05x02 - Missing Body

[bunniefuu]

'This programme contains
very strong language

from the outset and throughout.'

Oi!

Little Lord Fauntleroy!

Oi! Shirley Temple!

Oh, no, you don't!

These are BRITISH fields

and whatever's found on British
fields, stays in British hands.

What?
I said,

what the f*ck are you doing
scavenging on my field?!

YOUR field?
Correction - this is no man's land.

This is the unoccupied buffer
between our two fiefdoms.

Talk f*cking normal!

I'm just as entitled
to be on here as you.

And I'm not scavenging.

I'm looking for irreplaceable items
that have been stolen,

in the dead of night, from my house.

Oh, yeah. What items?
Never mind what items.

But the perpetrators
made their way across here,

and the beady eye of suspicion
points to your thieving friends.

Hey, that's f*cking libel!
That's f*cking slander...

I don't know what it f*cking is
but it's something.

Imaginary line
right down the middle.

My half, your half.

Now f*ck right off.

Well, I'm warning you -
so pass it on -

I'm going high tech, low tech,

and every f*cking tech
in between over there.

It's gonna be like Alcatraz,
Fort Knox...

Bold Lane car park.

Ah, probably an old f*cking tin can.

Hey. Hey.

This is still my land, so whatever
you find there is f*cking mine!

♪ The best things in life
are free...

Tom! You're being
f*cking unreasonable.

I'm not being unreasonable, right?

I am the proprietor of Hawley's
premiere mobile erotic parlour -

f*ck truck.

Yeah... And as such...
I cannot be sharing

me storage-cum-office space with
my one-time co-assistant manager.

Excuse me! I'm trying to set up
a business for us, Tom, right?

I need a proper desk.
Have you been downstairs, Erin?

Yeah.
It's a pub. It's full of 'em.

I can't run a business
off a sticky pub table!

May I introduce you to your friend
and mine, the humble wet wipe.

You are f*cking sharing.

Oh! What do you want, Jimbo?

♪ DOVES: Black And White Town

JIM: Hey, where do you think
it leads?

Yes, it's quite curious.

Maybe it leads UNDERGROUND,
you f*cking lemon.

Well, obviously it leads
underground, but THEN where?

All right, come on, then.
Let's f*cking see.

Right, here we go. Are we ready?
Yes. Come on.

Oh, yeah!

Well, whatever it is,
it's been here for decades.

Hey. Maybe it's Roman.
It's not Roman!

It's not Roman, you plum.
It's a f*cking padlock on it.

Heave it up.

Oh, my giddy aunt's vag*na!

f*ck dude, it's super big down here.

Come on, Shirley, come on, lad.

Hey, this goes right under my field.
SHIRLEY: It's in MY field.

ERIN: There's a light switch.

Come on, then.

SHIRLEY: I'm getting a vision
of a large circular table

and still seated,
six human skeletons.

Shut up.
ERIN: Stinks.

Come on, Jimbo.
Here we go. Here we go.

Ready?

ERIN: Right, be careful.

Yeah... Wow.
Easy, easy.

Hello!
f*cking hell!

Me f*cking heart! Bastard!
You could have f*cking k*lled him.

Could've k*lled him,
but sadly he's still standing.

f*cking hell.
Ah.

What the f*ck?

Are you joking me?
Are you twisting my f*cking melon?

It's incredible.
ERIN: It's quite damp, isn't it?

Oh, dude look at it!

No way!

There's a f*cking tea cups
and a teapot!

Jeez. Oh, my f*cking God.
Oh, my God.

I'm telling you now, this is
a f*cking w*r bunker, in't it?

It's from the Second World w*r
or summat.

Cables and wires run
all the way through here, yeah?

So, surely we could get f*cking
leccy down here again, couldn't we?

Potentially, yeah.
Well, actually, in that case...

congratulations, Erin, we might
have just found...your new office.

How's about that?
f*ck right off.

No, I mean f*cking weed grow,
you d*ck ends, don't I?

Oh.
Weed grow?

Look at it.
It's bloody perfecto, in't it?

No-one's ever gonna find
this f*cking place. Not one fold.

Never mind
your nefarious activities.

This is heritage, history -
Activities...

That is a good idea, Vin,
and as your new landlord,

I'll be wanting six months rent
in advance.

Is that what you'd like?
Yes.

I'll give it you now, you gobshite.
Ah, you bastard!

This is MY land.

It's MY land!

I can't f*cking believe it.
I swear to God,

I've wanted to find summat like that
since I was a little lad.

I can't believe...a f*cking bunker.

sh*t.
Vinnie, Vinnie, Vinnie.

Who the hell are they?

Those are our old friends
the MacDonaghs.

Make sure they don't f*cking see it.
Keep it out of sight.

Hello, Thomas...other people.

What the f*ck do you two want?

That's not a very nice welcome,
is it, after all this time?

I've been away, Vincent,
having surgery.

Oh, nothing minor, we hope.

I've had a testicle removed -
my left one - most undignified,

but they replaced it
with a marvellous artificial one.

You can barely feel the difference.
Nice.

And now we're back.

And I'm looking to reignite
our business relations.

Nothing to do with Manolito.
No. No way.

We're not working with you again.
Why not, pretty cheeks?

I tell you why, cos since Dylan
went f*cking missing,

we vowed we wanted nothing more
to do with you and we meant it.

And I told you,
after Dylan went missing,

that Barry and I
know nothing about it.

I'm rather fond of Dylan...

and despite our differences,
I wish him no harm.

Well, you're a sweetheart, but
the answer's still a very firm no!

She said you'd say that.
Who the f*ck's "she"?

Our sister, Donna.

Donna MacDonagh?

During my absence, she's got more
involved in the family business.

And she requests a quiet word
with you, Vincent, in person.

Sound.
All right, well, do us a solid.

You go and tell your Donna
to stick a quiet word up her arse.

Hey, hey! Baz, Baz!
Leave him, Bazzy!

Wow!
JIM: f*cking hell!

Argh!

Barry?

No, no, no, no.
Barry?! Where's me Barry?

JIM: No-one knew it was there.
Unexploded mine.

What are the chances?

It was an unused field.
A buffer between our fiefdoms.

Not really owned by anyone,
especially not me.

Or me.
Stop waffling!

My brother's dead...

..in five f*cking pieces.

Six.
Oh.

Just being accurate.
What's wrong with you?

Davey, listen to me, man.

I'm gonna be honest with you
when I say this.

There have been times
over the last few months,

I have wished harm on you
and your brother Baz.

And I f*cking mean that,
but I swear to God,

nobody would ever want
summat like this, man.

It's f*cked. It's awful, mate.

Well, thank you,
for those kind words, Vincent.

I mean it.

Donna's not gonna be too happy
with this.

f*ck, no.
She'll rightly want to find blame.

f*cking hell "blame"!
Hang fire a minute.

Davey, listen to me.

You saw what went down
on that field today.

I ran in the same direction
as Barry.

I jumped right over
the f*cking thing.

It could have easily have been me
that was in...five pieces.

Again...six.
Oh, for f*ck sake.

Why do you keep doing that?
It just feels important.

We know a very good undertaker who
will give Barry a lovely funeral.

We do.
We do and, you know,

now is not the time
to be finding blame.

Certainly not.
It's just, such a sad, terrible...

It is sad.
Horrible...horrible...

Accident.
..accident that's happened.

It's...awful.
Awful.

When we were children, Barry used
to massage my shoulders in the bath.

Aww. That's nice.
Brotherly love.

I'd place a wet flannel
over my face,

pretend I was in a Swedish sauna.

He'd do the accent, too, sometimes.
Would he?

Sometimes we'd be in there
for hours...

splashing about...windows steamy.

All right, mate.
Barry's big hands.

Sweat...

..dripping.
Right. He's in shock.

He's in shock with it all.
He is.

Drinks are on the house!

Barry MacDonagh's dead!
What?

He's dead!

Barry MacDonagh's dead!

Which one's Barry again?

Put this down, dude.

Oh, f*ck me, dude.
This f*cking... Eurgh!

f*cking torso, for f*ck's sake.

Full torso!
PARTIAL torso.

I need to wash me hands.
I feel gross.

Why do you have to be
so f*cking pedantic? Gary!

♪ BACH: Toccata And Fugue in D Minor
Oh, what the f*ck is this?

What are you even doing here?

I'm Gary's new assistant.
Learning the ropes.

Found him on Insta.

How the f*ck have you ended up...

That's bloody bridezilla -

the lunatic who got married
to one of JJ's cousins.

Do you remember?
I'm getting married in three days

and I don't need this
kind of f*cking stress!

Yeah, well it didn't last -
the money-squandering,

limp-dicked twat went to retrain
as a Reiki therapist.

I think he might've dodged a b*llet,
to be honest, Satan.

Where the f*ck is Gary?
'No, we don't bury gangsters.'

That is just nonsense. You do!

You buried Pretty Boy Patel.

'He was a friend of my aunt.'

And Colin Callawalla.
Good memory.

'He was a minor criminal,
mostly extortion.

Have you reported the death yet?'
No.Yes.

I didn't want the cops
snooping around, pointing blame.

'No, listen. You need
a death certificate from a doctor.'

Dude, I'll f*cking get you one.
I'll get you one off Christoph.

Listen, I need f*cking help here.

These f*ckers, they're the reason
Dyldo's gone missing, right?

I mean, Davey's unhinged
at the best of f*cking times,

you know full well.

And now he's lost his brother,
he's capable of...

Jesus Christ,
he's capable of anything, in't he?

'Fine, fine, fine!

But I'm in Vegas until next
Thursday, so get Meena to do it.'

Are yer? What you doing there?

'It's none of your business
what I'm doing.

But if you must know,
I'm at an embalming expo...

..and golfing weekend.'
The mind boggles, honestly.

Hey, Gary, does your laptop do this?

Can you sew a body back together?

I'll do my best.
'I'm still here, you c**ts.'

Oh!

I think, seeing death...
that close up,

it just makes my brain wonder,
that's all.

Do you know it's happening,
or do you welcome it in?

The peace...letting go?

You don't have to f*cking
bother any more, do you?

Shall I give you
a prescription for Viagra?

Why would you?
Why would you, after what I've said?

That's quite the leap, in't it?
What leap?

I'm talking about sadness
and you've gone to hard dicks.

You wouldn't be thinking about death
if you had a five-hour boner.

Knob head.
I'm worried that I'm spending
too much time by myself again.

What about...what's her name,
your friend?

Erin? Well, yeah,
she's great, but I...

..I don't know whether...

f*ck, I don't know.

Well, maybe you need
to talk to somebody.

What the f*ck
are WE doing right now?

Actually, I DO know
a good therapist.

Mmm.

A friend from uni.
Got a long waiting list, though.

They always do.
Does owe me a favour.

Maybe I can get you
an urgent referral.

No, don't. Listen...

I'll be jumping the queue
of a load of sad people, won't I?

That's not fair.
Here you are, Fiona Frank.

I'll get her to call you,
set up a time.

You can pay me back in weed.

Hello, Vincent.
Myself and Donna have been talking

and we would like to honour
Barry's life with a cocktail party,

tomorrow afternoon, 12:30.

Well, 12:30 for one.

She wants you and all your
strange friends to attend.

Dress code: Marvellous.

Oh, and by the way, Vincent,

we need Barry there.

He always loved a cocktail.

'Toodle-oo.'

Jesus. "Dress code: Marvellous"?

What does it even mean?
Flamboyant shirts, bold colours.

Dress code: Tommo. Sold.

I don't mind. Yeah, yeah.

JJ working?
Yeah, he's always working.

Trying to earn for the baby,
in't he?

Shame. I would've loved to see him
dress marvellous.

I'll be your plus one.

I don't like it.
I don't mind telling you

right f*cking now, it's a trap,
is what it might be.

I think they're gonna lure us
into the house, right,

and then Donna MacDonagh, with her
heathenous f*cking hook-like claws,

will stick 'em in my f*cking spine,
in't she, the lunatic.

Why would that happen?
Is she mad or something?

Yes!
Donna...? Put it this way.

Rumour has it she got put away,
three years in prison,

for chopping off a man's finger
with a rusty chisel.

Right, why don't we just go,
drop Barry off and make our excuses?

Well, I'M going! I mean, if she
wants to find you, she'll find you.

Besides, I love a cocktail.

f*ck. She's got a good point there.

We can't walk away from
the MacDonaghs. We've learned that!

sh*t!
sh*t.

Marvellous! It said "marvellous".

Couldn't you put like
a f*cking rainbow headband on?

You're all dark.
Everything's black on you.

I'm an undertaker.

I have to project an air
of undiluted dignity at all times.

I'm starving.
I'm doing these 16-hour fasts.

Right, let's stop en route.
f*ck, no.

We'll get something
when we're there.

At a cocktail party?
That's nibbles, Vinnie.

I need carbs.
Unless you wanna witness me hangry!

Oh, heaven forbid.

A hangry undertaker.

Right, do you want anything?
Need a sh*t.

Think they've got a toilet?
In a restaurant?

It's hardly a f*cking restaurant,
is it? It's a sh*t hole.

Customers only.

I AM a customer.
He's with me.

YOU'RE a customer - you've ordered.
He's not eating.

What? Dude, come on.
What difference does it make?

Rules.

So, say I go in and drop my guts -
that's the same as him doing it.

And it wouldn't even
be as bad as that,

cos I hardly eat anything,
be a little poo.

Sorry. Customers only.

F-F-F-f*cking...you and your
f*cking unblinking lizard eyes,

holding up ludicrous f*cking rules,

about who can poo,
from who can't poo.

I mean, there's not even a f*cking
boss here, no-one of authority.

Only us three would know
I've had a sh*t!

Sorry for shouting.

It's getting urgent. I'm starting
to f*cking crown, dude. All right?

OK, actually, erm, you know what?
I need to go.

Give me the key.

You're just gonna give it to him.
No. No.

I don't trust you.
Hey, I'm a customer. Key, please.

Thank you.

There you go.
Hiyah!

Dickhead!

Well, you should be
ashamed of yourself.

Spiteful pizza.
sh*t!

The coffin's gone.
Oh, f*ck me!

Who the f*ck steals a coffin?

Gary'll k*ll me! He'll fire me.

Know how much they cost?
And that glass!

Never mind the f*cking cost.
Where's sewn-together Barry now?

We have to get it back.
Someone must have seen something.

There's f*cking no-one here!

I can't lose this job, Vinnie.

I'm supporting myself now.
I need the f*cking income.

And besides, I actually like
being round dead people.

Christ. Look, can we just...
Let's just...

Are you serious with that chomping?

Stop doing it.
Are you doing it on purpose?

I'm f*cking starving!
You're doing me in.

I can't think straight with you
chomping like a f*cking oxen!

Don't eat more of it.

Oh, well done, dickhead!

Now it's all over the floor
of a sacred vehicle.

I just can't go back
to Davey MacDonagh's house

without his sewn-together brother.
f*ck, dude!

We have to come up with a plan
and really f*cking quick.

What's all this "we" sh*t?
This is your problem.

I just need
that f*cking coffin back.

We! We share the same
f*cking problem, don't we, you twit!

Christ!

What if...

we go back to Abracadaver,
get another coffin,

weigh it down to Barry weight
and take it to the cocktail party?

No. They might open it.

Why would they open it?

Because he's a f*cking lunatic!

They're having a cocktail party
for a wake, you know what I mean?

We have to prep
for every eventuality.

OK, what if...we put a body
in there, cover the face

and tell them that Gary's still
working on the colouration.

They won't wanna see him
look all f*cking deformed.

f*ck me, that could work. I mean,
no options, have we, f*ck sake.

There's only one problem.

We only have females in right now.

Why the f*ck
would you suggest it, then?!

What's wrong with you?
Oh.

Unless...

Can we not just get the f*cking
old beard man to do it?

Jim?
Can we get Jim to get in the box?

He's almost dead for real.
He wouldn't cope. It's too hot.

Listen, all you have to do
is lie there

and pretend to be f*cking dead.

Listen, if it kicks off,
anything happens,

they wanna check you for any reason,
we'll bang on t'coffin three times.

Now you know it's kicking off,

put your f*cking gauze mask on
and they're none the wiser.

Do you understand?
Yeah.Put the f*cking lid on.

You behave yourself in there.
I'm serious.

You be dead as f*ck.

Right, for the love of God,
let's have it.

Now you lot... Oi.

..sombre as f*ck.

MEENA: f*cking hell.
That must be Donna.

Is this our Barry?

It is, yeah.
Yeah. Yeah.

Why's he in ONE coffin?

Sorry, how do you...
How do you mean?

He blew into five pieces.

Six.
Don't say that. Give over.

So if that was his final state,

if that's what the Lord Almighty
wanted for him,

why isn't he in FIVE coffins?

Six
Oh, f*ck.

Erm, well, we don't
really do mini coffins.

They've sewn him
back together, Donna.

We have.

Well, they better UN-sew him.
Right, then.

Cos I want to see him.
Hmm...

Before the funeral.
Oh.

In pieces.
That's unusual, in't it?

Laid out
on a tasteful sheet of silk.

Right, then.
OK, of course.

Come on, then.

Oh, come on, then.
Let just go and have a...

have a nice time.

OK, Vincent.

♪ MARVIN GAYE: Let's Get It On

See, dickhead? Nibbles.
Yeah, f*ck the nibbles, dude.

How are we gonna get him
laid out on silk

if we've one f*cking body?
Do you know what I mean?

And six tiny coffins.
How much is that gonna cost?

It'll be f*cking dear, won't it?
I'm telling you.

We're f*cked.
Hey, WE'RE not f*cked.

I'm an innocent bystander.
Listen to you.

f*cking giving it big licks.

You're the one who wanted to stop
and get a pizza, aren't you?

Cheeky bastard!
It was YOU that needed a sh*t,
with your filthy arse cr*ck.

Yeah.
Yeah.

Filthy arse cr*ck?
Vincent.

How would you know that?
Vincent. Lady of death.

Donna would like an audience
with you now, Vincent,

in the downstairs lavatory.

Well, that's a f*cking
weird location, innit?

Hmm. Come along, handsome.

Same an' all.
Bring your cocktail.

I had a poo
cos we stopped for pizza.

f*ck off!

You all right?
Vincent O'Neil.

Hmm.

Step inside.
I'll come inside.

I'll leave you two to chat.

Ooh...

Tight.

This won't take long, Vinnie.

We're all devastated about Barry,

but he were thick as horse sh*t.

So it comes as no surprise to me,

he kicked an unexploded b*mb
and blew himself all over a field.

It's sad and it's a crying shame.

Now that I'm out of prison...

..I'm taking control
of the business...

..and the word on the street is...

you grow the very best leaf
in town, so...

I know Davey was a...

less than considerate partner
on your previous endeavour...

..but I will promise you,
as a woman of my word,

that if you get into bed with me...

..you won't end up
f*cked up the arse.

Nice. That would be nice.

Unfortunately...
and I'm sorry to say this...

Look, let me put it like this.

My mate Dylan - very close to -
he's gone missing...

..under really suspicious
circumstances.

Now, I have it on good authority
that it was your brother, Davey,

and he's f*cking denying it.

I'd love to work with you,
but I can't, can I?

I can't work with people
if I can't trust

what's coming out of their mouth.
Do you know what I'm saying?

And I AM sorry.

Hmm.

You want the truth?

He didn't hurt Dylan.

In fact, if anything -
from what Barry told me -

he was a little bit
in love with him.

I just f*cking...
I find it really hard to believe.

Strawberry daiquiri.
Mmm.

You tried this?
No. Would you like me to?

Mm. I'm doing it.

Delish.

It's the nicest thing
that's ever passed my lips.

Mm.

I don't take "no"
for an answer, Vinnie.

So, we'll pause this chat...

Si.

To be continued.
Oh...

Excited for it. I'm just gonna...

sh*t!

♪ QUINCY JONES: Soul Bossa Nova

What's up with him?
He's not texting me back.

Well, maybe his hand's restricted.
Maybe he's not seen his messages.

Yes.Maybe he's dead.
Maybe he couldn't breathe after all.

Carol, it's for an hour, in a box,
with holes in, all right?

He's not gonna die
that quickly, is he?

Ladies.
Sorry.

I would like very much
to thank you for coming.

It's so nice to see so many
friendly faces...here at an event

that our Barry
would have absolutely loved.

No cocktail party would have been
complete without our Barry's...

What is that noise?

It's like snoring.

No, no, that will be the...
gas that's produced...

You were telling me about that.
..as the microbes break down acids.

Don't think so.
It's definitely snoring. Listen.

She's right. Yes, it's the gasses.

Oh, this is a lovely one, in't it?

We'll get YOU that one.
Shush.

Wow! How about that? Sorry.

It seems to have gone away.

Maybe it WAS the erm...
Gas.

Gases.
Science, in't it?

Gases and science.

I thought it would be a nice idea

if we all sang
Barry's favourite song.

And I would like everybody
to join in.

Mm.

DJ.

♪ SHIRLEY BASSEY: Big Spender

Oh, God, she loves this one.

♪ The minute you walked in the joint

♪ I could tell
you was a man of distinction

♪ A real big spender
Vin.

I've found the body.
♪ Good lookin'

f*ck me!
♪ So refined...

Come on. Who's got it?

Business email.
Subject: "I have your body."

When you open the email,
there's this guy.

Well, that's f*cked up.
Someone's f*cking with us.

I'm not happy about this.
Who sent that?

Some f*cking joker
called Phil Brilliance.

Phil shagging Brilliance?
It's from his work email.

Phil Brilliance
Waste Removal Services.

There's a phone number and address.

Oh, there's an address!
Quickly, go get the lads!

f*ck me, it's like the Bates Motel.

He's f*cked it, this fella.

Oh, God.

So glad you could come.

Dude, don't f*ck about.
Open this f*cking door right now.

Well, what
bad manners your mother taught YOU!

Open the f*cking door, please.

Er, one moment, please,
while I consult with Mr Brilliance.

Who shall I say is calling?

Why would you consult with Brilli...

f*ck, I'm not talking
to this puppet.

Take your hand out the arse
of this thing, unlock the door

and tell us what you've done
with sewn-together Barry.

I'm gonna f*cking snap
in a minute, dude.

Oh, right, yeah, you've
upset his puppet now, haven't you?

Well done.
What do you mean?

It's a kiddy thing.
Clearly not mentally stable.

He's nicked a f*cking coffin.
He's speaking through a puppet.

I hate to say it, but on this
occasion, she is correct.Thank you.

How to go about this is very much
softly-softly catchy monkey...

Ah-ha-ha! Good afternoon!

Good afternoon.
My name's Phil Brilliance.

And this is my good friend Russell.

What? Oh, yes.

Shake your hand.
Why me?

Shake his hand, for f*ck sake.

Yeah, nice one, Russell.
f*cking ace.

Well, Russell,
aren't you gonna invite them in?

No. YOU invite them in.

f*ck me.
I don't like the look of them.

Especially the child
dressed like Miami Vice.

Russell...
It's party wear, innit.

I am sorry about him,
ladies and gentlemen.

Please do come in.
I got snacks.

You're f*cking exhausting, Philip.

Good f*cking Lord God.

Thank you, Russell. Please
help yourself to food and drinks.

We've poisoned them.

No, we haven't.
Yeah, we're jo.. He's joking.

Yeah. Or AM I?

All right. f*cking hell.

Ha-ha, what's he like?

He's just a f*cking right one.

Why don't we put him down
for a minute?

Us humans beings have a very serious
business conversation

about the whereabouts
of that bloody corpse, eh?

And coffin.
And the f*cking coffin as well.

Well, Russell,
what do you think about that?

Oh, whoo-hoo! Ahh!

Can I have a word in your ear?

Yeah, of course you can.

Excuse me, could we just have
a moment alone while we have a chat?

What is it?

f*cking hell. Bloody idiot.
Stay calm.

You dirty bastard.

He's doing my head in.
Philip! Phil, Phil.

Nearly finished.
Argh.

Phil has, er, asked me
to negotiate on his behalf.

No! f*ck off!

Vin.
f*ck, no! For f*cking hell!

I have been very patient indeed.
Give me that f*cking doll.

No!
The time for farting around

is very much over!

Were in dire-f*cking-straits, dude.
No.

Dire straits. We need to know
the location of the f*cking body.

I'm not pissing around here, dude.

Here. f*ck me, I'm sorry.

Where's our f*cking coffin?

Right, stop!
There's a lot going on here.

f*cking hell, you're scaring him.
Phil, hi.

Listen, YOU messaged us. Remember?

Yeah.

We've come to find out
what that reason was.

OK.

Barry MacDonagh was a very scary man

and his family are...
very scary people,

so we need it back...quite urgently.

OK.
OK.

I'll talk.
OK.

I want my lawyer present.

You want your lawyer?
Yeah.

And he...he's in that box?
Yeah.

I just can't imagine
where this is gonna go.

All right, you can get your lawyer.

You sit here - out of harm's way.

Come on. Come on, out you come.

We've got business.
Oh, Jesus Christ.

Wow.

Top legal mind.

This is St John Moseley.

Good afternoon, gentlemen.

AND ladies.

You all right, Sinj...Sinjun?

Listen, is there any chance
you could ask your client

the whereabouts of the f*cking
corpse he's stolen? I mean...

The gentleman
with the horrendous neck tattoo

wishes to know the location
of, I quote, "A stolen body".

I advise caution in your response.

Right, tell the gentleman

the body's stored
in a safe location.

But unless I get
a full and frank apology

from that monster Davey MacDonagh,

I will not reveal
the location of the body.

My client says...
No, dude!

We f*cking heard
what the client said.

You said it.
I can see your lips move.

At least drink some water
at t'same time.

It's very underwhelming.
What apology?

The lady asks
what is the nature of the apology?

Well, it's simple, in't it?

That man - Davey MacDonagh...

..he ruined my life.

Can we take a moment
for my client, please?

Thank you.

f*cking hell.

Mr Brilliance would like me
to recount his story to you

on his behalf.

Would you mind
making yourselves comfortable?

Go on, then.

It all started several years ago,
when Mr Brilliance ran

a hugely successful
children's entertainment business.

'Phil's business was
the most successful in the region.

There was so much work,
he couldn't fit it all in.

Parents would recommend him
to other parents.

Word spread and the kids adored him.

Especially when he brought out
the star of the show -

Virgil the cheeky monkey.'

Boys and girls, it's Virgil!
Virgil, how are you?

'Then, one fateful day,

Phil got hired by Davey MacDonagh,

to throw a party
for his niece, Mabel.'

That's Donna's daughter.

Correct.

My best friend's a monkey.
He's called Virgil.

'Unaware of the MacDonaghs'
fearsome reputation,

Phil did his usual routine
and the party went well...

right up to the point
where Virgil made his appearance.'

You want to go over and say hello
to the grown-ups? All right.

Here, let's go and say hello
to the grown-ups.

Ooh!

'It was an innocent mistake,

and Phil tried
to apologise afterwards

but things turned nasty.'
Argh!

Made a monkey out of me back there,
puppet boy!

I apologise! I'll do the show
for free to say sorry.

I think some compensation
might be in order.

Compensation?
For my hurt feelings

and for the distress and trauma

caused to innocent eight year olds
who have now been exposed -

at far too early an age -

to the sight of an unfeasibly large
male phallus.

Yeah, but it wasn't
THAT unfeasibly large, was it?

Oh, no!

Go on. Then what happened?

Say goodbye
cos he's going in the f*cking river!

Bye-bye!

Not so f*cking BRILLIANT now,
are you, Phil?!

f*cking hell, that is brutal, mate.

But that wasn't the end of it.

'Threats, intimidation.'

Every time he turned up
to a children's party,

there they were.

Not today, puppet boy.

They started spreading rumours
that he was a paedophile,

that he'd touched up a little girl
at a children's party,

with his hand inside a monkey.

And DID he..?
NO!

They ruined me.
They ruined my business.

My wife left me.
I was sick with stress.

Everyone thought I was a nonce -

and all because
HE didn't wear boxer shorts!

Oh, dear God. It's a bloody shame.

Phil, do you know what?
Honestly, man, I can see

that they've really, really
hurt you, there.

Wankers, the pair of 'em.

But you're never gonna get
an apology off 'em, dude. Never.

Never in a million f*cking years.

Then, he's never gonna get
his brother back!

Argh!
He'll f*cking k*ll you, you non...

you prick.
They've ALREADY k*lled me!

The day they k*lled Virgil.

That monkey...he was my best friend.

But not only that,
it was my livelihood.

They tore my world apart.

There, there.

Now that, that's talent.

Put that in your act.
Mm.

Right?Yeah.
Good.

What are the chances
of getting Davey to apologise?
f*cking zero.

We'd have to fess up
to losing his brother.

It won't go down well.
Wait. I've got an idea.

Some places have started
doing this thing

where a family member
records themselves
talking about their lost loved one,

like summat funny,
a rude anecdote.

To warm people up,
the undertaker writes something
and gets them to say it to camera.

What if we convince Davey to do one,

write up some sentences
as his warm up,

and we edit them into an apology?
Fah!

It's a sh*t idea.
Yeah.

I think it's a great idea.

Why don't we just stand up
and tell a story?

I'll tell you for why.

So, on the day, there is gonna be
a lot of emotion. All right?

You know what,
you've lost your brother.

I don't think it matters how
many times you rehearse that speech,

emotion could creep in and ruin it.

And what tends to happen now -
it's very, very popular, isn't it?

Yeah, it's modern a trend.
Modern trend.

Especially with the rich folks.
Yeah.

They record it.
They put on a big old screen there.

People gather round
and it becomes more of an event.

Do you know what I mean?
Makes sense.

OK, I'm sold.

I'll tell the wheelbarrow pig story.
It's hilarious.

It's just that Davey...
Oh, I am brilliant at anecdotes.

I tell you what...

why don't you BOTH do one?

Thank God for this one.

'I'd just like to say a few words.

I am very sorry...
..to you... ..feel...

..for all the pain...

..and furthermore...'

And that'll be that, Phil.
I mean, er, "feel".

It's good stuff. I mean, that's...

That has been edited.
It's not been edit...

Yeah, a little bit. Cos he pauses.
He's a f*cking pauser.

That is a full-throttle apology
you just heard there.

No.
Yeah, it's f*cking rare, that.

To get an apology
off someone like...

Davey MacDonagh giving an apology -
rare as f*cking...

Hen's teeth. That's a saying.
Hen's teeth.

We've got 20 f*cking hours, dude.


and then the funeral starts.

And for reasons only known
to his f*cking psychopath sister,

she wants to have a look at him -
Barry in bits.

So f*cking time's of the essence.

My client says he is NOT prepared to
reveal the whereabouts of the body.

f*ck you, Sideon,
or whatever the f*cking...

Vin!
No, no, no.

Ahh!
Eurgh!

Dude, you're f*cking putting our
lives at risk, is what you're doing.

I want a face-to-face apology.

You are never ever,
in a thousand f*cking years,

ever gonna get an apology
out of them sociopaths.

It's just not happening.
No body.

No. Oh, f*ck my arse.

Right. Bodies are really
f*cking heavy, yeah?

So, A] it's gonna be hard
to hide one.

B] he's a weirdo, so chances are
he's gonna want it close to him.

What you suggesting?
Wait till he goes out,

break in, have a look around -
loft, attic, garden, everywhere.

No. What...
What if he stays in all night?

Everyone leaves eventually, Vincent.
Even ventriloquists.

I know how to get him
out of the house.

Book a waste removal tonight.
False address, miles away.

f*cking sick! Punch the air.

There we go.
f*cking finally!

Any sign?

Yeah, Erin,
he came out ten minutes ago.

I just didn't say anything about it.
Stop being a dickhead, Tommo.

I booked that job for 7:15.
Why hasn't he left?

Christ. What have you said to him?
You put a voice on?

I did, yeah. I went...
Hello. Is this garden removal?

You didn't, did you?
I did, yeah. Why?

f*ck. That's the voice
people do when trying

to sound like a posh person,
not an actual posh person.

Oh, is it f*ck!
It is, Erin. You had one job.

I'm over here, meanwhile,
f*cking master of impersonations,

could do any accent.
Was I called upon?

Oh, yeah.
No. No, I wasn't.

f*cking sound like Jimmy Savile
and Vin Diesel mixed.

That's my own voice, in't it?

That's my natural-born voice.
You're so annoying!

Shut up! Shut up,
you pair of f*cking lemons.

Dickhead!
Christ, f*cking glasses.

f*cking annoys me, he does.

Well, look at the fu...
Of f*cking course. Look at him.

f*cking hell.
f*cking Ronnie!

Give over.
OK.

How do you know Phil Brilliance?

Depends on who's asking.
Oh, God, dude. WE'RE asking you.

Oh, right, you just asked.
Right, OK.

Can I ask summat?
Yes.

Why are you slamming me against here
like Who Dares Wills,

interrogating me
about legitimate friendships
that are going on in Hawley Town?

Because he's nicked a dead body.
Barry MacDonagh.Yeah.

And there's no way
he's moved it on his own.

So tell us what you know
because I need that coffin back!

All right. OK, yeah, sure.

So what, summat goes off, so who
do you blame? Ronnie Croft, right?

Do me a favour,
stick this in your kettle

and do you know what, smoke it -
cos I work for him.

You f*cking work for him?
Yeah. W-U-R-R-K. "Wurrk". OK?

Ronnie croft is clocking on,

he's paying his taxes...
I ain't paying taxes.

Shut up! You move garden sh*t
for Phil Brilliance, yeah?

Yeah, I've got a gig tonight.
That's what I call it.

"I'm just nipping out...
Just nipping out to do a gig."

Do you know what I mean?
Let me off here. I can just...split.

Ronnie, sweetheart,
do you expect us to believe, right,

that you work for the bloke,
but you've no idea about this
f*cking missing corpse?

And coffin.
And coffin.

Look, I swear to Jah,
on Erin's life.

Ronnie!

Right, do you not think -
come on, guys, it's me -

I'd have noticed a stolen coffin?
They're massive, Vin.

You are gonna help us find out
what he's f*cking done with it.

OK. Oh, me?

God, all right, come on.
Yes! f*cking you. Yes. f*cking hell!

Cos we can't go back in, can we?

For some reason,
he clearly trusts you.

Don't know why.
So you need to go back in

and find out where that body is -
And coffin.

And coffin.
And coffin?Yes.

Both.
Both!Don't f*cking run off!

Yes. He's not running off.
Right, OK.

You're f*cking staying here, you.

Would you not agree,
that man is a f*cking bellend?

Dude.
Innit? Right, can't be trusted.

So, how's about me and you come up
with a little a backup plan?

Knock, knock,
knock-knock-knock, knock-nock.

All right. You're late.
Yes, you ARE late.

All right, Arnold, don't start.

I just got lost
en route-a-toot-toot. All right?

We need to have a word.
We need to have a chat, man.

'We're late for the job. What do you
wanna speak to me about, Ronnie?'

'Cos we've got problemo magnificio.'
'Meaning what?'

'Come on, Phil,
stick the dummy down.'

I am not a dummy.

Well, yeah,
you ARE a f*cking dummy, dummy.

I'm less of a dummy than you,
aren't I?

'At least I've got GCSEs.'
He's arguing with a f*cking doll.

Look at your legs! They're cloth.
Get off my legs.

Stop kicking yourself
in the f*cking head.

Well, at least I've got some hair.
You're like an ugly boiled egg.

Ooh, a bit f*cking personal!

I'd sort him out, man, cos I'll
put him into another f*cking realm.

Know what I mean?
Ronnie, listen -

Have a word with him.
He gets above himself.
What do you want, Ronnie?

It's a f*cking heavy heat
scenario going on.

People - can't specify who -
but they're heavy, right?

They found out
about the f*cking body.

So I'm gonna need
some serious compensation, OK,

to keep a zipper-mouth situation.

You blackmailing me, Ronnie?
Am I blackmailing you?!

'Yeah! Absolutely.'
m*therf*cker!

Yeah... No. Erin, I tried my best.

Oh!

Give over, you f*cking lemon.

I can't see f*ck all.
Shut up!

Erin, it's getting
a little bit stupid.

Listen, honest to God,
it's the last time I'm asking.

Where's that f*cking body?
And coffin.

And the f*cking....
For f*ck sake! The coffin as well.

Listen, Ronnie, honestly, dude,

I'll leave you down here
with the rats -

OK, YOU might but Erin wouldn't,
and do you wanna know why, Vin?

It's because family is very,
very thicker than water. That's why.

Try me. Ronnie, I know for a fact
you're scared of the dark.

Oh.
Right, OK.

Phil offered me two large, OK?
Aka 200.

If yous go to say, five...

How the f*ck am I gonna pay you


What? You're not gonna pay me?
In that case, Whitney Houston,
we got a problem.

You don't know Whitney Houston,
dude.

He means Houston, don't he?
He means Houston.

Guys, the jokes on f*cking you!

No, no, no, not the dark!
OK, I'll give you what you want!

Check it out. Follow the light.

♪ RIVAL SONS: Do Your Worst

Thank f*ck for that.

He's all there.

Ronnie Croft saves the day.
Nice one.

Hold on.

Where are his eyes?
Oh...

His f*cking eyes are missing.
The f*ck, who nicks eyes?

♪ Oh, my, oh, my baby

♪ Devil's gonna get you
if I don't first

♪ Take my, take my body

♪ Take my body and do your worst

♪ Oh, my, oh, my baby

♪ Devil's gonna get you
if I don't first

♪ Take my, take my body

♪ Take my body and do your worst ♪

He's ready for you now.

They're fine.

Gentlemen...
I think we've got away with it.

♪ ..over the rainbow

♪ Way up high

♪ There's a land that I heard of

♪ Once in a lullaby

♪ Somewhere over the rainbow

♪ Skies are blue

Thank you.

And before we move Barry on
to his final rest,

his brother Davey
would like to read...

David.
..a few words from the Good Book.

CARDI: Ash coffin.

What if he starts "coughing"?
Do you get it?

Shut up, you f*cking... Shut up.

"The righteous perish...

and no man layeth it to heart;

the merciful men are taken away,

none considering

that the righteous are taken away
from the evil to come."

Oh, sh*t.

I want an apology!

f*ck.

You remember me, Davey?

If you know what is good for you,
you will leave right now.

Phil Brilliance.
Children's entertainer.

Get rid of him.

Would anybody like to meet
my new friend?

Stay where the f*ck you are. Stay.
No.

His name...is Barry.

You want to shut the f*ck up,
you disrespectful c**t.

Otherwise,
you'll end up in a coffin yourself.

Davey, well, he k*lled
my last friend, Virgil,

but I don't think
he's gonna hurt this one.

No, no, no.

I don't think he'll hurt this one.

Especially as he's got
such beautiful...

eyes.

Oh, f*ck!

Ahh! f*ck!

An eye for an eye, Davey!
You little piece of piss!

Run away! Run away!
Run away! Run away!

Cheeky little bastard!

f*cking phone!

Hello?

Hello, Vincent.
This is Fiona Frank.

You were referred to me
by Dr Christopher Cox,
for psychotherapy.

No, no, no, no!
Yep, yep, yep, yep! Go on.

I'm sorry. Is this a bad time?
No, it's a good time.

It's a good time.
I need you more than ever, actually.

I know this will come as a shock
to you, but...I'm your son.

What?

How the f*ck can he be mine?

Don't wish for it - work for it.

He wants you in his life, Tommo.

Hello, boys.

Charmed.

Do not flirt
with my f*cking progeny.

Bend down and pick it up.

Argh!