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Ashes to Ashes (2008–2010): Season 3, Episode 5 - Episode #3.5 - full transcript

Two loutish policemen, Litton and Bevan, whom Hunt knew in Manchester, turn up on his patch in pursuit of ageing comic Frank Hardwick,who has allegedly robbed the Police Widows Fund. However, when someone takes a pot shot at Frank ,Hunt and his team suspect that the visitors are lying. In fact he has evidence of their corruption and is fleeing for his life. With Frank safe at Luigi's Hunt takes great pleasure in playing the couple off against each other at a police gala.

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Alex... You're the best of
them, Alex, it's not fair.

For you, Ma'am.

You ordered it from Manchester.

I'm not asking you to be
disloyal to his memory, I'm...

Sam Tyler was a friend of mine.
Sam Tyler died. End of.

He did this to you and I don't
want history to repeat itself.

Gene Hunt is at the heart of this.

Please tell Molly I'm still going
to find a way to get home to her.

Is there anybody there?

I'm a bit of a superstitious person
and I happen to agree with you, Alex.

You are back for a reason.

He's stylish. He's modern.

He knows what he wants.

And he gets it.


The Sam Tyler jacket.


Modern. Seductive.

Wake up, Bolly. The Sam Tyler jacket.

Get off me, I'm awake!

I'm not having two months graft
blown by you, Sleeping Beauty.

In case you've forgotten,
we're professionals, remember?

MUSIC: "A Town Called Malice" by The Jam

Toe, push. Heel, toe, push.

Hang on! You're putting me off!

Now do the Robot arm!

At the same time as the toe
and the push? How the f...?

Target sighted. Repeat. Target sighted.

22 boxes of prime porn.

Mornin', scumbags.

Right then. Where's your guvnor?

Quick! Freeze!

Are you going to shoot him, Bols?

No. Right, let's go run him over.

I was told you'd be down
here making a mess of things.

Bugger me, it's the Gay Tash Twins.

- What you doing down here? You're
Manchester CID. - Nothing changes, eh?

You still need me to come down
here, show you lot how it's done!


Who are you?

That is Litton.

Detective Chief
Inspector bastard Litton.

My name is Alex Drake.

I was shot and found myself in 1983.

Is it real? Or in my mind?

Either way, I have to solve the
mystery of what all this means

and fight to get home
because time is running out.

- Book 'em, Skip. - This is a
joke. You ain't got nothing.

This Litton can't be that bad?

You serve eight years in the same
manor, you know someone. Trust me.

Litton's a lying, little
bastard weasel-boy.

And that's why they're
called Bananarama. True story.


Ay up. Totty's arrived.

- Sorry to break up the love-in,
Keats. - I was just letting Derek...

Derek? Sorry, am I to presume you're
referring to DCI "Twat-head" Litton here?

DCI Queen's Medal, actually.
Didn't you hear?

Don't like to show it off.

- And this is DI Bevan.
- Pleasure to be here.

This prancing berk has just
gatecrashed my operation.

Only too happy to snatch
your suspect though, Geno.

You couldn't snatch your left
knacker if it was tattooed

with the words "Litton's left knacker".

A whiff of homo-erotic
tension. How exciting.

Drakkar Noir, actually. You like it?

I was just assuring DCI Litton of my
full co-operation. On his case down here.

What case?

This isn't just a social call, Geno.

Frank Hardwick. Stand-up comic.

You heard of him?

I remember him.
He were very rude.

Hardwick used to do the
Manchester club circuit.

Bit of a draw. Then it all
went tits sky a few years back,

quit the day job, took
up the Scotch and Tizers,

but last week, Frank Hardwick
went and became Scumbag Number One.

Why? What did he do? Throw up
over your Next For Men loafers?

Last Friday, celebrity
golf fund-raiser.

Police widows.

This parasite swans
into the club-house,

nicks two grand from the pot
and scarpers down to your patch.

- He stole the police widow's
collection?! - BASTARD.

Exactly. So the Super wants us to help
our Manchester brethren any way we can.

I'm in, boys. All the way.

What? I want ten minutes in a cell with
this creep, doesn't make me a bad person.

- Atta boy, Raymond.
- I didn't hear that.

But this is official.

DCI Litton's sharing this
office until further notice.

Plus any resources he needs.

Oh, and I should remind you...

of the new arrest and detention
procedures being introduced. As of today.

There are more forms to fill, I know.

So let's do everything
by the book, shall we?

Allow me, Jim.

Thank you, Derek.

Such a gentleman.

Right, now the pencil neck's gone, let
me tell you what's really going down.

I've been waiting for this.

If we nail Hardwick for a measly
two grand, some soft-arse judge

lets him walk with nothing
more than a Chinese burn.

You know how it works.

So you want to fit him up to make
it look like something far worse?

Something more deserving of scum
who steal from police widows, yes.

You can't do that.

Why not? Sends out a clear message.

Don't mess with us and ours.

Glad someone down here's
still got their bollocks.

Because there's something called
the law. Does that ring any bells?

Where did you get this one from, Genie?

We'd fit up three tossers before
breakfast back in our day, darlin'.

It still is my day.

One last thing, Hardwick's my
suspect, so my collar. Capiche?

Whatever you're here
to do, you do it fast.

And in the meantime, you
keep out of my way. Capiche?

Oh, Gene, the least
I expected was a race.

First one to find Hardwick
gets a barrel of beer.

What's happened to you?

Right, A Team. Mush.

- You coming, Ray? - Ray's just
gonna get us started on Hardwick.

- Aren't you, Ray?
- I'll just get them started, eh?

And I thought you were a throwback.

Compared to those two, you're
practically homo erectus.

Homo what? You're obsessed, woman.

They come in here, dragging
their knuckles along the ground,

trying to frame everybody in sight.

Do you buy any of this
police widows stuff?

No. It stinks like a month-old Chinky.

- Litton's up to something.
- Yeah the question is what.

Right, Bolly, Shaz see what you can
dig up on this Frank Hardwick bloke.

You're not going to let
Litton frame him, are you?

No, stopping Litton's been
one of my vocations in life.

Right, we play along, find
out what he's really up to.

Chris, I want you to
help Shaz and Bolly.

Now? It's just that DCI Keats asked
me to percolate out these procedures.

Percolated. Right, I want the real
reason why Litton is after Hardwick.

Not that bloody fairy
tale he's just spun us.

- What about Ray?
- He's busy.

Don't make this easy for
Keats. He's not stupid.

All right, Gene.

You used to work with him?


Thanks, Shaz.

Peppermint tea? Poofters work here then?

Nah. Some of the birds like it.

- Poofs.
- Poofs. Exactly.

Glad to see you've
not changed, Raymondo.

London'll turn you soft as
a plimsoll full of shite.

- Not me, Geoff. No chance. - How
many sugars for the troglodytes?

Troglodytes? What's that mean?

It means big, strong.

And from the north.

All right, then. Three please, love.

Aye. Three for me n'all.

Remember that wages hold up?
Mike the Mule driving.

- You pulled that sawn-off on him.
- Shat himself.


Happy days, Geoff. Happy days.

All right, fellas?

Booked the gym. Dance rehearsal.

- Dance rehearsal?
- Yeah. Police gala.

Opportunity Cops. This Friday.
Me and Ray are body-popping.

Show him your moonwalk.

You're still on for it, yeah?

Come on, leave the Duracell
bunny, we've work to do. Raymond...

...fill us in on your grasses.

Hi, we weren't properly introduced.

- DI Drake. DI? - Sorry, love, I
thought you were secretarial.

No. No, amazingly they let us solve
crimes. Whatever next? The vote?

So, do you know DCI Hunt well?

- Can't say I did.
- What about DI Sam Tyler?

- Can't say I did.
- Can't say very much, can you?

I can say when someone's being nosey.

Or clever. Troglodyte
means cave dweller.

You might have shagged your way this
far, girlie, but don't come it with me.

Handbags at dawn?

Your DI is an offensive moron.

I've heard about this.
When women work together,

their periods start to
coincide, don't they?

Gets very emotional all at once.

Right. Let's kick some bums...

She said, "Francis,
not tonight," she said,

"I am going to the doctor's tomorrow

and I want everything to be
nice and fresh down below. "

I said, "Really. Well, you're not going
to the bloody dentists as well, are you?"

He is funny, though.

If you like jokes that hate women.

Right. Apart from crimes against comedy,
what else is Frank Hardwick guilty of?

He's a darker horse than we thought.

When the career stalled, he
got into some very dodgy stuff.

Bank fraud, counterfeiting.

He's mixed with some right
heavies up in Manchester.

Seems he might have fallen out of
favour as well. He owes big money.

I don't think Hardwick's just
running away from the police.

So, why's Litton got the hots for him?

Dunno yet. But I'm
gonna bloody find out.

Apparently, Hardwick's got
a soft spot for the toms.

Massage parlours, knocking shops.

Is there no end to the man's charm?


Who watches this filth?

You care to share anything with us, Guv?

I'm going to stitch
Hardwick up like a kipper

and get to the bottom
of this bloody charade.

You're going to do what?

There you go. Fill your
boots, then follow me.

Guv, this is exactly the kind of
malpractice that Keats is expecting.

Well, I won't tell if you don't.

It's not about Keats, is it?
It's about what's right.

Look, I want to nail these
cavemen just as much as you.

Just not in a way that
makes us as bad as them.

Well, I'll see you later, then.

Hope those aren't my
new procedures, Chris?

Yeah. No. I've just got to do
something for the Guv, first.

Other Guv. DCI Hunt, Guv.

Come on, Christopher, I asked you to
bag up a load of porn, not watch it.

Litton's not going to be too happy
with you stealing his thunder, Guv.

Look, if Ravi bloody Shankar
wants a race...

we'll give him one.

All right, darling, my name's DCI Litton.
I'd like you to look at this photograph.

Tell me if you've seen this man.

Eh, eh, excuse me, look
at the photograph, please.

We're looking for this man...
Frankie Hardwick. Do you know him?

No, no, no, no, out this way, left.

- That way? Left.
- Make your bloody mind up.

It's a toilet.

Another bloody comedian.

Since when have you surrounded
yourself with toy boys, Gene?

Come here. Come on.

Right, Gloria.

Time to take your Pernod goggles off.

Frank Hardwick. Came down from
Manchester looking for friends.

You had the pleasure?

My clients rely on my discretion.
I don't grass them up.

Frank's got himself
into a bit of trouble.

We're just trying to sort it out.

Oh, I get it. Good cop, bad cop.

I wonder which is which.

He's not what he was, is he?

Neither are you,
sweetheart, so get talking.

You tell us and you can have
DC Skelton for the afternoon.

The Laughter Place.

That's the alternative comedy club.

Good, right. drink up I've
got a little job for you, Glo.

Oi! I told you what I know,
you fat bastard. We are quits!

Excuse me, bad cop, remember? Mush!

- Christopher!
- 'Chris, are you there over? '

Yes, Shaz?

Did you say The Laughter Place?

- 'Why? '
- In case you need back up.

'Thanks, Shaz. '

Aye aye, looks like I've won
the race. Look lively, Gloria.

Your comedy hero's returning
from lunch. Christopher porno.

Right, go work your
magic. Offer him a freebee.

- Hello.
- Hello.

Can I have your autograph, please?

- Where's your book?
- I haven't got a book.

Sign on there.

- You're kidding?
- No, go on. Come here.


Good girl. Right, we'll
give her a couple of minutes.

Then we'll nail him for the possession
and distribution of premium filth.

Oh, joy of joys(!)

- What kept you, Derek? - I'd call this
hindering the course of an enquiry.

You know, if this is about police
widows, then I'm a monkey's uncle.

I am not going home without Hardwick.

No can do, amigo.

I'm about to do him for peddling porn on
my patch. Want to stay and watch?


- Not now Christopher, I'm gloating.
- No, Guv! It's Drake and Shaz.

Oh, Drake! Don't you bloody dare!

Has anybody seen Frank Hardwick?

- Who wants to know?
- DI Drake, CID.

You're not the average fascist bully
boy. You must be police intelligence.

Or is that a contradiction in terms? Oh.

You want to know what's really funny?

In 20 years time, you're going to be
fat, bald and writing soft rock musicals.

Now, where is Frank Hardwick?


Thank you.

He's in the basement where he belongs.

You the main course? She's rubbish.

No, we're police officers.

Handcuffs, is it? Oh, good.

Frank Hardwick, I'm arresting
you on suspicion of theft

from the Manchester Police Widow's Fund.

And believe it or not,
I'm doing you a favour.

Hang on, girls. I haven't
said the safety word yet.

Bolly! You're interfering
with my collar!


Yes, indeed, yes, indeed.

Bolly! Come back here, that is an order!

Now, here is a proper rozzer.

Fascist and sexist. Please
don't hurt me, officer, please!

Get out of the way, you pinko poof.

He's been shot!


- Chris, get inside.
- Everybody in!

- Get it blocked off now! - Guv.
- Get down.

- We need to close this road off. - It
were meant for me! It were meant for me!

- That's enough, Hunt. I'm taking
Hardwick. - You listen to me, Litton,

you just brought a shoot-up
to my patch. You get nothing.

Thanks to Litton and Large, we've now
got an attempted murder on our hands.

What have you got?

Nothing. No weapon, no prints. The
bullet's gone off to ballistics.

- Witnesses?
- Nobody saw nothing.

Our best bets the poor kid who got shot.

But the doctors say it's touch
and go. He's in intensive care.

We better get laughing boy
in for a chat then, hadn't we?

- I beg to differ, Geno.
- The shooting was on my manor,

which means it's my case.
Now, piss off, Litton.

I just put in a request to have
him transferred to my custody.

Fax should be through in about an hour.

Hardwick's your big ticket
to somewhere, isn't he?

If I were talking to the old Gene Hunt,

I might have a little
quake in my boots right now.

But I come down here
and you're surrounded by

half-wits and girl guides
who don't take orders.

Hardwick is mine.

- We need to crack Hardwick. - Sorry.
Who said anything about "we"?

You're not going anywhere near him.

Are you writing your report?

How's about "Fat bastard got shot at"?

You all right there, Ray?


It's just...

before the shots, when we
were heading for Hardwick... were right on my shoulder.

But after...


Nothing. Nothing.
So "Fat bastard got shot at".

Right, you sad little scrotum.

- DCI Hunt entering the room at 1540.
- What is that doing in here?

DCI Keats' idea. All
by the book now, Guv.

Sergeant James leaving the room.

By the book?

Coppers reading!

When will it all end?

Sit down.

A young man took a bullet
for you, so start talking.

Because he's fighting for his life.


How do you brainwash a policeman?

Put him on a bidet. There!

Told you all I know!

1541. DCI Hunt taking a sip of tea.


where were we?

The Pathology of Interrogation.

I'm just trying to get
into Hardwick's head.

"The forensics of a suspect's past
is the key to unlocking his crimes. "

Something like that.

Look, I don't want to stick
my size nine's in it here,

- but could I offer you some advice?
- Feel free.

If you and Hunt aren't
working well together,

then nor is Fenchurch East.

Now, I've no idea what the problem is,

but you and Gene are a partnership

and partners work off trust.

What do you mean?

I won't stand by and have
him drag this place down.

Do you understand?

Chris... what would you do if someone
wasn't telling you the whole truth?

You been to that trannie bar again?

Only joking. How do you mean?

You all right for tonight, then?

Yeah, about that body popping stuff.
Not sure it's really my style.

But we're an act.
We've only got until Friday.

Actually, I'm not sure
I'm cut out for performing.

That's bollocks.

We'd sing Danny Boy every night round
the Railway Arms. You haven't forgotten?

It's a good copper's song.

# Oh, Danny Boy the pipes,
the pipes are calling... #

Go on, Ray, sing it.

# From glen to glen and
down the mountainside... #

That's what you should be singing.
Reminds you of where you're from.

Better than spazzing about
like you're on day release.

We'll see, eh? See how it goes.

Cos you are a good copper,

aren't you, Ray?

- Inspector Bevan? - Bit busy right
now, love. - I spoke to Chris.

You were all C Division, Greater
Manchester Police. Under DCI Hunt.

My, my, aren't you persistent.

Working closely with CID.
You knew him, didn't you?

Where are we going here, DI Drake?

Sam Tyler.

I can't really remember, sorry.

But I'll tell you something.

The thing about Gene
Hunt, it's not what he did,

it's what he got other people to do.

What did he get you to do?


I need those files on my desk, please.

Guv, about Keats. A word.

Sit down.

Are you trying to end your career?

Do you think I'm scared
of that chinless bastard?

This isn't working, is it?

If he was going to spill
something, he'd have done it by now.

I've been working on
Hardwick's psychological profile

and I think I've got something.

What he needs a bollocking,
not a therapy session.

I know how to get through to
him. What have you got to lose?

He's going to be Litton's
in half an hour, anyway.

Fine, you better get cracking, then.


- Why did you stop telling jokes, Frank?
- What d'you mean?

- I'm full of them.
- I mean professionally.

You had a promising career
ahead of you. TV. Regular gigs.

Yeah, well. Lifestyle didn't agree.

December '73.

You were booked to headline the
Blackpool Grand for a whole season.

- You didn't show up.
- I told you. I got bored.

December '73 is also when you
were prescribed the beta blockers.

Don't know where you got that, love.

For the insomnia or
was it the stage fright?

See, you're frightened now,
aren't you, Frank?

Someone's just tried to kill
you and you don't want to talk.

Who are you so afraid of?

No-one can touch them. And
they can get anybody they want.

Who? Who can get who they want?

I'm not saying.

Frank, you are in a police station.

You are completely safe.

It's Litton, isn't it?

I'm not talking in here.

I am not safe.

Frank, I'm not like the others.

I only want the truth.


You want to do WHAT?!

I want to let Hardwick go.

You know, I was right, I
really do think you've lost it.

He's not talking because he's afraid
of Litton and he's afraid of the police.

Oh, terrific, so we just
let him walk out of here?

No. According to him, he
wouldn't last five minutes.

I say we treat him as
a protected witness,

we let him leave quietly and we
meet up with him again tonight.

By which time he'll be
half the way to Benidorm.

- No way, Bolly.
- He's not going to run.

- No.
- He's got nowhere to run to.

- I said no.
- Please.

Guv, I need to talk.

Thought you'd gone
over to the dark side.

I saw something at the shooting,
it didn't add up, but it does now.

- What, what did you see? - We were
running towards Hardwick together.

Then the shots were fired.

- Then I looked up and he
was nowhere to be seen. - Who?

Then he sort of tried to lean on
me when I was writing my report.

I know this might sound daft, but...

Come on, spit it out, Ray.

I think Geoff Bevan tried
to shoot Frank Hardwick.

Hardwick's mine. Go fetch. I'm
transferring him back to Manchester.

Love to oblige, Litton. But DI
Drake released him half an hour ago.

- You did what? - We'd held
him too long without charge.

There was nothing to
book him with, so...

Couldn't you have made something up,
you stupid bloody woman!

No, I couldn't. Because that would have
been breaking the law, Chief Inspector.

I am going nowhere without
Hardwick. Comprende?

Well, it looks like
you've been stood up, Bols.

Probably not for the first time.

There he is.


It's all right, Frank.
I'm keeping my word.

Come on!


- Sorry we got you up. - I'm
embarrassed for you to see me like this.

- Nonsense. You look fine, Luigi.
- Reminds me of the Italian doctor.

Thought an innuendo was a suppository.


- Great! You're a very funny guy!
- Is the Eyetie taking the piss?

Right, cough up. What's the
deal between you and DCI Litton?

There's been these beatings.

- Drug dealers and pimps
getting roughed up. - So?

They were all Litton's patch.

Rumours are its a bunch of
coppers extorting protection money.

Go on?

Last week, I was out back of a pub.

There was a big bloke
beating up a black guy.

Kicking him till he stopped moving.
A police radio went off in his pocket.

He saw me.

I knew they'd have to shut
me up. So I came down south.

- Who was it? - He was in your
station this afternoon.

- Litton's man.
- Bevan.


Good morning.

Can't believe it, Guv. Lads from our
old firm up to something like that.

I knew they were creeps
the minute they showed.

Unlike some people.

Give over, will ya?

What do we do next? Expose Litton?

No, not yet.

I want us to lance the
whole boil, not just Litton.

If we let them take Hardwick
back to Manchester...

Hardwick would never make it to trial.

For now keep this to ourselves.
He'll be fine in Luigi's.

So, this where you're planning
today's cock-ups, is it?

Morning, Diego. Good night last night?

No. It appears Frank Hardwick's
vanished into thin air.

- That's a shame. - Remember
who we're dealing with here.

This man stole from our own widows.

- I want this bastard. - Well, we
all want the bastards, Litton.

What's this? A private striptease?

You must have crapped yourself
when I walked back into your life.

- On the contrary. It's always
nice to see an old face. - Ah.

You weren't so cocky three years ago.

Day Sam Tyler disappeared.

You know there's a line.
You don't cross it.

Where was the line with Sam Tyler?

If you lot are up to something
naughty, I'd think twice.

Cop solidarity.

We'd be nothing without
that, would we, Geno?

Everything all right?

Everything's fine, Bols.


Guv. It's the hospital about
that young comedian who got shot.

So now we're looking at murder.

- Or we could be looking
at an opportunity. - Guv?

- What if he's not dead?
- I think you'll find he is.

Where's Hunt? I've got a
warrant to raid the brothels.

DI Drake. Doctor Hawkins, hello.

He has?

And you're sure that's what
he said? That's great news.

Thank you, doctor.

Chris, book the ID artist
for first thing tomorrow.

- He's going to the Royal Infirmary.
- Ma'am.

Ray, get all the mug shots
together on the Travers case.

- What's this about?
- We've got our breakthrough.

You look all excited, Drakey.

The shooting victim, Travers.
He's regained consciousness.

Full recall. And the best thing is
he got a clear view of the gunman.

Well, what are we waiting for?

The doctor said he has to
rest up until the morning.

- I can already feel our gunman's conkers
nestling in the palm of my hand. - Good.

When I find Hardwick again, we
might actually have this case closed.

We keep this under wraps. Don't want
any wrong uns getting wind of it, do we?

No, we don't.

Look at us two. Like Sapphire and Steel.

I'm him. And you are her.


Cop solidarity.

Ma'am, this just got faxed
through from Manchester.

Personnel records.

And this came as well.

- You all right. Ma'am?
- Er, yeah. Thanks, Viv.

You said you'd never shared
a crime scene with Gene Hunt.

That look familiar?

The car that Tyler supposedly died in.

Someone's been a busy bee.

The month Sam Tyler disappeared,
you were seconded to CID.

Police photographer.
You took that photograph.

Why does Gene Hunt get you so excited?

- Did you see anything else that day?
- He'll never tell you what happened.

The closer you get to
him, the less you know.

I'd be careful working in a
cop station late at night...

...pretty woman like yourself.

- Things can happen.
- Are you threatening me?

Give up Frank Hardwick and I'll
give you the story on Sam and Gene.

What the hell are you doing?

- Just leave it, Bolly.
- It's evidence, Guv. You can't do that!

- Forget it, it's a dead man's jacket.
- What are you hiding? Please tell me!

Sam Tyler, was he like me? Was
he trying to get back somewhere?

Guv, what is going on in
there that you can't tell me?

Whatever you think it is you're looking
for, forget it. It doesn't exist.

Sometimes you just have
to take a leap of faith.

Now, if you don't mind,
we have a job to do.

Sure you're up for this?

- Course I am. Why wouldn't I be?
- Just asking.

You watch my back,
I'll make sure he's inside.

Then you two go to the
hospital, all right?

Right, I'll stay here until Litton
shows. I'll radio you at the hospital.


Can you see...?

C'mon. You've got to get out of sight.

I just saw stars.

Like at the edge of the world.

Did you see 'em?

Stars? With this pollution?

Everywhere. Like we
were bloody astronauts.

Call mission control,
then head for the hospital.

If this is gonna work, we
need to know they're coming.

This way. The patients have
been moved to another ward.

You're certain you can
assure the safety of my staff?

As long as they stay off this floor
and keep out of my way. Absolutely.

We'll take over from here, ta.

Right, this is the plan. Chris, you're
going to be acting as police guard.

You stick a chair outside the door,

then you're going to go
off for a sneaky wee wee.

This is the only entrance to this ward.

Litton and Bevan are going to
spot that you've gone walkabouts.

Meanwhile, we'll be in here ready
to surprise them. Is that clear?

Still no sign of Litton. Over.

Hold your positions. Over.

- All right, Raymondo?
- Yeah.

Not like you to be stood outside
when there's drinking to be done.

- Yeah, I know. Fancy a pint?
- Why not? You got a light?


Where will it all end, eh, Raymondo?

How d'you mean?

We did the job, didn't we? We
nailed a whole lot of scumbags

and now they want social
workers in uniform.

Where will old warriors like us
fit in? And it's worse down here.

Gene gone soft, you've got Keats, you've
got that daft bird Drake at you non-stop.

That must be hard. On second
thoughts, I best push off.

Listen, you keep the faith, eh, kiddo?

- Yeah.
- Good luck.

This is Doctor Hunt to Nurse
Carling, do you read? Over.

Ray, if you've bloody dozed off...

- Should we be worried about this?
- Only if your name's Ray.

Bugger it. He's nabbed
my radio. The bastard!

Do you want us to send someone to
cover Hardwick in case we're blown?

No. Hardwick's safe at Luigi's.

We stay as we are.

If Litton's onto us,
should we call back up, Guv?

I have just told you. You stay put.

Of all the forces in all the
world, they end up in mine.


- Litton. He's nicked my radio.
- You bloody what?! - Just now.

- He'll have been listening to everything.
- He'll know it's a trap.

Oh, no shit, Sherlock.
Was Bevan with him?

- No. He was still in the caff.
- Hang on a minute!

We talked about Luigi's.

I'm telling you the truth!

If you don't tell me the truth one more
time, I'll rip your bloody head off.

- Litton! - Have you been
listening to this lying bastard!

There's only one bastard
in this room, Derek.

David Townsend. The young black kid.

16 years old. The coroner's report
said they used steel toe-caps.

He was dead after the
fifth kick to the head.

- Then he kept on kicking him.
He saw it all. - Yeah.

- No, you're wrong. - The kid wouldn't
pay up so you got your chum to sort it.

- No, I never. - It's an interesting way
of keeping your crime figures down.

What were you thinking? Trying
to impress the promotions board?

Trouble is, it's cold blooded murder.

Bevan's crossed the line.

- You didn't know, did you?
- Like hell he didn't.

You show me a DCI who doesn't
want his crime figures falling.

I thought it was roughing up the
slimeballs, keeping them in line.

But not for money, and never for murder.

Does Bevan know about
the trap at the hospital?

You were about to meet him, weren't you?

No. I heard it on the radio
and had to find out for meself.

- So he doesn't know we're on to him?
- No.

Betrayed us both.

I'm sorry, Ray.

Help us. You could still help us.

- Are you ready? - Course he's ready.
He's about to save his own skin.

Look, we don't have to be pals.

We're not. Just stick
to the script, Derek.


What d'you mean, protected witness?

What d'you mean, protected witness?

Those are the judges orders.
Gene got Hardwick full immunity

in return for "future intelligence".

Letting him go was a trick.

They shafted us.

Gene wants a grass so they'll
get Hardwick off Scott free.

The lying bastards.


Lying bastard.

But I want some payback before we go.
They've got a poxy gala tonight.

Apparently, Hardwick's gonna
put in a surprise appearance.

Cheeky gits. Playing a police ball.

- Hardwick's taking a big risk.
- Exactly.

But I think we should go...

and remind Hardwick what'll happen if he
ever shows his face in Manchester again.

Are you in?

I've had enough of these
Southern shitehawks.



Are you're sure you're
all right with this, Frank?

Course he's sure.

Get a move on, Tarby.
Your public awaits.

How's the stage fright?

I've consulted Dr Jack Daniels. See?

Steady as a rock.

Anyhow, I need to nail these
bastards even more than you do.

Let's get on with it.

- Right, come on.
- What's this? - Just a precaution.

You might find you've got a
few critics out there, Frankie.

Come on, in you go, fat
boy. It's a bulletproof vest.

That's the final call, ladies and gents.

Any sign of Bevan?

- No.
- He's got to show up some time.

I don't see why I still have
to bloody go through with this.

Because if anything's different,
your old mate might smell a rat.

Leave it out, Shaz.
He was hallucinating earlier.

- Thought he was Captain Kirk.
- No, I wasn't.

Said you were in outer space.
All stars and everything.

What, you saw stars? Really?

Course I didn't. He's talking cobblers.

Do you need help with that?
You can talk to me about it.

Oh, give it a rest Shaz, will ya?

Suit yourself.

Oh, Shaz. I'm cacking it.

You'll be fine.
Now go and break a leg.

That's not very supportive.

Your very own Mr Chris Skelton!


Oh, sweet Jesus, I thought
I'd seen everything.

Don't worry, Frank,
we won't let Bevan near you.

C'mon, Frankie Boy, it's show time.


Right, then. My name is Frank Hardwick,
and since this is a police gala,

you lot probably know
me through my mug shots.

Do you know how to
keep a poof in suspense?

I'll tell you tomorrow. Here
we go, The Blues Brothers!


No sign of Bevan?

You'd never admit it, but
you have changed, you know.

First Tyler. Now DI Drake.

They've rubbed off on you.

I never let anyone challenge me, did I?

Are you nervous, Litton?

There you go, there we are!

A quick hand for The Blues Brothers!

And now, ladies and gentlemen,
who've we got next?

Rendering limb from limb, that old police
favourite, Danny Boy, Mr Ray Carling!



# Oh, Dan...

# Pipes...

AUDIENCE: Come on, Ray!


I've forgot the bloody words.

# Oh, Danny Boy the pipes,
the pipes are calling.

# From glen to glen and
down the mountainside

# Gone and all the trees are dying

# Tis you, tis you
must go and I must bide

# But call me back when's
summers in the meadow... #

Yes! Ha-ha!

Oi, Olivia Newton Skelton, go keep
and eye out round by the stage door.

Yes, Guv.

- I've decided to trust you. - Good, then
we can get on with the task in hand.

- But there is one thing I want.
- I thought that was too easy.

# But when ye come and
all the flowers are dying

# If I am dead

# As dead I well may be

# You'll come and find
the place where I am lying

# And kneel and say an
Ave there for me... #

Nice one, mate.

The Blues Brothers.

Oh, no!

Look me in the eye and say it.

Say you had nothing to
do with Sam Tyler's death.

I haven't got time for this, Bolly.


Just tell me.

Guv, Bevan's here.

# Oh, Danny boy oh, Danny
boy, I love you so! #

- I just want your autograph, Frank.
- Oh, eh...


Second thoughts.

Don't bother.

- Have a laugh at this.
- Jesus! - Frank!

Drop your weapons.

You first, boss.

You are not walking out of here,
not after what you've done.

Just do as he says.

- We can sort this.
- Too late, mate.

Please, put the guns down.

You murdering bastard.

When did you grow wings and a halo?

Shall we tell her, Gene?

Tell her why you got me to
falsify evidence at a crime scene.

What were you covering up
about your mate, Sam Tyler?

Go on. Tell her what you did to him.

And you call me a murdering bastard.

The only difference between us is you
got away with it. You wouldn't dare.

Try me.


You've got the vest, you're
all right, you're all right.

Freeze, Bevan!

Drop the gun!

You're not going to shoot me.
Are you, Ray?

Come on, pal.

He said drop it!

Now kick it over.



You want to know the truth, Bevan?


What is it? What did he say to you?

Get away! Get away from me!

What did you say to him?
What did you say?

I told him the truth.

City are gonna cane United next season.


I broke up the double act for a while,
didn't I, going out with Chris.

Were you lonely?

Me? No.


maybe a little bit.

We could've done more to include you.

What, like a gooseberry?
- No.

Like his best mate, who
was a long way from home.

Go on, then.

Hey, come on.


Right, well...

...I will say goodbye.

Oh, no, you don't.

Not yet.

There's not many of us left, Litton.

The good old days.

Right, now, bugger
off back to Manchester.

DCI Litton.

You are suspended from duty,
effective immediately.

- I need your firearm and warrant card.
- What the bloody hell's this?

You will be escorted to Manchester,

where you'll be facing a disciplinary
tribunal and, possibly, criminal charges.

On what charge?

Failing to prevent criminal acts
perpetrated by your own officer.

He's got 25 years service.

He's innocent.
He's a prat, but he's an innocent prat.

You better hope that
the tribunal agrees.

Personally, I wouldn't be so confident.

I'll be all right, kid.

- If there's a tribunal, who requested it?
- I did.

That's the procedure.
Or did we all forget that?

Get him out of here.


# Looking from a window above
it's like a story of love

# Can you hear me?

# Came back only yesterday... #

Do we need to talk?

# Want you near me

# All I needed was
the love you gave... #


# And all I ever knew

# Only you

# Sometimes when I think of her name

# When it's only a game

# And I need you

# Listen to the words that you say

# It's getting harder to stay

# When I see you

# All I needed was the love you gave

# All I needed for another day

# And all I ever knew

# Only you. #

'It's Her Majesty's Fenchurch.

'Cockney feral scumbags
rampaging all over our backyard.

'You name it, they've raped
it, robbed it, killed it.

'The scum de la scum. '

We've been left a present.

- Rule 1, you never leave a man behind!
- This is now a hostage situation.

- He's got a gun. - I propose we bury
you in amongst the journalists.

Perhaps it wasn't a wise call
to take charge of the attack.

Are you saying this is my fault?

Now, I know there's pigs amongst
you. All I got to do is work out who.

There's a hell of a lot at stake, Bolly.

- I hope you've got a heart
in there. - Oh, God no.

Corrected by Lauta

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