mean it wasn't easy, you know, bringing him up on my own.
I'm just a daft old woman.
Ah.
No, you're not.
I'll tell you something.
Do you want to see something? Look at that.
See? Mummy's little soldier.
I spent my first few days in Flying Squad getting used to procedure.
And picking up wardrobe hints.
Tailor-made suits, rather than off-the-peg Burtons, and leather or sheepskin topcoats, so you look less conspicuous plotted up on surveillance.
But that palaver in the West End had left me itching - to get my teeth into something.
- Frank! - Thanks mate.
- Sure, Vic.
- Settling in OK? - Great, thank you.
- Fancy a job, son? - Definitely.
Something from an informant.
A lorry load of phosphor bronze lifted last week, and my snout says it's in a warehouse in Harlesden.
Get the door, Jack.
Oh, shit, someone must have grassed.
Well, I'd never heard a villain say anything so pat.
Right then I should've been suspicious.
Where's the bronze? And there it was.
My first week in Flying Squad and I'd got a result.
Nice job, Frank.
The warehouse in Harlesden.
Pretty straightforward, guv, really.
Anyway, look erm That's for you.
Sir? My office.
You've probably heard that I set great store by cultivating informants.
And they do need cultivating.
Sometimes you've got to keep your boot on their neck, and other times you've got to sweeten them up a bit.
You with me? Not really, sir.
The insurance reward.
Some of it goes to us and some of it goes to the gang that blagged it with the understanding that we want bodies handed up from time to time.
So the gang informed on themselves? - That's one way of putting it.
- The bloke I nicked for receiving? He'll get his share so he'll gladly do his six months.
That's all that really matters - that things get divvied up properly.
Welcome to the Firm.
- Look, sir.
- Pick it up, Taylor.
Nobody got hurt and everything weighed off nicely with a little sweetener.
It'll buy us information for next time.
Sir, I'd just rather not, if that's okay? No, it's not OK.
Do you know how long it took me to make DI, college boy? 15 years.
No Rapid Promotion Scheme for me, just a long hard bloody slog.
Now, we keep the peace, we take a few heavy villains off the street now and then and the great British public sleeps soundly in its beds.
We deserve a little extra for that, don't we? Let me help you reach a decision.
We believe that trap was meant for your partner.
So this was my dream.
What I'd been working towards all this time.
A firm within a firm.
Dirty cash in a dirty envelope.
I needed to get away.
I needed to think.
What the fuck do I do now? Boils down to the following ninety minutes.
The atmosphere is charged.
The pitch in many places uneven, but the final of the 1966 World Cup has begun.
Come on you, Krauts! Piss off, Jimmy! She's 15 if she's a day.
- All right, love.
- As soon as it's over, they're gone.
Let's hope it doesn't go to extra time, eh, Mrs Mullins? And they have! Germany has equalised in the dying moments.
- What you doing, just standing there? - Get out of the way.
Get out of the way.
Jesus! We're gonna be here a while.
Extra bloody time! This is gonna screw our deadlines good and proper.
Meehan, I want you to get out there and get me some colour.
Make sure you phone it in by six.
Oh, yes! - That was never in.
- The linesman says no.
The referee's said yes! It's in! What's the matter, mate? We won.
- Leave it out, Stan.
- Oi! What? Bread and circuses.
A post-Empire consolation prize.
"In Trafalgar Square the scene is one of deafening jubilation.
" "Jubilation.
" J-U-B-I-L-A-T-I-O-N.
All right? Full colon.
All this for a poncy bloody game.
- Come on, Billy.
- Let's go home.
But we won.
We should be celebrating.
What about Malaya? No celebrations then.
I knew kids your age that didn't make it back.
I just don't like crowds, that's all.
Right, love, let's go home.
"I want three cocks.
" You escaping the rabble too? What? Jon! You all right, mate? You wanna go for a drink or something? - You look like you've had enough.
- Come on, for old times' sake.
Something I want to talk to you about.
What am I going to do? You'll get used to it, Frank.
No.
No way.
No way.
You took the money, didn't you? Yeah.
Yeah, but I didn't have a choice.
Of course you did.
God, you can be such a prick sometimes.
Look, mate.
No, look I am, I'm sorry, mate.
I am.
OK.
- I'll just ask you one thing.
- Frank.
Are you still seeing her? - No.
- No? I think it's for the best, mate, I do.
I know you don't think it, mate, but it is, all right? Couldn't do it, could you? What? You couldn't leave it at "sorry".
For Christ's sake, I'm looking out for you.
I'm your friend.
- You don't know what that means.
- Yeah, Jon, I do.
Friends look out for each other.
Friends tell the truth.
I mean, you always give it to me straight, OK, Frank.
Tell me what I need to know.
- Tell me the truth.
- Forget about it.
Spit it out, you're dying to.
All right.
All right.
I went round her house to warn her off.
I was worried about a blackmail angle, right? And she gave me one for free.
For free.
And the crowds singing You'll Never Walk Alone.
"Do you wanna bet," I think.
But everyone's happy, delirious, so what's wrong with me? And then it hits me.
The dirty money, Jeannie.
I can make everything all right.
I can give Jeannie the dirty money.
I can make her dreams come true and then everyone will love me again.
Even Jon.
No, you don't understand.
I don't want to hurt you, I want to help you.
It's all for you.
You're so pretty.
Really pretty.
We won the cup, Jeannie.
Everything's going to be all right.
It's gonna be all right Everything We won the cup We won the cup Ee aye addio Jeannie? Jeannie?! My false plates are a match for those.
We just nick another blue Humber, stick them on, and they'll trace it back to this one.
Why not just nick that car? What do you think? Well, I think it's complicated, Jimmy.
How many villains get traced through their getaway car? Head up Regent's Park.
What are we doing here again? I heard commuters park here during the day.
It's Sunday, Jimmy.
Oh, shite.
Hurry up! Yeah, I'm doing it.
Wires snapped.
- What's the matter? - The wire snapped.
So er what's the headline gonna be? Front Line Of The Drugs War.
Fuck this! Fuck this! We're hitting something today! Now! Bill, come on, we need a plan.
Don't say nothing about banks, Jimmy, because it's fucking Sunday.
Bill, have a look at the car behind.
What do you reckon? Slow down.
Let it pass.
- The Old Bill.
That's all we need.
- Stay calm.
Ah, shit! It's all right.
Nice and easy, you'll be OK.
What seems to be the problem, officer? You're running around three-handed in the middle of the day? We're off to the pub.
For a game of darts.
We've got a darts team here, sir.
They're some kind of team, that's for sure.
Your tax is out of date.
Yeah, well, I've put in for another one.
- It's in the post.
- Driving license and insurance.
What's in the bag? And the rest.
Empty the bag! Now! - This is out of date, too.
- Give us a break, guv.
Oh, fuck! Bill! Bill.
Just fucking drive! All right, boys, let them go.
Right, no arrests.
We're done here.
There's been a shooting.
Q car in Shepherd's Bush.
- A Q car? - Yeah.
- Shall we stay? - Fuck that.
Let's go.
There's another body under the car, it's a massacre! Get in closer! - Closer! - No way, Tony.
I've got plenty.