01x04 - Episode 4

[bunniefuu]

Guess what happened with me and Patrick last night.

Have you fully lost your mind?

You became a man today.

Respect.

I don't want money.

Just a bit of help... Sergeant.

That's right. We're lesbians.

(g*nsh*t)

We've all, at some stage of our lives, considered arming ourselves.

Whether that's because you're concerned about local g*ng activity or perhaps you've achieved a certain level of public recognition and you're worried you could be seen as a trophy by thugs.

That temptation is never greater than when we're in Wit Pro.

But guess what.

It's no more legal to pack heat here than it is on the civvy street.

But you can learn to handle yourself.

You don't need to be Bruce Lee, or the other one, but learning some basic self-defence might help put your mind at rest.

To that end, here's Dan.

Hello, Dan.

Dan's going to put me through my paces.

Dan, let's just say, for argument's sake, I'm coming at you with a broken bottle.

I've obviously been drinking. You can smell it on my breath.

I'm saying anti-Semitic things as I swing for you.

How would you handle that?

Long time no see, Dirty Boy.

I don't go by that name any more. It's just Patrick now.

Patrick...

Oh, very nice. Yeah, very mature.

Distinguished.

You staying out of trouble now, Patrick?

Yep. And I wonder... do you get back to Bristol these days and see your old mates?

There's no need. You know, my life's here now.

The man who's tired of Swindon is tired of life.

Mind if we come in, Patrick?

That depends. Do you have a search warrant?

Now, why would we need a warrant, Patrick?

Have you got something worth finding?

I'll take that as a no, then.

Have a nice day, gents.

We'll be back!

I thought you were really impressive then.

Seriously. Goose bumps.

(Banging continues)

Oh...

Hi, Jackie.

Hello, Sarah, love.

This is my granddaughter, Summer.

Hello, Summer. Are you a lesbian?

Shush!

Summer's been making some cakes, Sarah.

They're two quid.

Right.

Well done, Summer.

We're raising money.

Raising money for...?

For fags.

Well, fags and leccy, mainly.

They're two quid.

Oh, sorry. Yes, of course.

Erm...

Do you know what? I've just eaten... several fig rolls.

Why don't I just give you the two quid and then you can sell my cake to someone else?

Hey, get one of these down you, love.

Divine.

If you like Bovril, you'll love these.

Thanks...

Who was that?

Jackie and her granddaughter, selling cakes.

Ah, bless.

Hey, whoa... Are you not going to eat that?

No. Why not?

Look, there's a lot of EU regulation around food preparation and, at the end of the day, it's there for a reason.

Brussels knows best.

Rhona, don't be ridiculous. A child made that.

Which one was it?

The one who throws stones or the one who throws dog poohs? sh*t.

I can't bin it here. Why not?

I know for a fact that Jackie goes through the bins.

What a prick.

I will take it into town and bin it at the library.

Pretty sure Jackie's not a big book-borrower.

Yeah, but she does sometimes use the computers and do her tweets so they can't trace them from her home.

I'll play it safe, take the bus to the tip.

(g*nsh*t)

(Cat purrs)

Oh, he likes you.

And Smokey is a very good judge of character.

Oh, it's such a shame.

And you're such a handsome young man.

You don't need to be going around with wrong 'uns.

Smokey can tell you're very sorry for what you've done to his mummy.

Smokey's right, isn't he?

And Smokey thinks you'd feel a whole lot better if you took Jesus Christ as your Lord and saviour.

(g*nsh*t)

(Phone buzzes)

"Shut the front door. "

It's him! It's Patrick! I knew it.

Right, fine. But don't answer it.

Shall I answer it?

No. I shouldn't, should I?

Absolutely.

Absolutely I should answer it?

No, no, you mustn't answer it.

No. Yes. You're right.

Oh, but maybe I should. I'm stressed.

I think I need a wee. I don't know if I need a wee or if it's cos I'm stressed because I think I should answer it.

Don't... answer the phone.

(Phone stops buzzing)

Oh...

Well done.

(Phone rings)

Sgt Forrest.

'Tommy...

'Where's the address?'

Oh, now, Ian, little bit naughty.

Shouldn't really be calling me on this line.

Your mobile, then.

Yes, you got me there. It's been a busy couple of days.

Where is the address?

Now, I did say, did I not?

It's no easy thing for me to get.

'Don't care. '

Do better. I don't work for patient people. 'All right. '

Roger that.

Rest assured I am working on it.

I'm working on it... right now, in fact.

(g*nsh*t)

Oh...

I was worried, actually, that this would happen.

That what might happen?

He's infatuated with me.

And because I haven't been in contact he's now experiencing genuine emotional distress.

Hang on. He slept with you and hasn't contacted you for nearly two weeks.

It might be that he's just about struggling by OK.

This wasn't just some casual thing, though, was it?

It wasn't just sex.

Wasn't it? If you'd been there...

I was there. I should speak to him. He deserves closure.

I mean, it will probably devastate him, but in the long term it's kinder.

I want him to be able to move on, you know?

One day, I'd even like him to feel like he can marry.

Yes. But we've talked about this, haven't we, Leanne?

I know, I know, it's too dangerous.

I agree with you. Good.

I just hope I don't do anything in my sleep.

But... there were no birds.

What was to be done?

Well, the park supervisor...

Mate, where was you yesterday?

I spent about £2.50 texting you.

We was meant to be selling. I had to shift double.

Oh, yeah.

Sorry. Praise, bruv.

It smells like sh*t in here.

Mate, there's bare cat sh*t on the carpet.

Oh, yeah.

I'll get it later.

Shouldn't you have, like, a litter tray or some sh*t?

I just chuck them out the window after Mum's gone to bed.

Listen, mate...

I was thinking maybe that I should look after the g*n for a little while.

And before you start, I'm not going to...

All right, then. I'll just... take it, then.

Yeah?

See you, then.

All right?

And the rest. That's it.

Well, you'd best not be skimming. That's all there is, honest.

What the f*ck have you been doing all week, then?

Mate, it's not my fault. It's Appraisal, bruv.

He is not been coming out selling, he's just been sitting in his room, being weird with a cat.

It's him you want to be having a go at, not me. It's not fair.

Wipe your own arse.

What? Wipe your own arse.

If you've got sh*t on your backside, don't expect me to clean it.

Well, I've not had one today.

Right, listen. If your little man's taking a piss, it's cos you're letting him.

I don't want to hear, "Benny, I've got a problem."

I want to hear, "I solved the problem." Do you understand?

Manage your f*cking staff, man.

He's your guy, he's your problem.

Wipe your own arse.

(g*nsh*t)

(Phone buzzes)

I'm saying nothing, Rhones.

I'm saying nothing.

(Phone continues to buzz)

Well, as we discussed, keep ignoring the calls and he'll get the message soon enough.

Because we don't want to risk our lives, do we?

Because we value them, remember?

OK, I know.

Knickers on, Rhones, I'm just showing you. God...!

Radio: If you're just tuning in, this is the agony hour.

Caller on line one, what's your problem?

Leanne: Hello, Simon. Long-time listener, first-time caller.

What it is, is a young man is very much in love with me, but despite the feeling being mutual, due to circumstances, we can't be together and I'm 90% sure he's going to be committing su1c1de this evening.

Now, I know what you're thinking - why can't we be together?

Well, I can say too much, but let's just say I MAY have witnessed a crime that might have been on the news recently.

I didn't get a chance to pick my song!

Guess what I was going to have.

Right...!

If it makes this bollocks stop, you can contact him.

I think that's a wise decision, Rhones, given the facts.

On the grounds that you are drawing a line under this.

Sure, yeah.

Let the poor boy move on.

And there will be no further contact.

Agreed.

Fine.

I was going to have The Ketchup Song.

'Hey, this is Patrick.

'I can't get to the phone right now, so leave a message. '

Patrick, it's, er... Mystique.

We need to talk about our relationship.

Where things stand, where it's going to since that... that night.

That beautiful night the week before last when we had...

S- E-X.

OK, bye.

Is this the entirety of the case file on Gladys Hobbs' m*rder?

I think so, yeah.

I mean, it's literally just sugar, water, fruit.

Blend it, stick it in the freezer.

I'm no chef... and I can do this.

Sugar, water, fruit.

Any fruit you like. Couldn't be easier.

I just feel there must be something here that we've missed.

Anyone who goes out to buy supermarket sorbet wants sh**ting.

There's no excuse.

Seriously.

Will do.

Try it. Sugar, water, fruit.

Blend it, freeze it.

I'm going back to the flat. Give it one more look over.

Any fruit you like.

Make a big batch.

That's dessert sorted for two weeks.

Patrick.

Thank you for agreeing to meet me.

I appreciate this hasn't been easy for you.

Yeah, that's OK. Fine.

Listen, I'm sorry I haven't been in touch. I've been really busy.

Shush.

Sh-sh-sh-sh-sh.

I'm going to speak now.

And I need you to listen.

Can you do that for me?

This, us... it's over.

Yeah.

I know.

OK, yeah. Anyway...

You brave, brave man.

I just hope you don't feel... used.

Like this was some sort of one-night, no-strings-attached, casual, just-for-fun thing.

I don't expect you to believe me, but I hope... with time... you rebuild your trust in women... and go on to be the husband... and father... and friendly grandpa...

I know you could be.

(She sobs loudly)

OK, seriously, don't worry.

It's OK.

Oh, Patrick...!

Somehow... you always say the right things.

Right, OK. Anyway...

No-one...

No-one knows me like you do.

OK, right. Anyway...

I wanted to ask if you would look after something for me.

See, there's been a spate of break-ins amongst the bear restoration community.

Oh, my God!

I know, steal-to-order jobs.

Erm... priceless bears disappearing off to God knows where.

Russia, probably.

That's terrible. Yeah.

So... I'm spreading out some of my most precious bears to friends who are nothing to do with the trade, until this blows over.

And I wondered if... if you would look after Charlie Littlepockets for me.

Patrick... that would be an honour.

And the least I can do, given the way I've treated you.

Great.

Er, I'll be in touch.

Chin up, Patrick.

Chin up.

(Banging on door)

Oh, Sarah, love.

I'm coming in, OK?

You all right, Jackie?

Take a seat, please, love.

I've got something difficult to tell you about Mystique shagging a man.

It's Mystique.

She's shagging a man.

I overheard her on the phone bragging about it.

And I think he might be Irish.

Oh, sh*t...!

That's a bummer.

Yeah, no, I feel like I should cry, but I'm almost beyond tears, you know?

Numb.

That... that's what I am.

I'm so numb you probably can't tell how upset I am.

But I am.

Well, I just thought you should know.

But you know where I am if you want me to twat her.

Sure. Yeah, thanks, Jackie.

Take care, luvvie.

Why haven't you eaten my Summer's cake?

Oh, well, I was saving it.

But do you know what? Now I'm just too devastated to eat.

You've got to eat, love. Otherwise you'll lose your tits.

Er, yeah. No, you're right, Jackie.

Erm... could you just leave, though?

Because, erm...

Well, I only eat in private.

I make quite a weird noise.

Come on, open wide.

No, really, I...

That's it. Good girl.

Dog hair, is it?

That'd just be one of Rizla's.

Don't worry, he's very clean. Washes all the time.

Tongue's never off his bollocks.

(g*nsh*t)

Gareth!

I'm coming in.

Don't come in.

No, I am coming in, because I've got to wash...

Christ, what's that smell?

Mum... I said don't come in.

I'm naked.

Have you sh*t the bed?

Have you sh*t the bed? No!

Christ, it stinks!

We're going to have the bloody council out.

(Miawing)

What the f*ck is that?

Nothing. Nothing.

You can't come in. There's nothing here.

It's not bloody nothing, is it?

It's a cat.

If I say no to gerbils, I ain't going to let you have a cat, am I?

Where's that come from?

It just came in.

I thought it was yours.

Oh, don't talk sh*t to me, Gareth.

You've nicked it, haven't you?

No, I told you.

Probably deprived some poor family of their cat. Let me see...

There you are, look.

Mum, just leave it.

Right, come on, you. Let's get you home.

Probably a better home than this sh*t-hole.

(He sighs deeply)

(g*nsh*t)

Oh, hi, Jackie. You all right?

Disgusting.

What's going on? Go on, let rip.

You, y-y-you blooming well know what's going on, y-you big bugger.

You've been a naughty... twat.

Look, you go, Jackie. I've got it from here.

Oh, no, I want to see her eat sh*t.

You're going to eat sh*t.

Not sure if she means that literally, but, yes, figuratively speaking, you are going to eat sh*t.

What?

Jackie heard you on the phone earlier to your boyfriend - Patrick.

So we know you've been cheating and, as you can imagine, I am furious.

Oh.

Well?

Yes.

I admit it.

I took a lover.

f*cking slag.

And he offers me so much.

He's got a yacht, Sarah, and he does me on it.

And then sometimes, afterwards, we sail on to a pub lunch.

Or Pizza Express.

What have you got to say to that?

You shameless... prossie.

Oh, yeah, that's right. Paint me the villain.

But why don't we talk about your cheating, Sarah Penn?

My cheating?

Remember when we went to that monster truck rally and you got off with Pam St Clement?

(Jackie gasps)

Come on, love. She's just accused you of mucking out Pat Butcher.

You're... selfish.

You don't care about anyone apart from yourself.

Did you ever, for one second, think about me?

What you were doing to me?

My life is in your hands and you risk everything, without a thought, because you wanted to f*ck a stranger.

I think I'll leave you two to this.

You stay where you are!

Anyway, yes, that is... basically, my grievance.

In a nutshell.

I'm not going to lie to you. It wasn't just sex.

I mean, maybe it was for Patrick, but... I really fell for him.

But, I ended it with him today.

For you.

Because you're more important to me.

We're in this together, right?

Yeah.

Friends?

Well, I'm going to leave you two to have make-up sex.

Just shut them curtains. The kids round here are bastards.

They will Snapchat it.

You try it.

Seriously, this weekend.

Sugar, water, fruit.

Just set aside an hour.

You'd be amazed.

It's so simple.

There's no excuse, that's all it is - sugar, water, fruit.

(Phone rings)

You don't have to be a professional.

You don't need any fancy kit.

Everything you need, you have in your kitchen, I promise you.

Hello? 'Oh, hello!

'You don't know me, but I'm ringing because I think we may have your cat.'

My son says he's found it and brought it home without his mother's permission.

Anyway, you probably want it back, so, it's at our house if you want to come over and get it.

Now, I don't really know where you stand on the issue of, erm... reward?

Can I get your address, Mrs...?

Pugh.

So...

Did you?

End things with Patrick?

Cool.

Good. Well, well done.

Thank you.

Let's have a cuppa, shall we?

Yeah.

And a saucer of milk for Charlie Littlepockets.

What's that? He's one of Patrick's premier antique bears.

And he's given you that, has he?

I wish. No, he's just asked me to look after him for a bit while the heat blows over.

What?

International bear robbers want to sell him to the Russians.

Right, Leanne...

I'm 95% sure there's dr*gs inside that bear.

What?!

Now, hang on, Rhones!

I've been willing to listen to a lot of S-H-I-T about Patrick, but he's not a druggie.

Leanne, dr*gs inside a bear.

It's like a drug dealer cliche.

Think about it. Man with underworld connections does antique bear restoration?

Look, I can assure you, there is nothing more sinister inside that bear than carefully sourced German horsehair.

It's pretty heavy, Leanne.

That's because you're not used to handling a high-end bear.

Oh, my God. There's stitching on the back from where it's been opened.

Come on, Charlie Littlepockets.

We don't have to stand here and be insulted like this.

We need to find out what's inside that bear.

I'm opening it up.

That is cultural vandalism.

Let go, Leanne.

You let go.

Oh, well done.

You'd better lawyer-up, missy, cos that's about two grand's worth of damage right there.

Oh, God, what is it?

Is it dr*gs?

No, it's...

It's not dr*gs.

Oh.

It's a g*n.

It's not just "a" g*n, Leanne.

Think about it.

I think it's "the" g*n.

This whole nightmare could be over.

We could be home this time tomorrow.

If you'd like to tell me, in your own words, how you came to have this cat.

Patrick, that's it, isn't it? You're trying to protect Patrick.

No.

Give us the f*cking address.

Shi-i-it!

(Door opens)

(g*nsh*t)