01x04 - Episode 4

[bunniefuu]

Found that in my pocket
at the bowls club last night.

Some frigger has found out
about William

and sent me a blackmail letter.

-You have to give the money back.
-No.

Then you leave me
with no other option.

Deborah Fendon, I'm arresting
you on suspicion

of committing fraud by deception.

Five grand, what's that on?

A GoFundMe for the drop-in centre.

They've been totally shafted
by the cuts.

Shall we go t'station, then?

So after you've taken me down,

promise me that you'll find
this b*stard

and nail his bollocks
to his backside.

Oh? What's going on?

Get back in the house, you!
You're meant to be dead!

-DISGUISED VOICE: - Mrs Fendon.
-Yeah?

I want my money.

Colberton petrol station,
midnight tomorrow.

FOXES SCREECH

Incredible stamina, to be fair.

Like Phil Collins.

Sting.

It will in the morning, yeah,

because they've got
barbs on their wotsits.

No, it's Sting who's famous
for the long boffs.

Oh. Yeah.

Well...

...as long as it's not
in my veg patch.

So you're saying you don't want
fox ej*cul*te

in your cauliflower cheese?

And that's another
Sunday lunch ruined.

BABY CRIES

Shh. It's OK. I know, shh.

Daddy, I need a poo.

SNORING

KNOCK ON DOOR

DOORBELL RINGS

-Let me in!
-It's 7am.

I know, I've barely slept.

I have to talk to Neha!

-Can't you come back later?
-No, I need a poo!

BABY CRIES

Sorry we're late,
too many bums to wipe.

Didn't you get my message?
I've got Covid.

Oh, dear, I'm sorry to hear that.
Go on, in you go, George.

Sorry, what you doing? Mr Fendon?

I said I can't have the boys today.

I have Covid.

Honestly, they'll be fine.

George licked a manhole cover
last week, didn't you?

His immunity is
basically like the X-Men.

You don't seem to be
listening to me.

-You're saying you want them to wear masks?
-No.

How about a perspex screen?

Have you got one of those,
you could sit behind it?

-Why would I have a perspex screen?
-In your shower?

Mr Fendon, I am not going to sit
in the shower all day

watching your children.
I'm going back to bed.

No, no, wait, wait, wait, no, no.

What am I going to do?

Have you considered looking
after your own children yourself?

I'm going to need to see
that lateral flow!

-Mr Fendon! What are you doing?!
-How thick are the lines?

How thick are the lines? How thick
are the lines? The antigens, Liz!

-I'm calling the police!
-Don't make me look after my own children!

No offence, mate.

Don't repeat any of that to Mummy,
OK?

I brought you the blackmail note,

and I did as you said,
I've cut off communication.

Might need to wrap that
in tinfoil, do we?

Er, yeah, maybe later.

Right.

Oh! That photo is awful.

I look like Ann Widdecombe.

Right. Question one -
who could know about William?

Exactly. Good thinking.

No, I'm asking you.

Oh... Oh, um, well, no-one.

We've been unbelievably careful.

What about the petrol station?

Well, that was just a one-off.

I mean, William may be feckless

and reckless

and c*ck annoying,
but he's not stupid.

Are you with your mother?

No. Why are you calling
on an unknown number?

Because she's taken
the bloody landline!

-What? Why?
-I don't know.

There's more chance of the
re-animated corpse of Mahatma Gandhi

winning Strictly
than either of us understanding

why your mother does
the things she does.

Why are you so obsessed with
Gandhi being on Strictly?

Also, stop leaving the house!

Look, could you please tell her
that we're out of loo roll!

I'm not with her! Although that does
explain this morning.

Well, if I don't get some soon,
I'm going to have to start

using the tea towels.
And not just any tea towels,

her special Brambly Hedge ones.

Look, I have no time
for your dirty protest, OK?

The childminder's sick and I've got
work. I'm stressed!

Ah. Right, so you're going to need
some help with the boys?

Yes, I do desperately. No, George,
no, no, no! Not in the mouth!

Why don't you bring them
over to ours?

Oh, because it might be quite
traumatising for George

to have his grandpa come back
to life two months after

he saw you burnt in a box, and we've
been telling him you're in heaven!

Oh, made it in, did I? That's good.

Anyway, it'd be great to see
the little rascals again.

Dad, they think you're dead.

Ah, yes, they might think I'm dead,

but have you forgotten your father
is a master of disguise?

A man of a thousand faces,
a shape-shifting ghost in the wind.

Morning, William.

Who was that?

Pigeon.

Look, just come over
and all will be revealed.

And please don't forget
the loo roll.

Oh, that's much better.

So, motive is obviously money.

And jealousy.

Being a public figure,
I'm up there to be shot down.

Right. What makes you
a public figure?

I cut the ribbon when Billie had
her downstairs toilet installed.

I don't think you get asked to do
that without having a profile.

-She asked you?
-Well, she asked, I offered, what's the difference?

Let's just focus back on this,
shall we?

The real pain in the arse
is that we can't see that CCTV.

There's cameras at the bowls club?

Just a bit.

Clive's got that place rigged up
like Jeffrey Epstein's island.

Not that anything like that
goes on there.

Sorry, why didn't you mention
this before?

Although I do have my suspicions
that Billie and Geoff

had a bonk in the changing room.

We need to see that video.

No, thank you!
I'm not against p*rn*graphy,

but preferably not starring Geoff,
please and thank you.

No, the other one.

Oh, no, no, I tried that,
but I didn't have Clive's password.

Debbie...

...I don't need passwords.

Oh, well, now you're being
a bit useful.

Right, come on.

I'll be Cagney, you can be Hutch.

KNOCK ON DOOR

- COD GERMAN ACCENT:
- Ah, Vilkom! Hello!

Ah...

Ah, you must be der young George
I have heard so much about.

I am your great-uncle Otto
from Bavaria in Germany.

Come on, George, it's OK, it's OK.

Uncle Otto isn't as scary
as he looks, are you?

Nein, nein! Kommen ze in
for zum varm tea

and zum honey Kuchen... to eat...

...with the tea.

Next time ze triple ply, bitte.

That is like wiping
with printer paper.

Drinks and games and are in the bag.
Just keep them occupied, OK?

Don't worry,
we Germans know how to do that.

Hey! Hey, hey, hey! Hey, I lead.

Well, no, this is my bowls club.

Yeah, and this is literally my job.

Oh, but Clive is so annoying.

I want to do him.

I appreciate you're excited but we
need to keep this professional, OK?

Yeah, fine.

-Hands out, you naughty w*nk*r!
-Debbie, what are you doing?

Flipping 'eck!

-BOSS: - Yeah, we've had some feedback.
-TYPING

They're not happy with the copy.

Bit of a...

I have a herniated disc...

...in the neck. Do you know
what a herniated disc is?

So, do you follow the snooker?

-What's that?
-That, that is ze Rolls-Royce water-blaster.

I use it to keep ze foxes
out of ze garden.

Foxes raus!

-How?
-I fill it up with wee-wee.

There you go.

What's this? Prawns?

Oh, we got...

We got targeted last year by that
roving band of Geordie fishmongers.

Jean spent £400 of club funds

and now we're stuck
with 18 kilos of the buggers.

Incidentally, we're hosting
a seafood spectacular on Friday,

if you'd like to come.

Yeah, I'll have to
check my diary on that one.

-It could be good, yeah.
-Could you hold that there?

Debbie, is there something
you'd like to say to Clive?

Sorry for barging you.

And?

And sorry for calling you
a naughty w*nk*r.

And a dullard.

And a fart hole.

You didn't call me a dullard
and a fart hole.

Oh, sorry, I meant to.

Clive, will you accept
Debbie's apology?

Well, no, I'd rather press charges.

Sure, but given I've already
explained that's not going

to happen, please can we just make
peace?

Fine,
but she is not watching my CCTV.

Neha, tell him!

Look, I get it.

As a constable of the law, no-one
respects GDPR more than I do.

A robust data policy is
the keystone of a civilised society.

Are you crying?

Just keep... Carry on.

But if I get a warrant, you'll have
coppers swarming over this place

like Love Islanders
at a film premiere.

And you don't want that.

Not with all those Panda Pops and
Double Deckers you've got on the bar

that say "not to be sold separately"
on them.

Plus, that warrant'll
cover your computer.

And your search history.

What day do you need to see?

Look, there.

DEBBIE GASPS

I don't believe it.

It's Pamela Anderson.

It's not funny, Neha!
That is my friend.

I just always find it a
tiny bit funny that's her name.

I can't believe it.

Pamela.

After everything I've done for her.

What have you done for her?

Well, nothing specific, but you
know, nice me, what I haven't done

is punch her in the gob for being
the yawning bore that she is.

Sorry, Debbie,
this must be really hard.

Not as hard as it's going to be on
her when you slap the cuffs on her.

And can you bonk her head on the
side of the car as you shove her in?

No, cos it's not the 1970s,
and I'm not your pet police officer.

Can't just go round arresting
people cos you say so.

Oh, come on!

I know you love all this woke-y,
softly-softly stuff these days,

but little bit of
old-fashioned justice

is what a cow like Pamela
Anderson needs.

It's just a name.

-I'm sorry.
-Unbelievable.

You're being so unprofessional.

I know, sorry, sorry, it's just...

...if I do go and arrest
Pamela Anderson...

Stop it.

...the first question will be, who is
she blackmailing and what about?

Well I...

I'll just deny it.

I've got the death certificate.

Yeah, and she's got the...

Actually, what has she got?

She's got a bloody nerve,
that's what.

I mean, if she wanted money,
why didn't she just ask me?

Instead of taking advantage
of a grieving widow

like a waiter on a Greek holiday.

No, no, I am being serious.

How do you know
she knows about William?

Because she put it in the note.

But like you just said,
you have his death certificate.

And?

She must have proof he's alive!

A kidnapper would usually send
a bit of ear or a finger,

and a blackmailer would send
a photo, usually nude,

so you know they're serious.

Sorry, how would Pamela
have a nude photo of William?

No, I'm not saying he'd be nude.
I'm saying...

We need to go to your house.

Why?

I'll tell you on the way.

-No, one last thing.
-Oh. What?

Oh.

Urgh!

That's why Clive doesn't want
people on his computer.

RAPID TYPING

-BOSS: - Harry, I'm going to need you to get on with that today.
-Mm-hm.

CHILDREN GIGGLE

If you could send the first draft
to me by, at the latest, two,

two o'clock...

What I'm saying is that Pam
must have sent you

-another blackmail note.
-No, I don't want another one.

No, this is one you already had
but it somehow got missed.

How could I have missed
a blackmail note?

Don't take this the wrong way,

but I can kind of see how something
might get lost in your house.

Tidy houses are for boring people.

Oh, my God, George! George!

What are you doing here?
By yourself?

This is a surprise.

What is he...?

WILLIAM!

Ah.

There's supposed to be
some children there.

The Pontipines,
now there's a chaotic family.

You couldn't manage
one hour with them?!

Well, I haven't been sleeping well,
have I,

because of the tantric foxes.

Plus, children at that age...

...they are quite boring company.

-William!
-No, Debbie, it's not his fault.

Harry should never have put him
in that position.

I mean, what were you doing
bringing them here anyway?

- WHISPERS:
- George thinks he's dead!

George doesn't actually
know it's me.

I'm in character.

You told me you'd thrown
those lederhosen away.

Yeah, that was a lie.

Look, the most important thing is,
is that the boys are safe.

Yeah, no thanks to
Von Shitzenpants here.

What are you doing here anyway?

We need to find something.

Yeah, well, if it's something
useless

like a collection
of porcelain hippos

or a VHS recording of
Coronation Street,

you've come to the right place.

But if it's something useful, you
know,

like a Biro with some actual ink
in it or a key to the back door,

then thou shalt not find it here.

Have you thrown away any post?

No. Why?

Nothing.

What?

You can't have a go at him for lying
and then lie right back!

I'm not lying, I'm keeping a secret.

That's very different.

What are you talking about?

Fine.

I'll forgive you for the lederhosen
if you forgive me for this.

Forgive you for what?

You haven't been watching Traitors
without me, have you?

Of course not! That is sacred.

Yeah, OK.

Look, we're being blackmailed.

About the insurance money.

By Pamela Anderson.

NEHA SNIGGERS

Don't start.

Bloody hell, that's annoying.

I was rather hoping that would
just sort of go away.

It came a couple of days ago.

We're screwed.

This doesn't mean anything.
This could have been taken any time.

No, no, no, it's digital,
it will have metadata.

What's metturdettur?

It means we can see
when it was taken, which was...

...two weeks ago.

Oh, bollocks.

Well, then we are screwed.
I can't believe it.

So this is what Pamela has.

The smoking g*n.

We made a decent fist of it.

I know, we did so much, didn't we?

What about if we pay up?

You can't.

It might be 20k this time, but once
Pam knows you're good for it,

she'll just keep milking
and milking and milking

until you're milked dry.

Like breast-feeding him.

If it's any consolation,

coming clean will mean that we can
fully pursue Pam for the blackmail.

What about us, though?

Won't you get into trouble
for not reporting it?

No, I'll just say I had no idea
and that your parents were lying

to us as much as they were lying
to everyone else. No offence.

Right. Just one small problem.

You're in this photo.

It's going to be hard to deny
you knew

when there's a photo of you stood
six feet from him.

Would you excuse me for a moment?

MUFFLED SCREAM

-Oh, dear.
-What?

Well, that's my farting cushion.

Oh, William.

How did we not see you?

I did tell you
that I'm a master of disguise.

Right, then, change of plan.

You need to get that off my keys.

-What is that?
-A tracker.

Oh, dear. Harold hasn't made you
have that, has he?

That's coercive control.

Actually, maybe I should get
one of those for William?

What I need from you
is a bag of flour.

-Right.
-And parcel tape.

Yep.

Is self-raising OK?

So long as it looks like cocaine.

Oh, I don't know.

Yeah, no, it's fine.

Look, I need to go to
the bank before it closes.

Oh, I thought you said
we weren't going to pay Pamela?

We're not.

We're doing a little thing called
the hamburger trick

but we can't set a trap
without bait.

Now, I won't be long...

OK, but if it's cash you need...

...do you want to...

...use this?

Who are you?

Debbie Fendon.

Sorry, could you do this for me?

My hands are too sweaty.

BOSS: - Yeah, I just
had a quick read there.

-I think my problem is, it just reads a bit woolly.
-Mm-hm.

So lose some of the...

You won't do anything silly?

I've already done the silly thing.

Now I need to tidy up.

Please let me help.

Do you know the best thing you could
do? Babysit your grandchildren.

Oh, I'd love that.

And so would William.

Good. Where is he, by the way?

Oh, he's pissing
in the super-squirters.

Male urine keeps the foxes away.

I always knew that Pamela
was a wrong 'un.

Got the nose of a criminal. Snouty.

Full tank for you, Debs.

I'll do it myself.

Right, we've got one hour
till the drop,

-and you know to leave it by the bins?
-Yes, guv.

Don't do that.

Sorry, miss.

-Or that.
-Yeah, sorry, I don't know what I'm doing. I'm nervous.

OK, just don't screw it up, OK?

That hasn't made me less nervous,
but OK.

Love you.

Love you more.

Perfect.

Along there, that's it, good boy.

Right to the edges.

Yes, that's it, that's it.

What are you doing?

No, no! No, George! No! You don't
know what's in there!

George!

OVER RADIO: - Just drop
the bag and get out of there.

Yes, Sarge.

Please stop doing that.

Yeah. Sorry.

The eagle has landed.

The toad is in the hole.

Repeat, the toad is in the hole.

Where are you going?

Going to get myself a hot choccy.

Not now, you berk!

What...?

Wait, can you see me? Where are you?

Oh, there you are.

Hi!

Don't wave at me, you doofus!
We're breaking the law!

Oh, sh*t, sorry! OK, yeah.

I'll get back to the toddlers.

Yeah, all four of them.

The sleepy mice could dance no more.

They wandered home through the snow
tunnels, climbed the stairs

and crept into their warm beds.

Outside the windows,
the snow had started to fall again,

but every mouse in Brambly Hedge
was fast asleep.

Love you, Granny.

Love you, Grandpa.

Gotcha.

SIREN WAILS

Hello, Pamela.

-Hello. -sh1tting hell, who are you?
-Marcus.

I mean, um... licence
and registration, please.

Please step out of the vehicle,
Mr Marsden.

What's this about?

Just get out and wait there.

Oh, God...

Is there a problem?

Er, yeah, it's just
my car's such a tip.

I've got a real problem with
fruit pastilles

and I just leave the wrappers lying
all around like a revolting slob

and it's just horrid and I'd really
rather you didn't look inside it.

I've seen worse.

My car, actually
The kids treat it like skid row.

That's not mine.

Do you mind telling me
what you do for a living, sir?

Is this really necessary?

I'm a funeral director.

Lot of cash in funerals, is there?

I don't know anything about that.

Right.

And what about this?

OK, I really don't know
anything about that.

Then let me fill you in.

It appears to be a bag full of cash
and class A drugs

and I just found it on the front
seat of your car.

Do you know what that makes you?

A naughty boy?

It makes you someone
who's going to prison.

Prison. Prison prison?

Oh, please, look, I know I've made
a mistake

but I swear to God, I don't know
anything about the drugs.

I can't go to prison.
I get very bad eczema.

Well, perhaps we could come
to some arrangement?

Yeah? Although if it's a sex thing,
I must warn you

I'm not super experienced
with your side of the coin.

Oh, no, you don't need to
worry yourself about that, no.

What I'm going to do for you
is make this disappear.

And what you're going to do for me
is leave my client the hell alone.

Your client...?

Right, OK.

Yeah, and don't you test her,
cos she's King Kong in this postcode

and next time she won't be
so forgiving.

And you can tell that
to Pamela Anderson too.

From Baywatch?

No! You know exactly who I mean.

We'll be watching.

Can I go, then, or...?

DOOR OPENS

DOOR CLOSES

Well?

You'll never believe this, but
Pamela Anderson, she's in cahoots.

What? With who?

With WHOM. Carry on.

-Marcus.
-Oh, my God!

Sorry, who the hell's Marcus?

Yeah, actually, I don't know.
Who is that?

The funeral director.

Oh, my God again! You mean
the spindly-windly wafty one?

He seemed like such a sweet lad.

That is a shame.

I thought his eulogy
was particularly well judged.

Eulogy for who?

For WHOM.

-For me.
-You were at the funeral?

Of course I wasn't at the funeral.

No, I streamed it.

Which reminds me, your poem.
Oh, dear.

Rhyming Parkinson's with Parmesan?
We raised you better than that.

Hey, I ran a 10k in your memory.

You walked most of it.

FOXES SCREECH

Sorry, is anyone actually interested
in how my fake drugs bust went?

Of course.

But first, William...

...they're back.

Foxes.

Give 'em hell.