02x04 - Episode 4

[bunniefuu]

ANTERIORMENTE

- What's going on?
- We've had a call about that lad.

His mum's had a text from him.

Are you stupid?!
Get me out of here!

I do know something.

- Well, go on, then.
- I'll give you the name...

for a grand.

I'm pregnant.

Are you OK?

You're definitely sure?

Yes.

I did this.

A line means pregnant.

Leanne.

Leanne?

Nothing.

And I do believe you will see him again.

Probably as a butterfly.

Yeah.

Right. Let's figure out how we get this g*n on Whelan.

Rhona,

Patrick's had some bad news.

An old friend of his, very sad to say,

passed on to the next world.

Sorry to hear that, Patrick.

Thanks. It's fine. I haven't seen him in a long time.

Hey, shh.

When she says, "old friend,"

does that mean a kind old man who taught you chess,

or are we talking...

You know...

- g*ng banger?
- Rhona!

No, it's fine, it's fine.
Yeah, he was.

- He had a kid, as well.
- Oh, God.

It's not right.

It's just not right.

Patrick...

Do you want me to sing Angels by Robbie Williams again?

Well, this is all the more reason why we need to figure out

how we get this g*n on Willy Whelan.

I just don't see how it can be done.

Well, couldn't you arrange some sort of meeting with him, Patrick?

And then what?

Put it in his...pocket?

If you want to see Willy Whelan, you have to go to his pub.

- He's got a pub?
- Well, that's perfect.

We can just nip round for a couple of swift halves,

and hide it in a nook.

It's not a pub you can just go to.

It's not a Toby Carvery.

Can we just turn up and say we're pub inspectors?

We might get a couple of free drinks.

That's not bad, you know. Environmental health.

- Spot inspection.
- No, he'd think it was the police fitting him up,

he's madly paranoid about that.

We're chimney sweeps, roaming the country from town to town.

The problem with all of this is Whelan gave the g*n to me.

If it turns up at his house, I'm dead.

- Yeah.
- Yeah, that is a head-scratcher.

I'm going to take a shower.

Hang on, hang on.

You want a grand of my f*cking money?

Listen, she's got the name of this guy,

the boyfriend, and I reckon that this guy is Charlie Little Pockets.

So f*cking make her talk!

We don't f*cking pay f*ckers.

This woman is a piece of work, I am telling you.

She don't give a sh*t.

If we don't give her the money, she ain't going to talk, end of.

f*ck me.

Everyone's a f*cking gangster.

Right, here's what's going to happen.

One Pack is going to get the cash and drop it round at yours.

You are going to get that name,

and you're going to make sure you bring back every f*cking penny.

I leave the details of how in your capable hands.

f*cking...

How's it going with your suspect?

- Bad.
- It's not bad.

It's medium.

I'll tell you what, that lawyer is good.

Have you checked the CCTV?

Well, with respect,

I don't think he's going to have bummed him right there in the shop.

No, but I mean in terms of how the phone got there.

I mean, presumably, a lot of people are in and out of that shop all day.

- That's what his lawyer said.
- Shut up, Naysmith.

Oh, I'm going to go and get some Nik Naks.

Yeah?

Right, say what you just said.

What if we made it look like a police fit-up?

A police fit-up!

Cos you said he was paranoid about the police fitting him up.

Yeah.

So, what if we made it look like they'd taken the g*n from you...

Then we planted the g*n in Whelan's house,

tip off the police with the exact location...

- So then...
- So then the police raid his house

and very, very quickly find the g*n.

What does that look like?

Like they brought the g*n with them.

Yes! Like they stole the g*n off you, and used it to fit him up.

Yeah, and how are you going to make it look like the police took the g*n?

Well, you said they came round the other day.

Maybe they came back with a warrant, searched the place?

No, they did that, it would be off books.

They wouldn't come with a warrant.

But...

What if we made it look like someone broke in,

ransacked the place and took the g*n?

I go to Whelan, tell him what happened,

and he figures out it was the police

when they apparently find the g*n on him.

Give him the pieces, but let him put them together himself.

Like a Kinder Surprise.

It's risky, but...

you could have something there.

Hang on. What's that guy doing?

- He didn't buy anything, did he?
- No.

OK, show me that again, would you?

Stop there.

There, can you zoom in on that?

- Hello?
- All right, sunshine.

Do you own a watch?

- Yeah.
- Good, then you've got no excuse for being late, have you?

Big man's got a job for you,
and he's asked for you by name for this one.

Yeah?

Yeah, "Get me Quavers, the lad who likes to get his bollocks out."

Be at The Badger tomorrow morning, AM, yes?

Yeah.

Delicious.
Thanks, Patrick.

How would you feel about our child learning a musical instrument?

Oh, I'd love that, actually.

I was thinking maybe the saxophone.

He can play jazz, play soft soul.

Patrick, I would be the proudest woman on earth

if our baby were a soft soul saxophonist.

Hey, we should get you a doctor's appointment.

I can get you registered at my local GP.

Want to make sure you've got the right plan in place.

Hello?

Leanne...

Patrick has been so amazing, you know.

I said to him yesterday,

I've had my first baby's name picked out since I was nine years old,

and for better or for worse, it's Pocahontas.

And he just said, if it makes me happy...

it makes him happy.

- Leanne...
- Do you know,

I knew he'd be a good dad...

from his attitude to the clitoris.

Right. Leanne,

there's something I've been meaning to tell you...

OK, right, we could have something here.

I could have a way we could plant the g*n on Whelan.

Really?

My friend's funeral's on Thursday, and the wake is at Whelan's pub now.

It's far from perfect, but it's an excuse for me to be in The Badger

without it seeming suspicious.

So do you think you could take the g*n and stash it somewhere?

I think it needs to go upstairs in his flat, otherwise

it's too easy to blame someone else, if it's just in the pub.

So can you do that?

I want to be in Willy's eyeline at all times.

I don't want him looking back,

thinking, where did Patrick slip off to?

Well, what if Leanne went with you as your girlfriend,

and she slipped off and hid it?

There's going to be a lot of people there.

Even if there is an opportunity, someone might see you.

I've got an idea.

Rhona, do you think you could pull off being Patrick's date?

- Yes.
- OK.

I'll create a distraction for you to hide the g*n.

Picture the scene.

A frosty autumn morning,

mist hangs low over a quiet graveyard.

It's a cremation.

Mist hangs low over the car park of a council-owned crematorium.

Something's out there.

Ferns, job for you.

Phone's back from the lab.

Forensics were inconclusive.

I want you to go through everything on that,

- make a database.
- Right.

- Texts, contacts, social media, Google searches, the lot.
- OK.

Be on the lookout for anything of a sexual nature.

Anything that might be slang for bumming,

fingers up the bum, use your imagination.

Aye-aye, Captain.

- That includes texts he sent his mum.
- Sure.

She might have missed something, you see.

At the end of the day, she's the kid's mother.

She's not necessarily going to be thinking...

- "Is he in a sexual relationship with a -year-old newsagent?"
- Naive.

But as police, we do need to think that.

- We're paid to think that.
- That we are.

I don't mind saying that for the past hours,

I've been picturing exactly that.

Good luck, son.

'So, the total amount for the tiara, the strap

'and the petticoat would be .'

- 'Right, OK.'
- 'All right?'

'I think he can stretch to that, that's not much.

'I'm refusing to wear it unless he gets these extras.'

'Could someone call him?'

Right, Neil is at capoeira till nine

and Mike is still at his girlfriend's.

I need you two to b*at me up.

- What?
- If I'm going to convince Willy Whelan

that the g*n got taken from me, I need you to b*at me up.

- Why?
- The story's going to be

guys broke in with ski masks and baseball bats.

They ransacked the place, b*at me up and stole the g*n.

And it has to look convincing.

Is that definitely necessary?

Can we not just say these people broke in

while you nipped out to Tesco's?

No, he has to have absolutely no reason to doubt me.

Could we not do something with make-up?

When I saw Phantom,

I was second row from the front and, honestly,

I swear it was real. I cried my eyes out.

Or, what if we said they put lipstick on you

and pulled your pants down and wrote "f*gg*t" on you with the lipstick,

because they were, like, attacking your masculinity?

No. I know Whelan, this is the way it has to be.

Right, OK.
Here we go, then.

I mean, yeah, you've been beaten up before, right?

I mean, you were in a g*ng, for God's sake.

Weirdly, no. I always avoided scuffles.

I had a nosebleed once. But that was in school.

You prick!

Yes, but harder, harder.

m*therf*cker!

I meant harder with the v*olence, not the language.

Sorry.

Rhona.

Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry.

You definitely look...worse than when we started.

Sallow. You look drawn.

Use this. I need a broken nose and at least two missing teeth.

OK then. Here goes.

It's coming.

I'm sorry!

OK. Strike two.

On its way. Right now.

I'm so sorry. It was instinct.

Do you know what?

Don't worry about it. I'll figure something out.

I think that's for the best, Patrick.

v*olence is never the answer.

Is my mouth bleeding?

Jeff?

He said I should come in.

Boss has got a job for me.

Yeah, Quavers. Good lad.

Warm, soapy water all over, then rinse it.

Don't scratch it, don't scuff it, it's worth more than your house.

And when you're done with that,

I'll give you a Hoover for the inside.

Right, I've done a Google.

There's a joke shop around the corner that sells wigs

that might just do the trick,

and then I reckon we just trawl the charity shops

for the rest of the stuff, keep costs down.

Hungry?

I'm eating for two now, Rhones.

Right, sure.

Is that a Snickers on there?

Yeah, cravings.

It's mad. I ate a spoonful of butter in the night.

Yeah, yeah, yeah.
That... all sounds good.

Soul. That's exactly the kind of thing I'm looking for.

Do you mind if I take that?

I'll take one of these, yeah.

Can I take one?

All right, cheers, lads.

Excuse me, gentlemen?

I'm sorry to interrupt your game,

do you mind if I tell you about the Caliphate?

You what?

Read me that last one again?

"Got PE today, LOL."

And what do we think PE stands for?

Physical education?

Yeah. Could be.

I certainly hope so.

But it could just as easily be

penile entry.

And that could be the penis going into something...

or something going into the penis.

That's also a thing.

Problem ejaculation.

Yeah. Write it down.

Probe enema, that's another one.

Let's not edit ourselves at this stage.

'Breeds such as the French bulldog and pug

'have seen an increase in popularity in recent years.

'But the UK Kennel Club and the British Veterinary Association...'

You finished? I'll pop out and have a look in a minute.

Well, put your feet up. Get yourself a beer.

'exaggerated features,

'breeding problems and health issues.

'This is Andrew Chaplain.'

Quavers, you dickhead.

Come and sit up here with the lads.

to avoid buying flat-faced breeds.'

Come on.

'Now, a suspect has been arrested in connection with

'the disappearance of schoolboy Gareth Pugh.

Look at this sick bastard.

'The -year-old man, who can't be named for legal reasons

'but is believed to be from the Eastern district,

'has been taken in for questioning.

'Police are appealing for anyone with information

'on Gareth's whereabouts to please call them.

'Or you can, of course, tweet them,

'the address is @Bristolandavonpolice,

'and please use the hashtag "wheresgareth".'

Yes, it's about the lad who was on the news.

The one that went missing.
Yeah.

I saw him walking down towards the bit behind the allotments,

near the railway. Yeah.

He was with this, like, old Muslim guy,

and they was, like, holding hands, and getting off, and that.

OK, good job. Now let's get back ASAP,

- I don't like being out in public.
- Yeah, sure.

I just want to get myself waxed downstairs.

I don't think anyone else will see it,

not unless the plan goes really sideways.

But just from a meta point of view...

Rhones!

You know, I can't wait to hold her little head,

look into her little eyes,

pierce her little ears...

Rhona,

I haven't discussed this with Patrick yet, but...

I want you to be fairy godmother.

Oh, God.

Leanne...

Yeah.

Thank you.

You will have to wear make-up on the day.

You know that, don't you?

Yeah.

Good.

Say that again?

Penile entry, sir.

We think it could be code for penile entry.

Which could mean the penis going into something, or it could mean...

- You've got nothing.
- Release the suspect.

Sorry, Sarge. We've got a tip-off.

Big news, Wilton. Someone's phoned in.

A sighting of Gareth Pugh with my suspect.

If you haven't already, start tracing that call for me.

- Yeah.
- Thanks.

Sir?

Gotcha, you bastard.

If it were a boy, now, obviously, this is totally up to him,

but I'd love it if he was gay.

That'd be so beautiful.

Don't you think I'd be good at that, Rhones?

Standing up for a gay one?

- Are you all right?
- Yeah.

No.

Oh, God. I don't know. I've got a weird pain.

Ah. I think it might be...

Oh, God, Rhones. I think it might be the baby!

Actually, I don't think it's the baby.

It is, Rhones. I think it might be the baby.

- Oh, God.
- It's probably just indigestion.

You did have quite a big breakfast.

I need to get to the hospital.

- Help, my baby!
- Leanne, it's not the baby.

- How do you know?
- Just take some deep breaths.

- Help! Help! Help!
- Deep breaths...

Leanne, there is no baby.

There never was.

What?

You had the tester wrong.

Two lines means pregnant, one line means not pregnant.

I checked the packaging.

I'm sorry.

Hang on, since when have you known this?

I, um...

I checked it before we went to bed.

The night before last.

- What?!
- I'm sorry, there wasn't a good time.

Rhona, we watched three Come Dines on the trot!

That's six advert breaks.

And...all the recappy bits.

I'm sorry. Leanne!

Leanne!

Selfie.

Selfie, top off.

That's his penis.

Cat.

I think that's his penis.

Of course it is, that's the tip.

Wilton, we found a body!

Tip-off was bang on.

Yeah.

Obviously terrible news.

Senseless...

loss.
Steve, found a body!

He sh**t, he scores!

Ma'am, I've traced that number.

The tip-off call.

Colin, the call came in from The Badger.

Owner and proprietor, Willy Whelan.

Well, so what? It's a pub. Lots of people go into pubs.

Colin, this is The Badger.

Knock, knock.

Sorry if this is a bad time,

but you might want to take a look at this.

sh*t.

Leanne?

Leanne, are you OK?

Leanne?

Oh, God.

In many ways,

that's my baby.

Leanne, I'm really sorry.

You do know we need to keep this up, right?

- What?!
- Just for the next couple of days.

Patrick's only helping us because he thinks you're pregnant.

Before that, he was all for chucking us out on the street

with whatever loose change he had in his pocket.

Are you kidding me?

Leanne?
Leanne?

Look, I didn't plan this, but this may be our only chance.

No, I'm sorry, Rhona.

I'm not doing it. Not like this.

Please just think about this.

It's not right. I'm telling Patrick.

We're lying to him. We're putting him in danger.

Leanne, please just listen.

- Leanne.
- Patrick?

You all right?

Patrick.

What happened?

I got myself beaten up.

For the plan. Like I said, it's got to look real.

So, I've been to Bristol,

I spoke to Willy, told him what happened, like what we said.

A couple of people broke in, ransacked the place,

I told him the g*n's gone.

And...?

It worked a charm.

We're on for tomorrow.

Good.

Great work.

Bud!

Sorry, sorry.

What was you shouting me for?

I just wanted to tell you that I did a really big poo.

She saw it.

Yeah.

NO PRÓXIMO EPISÓDIO

Well, this is it.
The big day.

You can tell the people you work for to suck my ass.

With Sandra,

it is never over.

You bitch!

ladies!

Big mistake.