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Ashes to Ashes (2008–2010): Season 1, Episode 2 - Episode #1.2 - full transcript

It's the week of the Royal Wedding, and CID is under pressure to keep the streets quiet. Realising she is stuck here for now, Alex is desperate for escapism. She goes on a date with a handsome Thatcherite and makes contact with her mother, Caroline. As bombs threaten to ruin Charles and Diana's big day, Gene needs Alex to stop being distracted and acknowledge this world has the power to hurt.


He was here for seven years!

So in real life I might only
have been shot a second ago.

Your head has made up
a puzzle for you?

Because that is the way
that I will get strong.

I'm facing up to you.
I'm strong enough to wake up.

He's under arrest!

They say that before you die,

you see all the mistakes you've
ever made, in that last moment.

Somewhere between life and death.

- Mummy.
- Your presence is required

just a little bit longer
round here... by me.

First, the news,
with John Humphreys.

Resynck: Xenzai

Egypt has made another move
against Islamic fundamentalists,

this time taking control of the
country's 40, 000 private mosques...

Note to psyche:

a little less irony,
a little more Dynasty, please.

In Panorama tonight,
we look at international agreement

to limit trading wars between...

The eyes of the world will be
on Lady Diana Spencer

as she becomes the wife of the heir
to the throne and takes the princess...

It's been a long, hard struggle
for justice, but today

a jury found my client not guilty
of assaulting a police officer.

Until today there has been no
recognition from the Metropolitan Police

of anything wrong with the way this
investigation had been carried out.

Today, finally, up against
the wire, confronted by...

Mum.

...their own lies and evasions,
it has been admitted.

- Can you clarify?
- Mummy...

You do what your mother says.

Everyone else has gone home to watch
the royal wedding with their parents.

But you're staying
here on your own, Alex.

Make sure she concentrates.
She's easily distracted.

Goodbye, Alex.

It's not real.

I will not get upset.

Alex!

I'm here to see them die
before they die, aren't I?

My name is Alex Drake.

I've just been shot and that bullet
has taken me back to 1981.

I may be one second away from life,

or one second away from death.

All I know is that
I have to keep fighting.

Fight to live, fight to see
my daughter. Fight to get home.

You still on for tonight, Shaz?

Might be, might not be.

Good morning, imaginary constructs.

Morning, ma'am.

It actually looks quite busy
in here, what's going on?

Oh, the guv's like
a dog on a hot tin roof.

Special Branch are all over
him about the royal wedding.

In case some of you
hadn't noticed,

we are about to witness
the joyous union

of Prince Charles
and Lady Diana Spencer.

In the meantime,

we've got jessies on the Isle of Dogs
about to stage a protest.

Why the rush?

Gotta stamp on this
before the press get wind of it.

Take that seatbelt off, you're a
police officer, not a bloody vicar!

I know this bit. I know this bit!

Right, we'll go the long way round.

I'm not scratching this baby.

I thought we were in a rush.

The family have locked themselves in
upstairs, say they're not coming down.

This is the last place left,
the rest have been compuls...

compuls...

They had to leave.

- Any journalists?
- Just a couple of locals.

This is hardly CID stuff, guv,
is it?

It's like a powder keg
waiting for a spark.

It's not going to happen.
Not on my patch.

Not for Di. Chris, kick the door down.
Let's get 'em out of there.

Well, hang on. Why risk a spark?

Who's the dominant personality
up there?

Landlord, David Bonds.

- Hard as nails.
- Who else?

His wife,
who wouldn't say boo to a goose.

Son, who looks as though

he might have spent too much time
in the shallow end of the gene pool.

OK. Look and learn, constructs.

Let her do her stuff for a minute.
Then break the sodding door down.

Mr Bonds?

Mr Bonds?

- What's happening?
- Shut up!

Mr Bonds,
my name's DI Alex Drake.

I wonder if myself and my colleague
could come up and have a chat.

See if we could help you achieve
the conclusion you're looking for.

Right. Let's get the door down.

My dad was the landlord of this pub,

and his dad before him.

It'll be his when the time's right.

Generations of skilled workers
drank here.

Now they've all been chucked on the
slag-heap by Thatcher and Heseltine.

Homes destroyed
to make buildings and offices,

with no new homes built to replace 'em!

The march of history, Mr Bonds.

Hitler couldn't drive
my dad out of this pub,

and I'll tell you this, Mr Hunt,

no poxy Docklands development's
going to succeed

where the Luftwaffe failed!

We ain't going nowhere!

The thing is, Mr Bonds, that...

Where will you be
watching the royal wedding?

We won't be watching it anywhere!

It's a charade,

to paper over the cracks
of mass unemployment

and the wholesale destruction
of working-class communities!

You're a cheerful bugger,
aren't you?

Inbred bloody fascists.

Don't you dare swear
in front of your mother!

- Sorry, Dad.
- Idiot!

Mr Bonds, I'm not interested
in spoiling your protest.

What I do ask

is that you sit up here quietly

until after Di and Charles
have tied the knot.

Can we shake hands on that?

Can I just...?

Do you mind if I have
another garibaldi, Mrs Bonds?

- Fine fare.
- Presto's.

Shut up and listen to me!

This is my bloody fantasy
and I will be listened to!

Excuse my colleague.

Education of a toff,
manners of a sewer rat.

Sorry.

I just wanted to say that I admire
your stance, Mr Bonds, I really do.

But there is no point in fighting
a battle that can't be won.

You know, in ten years' time,

glass and steel will tower above us.

The only thing that will
remain from this street

will be the street name.

I've seen it, so I know.

So, please,
let us help you move on.

There'll be other battles to fight
in other places,

and battles you may even
have a chance of winning.

Piss off... out of my home.

Well, that went well.

It's all about profiling.
It takes a little time.

Bollocks.

Right, shall we get back
to some proper policing?

Bit of admin,
we need to stamp your arse.

I beg your pardon?

It's a tradition.

When a woman joins the Met,
skirt up,

stamp your bum with the day's date,
down the pub.

Then you get to see us moon you.

You must be joking.
What is wrong with my mind?

Personally, I have no desire
whatsoever to see

your boney, privately-educated
buttocks, but it's good for morale.

- Well, it's not going to happen.
- Guv?

What?

You are not gonna believe what's just
happened back on the Isle of Dogs, guv.

There has been an incident
over at the Royal Docks.

What sort of incident?

A bloody messy one, that's what.

If anybody laughs,

I will attach jump leads
to their genitalia.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Oh, God.

Only, some of my friends don't
think I've got a sense of humour.

An exploding dog, from my psyche...

If you've quite finished, DI Drake.

You see, the thing is,
my parents were...

It doesn't matter, it doesn't matter.

- What's the point? Carry on.
- Are you sure?

Please.

So...

Special Branch are as nervous
as a virgin in a brothel,

especially since HRH was sent
a letter bomb in May.

I remember that.
That's why I've put it in this story.

Do you mind?!

So nervous they want to investigate
this one themselves.

I hope you told them
where to get off.

I did.

Which means my reputation
is on the line.

So, there will be no hiccups

between now and the twanging
of the royal hymen. Understood?

Apparently, she was the only
posh virgin they could find.

How do they know she's a virgin?

I dunno.
Had a little peek, I suppose.

Is that understood?

- Yes, guv.
- Good!

So...

If some nutter is playing with dynamite
on my patch I wanna know about it.

Let's round up all
them anti-establishment toe-rags,

all of the usual lunatics and losers and
put the fear of God up 'em. Questions?

What?

Can I come, please?

Gentlemen...

You have several things in common,

all of which irritate me immensely.

Poor skin, donkey jackets, and
membership of anarchist groups.

I don't think I'm supposed to be here.
I'm part of the Anti-Nazi League.

Don't you dare talk to me!

One of you gobs of pond life has
been mucking around with explosives.

- Why was that?
- Is this really necessary?

Because in your dark, twisted
little minds,

you think trying to stop
the redevelopment of the East End

is an act of revolution.

Wrong.

Do Anarchists have smaller
tadgers than normal men?

It's the fear.
They get sucked up into the body.

So when you limp out of here,

you will spread the word
amongst your scummy comrades

I will personally remove
the intestines...

from anyone who even thinks about
causing trouble this week.

Bernie...

the bolt.

I'm not supposed to be here!

I'm the Anti-Nazi League,
not an anarchist!

Anarchy doesn't work!

No! No!

All right, love?

- Brown or pink, guv?
- God save the Queen.

I wonder
how you get a job like that?

Like what?

Checking out posh totty
to see if they're a virgin.

All right, Skip?

Ah, you're working, sir.

Not an April Fool's, is it?

Bit busy
trying to find a bomber.

Cast your eyes on that, sir.

London Liberation Front?

It's a new one on me, guv.

Next time it's Moore?
What does that mean?

That's obvious.
They've misspelled "more".

No, the syntax is too good.

What?!

Well, there's the correct usage
of a contracted apostrophe.

If they know how to use that,
then they know how to spell "more".

Yes, thank you,
Miss Jean bloody Brodie.

Who is "Moore"?

Bobby Moore.

Bobby Moore?!

Footballer.

Yeah, I know who he is, numb-nuts!

Why would anyone
want to blow up Bobby Moore?

He WAS in Escape To Victory.

We will not have
the aristocracy of this country

blown to smithereens on my watch.

- Understood?
- Yes, guv'nor.

I want you, Einstein,

to trace the original publication
of the letters from this note.

What about Daniel Moore?

He's got a few enemies, I bet.

When I need advice
from a lobotomised Essex Girl,

I'll ask for it, OK?

Danny Moore is on the board of
the Docklands Development Agency.

Born in the East End,

dragged himself up by his boot straps,
worth at least a million.

Really?

A real, living breathing
Thatcherite businessman?

How completely brilliant.

Personal friend of the Great Handbag
herself, so try and behave.

I promise not
to twang his red braces...

More than once.

Hi, Danny Moore.

What's all this about?

Erm, we found a small amount of
explosives on land near Royal Docks.

Well, technically,
a small dog found it.

He's an even smaller dog now.

It wasn't made public.

And yet the warning note we received
mentioned that incident

and indicated you could be
a possible future target.

Do you have any enemies, Mr Moore?

With what I'm doing, you upset a few
people, big ones and little ones.

I get threats almost daily.

Well, if you will go around
destroying communities...

People will be disconcerted,
I don't deny that.

Look, I'm sorry,
I've got a business meeting.

Actually, although there was
widespread opposition at the time and,

and God knows,
the woman was appalling,

the Left came to see Thatcherism
as a necessary political evil.

Unions were emasculated

which led to the abolition of Clause 4
and the rise of New Labour.

Although not everybody...

Sorry. Sorry.
Bombs. Dogs. Carry on.

You'll have to excuse
the ramblings of my DI.

- Don't you apologise for me.
- Well, someone has to!

No apologies necessary.

I like the cut and thrust
of a good argument. Do you?

That depends who's doing
the cutting and, er...

...and who's doing the thrusting.

So, we'll go ahead and arrange
some protection for you, Mr Moore.

It's very kind of you to offer it.

It's not really an offer.
I insist.

And I'm going to politely decline.

Your life is in danger!

Well, life is always dangerous.
That's the thrill of it.

- Hope we meet again.
- It's unlikely.

I'm not going to be here very long.

I'll be the judge of that.

I wonder if these calories count.

What?

A moment on the lips,
an afterlife on the hips.

That would be just my luck.

He's a bloody fool.

Still, as long as he doesn't come
crying to me when he's blown to bits.

Oi, Luigi!

I hope you gave this horse
a decent funeral.

Very funny, Mr Hunt.

Good one.

I am going to stamp your arse,
you do know that.

You most certainly are not!

I promise you, it doesn't hurt.
Over the desk, skirt up... bosh.

"Property of
the Metropolitan Police".

You show us yours,
we show you ours.

In your dreams. And if you
continue to bang on about it,

I'm going to have to re-imagine you.

She wants it, really.

You got anything on the London
Liberation Front, Raymondo?

Not a thing. I think it's just
kids pissing about.

Do you?

Well, I'll remind you of that
when we're picking

bits of viscounts out of them
lovely trees on the Mall.

Have you got that
bloody note sorted?

Er... three of the letters
are from The Mirror.

Two from a Millwall programme.

And this curly thing here...

The apostrophe?

Yeah, it's from the Woman's Weekly.
I think.

It's these weird "o"s, though,
I can't seem to find them anywhere.

Someone to see you, ma'am.

Yum.

There's something I'd like
to show you.

I bet there is.

You carry on, Drake,
we'll get on with the hard graft.

She's a beauty, isn't she?

Thank you, frontal cortex.

OK, I'm going to come straight
to the point.

Are there any men in your life?

No. I've given up on men.

Kids?

One little girl.

Well, not so little. Molly.

She's not with me at the moment.

Where is she?

She's with her godfather, Evan.

I'm on my way to her birthday party.
Or hope I am.

You're an enigma

wrapped in a riddle, Alex.

You don't know the half.

Well, then show me.

One more thing.
Have dinner with me.

- Can I walk you in?
- No, thanks.

I will have dinner with you.
If the offer's still on.

The offer's still on. I'll call you.

All right.

Do you hear a ticking sound?

I think it's under your seat!

I don't think so!
I think it's under yours!

Get out! Get out! Get out!

Get me out! Get me out! Get me...

Alex!

Alex! Alex, it's all right! Alex!

Alex, it's all right!

Look, there's a note,
it's supposed to frighten me.

Bloody worked, too,
thought we were both goners!

We're alive!

It's all right. It's OK...

They were just letting you know
that they could get to you,

- any time, any place.
- You all right, ma'am?

So what does it say?

"On Wedding Day you die. "
Bastards.

Should we get
Special Branch involved?

No, we do not get
Special Branch involved!

My patch, my crime, my result!

- I've changed my mind.
- Are you still here?

I'd like police protection.

I'm at risk, I'm frightened,
I need protection.

- I could do it.
- DI Drake was assigned the task.

I offered you protection before!

No. I'm needed here...

You offered me protection, Mr Hunt,
and I'm accepting the offer.

Look at the state of you.
You're no use to us here.

You're still trembling.

Well, we did nearly die.

I'm allowed to tremble.

If you can die in this world.

Weren't you frightened today?
I mean, you could have died.

Didn't I tell you? I'm immortal.

Are you?

Me, too!

So, what do you want to do tonight?

Well...

I would really...

like to see
if you could surprise me.

I would love to know
if that's possible.

Wow! This is amazing!

Welcome to Blitz.

Thanks, George!

You dance?

No.

I said no! I don't dance!

Sorry, I can't hear you!

Sorry.

- Chris! What's happened to you?!
- Shaz.

Don't tell anyone at work, ma'am.

- What?
- I'd never hear the end of it.

Can't hear you, Chris!

Don't say anything at work.

I'd never hear the end of it!

- I'm gonna go get a drink.
- OK, darlin'.

Hurry up, Alex.

We are waiting for you, Alex.

What can I get you?

Let me through! Police officer!

Sorry.

What do you want?!

Please, don't hurt me!

I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

Thank you very much.

I hope you enjoyed our new single.
That was Fade To Grey. Thank you.

- Night, Ray.
- Night, mate.

So what have we got?

A dog in assorted pieces

and a poxy note from a group
that don't even exist.

It's not much.

Results from the explosives, guv.

We've got a potential major incident
here and everyone's gone AWOL.

Where's Chris?

Says he's got a dicky stomach.
Fairy.

And Drake'll be getting her knickers
off round about now in the DeLorean.

Anything?

World War Two dynamite,
they reckon.

- Gathering dust for 40 years.
- It doesn't make any sense.

Who'd hang on to explosives for
40 years and then blow up a dog?

If I knew that, Raymondo, you
and I could be sat on the crapper

or out there shagging Thatcherites
like the rest of the team.

No, whoever it is, we haven't
heard the end of it.

As for Danny Moore,
he might be a step above a...

...flea-ridden mongrel,

but it's our job to protect
the bastard.

What from?
The dynamite or Drake?

She might be a bird, Ray,

but she's your superior officer,
don't you forget it!

All right, guv, all right.

I'll get on to it.

No, no, no.

It's too late now. You get
yourself off home and get some kip.

You and I,
see if we can nail these bastards,

whoever they are,
in the morning.

- See you later.
- See you.

Night, guv.

Night.

A lot of people
have clown phobias.

Don't worry about it.

Thank you...

for a wonderful evening.

Or maybe it was a micro-second.

I think it was. I hope it was.

Thank you.
For a wonderful micro-second.

Alex?

Yes, Danny?

You talk too much.

We are waiting...

Make sure she concentrates.
She's easily distracted.

We're moving!

Can't you feel it?

You've had a bit to drink,
why don't we get some air?

No. No, I've been distracted,
but I'm all right now.

Alex, where are you going?

I'm going to a birthday party.

It makes perfect sense.

He hero-worships his father,
he looks up to him,

sees him humiliated

by having to sell his pub,
his home, his identity.

Danny Moore is the developer.

Well, you've changed your tune.

You were just doing a pretty passable
impression of a useless bimbo.

I was distracted.
I am not any more.

Bring him in before he kills.

Don't buy it.

I know that I'm right,
I know his profile.

So where does speccy four-eyes
get his dynamite from?

Two dabs of sherbet and
some nitroglycerin? Please!

I don't know yet,
but I know that I'm right.

You think our future king
wants to become a tampon,

so your views don't count!

- Please.
- No.

I'll let you stamp my bum.

I'll get my coat.

- Let's all stay very calm.
- Innocent men don't run, son.

Don't make me hurt him, Bonds.

- You bastard!
- David, stop him!

We're arresting you for the
attempted murder of Daniel Moore.

- You do not have to say...
- That's not how it goes!

He might hate Daniel Moore,
we all do!

But he's not capable of murder,
look at him! You're a coward, Hunt.

You want to have a go at someone,
come and have a go at me.

Put that down, Mr Bonds.

- David!
- Get off me!

You wearing make-up?

No.

Everything all right?

You didn't say
you were going to do this.

When you become my mother, Raymondo,
I'll let you know.

- Chris, turn this place upside down.
- What am I looking for?

- Dynamite.
- Dynamite?

Ace!

There's no dynamite in my house,
you stupid bleeding cow!

I'm so sorry, I have no idea
where this stuff is coming from.

Stop it! Please, stop it!

Get them down the station.
I want this done and dusted.

Come on.

Let David go. If we can get rid of
the father, we can isolate the son.

Pretty confident, aren't you?

What if you're wrong and
the bomber's still out there?

I'm not. He's not.

Right, let the old man go.

I'm going to squeeze his son's zits
until I hit his nervous system.

- Let me talk to him.
- Why should I?

Because he's a frightened,
confused kid. And I'm an expert.

If it were me, I'd have him stuffed and
mounted, and sent to Special Branch.

He needs a brief.
I want this case to stick.

May I suggest using Caroline Price?

Viv has got a list of pet solicitors
behind the desk,

use one of them.

Everyone else has gone home to watch
the royal wedding with their parents.

Just stay here on your own, Alex.

Do you understand?

Make sure she concentrates.

She's easily distracted.

I was once... but not any more.

New Romantics?

Bunch of suburban poofs
wearing doilies on their heads.

You didn't really go there, did you?

Back against the wall, obviously.

Hey, guess who else was there?

DI Drake.

You're kidding?
I told you she was a lesbo.

Who's a lesbo?

You never said
if you enjoyed last night.

Yeah, it was really good.

He's just told me it was
full of poofs and saddos.

Did you say that?

Some of those poofs and saddos
are my best friends.

Did he tell you
he was wearing eyeliner?

- I've got work to do.
- What the f...?

"We are all prostitutes. "

"Everyone has their price, and
you too will learn to live the lie. "

"Aggression, competition, ambition. "

"Consumer fascism. "

"Capitalism is the most barbaric
of all religions. "

I'm sure
Barry Manilow's covered that one.

Is that what you believe, George?

I just like the music.

Now we know you're a liar!

All the letters in the warning note
can be traced

- to publications found in your home.
- So?

Do you want a smoke?

The working classes are enslaved
by the tobacco industry.

Where is my snooker cue?

I think you were planning on
murdering Daniel Moore, George.

Prove it!

The correct answer is,
"No, I wasn't!"

Piss off.

You know something, George?

I think that I am going
to give you a ruddy good slap.

George, don't give him
the satisfaction.

Let's not do this his way.

Can I go home? Please?

I don't know. A terrified kid like
that should be singing like a canary.

You won't get
to him by threatening him.

What if he's got associates?

He won't have.
He's a loner, I'm sure of it.

Not good enough.
I need to break him,

find out if there are
any more explosives out there.

Right, I hope you've got
your best knickers on.

Why?

A deal's a deal, Bolly.

All inked up and ready to go.

Please, tell me you're not serious.

Just lie back and think
of Cheltenham. Over in a jiffy.

They did it to me, ma'am, too.
Pathetic, but it doesn't hurt.

Oh, for Christ's sake.

It's not real,

nobody will ever know
but me and my therapist.

Raymondo? Stampo.

Detective Inspector Drake,

we would like to
formally welcome you

to the Metropolitan Police Force.

Just get on with it!

I've had dinner with
Germaine Greer, you know?

A little bit busy, Christopher.

Will you please just stamp my arse?!

Mum.

What did you say?

Er... bum, I mean. Nothing.

To what do we owe
this unpleasant visit?

Someone phoned my office.

I'm representing George Bonds.

Our cup runneth over.

It's amazing to meet you... Caroline.

Erm, Mrs Price.
I've, erm, I've been...

- I've admired you...
- Are you trying to be funny?

- Oh, God.
- No.

We'll see who's laughing
when I'm finished here.

I want to see my client.

You do not walk into
an interview room with that woman

without a confession
written in the suspect's own blood!

- We know he did it!
- We think we know!

Look, I can't believe I am about
to say this, but we need evidence!

The cut-out letters. Danny Moore
being class enemy number one.

- Him taking over the pub!
- All circumstantial.

She will have our heads on spikes
above the Old Bailey.

I am going in there with her!

Guv. We took the floorboards
up in that pub.

We found this.

You really think you can take
on Caroline Price?

Well, you might need some of this.

Where did the dynamite
come from, George?

I don't know.

If we are going to help
each other out here,

you need to be
completely honest with me.

Did you not hear him?
He said he doesn't know.

- Love-15.
- Please, let's not play this game.

This is not a game,
Detective Inspector Drake.

Alex. Please, my name is Alex.

Detective Inspector Drake,
charge him or release him.

- It's quite simple.
- Love-30.

Your evidence is circumstantial
at best, at worst, malicious.

Just because his family made a stand
which inconvenienced you...

I'm sorry, you think
dynamite is circumstantial?

I do when it's
so fortuitously discovered

by members of
the Metropolitan Police.

I'm trying to help your client here.
Can we stop these games?

- Know what I think?
- No, no, tell me.

I think you've been put under pressure
by your superior officers

to pin this crime on some innocent,
weak member of society,

so you can tell them all will be well
for the royal wedding.

So, we would let
an innocent man go down

and leave a potential killer
free to walk the streets?

The police immoral?
Tell me it's not so.

I don't know if you're spectacularly
naive, or spectacularly stupid.

Judging by your place of employment,
I'd have to suspect the latter.

Would you?

And you... are a rude bitch.

- Maybe you WILL get him off.
- I don't think so.

Will you shut up?!
You may get him off.

And he may repay you
by blowing you to kingdom come!

What a very strange thing to say.

Perhaps we should reconvene
this interview

when you're a little less excited.

Charge him or release him.

Consider him charged.

I look forward to
seeing you in court.

Maybe we should pop along
and do some profiling.

Thank you for your support.

I thought you'd gone.

- I was waiting for you.
- Really?!

You look like you could
do with a drink.

Yeah. I'd like that.

I'm sorry if I was
a bit hard on you.

The last thing I want to do is embarrass
a fellow female in a male profession.

You know you're the only
female DI in the division?

I know. Lucky me.

Listen, about the stamping thing...

There must be
a lot of pressure on a woman

to become like a man
in your position.

Either join the club or
get isolated and abused.

People like you fought the fight
so that people like me don't have to.

The Metropolitan Police presents a
very united front to people like me.

"Hatred", I think, is the word.

We're on the same side.
Can't we work together?

Would you really like
to help me, DI Drake?

Alex, please.

I would love to help you.

I have a daughter called Alex.

I know. I know!

What's she like?

Bright as a penny.

I bet she adores you.

Not when I ask her to tidy her room.

You never ask her to tidy her room.

I bet.

Can I see her?

What?

Do you have a photograph or...?

Oh, er, somewhere.

Sorry, my perfume leaked everywhere.

I really must get a new one.

She looks quite sad.

Where is she now?

What would really help me, Alex,

is for us to become friends.

- Really?
- We could talk sometimes.

You could tell me about things
that go on at work.

What sort of things?

Things that should be in the public
domain, not in a dark police cell.

OK.

You want me to spy on my colleagues?

I want you to do what
you know is right.

No.

No, not even in death,
not even to please you.

Do you know the one thing worse than
women being refused power, DI Drake?

Can we meet again?

I think that we've got off
to a bad...

It's women fighting
to get the keys to the kingdom

and then behaving like men.

Please! Just get to know me.
I might even be able to save your life!

I don't want to get to know you.

Thank God the only thing my daughter
shares with you is her name.

I'd be ashamed if she grew up
to be like you.

Obviously,
I wouldn't do this...

in real life.

I don't shag Thatcherite businessmen,
no matter how cute they are.

I... am merely going to piss off

that part of the Id...

that spewed up my mother.

And nobody will know...

...but me.

Oh, God, oh, Danny!

Ah, stiff trot!

Oh... stiff trot!

DI Bolly Knickers.

You appear to be drunk in control of
a handbag and dressed like a tart again.

Oh, piss off, you lardy fascist!

We'll make a copper of you yet.

Luigi!
Another bottle of your Chianti.

I don't want a drink,

I'm going upstairs.

Oh, and a bottle of your ridiculously
over-priced fizzy water.

Yes, Mr Hunt.

Sit.

Even in my own bloody fantasy,
my mother is ashamed of me.

Would you like to take some
advice from the Gene Genie?

Not really.

When the rest of humanity...

finds themselves in the dung heap...

...misery lapping at their throats...

threatening to drown them...

...the rat of despair gnawing
away at their genitals...

Yeah, all right!
Give me some wine.

- Yes!
- No!

You and me, Bolly,

we're police officers.

We can drive fast cars,

we can shout at people.

We can do something.
We can make a difference.

Keep on fighting,
don't get distracted.

- Exactly.
- Yes!

Careful, Bolls.

That Formica was hewn
from the hills above Florence.

Thank you.

What for?

I was lost...

but now I am found.

Kenny Rogers?

Book of Luke, Chapter 15.

Hey! Can I offer you deserts,
Signore Hunt?

DESSERTS, Luigi! How many times?
Desert is somewhere

where Montgomery gave
your Nazi mates a bloody good hiding.

Hitler couldn't drive
my dad out of this pub.

Work to do, Bolly.

Think I need to start
at The Finish.

There's no dynamite hidden in this
house, you stupid bastard! Get off me!

George, I am going to put
every card I have

on the table.

You tried to intimidate Mr Moore
with the fake car bomb.

- No!
- Then you threatened his life.

- I want to see my brief.
- You know it, and I know it.

You were angry at Mr Moore

because he was trying to hurt
your family, your dad,

and you struck out.

A jury will understand that.

Your wonderful lawyer
will make sure that they do.

I know what it's like
to adore a parent, George.

A powerful, dominating,

exciting parent who,
well, sometimes

doesn't give you as much attention
as you think you might be due.

You know nothing about me.

I've seen where this ends, George.

Boys who haven't even been born yet,
so full of hate

that they strap bombs to themselves
to obliterate innocent people.

Not even the IRA would do that.

Do you remember when I said
that it was futile to fight?

Well...

I was wrong
and you were right.

It's never futile to fight, George.

- What are you talking about?
- I am fighting for my life.

I am fighting to see
my little girl again.

You're barking.

Just don't be driven by hate, George.

Be driven by love.

- Dad?
- I'm sorry, DI Drake,

I didn't realise you were
interviewing in here.

- What have you brought him in for?
- Didn't I tell you? He's our bomber.

You're insane, Hunt.
I know nothing about it!

I did it.

What?

I did it. I'm the bomber.

It's me.

I was trying to scare Moore away.

I wanted you to be proud of me, Dad.

- No, George.
- I did it.

I did it.

I'm sorry.

So sorry.

- Did anybody help you, George?
- No.

No, it was just me.

Don't say another word, son,
until the lawyer gets here.

Here is the stuff of which
fairy tales are made.

Nobody does this better than us.

- Nobody.
- The Prince and Princess...

- Are you crying, mate?
- No!

Whoa! Get out the way!

But fairy tales usually
end at this point

with the simple phrase,

"They lived happily ever after. "

Isn't she lovely?

That's Emanuel.

Yeah, it's a lovely dress.

Don't pretend
you've got a soft side.

It's a bit wrinkled.

It's meant to be wrinkled.

Poof.

- Have they tied the Royal knot yet?
- Almost there, guv.

Spotty, useless, anarchic twat, nil,
Royal Family and Gene Hunt, one.

Go easy on him.

- Do you think he'll make a good king?
- It worries me he's Welsh.

No offence, Viv,
I'm not a racialist.

I see the jungle drums are
sounding in Hampstead then.

- Hello!
- George, what have you done?

I want this officer removed
from the case, she's not competent.

Oh, is that right?
Is that right?

Well, at least I'm not out trying
to score cheap points off coppers

while my daughter is stuck at school
on her own for the Royal wedding.

How dare you speak to me like that!

I've felt guilty about that
all my life, but not any more.

She's your daughter,
you bloody love her!

Ladies... can we deal
with this before the mud wrestling?

Shut up!

Mrs Bonds...

...catch!

Get down!

What are you doing?

Garibaldis?

You were expecting these,
were you, Private Bonds?

You're nicked.

I'm sorry, I don't understand.

He served in the Army
in North Africa,

blowing up sunburnt Germans,

knows his way
around a set of explosives.

You're the bomber, aren't you?

You bitter old bastard?

Erm, can you keep the noise
down over there, please?

I think actually if you're not
in the Royal Wedding mood by now

I can assure you
you never will be.

I was absolutely convinced.

Classic father worship, hero envy.

Inadequate, angry, bright.

I'd have put money on him
being the bomber.

Nah, not in a million years.

And as for Daddy Bond's...

well, he's a coward.

All talk and no trousers. Cheers.

Never mind.

Your boyfriend's invited us
to a bit of a do.

That's the trouble being posh.

There's always somebody posher.

Ladies and gentlemen,
can I have your attention, please?

Oi!

No, I just want to say a few words.

I know that we haven't
always seen eye to eye

on the development of this area...

What are they doing here?

Getting on with their lives.

...you and I are the same.

We have the same blood
running in our veins...

For what it's worth,

I think it took a lot of courage
to come here this evening.

I thought about what you said,
and you were right.

Everybody must fight.

...will be given a cash sum
to start a new life in a new place.

And every man here

will have a job in my company
if that's what they want.

I don't want braying
public schoolboys on the floor,

I want barrow boys...

...and wide boys.

I want our street wisdom,

our ducking and diving.
Our East End blood.

You know, one day this place
will have all the romance of Venice

and the commercial power of New York.

And I give you my word,

we'll make a few quid on the way.

He's a smooth operator,
I'll give him that.

The future is bright, my friends.

I give you the Royal Couple.

God Save The Queen!

I kept the best stuff back.

It was a pretty speech.

I meant every word.

Listen, if you ever got bored of
working with an oaf like that,

there's a job waiting for you.

I could use a woman like you.

I think you already have.

- Guv.
- What? I'm molesting a toff here!

Guv, there's a bomb here.

What?

George, he's planted a bomb.
We have to get everybody out.

Please... trust me.

If you're wrong...

Right. Come on, everybody.
Show's over!

Come on, everybody, move on down
to the end of the street.

Cut the conga.

Move to the end of the street.

Quickly as you can. Back of
the street, right to the back!

We are all prostitutes!

Everything is significant, Molly,

I just don't know why yet.

But the more I experience,
the more clues I'll get

and the sooner
I'll be back home to you.

Maybe I can save them.

Maybe that's why I'm here.
Maybe that's...

That'll be my release.

I won't leave you
on your own, Molly.

I promise.

How are you?

I'm fine. Um...

Well, no, I mean, I'm not fine.
I mean, I'm a mess.

I'm not surprised, that must
have been a horrible experience.

I just wanted you to know I had
no idea he was capable of that.

Well, passion and belief in a cause.

He won't be the last.

Would you like to come and have...?

Sorry, I can't. I'm going to pick up
my daughter from school.

Oh! Well, that's good.

I'll see you again, DI Drake.

- Alex.
- Alex.

A deal's a deal, Bolly.

Trousers down.

One... two... three!

Subtitles by Red Bee Media
transcripts. subtitle. me. uk

Resync: Xenzai

Spoilers coming...

Wait till you hear this one, guv.

Prozzie wants to make
a complaint of rape.

Drop this quicker than your drawers

or I'll arrest you
for wasting police time.

Whether you believe Trixie or not,

someone hurt her and
someone left her for dead.

He's gonna do it again.
He's a nutter!

I thought he was going to kill me.

God, you were gorgeous!

- Were?
- Er... are!

Say it.

My name's Bond... James Bond.

I'm Clark Kent.

Let's just get the twisted bastard!

Anything you say will be taken down,
ripped up and shoved down

your scummy throat
until you choke to death.

Gene Hunt.
Chapter one, verse two.

Resynck: Xenzai