06x02 - Black Shirt

Episode transcript for the TV show "Peaky Blinders". Aired: September 2013 to present.*
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Gangster drama set in the 1900's in England.
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06x02 - Black Shirt

Post by bunniefuu »

Ever since you began
to build your empire,

you've had a crutch to lean on.

MICHAEL: I swear in the name
of Almighty God,

I will take revenge on Tommy Shelby.

That, my friend,
is the finest opium in the world.

Perhaps we can meet after you've spoken

with your wife's uncle, Jack Nelson.

Tommy Shelby wants
to do business with Jack Nelson?

So, speak to your uncle
and get me out of here.

If he doesn't want to buy my opium,

I will sell to the East Boston Jews.

It's Ruby. She's not well.

I'm coming home.

POLLY: There will be a w*r in this
family and one of you will die.

MICHAEL: You've been too busy to
punish the people that k*lled her.

How is the family?

Daddy.

Hello, Ruby.

Come here.

Let me see you.

I missed you. I missed you.

That is a Black Madonna.

What presents did you get us, Dad?

Son.

She's all better, Tommy.

You came back for nothing.

But I'm glad you're back.

Right, before we do anything else,

we're going to go for a drive, OK?

- Let's go.
- What about me?

Yeah, you can come too, come on.

A drive where?

I've asked the driver to take
us to see Dr Robert.

- I want him to have a look at Ruby.
- Why, love?

The appointment is in one hour,
you can stay here or you can come.

Right.

Right, let's go.

[TOMMY GRUNTS AND RETCHES]

[HE COUGHS]

Tommy?

Yeah?

It was all good. Everything was clear.

That is a relief.

- That's a relief.
- Yeah.

Driver's bringing the car round.

- [TAP ON WINDOW]
- Daddy.

Hiya.

Come here.

When did you last sleep?

Not much since we last spoke
on the phone.

Well, now you know Ruby's all clear,
you can sleep.

Yeah.

Lizzie, I am very happy that
Ruby's results are clear.

But still you won't sleep.

I will speak to Johnny
and I will speak to Esmeralda.

[LIZZIE SIGHS]

We could be on holiday.

We could be up a mountain in America.

That wouldn't have been possible.

The man I'm dealing with is coming
to London. I need to be there.

No escape.

We will escape, Lizzie.
One last deal to be done.

It'll be difficult.
Difficulties are to be expected.

This is why I must move
from item to item.

Do you feel that?

Do you feel anything?

You know, you talk as if you're
watching everything on a screen.

When we go home. When we go home,

we'll give the kids to Frances,
and then you and me will go to bed.

And I will be the next item.

- That's how it feels now, Tommy.
- Yeah.

Everything on a list.

- Hey, baby.
- When are we going home?

[THUNDER ROARS]

- [LOUD THUD]
- [GLASS SHATTERS]

Tommy? Tommy?

[MEN GRUNT]

[DRAMATIC MUSIC PLAYS]

Tommy? What's happened?

f*ck, f*ck.

f*ck.

Tommy. Come here. Come here.

What's happened?

Tommy.

[MUSIC STOPS]

[TOMMY BREATHES]

It is four years...

...one month and six days

since I had a drink.

My head is clear.

I am myself.

Is this the first time?

Once on the ship back. Not as bad.

Tommy...

...you need to see a doctor.

I've work to do.

It's the work that's to blame.

The people you meet,
the lies that you tell.

We're going to keep going till
the Boston business is done.

Then we rest.

Then we Peaky Blinders f*cking rest.

Comrades, before we
end this planning meeting

- and send you out into the rain...
- [LIGHT CHUCKLES]

...we have a surprise.

He just arrived back from
a trade mission to America.

He came back early

and he has insisted on addressing
you volunteers in person.

Comrades,

your Labour representative
for South Birmingham,

Mr Thomas Shelby MP, OBE.

[RAUCOUS CHEERING]

_

I bring with me on
the train from London...

...a message from Westminster.

No. No, no, no, not a message.

Not a message.

An instruction, in fact.

[CROWD MURMURS]

You must be silent.

[CROWD MUMBLES IN DISAGREEMENT]

You must say nothing.

Say nothing about the present
situation in this city.

Say nothing about hunger.

Say nothing about jobs.

Say nothing about pay.

But those in greener pastures,

they may speak.

[CROWD MURMURS]

They may raise their voices.

[CROWD YELLS INDISTINCTLY]

But here in the smoke,
you men and women,

Irish and Italian

and English who support
the Socialist cause...

And even your socialist cats and
dogs and canaries.

[CROWD LAUGHS]

...you must hush.

Because the King, and all the King's
horses and all the King's men...

[CROWD CHUCKLES]

...want you to be silent.

But it is you, my friends,
who must suffer

the cuts in wages and
in welfare and in dignity.

And you must not complain,

because that would be unpatriotic.

You soldiers, who have fought in France,

you are traitors if you speak up.

You veterans of their wars
and their booms and their busts,

it is you who must take the blows,

and carry the burdens
for the sake of those

in greener pastures who bellow at you...

[HE SLAMS HAND]

..."Silence".

[CROWD YELLS IN DISSENT]

Well, watch this, comrades.

I will not be silent.

Not this Englishman.

[CROWD CHEERS]

No silence from me.

No silence from me,

because I have heard your voices
when you come to me

and tell me about
the cries of your hungry children,

and I will gather up every
single one of those cries

and I will take 'em with me
on the train to Westminster...

[CROWD CHEERS]

...and I will let them out
of the bag in the House of Commons,

and let them try to silence that, eh?

[CROWD CHEERS]

[TOMMY SPEAKS INDISTINCTLY]

Shouldn't that involve
some sharing of the burden?

All of us taking
a smaller slice of the cake, eh?

After all, it's bloody us
who bakes the cake

and makes the cars and melts the metal.

And the King, remember him,

the man who ordered all of this,

shouldn't he be taking some of the cuts?

Eh, some of the blows?

Some of the pain? No or yes?

CROWD: YES!

Hush.

Hush, you working men and women.

Silence.

Good.

WHISPERS: Save your voices.

You are going to need them on
Saturday when we rally together

at the Bull Ring Market...

[CROWD CHEERS]

...and together, we'll raise the roof,

we'll break the damned silence...

...and bring down this broken
government.

[CROWD CHEERS RAUCOUSLY]

[CROWD CHANTS]: Tommy, Tommy.

Tommy, Tommy...

Thank you.

Laura McKee.

Battalion Commander, Fermanagh IRA.

You missed the first and second act.

Thank you for coming, Mr Shelby.

Thank you. Thank you.

The third act was enough.

You both have reasons to hate me

and to want to seek revenge
for the k*lling of...

Sh.

Gypsy tradition.

We do not mention the name of
the dead in company.

Laura McKee,

in the Shelby family,

business comes before issues
of vengeance.

Our beloved departed would
understand and approve.

Let's go, boys.

Our agreement was we meet
in a crowded place.

No need for crowds.

We need you alive.

After you.

You know, Mr Shelby, even though
we've been doing business for a while,

we've never met in person.

You spoke with passion and compassion.

You understand forgiveness

and you drink water.

Yet I heard from many reliable sources

that you have a reputation
for moral turpitude.

[TOMMY SNIFFS]

"Moral turpitude".

It's a good name for a racehorse.

You don't know what it means?

I know what it means.

It means you f*ck people.

f*ck people over. Don't give a f*ck.

It means you covet and steal

and burn all principles
for the sake of self-interest.

Well, I'm changing, Laura McKee,

and my organisation is also changing.

So, what happened in Boston?

Jack Nelson said no.

Are we accepting "no" as an answer?

These are letters written to

and by Jack Nelson
over the last three months.

[TRAIN RUMBLES PAST]

This...

This is a private letter from
the President of the United States.

Where the f*ck did you get this?

My racehorse, Moral Turpitude,

is just one of many in my stables.

Sometimes even now I'll
take her out for a run,

if there is a good cause that
requires her services.

Jack Nelson's coming to London.

Officially, he's coming
to buy liquor import licenses.

Unofficially, he's on
a fact-finding mission.

He's come to measure the strength of
support for fascism in Britain.

He'll report back to the President.

And how does that help us?

In this letter to his son,

Jack Nelson expresses
strong support for fascism.

In this letter to a friend in Berlin,

he says some, erm,
interesting things about Jews.

He's not coming to Europe to find facts.

He's coming to find proof
that fascism will prevail.

And you and I are going
to help him in that task.

I thought you were a socialist.

Well...

...since I've entered politics,

I've learned that
the line doesn't go out from

the middle to the left and the right.

It goes in a circle.

I'll show you.

You go far enough left,

eventually you'll meet someone
who has gone far enough right

to get to the same place.

Working-class socialists like me,

working-class nationalists like you.

The result?

National Socialism.

And that's me,

in the middle.

Just a man trying to make an honest
living in a very dark world.

You have friends in Dublin, Laura McKee,

who are actively fighting for
a Fascist Ireland.

And you are acting on their behalf,
ain't you?

When Jack Nelson comes to London,

I can give him access to Oswald Mosley

and to Fascist sympathisers
in the House of Commons

and the House of Lords,
on both sides of the divide.

Fascism is quite the thing...

...among the very best people.

And with your help,
I can also offer him Dublin.

And you think this will allow us
to ship our merchandise to Boston?

Perhaps.

There may be other
benefits for your cause.

All you have to do
is sit with Jack Nelson

and talk to him about a new "golden age"

and let him put a pin in
the map of Ireland

for the President of the United States.

[FOOTSTEPS APPROACH]

I came to collect
Arthur and put him to bed.

I found him in the Garrison Lane
with a syringe in his hand.

[TOMMY SIGHS]

A friend loves at all times...

...but a brother is born for adversity.

Proverbs , .

I have two brothers in need,
but yours is the more urgent, Tommy.

Will you come with me?

So, Laura McKee...

...are you going to help me
change the world?

Mr Shelby, this meeting
is not what I expected.

Never is.

Is that a yes or a no?

My answer's yes.

The answer's always yes.

The back door is unlocked.
You can let yourself out.

And tell your friends back home,

Tommy Shelby has changed.

Where is he?

When I found him, the syringe was empty.

He was sleeping it off on the cobbles.

sh*t, Tommy. sh*t.

It's all under control, Ada.

Well, I'm not under f*cking control.

I'm not you, Tommy,
and I'm not Polly either.

Even though I'm trying to be.

She would have stopped this.

We will pull Arthur through this.

I'm not talking about Arthur,
I'm talking about you.

I heard everything
you were saying in there.

Ada, this will be the end of it,
do you hear me?

This is the way out for all of us.

And along the way, I will be doing good.

No, along the way,

you're going to
make yourself a lot of f*cking money.

All right, fair enough.

Any incidental rewards
for my good work will be welcome.

But you will get - your fair share,
sister.

[SHE SCOFFS]

And by being among the Fascists,
by being among 'em,

I can undermine them.

Polly would approve.

Beneath all the gold and diamonds,
and f*cking,

f*cking mink and lace,

she was a solid Socialist.

[TRAIN RUMBLES OVERHEAD]

Look, I know it's too late for this,
Tom, but...

...this doorway,

this same f*cking doorway.

We used to come here for Dad's beer

and we were so little it took two
of us carry one bucket.

Yeah, I remember.

Look at us now, eh?

Yeah.

f*cking look at us.

Take a good look, Tom,

cos one of us isn't going
to be here for long.

f*ck, opium and presidents!

Ada, if you don't want
to help me carry the bucket...

...then I wouldn't blame you.

But this is my mission.

And I will have no limitations.

Where are you, Tom?

Hm?

My big brother?

You know you used
to stop sometimes and laugh.

Do you even remember this place?

You walk into the Garrison like a
stranger and you sip f*cking water.

But I'm alive, Ada.

Yeah.

And you're still looking for trouble
big enough to k*ll you.

Well...

...I think you might have found it.

I have children, Tommy.

You have to carry
this bucket on your own.

One brother half-dead in
the rain in Garrison Alley

and the other has no limitations.

[MUSIC IN BACKGROUND: Nessun Dorma
By Puccini]

I'm expected.

♪ Dilegua, o notte ♪

♪ Tramontate, stelle... ♪

Oh, and Mr Solomons no longer tolerates

the smoking of tobacco in his presence.

♪ All'alba vincero ♪

♪ Vincero ♪

♪ Vincero! ♪

I always thought that opera was just
fat people f*cking shouting.

Yeah. What do you think now?

I think the sound of a tenor
in full passion

reminds me of the crying
out of Italian soldiers

when they had my bayonet inside them.

Ever since my own death,
I have been somewhat haunted by it.

Dear me.

But instead of fighting
these voices, I decided

to write their songs down, y'know,
turn them into an opera of my own.

Do not light that.

No. No. Were you not told?
I have a condition.

What I was told, Alfie...

...is that you have withdrawn and
that you spend your days alone...

...obsessing about opera singers.

Opera's not f*cking singing, is it?

It's not singing.

It is the sound that people make
before words.

And I do not allow smoking because
I do need to see f*cking clearly,

all right?

What, do you sense weakness
in the Israelite?

- Not a sense of weakness, no, Alfie.
- Huh.

A certain knowledge of it.

Since you have been sat
here... writing your opera...

...a member of your family has d*ed.

Charles Solomons. Your uncle.

He ran all the narcotics,
bootlegging, prostitution,

gambling syndicates out of east Boston.

But last January, poor old Charlie,
well...

...he was sh*t in the Cotton Club,

in the lavatory, by men that you know.

And yet you did nothing, Alfie.

[LOUD CLANGING]

Now my opera is called America.

America is my f*cking masterpiece.

The truth is, your uncle is dead.

Boston is gone and you,

once the big man who ran Camden Town,

now can't even extinguish
another man's cigarette.

Let alone his f*cking life.

- You need favours, Alfie.
- I need a f*cking final act, right.

Just a final f*cking act
for my opera. Yeah?

Alfie, I think I may have written
your final act.

Why don't you sit down
and have a listen, eh?

I have five tonnes of pure,
refined opium

sitting in one of my warehouses
in Liverpool.

I have safe storage
off the coast of Canada.

I have men willing
to distribute it in Toronto,

Quebec, New York and Boston.

The income would be immediate
and would shift the balance of power

in Boston back in the favour
of the Solomons family.

In the final act
that I am giving you, Alfie,

it is you who takes the revenge.

Why would you sell?

The Irish are being difficult.

The Italians are not an option.

Also, Alfie, you are my friend.

- Pay you with credit?
- No.

- Oh.
- I will take property.

You own half the warehouses in Camden.

I would take them and knock them
down, build houses

- for the needy and the deserving.
- Oh.

[ALFIE GROANS]

Yeah, well, the, erm...

The Irish have always been
difficult, Tommy, ain't they?

For about f*cking years.

[HE SNIFFS]

You know that I once saw
an Irishman arguing

with the statue of Oliver Cromwell
in Parliament Square.

The argument went on for quite
a while, actually.

It went into the night and his
little voice echoed all around

the Houses of Parliament as he got more

and more angered at
Oliver Cromwell's reluctance

on what to answer his legitimate
questions.

So angered, in fact, that eventually

he punched the statue on the nose

and broke his f*cking hand.

And there it is, y'know.
The Irish question, innit.

How come you can remember so much
about what happened years ago,

but you just can't remember
what f*cking happened last night?

[ALFIE SIGHS]

How much is a tonne?

Johnny.

Only me today.

Jack says a few more weeks...

[KEYS JINGLE]

- ...Then you'll be free.
- When do you travel to London?

Tomorrow.

I came to say goodbye.

When you go to London,
stay away from the devil.

Block your f*cking ears if you have too.

I will be with you, Michael.

I've been thinking about you.

Only you.

And don't worry about Tommy Shelby.

I have no interest in a dead man.

Jack says he has to die.

Well, you tell Jack to wait.

If anyone is going to k*ll
Tommy Shelby...

It will be you. I know.

I told Jack.

And Jack said, "OK. Let the kid do it."

And in return, he can collect
the cash that Tommy won't.

Five million dollars.

The devil will be dead.

The future belongs to us.

Oh, and, erm, Michael.

Every night...

...midnight in Boston, am in London...

...I'll be wide awake in my big
wide bed,

and you'll be wide awake
in this prison cell.

And our souls will come together,
and we'll f*ck.

I won't need an alarm clock.

And you won't sleep until I'm done.

Midnight fucks am.

Every day.

Because we trust each other.

Hm.

[RAISED VOICES]

[ROCK RIFF]

You're a traitor, Shelby!
You're a f*cking scab!

Darker.

Bluer.

Sharper.

And also from below.

Darling, how is that?

You look absolutely terrifying, my love.

f*ck lipstick.

Fun.

[SHATTERING]

To launch the ship.

A long and terrible journey, Diana.

Don't f*cking let me down.

Mr Shelby! Mr Shelby! Daily Mirror.

Off!

May I ask why a socialist MP
would attend a Fascist rally, sir?

Let him in, let me answer the question.

Mr Mosley's constituency borders my own.

We have worked together in the past.

He was once a socialist himself.

My role here tonight
is to... to act as a bridge

between ideologies.

I am in the middle.

Mr Shelby, you once shared
a platform with Mr Mosley.

Will you be sharing the
stage with him tonight?

No. I am simply here to remind my friend
Mr Mosley

that the way of the British people
is compromise.

And you can print that, pal.

f*cking rag.

Lizzie, you should know Mosely's
wife d*ed six months ago.

Give him your condolences, will you?

Tonight, he will be with his mistress.

Who is apparently
a Lady of some standing...

...and has given him great comfort
in his time of grief.

ARTHUR: f*ck off, you dozy bastard!

- Move out of my f*cking way.
- What is Arthur doing here?

Mosley invited him. I agreed.

Arthur made me a promise,
which he appears to have broken.

Move. I said f*cking move.

I tried my best.

- He hid some junk in his sock.
- OK.

Move along.

[RAISED VOICES]

Oi.

- Tommy Boy.
- Come on. Get in. Get in. Come on.

Tom, tell them to f*ck off. My brother.

Tommy. Johnny Dogs.

Mosely invited me.
He said wear a black f*cking shirt.

I said I would look like every other
bastard.

- Lizzie.
- Come on. For f*ck's sake.

You're an angel.
I know I've f*cking let you down.

I've f*cking let you down,
I know I have. All right?

I've f*cking said sorry a million
times and I'll say it again.

- I'm sorry, all right?
- Yeah?

I'm f*cking sorry. Look at Johnny Dogs.

f*cking look at the state of him.

He looks like a f*cking waiter.

- Oh, Shut up.
- Get me a f*cking drink.

Johnny, take your shirt off
and give it to me.

For f*ck's sake, Tommy.

Take your f*cking shirt
off and give it me now.

Get it off!

Arthur, this is my fault.

- This is my fault.
- Yeah.

Remember, we voted on getting
involved in the opium trade?


- You voted no.
- I said no.

Remember, I overruled you.

- I've not been here, I've been away.
- Where have you been, Tom?

Ada tells me you've been hanging
out with Mosely?

- Yeah, he's...
- Yeah?

Yeah,
in his big beautiful f*cking house.

Had parties there in Belgravia.

And they give me f*cking respect.

And what do you give them?
Snow and junk from the company.

Look at you, brother.

Half of you has gone.
Half of you has gone.

[LOUD SMACK]

- The f*ck!
- Rag and bone.

You f*cking slapped me.

You slapped me.

I have to remain unresolved.
Do you understand?

Unresolved. Unresolved in everything.

I have to move between left
and right, light and shade.

And maintain the trust of both.

And I cannot have my brother wearing
a f*cking black shirt

on the cover of the Daily Mirror.

If anyone takes my picture in this,

they'll find their f*cking camera
under my heel, Tom.

They are throwing petrol bombs out
there Tommy.

I thought Ada was taking care of you.

Ada's got decisions to make about
working with us.

- She doesn't know what she wants.
- I'll speak to Ada.

- Listen, I'm going home, all right?
- No. You stay there.

I have something for you.

Lizzie, you go with Johnny.
Johnny, take Lizzie to her seat.

I don't have an invitation, Tom.

You're wearing a f*cking black
shirt, you can do what you like.

Go on. I'll follow you. Go on.

Go on, Dogs. Get me a f*cking drink
while you're there.

[ARTHUR GROANS]

I know, Tom. Look at me.

Arthur, before I went to America
I wrote a letter.

Yeah? Who to?

To Linda.

And in that letter I wrote,

"Linda, as a Christian woman,

"do you believe in forgiveness?"

And this is what I got back.
Two days ago. Have a look.

"As a Christian woman, I do believe
in forgiveness."

Yeah, and the word "do" is underlined.

Arthur, I am no Christian.

But I also believe in forgiveness.

So, get yourself clean.

Stay clean for two weeks,
I'll write Linda another letter.

Cos I know where she is.

First, I need you back.

I need my brother.

Got a lot to do.

Need someone to do the real work.

- Yeah.
- [ARTHUR CHUCKLES]

Yeah. Look at your smile, Tom.

Look at your smile, brother.
It's been so long.

Come on. Let's see what this bastard
has to say. Come on.

- All right. All right.
- Come on. Come on.

Yeah, I'm coming.

He is a bastard and all, Tommy.

Black shirts and Jews.
Here we go. Here we f*cking go.

[RAISED VOICES]

Stay in the middle and do nothing, Tom.

But not f*cking me.

Come here you, you n*zi bastard.

- Oof!
- Ugh!

[ARTHUR GRUNTS]

You! You!

Come here, man,
I'll take your f*cking eye.

Not here. Not here.

[LOUD SMACK]

Come here. You've had your fun,
let's go home.

We have business.

[SHE SCOFFS]

Johnny, you get him home.

This time, check his f*cking socks.

[GROANING]

For f*ck's sake.

Tommy, we should get out now.
Forget this American business.

We've got enough.

Not yet enough. Here she comes.

- Remember to smile. Come on.
- sh*t.

[TINKLING]

Ladies and gentlemen,

tonight he has truly earned
your adulation.

The future Prime Minister
of this great country,

Sir Oswald Mosley.

[CHEERING AND APPLAUSE]

f*ck you, Mosley.

[ROCK RIFF]

[RAISED VOICES]

[APPLAUSE]

- f*ck. I look terrible.
- You look beautiful, Lizzie.

I need to impress this woman,

so I will act as if she is
beautiful as well.

Mosely.

Diana, this is Tommy Shelby MP, OBE.

Mr Shelby, Lady Diana Mitford.

Oswald's most recent
and last-ever mistress.

- This is my wife. Lizzie Shelby.
- Beautiful earrings.

Oh, I stole them from Tiffany's.

Actually,
he bought the earrings in Paris.

- We were in Paris on our honeymoon.
- God, I hate Paris.

Hmm. I hear you prefer Berlin.

Oswald and I are going to marry there,
aren't we, Oswald?

Hm.

Mosely, I have business to discuss.

Perhaps you and I could find
somewhere a bit quieter, eh?

Darling, Mr Shelby just made
the astonishing suggestion

that we men go off and discuss business

while you women wait around
looking glamorous.

[SHE CHUCKLES]

Goodness.

What year do you think this is,
Mr Shelby? ?

In Birmingham, the centuries
grind by quite slowly.

But, Mr Shelby, if it's business,

Diana is the engine of my enterprise.

It's the modern way, Mr Shelby.

Yes, we know. I am company director.

I will join the meeting as well.

But of course,
you must come as well, Elizabeth.

By the way, I really don't like
"Lizzie".

I prefer Liberated Elizabeth.
She must be part of this.

She's been all the way to Paris, so
she is a woman of the world. Bravo.

Do you know, Oswald has told me
everything about you.

[CLINKING]

Only three, because I know
these days Mr Shelby doesn't.

Our friend in Berlin doesn't either.

They have that in common at least.

Oh, I imagine they have lots in common.

Report to me, Shelby.

Officially Jack Nelson is in London
to buy import licences.

And unofficially,
he's Roosevelt's envoy.

Well, as you can see from this
private letter,

he is far from a neutral point of view.

Look at the bottom
of the second paragraph.

"Individually Jews are fine
but as a race they stink."

Hm.

Elizabeth,
do you even know why the bridge

to President Roosevelt is so important?

Actually, no.

I don't really know much about this
business at all.

But I have f*cked your future husband.

So, I know lots of things about him.

Tommy, I'll be outside.

Well done, Elizabeth.

[TOMMY CLEARS THROAT]

Do you people want to meet Nelson or no?

Mr Shelby, from now on,
can I call you Thomas?

If you like.

Of course we would.

And we are very grateful
for your efforts.

But, Mr Shelby, before this
enterprise goes any further,

you really must do
something about your wife.

♪ There ain't no grave ♪

♪ Can hold my body down ♪

♪ Oh ♪

♪ Oh. ♪

Mr Shelby.

Yes.

Mr Nelson.

I came early.

I wanted to come and take a look
around this beautiful church.

You're Catholic, Mr Shelby.

I hoped that by suggesting we meet
in church it might make us both

more cautious with lies and truth.

Well, your hope would be forlorn.

- There ain't no-one listening here.
- You don't believe in God?

No.

It was the way Catholics were
treated in my country

that made me angry.

Made me what I became.

What made you angry?

Slowness in anything.

I wanted to have everything already.

Two working-class Catholic boys.

Did they mess with you
when you were small?

Some man in the shadows.

I carried a screwdriver and a blade.

And everyone believed
I had the power to lay curses.

And do you?

Yes, I do.

First man I k*lled was a priest.

You?

A Prussian boy with green eyes,
he was already underground.

When did you last k*ll a man, Mr Shelby?

Four years ago.

His name was Tommy Shelby.

He drank whisky.

You want me to allow you
to enter my city

and deal narcotics that will
k*ll people?

You deal in whisky, Mr Nelson.

I recently read a report
by the Vatican, actually,

which said that whisky
disproportionately kills

more of our Catholic brothers
and sisters,

whereas opium is the sedative

more often chosen
by Protestants and atheists.

In return, there are people in
England who you think I should meet?

Yes. Yes, like minds.

I'm here to buy import licences
for booze.

The booze of the blue blood elite.

In America, we like...

...we like labels and aspiration.

Well, I have a brand of my own
vodka and gin.

You can add that to your portfolio.

I hear Shelby labels are favoured
by the working class.

Indeed. A fact of which I am very proud.

They say you are a poet, too.

No, I only read it.

There are some people in this
country who I'd like to meet.

Fascists.

Not the ones in boots and black
shirts. The ones in tuxedos.

I know men who are friends of the cause.

I also know men who are enemies
of the cause.

For many years now,

I have been working closely with
Winston Churchill,

in many different capacities.

I have his trust.

He's opposed to the rise of fascism.

You, I believe, see it as inevitable.

Well, I can give you men
of influence who support your cause.

I can also offer you a full report
on Churchill's strategies.

All this in return for access
to south Boston.

Alternatively,

you can take on Churchill on your own,

without my intelligence.

And I can sell my opium to the Jews.

You are a brave man, Mr Shelby.

A w*r hero, I hear.

Every w*r hero I ever met,
they're just someone

who wanted to get themselves k*lled.

Do we have a deal, Mr Nelson?

I'll think a great deal about
what you've said.

Ruby, have you finished
your spelling, love?

Ruby?

Ruby?

Ruby?

Ruby?

What are you doing, love?

I can hear voices.

Coming from up the chimney.

- What voices?
- The grey man.

Gentlemen, Mr Thomas Shelby.

Birmingham South.

[THEY HECKLE]

Mr Speaker.

I was raised in a family

that endured living conditions
that would test

the morality of even the most virtuous.

Indeed... Indeed, even the best of
us would have our virtues trounced

and thwarted by life in the meanness

and the bitterness of
an overcrowded British slum.

- What would you know about virtue?
- [THEY HECKLE]

Quickly, please.

Therefore, Mr Speaker, I intend
to put before this House

a bill which will offer radical
reform in housing in this country,

in which slums are cleared
and new houses are built

with new standards
in health and hygiene.

Westminster . House of Commons.

[PHONE RINGS]

The time has come for change,
the people have had enough.

Let's open the windows,
let in new light,

build a new Jerusalem
brick by Government-owned brick.

[THEY CHEER]

Into there.

[SHE COUGHS]

Doctor?

Yeah, Westminster .

Mr Shelby.

DISTORTED: Tickner Maura O Beng,
O Beng over and over again.

- How is the family?
- And one of you will die.

- They are staring at me, Daddy.
- A man with green eyes.

Can you stop the voices?

There are no voices, my love.

It's the grey man.

He says he's coming for me...

...and he's coming for Daddy as well.

[LOUD BLAST]

[HE BREATHES HEAVILY]

[DISTORTED SIGH]

Argh!

[LOUD CRASH]

[METALLIC CLANG]

Argh!

[SHATTERING]

[DULL THUDS]

Argh!

[PHONE RINGS]

[DISTORTED ROARS]

[SIREN SOUNDS]

Argh!

- [SQUELCHING]
- [THEY GRUNT]

- [LOUD THUD]
- Argh!

[CRESCENDO OF NOISE]

[DULL THUDS]

[METALLIC CLANG]

[SQUELCHING]

Argh!

[MUFFLED KNOCKING]

MUFFLED: Mr Shelby. Is everything
all right in there?

[KNOCKING]

Mr Shelby?

Everything's fine.

Everything's fine.

[PHONE RINGS]

- Hello?
- Tommy.

Tommy, she has a temperature
of and nothing is working.

Just get here now.

- Lizzie.
- Please.

Lizzie.

[HE SIGHS]

- Where is she?
- She's with the doctor upstairs.

Listen, Tommy.

He said we shouldn't come close
to her, in case...

In case of what?

When she coughs, there's blood.

Madonna,

put me through to the number
I gave you for Esme Shelby Lee.

♪ On a gathering storm ♪

♪ Comes a tall handsome man ♪

♪ In a dusty black coat ♪

♪ With a red right hand ♪

♪ A shadow is cast wherever he stands ♪

♪ Stacks of green paper ♪

♪ In his red right hand. ♪
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