Babylon (2014): Season 1, Episode 2 - Babylon - full transcript

Armed police! Occupants of
the house, show yourself!

Armed police!

Armed police! Come out the door
with your hands in the air!

Please, help me! Knife down!

Get that knife down now! Drop the knife!
Drop it or I will shoot!

Gun down! Get that gun down!
Get that gun down now!

And X. OK, everyone, that
completes the morning exercise.

Robbie, talk me through
your inaction.

I dunno. I wasn't
looking for that.

If that was your final
exercise, right now, you'd

be back in the TSG faster
than you could say,



"I let a man get shot because
I'm a dopey twat." Yeah, but...

Let me know if you need a
hand with anything else.

I could pop round later, cut your
sausages up into little pieces.

There you go.

I've got to be honest with you,
Liz, it was weird hearing from you.

It was weird calling you.

You know you never actually broke
up with me. Pretty sure I did.

Nah, we stopped talking and then, the next
thing, you've moved to San Francisco.

Well, in my defence, I would
say that moving 5,000 miles is

in and of itself a kind of
unambiguous form of breakup.

Is that how far it is?
Approximately.

So, what's it like
at the cop shop?

Everyone's a racist, we're
all corrupt and at night

we lock ourselves in the holding
cells and fuck each other.



Yeah, come on, cut the bullshit.
Tell me, what's it like?

I came for the challenge.
Uh-huh...

Taking a dinosaur and
teaching him how to drive.

It's not making some Ivy League
prick another $5 million after tax.

We serve the people

and, yes, he is not
always perfect,

but it is something to get out of
bed for - saving an institution.

Plus, I have a thing for uniforms, so...
You said he.

Figure of speech. So,
you've settled in.

You're making friends
and influencing people.

If I was making friends, do you
think I'd be calling you? Hah...

You seem vulnerable.

I might be interested
in exploiting that.

Hah...

Whoa, whoa, I am so
not OK with that.

Liz, I'm not going to
peer pressure you,

but this is why you
have no friends.

If you're thinking to yourself,

"That looked delicious",
you'd be absolutely right.

Did you get my e-mail?

Which e-mail? There's two.
The second one.

I sent the first one
halfway through so I

sent it again. There's
one labelled "ignore".

It says "ignore" in the subject
and the other e-mail in the body.

So, read the one
marked "ignore"?

Is this a bad time? Because
we can reschedule.

There's a gossip piece in my
favourite rag, I want a retraction.

What is it?

It doesn't matter what it is, it's
bullshit and I want a retraction.

Can you take care of that for me?
Sure, I'll deal with. Good.

So, the e-mail,
talk me through it.

Who makes more
content than we do?

Who generates more news or
more footage than the police?

And what do we do with it?
We give it away.

We give it away to news outlets, who
chew it up and spit out the facts

and serve out their own slobbering
mess to whoever's still listening.

Sit down.

The Metwork - our
own news division.

We keep our content,
we turn it into news

and we put it out
there ourselves.

We shut out the press and
go directly to the public.

It's a website. It's a news
network, like BBC or CNN,

but exclusive to us.

Sounds like state TV. The
evening news from North Korea,

Kim Jong-un doing a
piece on funny pets.

No, we hire proper journalists.

They have a degree of latitude,
but I set the agenda

and there is only one rule -

we get it wrong, we air it.
We get it right, we air it.

This is how we
rebuild the trust.

Crunch that down into
a couple of pages,

I'll raise it personally at the
next MOPAC meeting. Sounds good.

Nice work, Liz. Interesting idea.
Catch you later.

You look tired. You've
got sperm on your lapel.

So what is it then? It's nothing.
I think Warwick's all right.

But also, you know,
he might not be.

Well, like what? Shooting up
Sainsbury's, massacre in the meat aisle?

Nah, nothing like that. We...

We got him to shoot a
horse and he definitely

seems a bit sharper,
a bit more on it.

What are you saying, Tony?
It sounds to me

like you're saying that
Warwick's a bottler.

I never said he was a bottler. Johnny
No Shoot with his big floppy glock.

Boss, I've done my bit. I've
passed it up the chain.

If you really want to
pass this up the chain,

let's sit down and put
it down on paper.

Occupational health.
Let's do it properly.

Ach, doesn't matter. I'm
talking shit, forget it.

The stuff I used to see when I was
doing nights, I shit you not,

I could write a book. The
amount of fingerings.

West End, Saturday night, girls getting
fingered left, right and centre.

And you could tell
they were loving it.

What about you, Davs?
Like a bit of fingers?

Knobbo, I am a lady of
taste and decorum -

of course I like a bit of fingers.
Hm.

What do you reckon? Bit petty.

Good on the board though, get those
arrest numbers ticking over.

God's sake, boys and
their high scores.

What, you don't want
to beat T Unit?

Yeah, of course I
want to beat T Unit,

but I want to do
it the right way.

I'm here for the big
fish, not the minnows.

Talking of minnows, Clarkey,
hung like a tadpole

and his balls, like frog spawns.

Are we going? Yep, we're going.

Excuse me, lads, you got a sec?
It's not really a good time, mate.

We're late for kick-off.
What have you got there?

It's a baguette. What
does it look like?

Ah, a comedian, eh? Very funny.

Can I ask you to step up
against the wall, please?

Oh, oi!

Get down!

Easy does it. Get off me, man.

So, we have the Initiatives on
Policing Conference on Tuesday.

PoCon! Yes, it's erm... It's
very much our Glastonbury. Yeah?

Well, it's a stage and it's
going to have Richard on it,

so I want to get out in front
of as many stories as possible.

Batten everything down,
squared all the way.

A despot rounding up the stray
dogs before the big rally.

Kind of, yeah.

So, what's on the radar?

Coroner's verdict's due on Taser guy.
Remind me.

Some coke nut took 50,000 volts in a
pub toilet and his heart imploded.

Boo-hoo.

The Times Online has been sniffing around
the armed robbery spree. Let's get on that.

Speakers of the conference,
the Deputy Mayor's

due to give his speech
just before Richard's.

Ah, bummer. Bad support act. That's
going to bring the whole vibe down.

Any idea what our friends
at City Hall might

be planning on
squirting in our eyes?

We think they're going
to take the opportunity

to float the idea of
corporate sponsorship.

Jesus, that whorey old clagnut.

I don't know. Ads on
vans, cash in the bank,

I think we should be open to it.

Seriously? Police sponsorship?

What, this kettling was brought
to you by Morphy Richards?

No, you're right, Finn, because
it would be a mistake to explore

alternative sources of
funding at this point.

Liz, this is the thin
end of the wedge.

And the fat end, that's the end they're
going to use to prop open our bum cheeks

while we're being fucked from
behind by the privatisation lobby.

12:19 and we're making references
to anal rape. OK, well...

We're all done here.

Did you find that gossip piece on Richard?
Yeah, eventually.

It's tiny.

Richard makes a speech every
year at the passing out parade.

He talks about Northern Ireland,
a firebombing near Cookstown.

He saved three people, only now

they're saying he didn't save three
people, he only saved two. That's it?

Well, he's still a hero, it's just
33% less of a hero than he thought.

I can't ask for a retraction on this,
it makes us look fucking coconuts.

He gets a bit like this about
things that mention him by name.

We just file it in a special box
marked Richard's Massive Ego.

Fine. Let's sit on it.

Do you love women, Robbie? Is
that why you can't shoot them?

Oh, come on, I just
hesitated, that's all.

So, you'd do it then,
you'd shoot a woman?

Hell yeah, mate, I'd
fuck a woman up.

Jesus, what are you, a wife-beater?
Nah.

Only if it was the right thing
to do, innit? Operationally.

Anyone else you can't shoot
that I should know about?

What about plumbers. Shoot a plumber?
Course I'd shoot a plumber. A child?

Hesitation, just been shot. Well,
it depends on what he was doing.

He's holding a gun
at another child

and the other child's holding a gun
back at him. That wouldn't happen.

No? You tell that to my mate
who works up on Merseyside.

I don't know about you, Rob. Don't
know if you've got the edge.

I've got edge. I'm all edge.

We'll find out soon enough. Today's
the big one, Robbie Fucknuts.

Final drill. I call it the badger
because it's basically one big cull.

Robbie, mate, all right? Oh,
look what the wind blew in.

It's you, the fucking bystander.
Who are you?

Matt Coward, Rough
Collar Productions.

If it's tough guys
shooting guns you're after

then you've come to the
wrong place, eh, Rob?

Yeah, yeah, I'm on it.
Yeah, what was it again?

Two cans of Lilt and a what?

How are you doing?
Amazing, thanks.

20/20 vision, top of the
shop for verbal reasoning.

They tell me what to say, I tell
it right back to 'em. Sweet.

You up for doing a
quick interview?

Film this if you want.

It's me mugging you off.

It's not a spree, Liz.

They're not skipping around London
with their shopping trolley.

Spate. A spate of
armed robberies.

We have the Policing
Conference this week

and I am keen to avoid
any difficult headlines.

OK, we'll just stop all crime. It's fine
because I've got a hotline to the robbers.

I'll tell them to take the day
off, they can go to Alton Towers.

Charlie, I don't want
to tread on your toes.

Don't worry, you wouldn't reach.
I'm sorry, how do you mean?

Do you have enormously tall toes?
It's a priority, Liz,

one of my many priorities,

like taking guns off the street

and finding out who
killed the funk.

Charles, this is a big story.

A run of bank jobs, it
makes us look inept.

I'm not asking you
to catch them,

it's very difficult catching
criminals, I get that.

But anything you could do to help
would be greatly appreciated.

Get me Armed Response. There's
been five in the last six weeks.

They seem to have a thing
about branches of Santander.

Maybe they've got something against
the Portuguese. It's Spanish.

Santander's Spanish. Nando's
is Portuguese, Banj.

All right, Professor
Chicken, same difference.

We've had some heat from
upstairs on this one,

so, any downtime, I want you
parked up outside your designated

branch as a visual deterrent.
That's your lot.

Bank robbers.

What is this, 1971? Who are the
suspects, fucking Bay City Rollers?

Some arsehole's been
watching The Sweeney.

Why would you rob a bank anyway?
You want to do a Gala Bingo.

That's the dream.

Warwick, can I
have a quick word?

You OK? Yeah, I'm fine.

I need a shit, but then
I'm always like that

before I get in a car and
start getting shot at.

You, erm... You got much
planned this weekend?

I don't know.

I... got you a, got
you a sausage roll.

And any time you need
to talk about stuff...

Whatever.

All right.

Yeah, have you got a return
on that name check? Over.

Just pulling it
up now, two secs.

Uh-oh, look what I just found on
the spice rack. What's this, then?

An eighth of fennel?
Just write me up please.

Give me a ticket or whatever.
It's not even mine.

Can you just confirm that name,
Jason Delgado? That's the one.

Does the name Grant Delgado
mean anything to you?

Shit...

Yeah, roger that.

Davs, quick word.

You were right, he was holding.

His dad's the Deputy Mayor. Grant Delgado?
That's his son. Which one?

The black one. Right.

He was running away,
I had to tackle him.

And we definitely saw him with a
joint beforehand. Yeah, definitely.

Both of them.

Look, it's an eighth, probably less.
Is it worth the headache?

So we let him go because
we're scared of his dad?

No. We'll give him a gypsy's warning,
clip round the ear and "On you go, son."

I think we need to run
this one upstairs.

I'm not going to dress this up, Sharon.
I'd like to tase you. Hm?

We've had a tasing fatality,
which is obviously tragic,

but what compounds the
tragedy is that the

results of the inquest are due on
the day of the policing conference.

Oh, great. Maybe could you tase me
then, on stage, in front of a room

full of my peers, let off a
confetti bomb as I hit the ground.

A practical demonstration
in front of the press.

It kills the story stone dead.

Come on, you know that
Charlie would eat this up.

He'd be out in front of the cameras
with a target painted on his chest.

"Tase me, tase me!"

You know why?

Visibility.

You're the invisible woman, Sharon.
Get tased. Be seen.

Oh, so now you're
doing me a favour?

Wow. Thanks, Liz. Big pals.

I'll think about it. Mm-hm.

Heard you'd been in pitching big ideas
to Richard without me. Network.

Great name. It's funny, Finn, I've
found a workaround that basically

involves me shutting my eyes and
pretending you're not alive.

A news network. It's a
vanity project, Liz.

It's a 20ft-high statue of Liz Garvey
made out of cat shit and tinfoil.

You are obsolete technology, Finn.
You are a solar-powered fax machine.

Fuck you. Have a
great afternoon.

Sir, we've just had word.
TSG are saying

they've just picked up
Grant Delgado's son.

Possession of a Class B.

He's currently being detained,
awaiting further instructions.

We've brought it directly to you, no need
to involve the PR team at this point.

Yeah, reading between the lines, I
think they're awaiting our input.

What's that, Tom?
I can't hear you.

You want me to speak up?

I don't want you
to speak at all.

I don't even want
you to be here.

I want you to collapse
your spine like a squid

and disappear through a
fucking crack in the window.

Did anyone see you come in here?

I've got Greg from the Home Office
due in five minutes and you two

brainless schoolgirls prance
in going, "Guess what I know?"

Well, I don't want to
know what you know.

Jesus, Charlie, have you had
your head turned again?

Taken your eye off the ball?

Go on, get out, the pair of you.

And waft this eggy
stink out with you.

Hopwood just gave me a sausage roll.
What for?

Either he's shagging my missus,
or someone's had a word with him?

What, me? Oh, yeah.

Yeah, because I always go around talking
about you, cos I'm so obsessed.

You always this paranoid when
men buy you sausage rolls?

What about Tony?

Has he said anything to you?

I don't know.

Erm... no, not really.

He's been a bit
concerned about you.

You know, just getting your
head back in the game.

Don't spit.

Do NOT spit.

Well, what am I supposed to
do with it, then? Swallow it.

Are you kidding me?
Yeah, roger that.

They're washing their hands of it.
It's our call.

Just seen. He still
gets a bollocking.

Yeah. And instead of four hours'
paperwork, we're boots on the ground.

Right, that's it. You're under
arrest, the pair of you.

But it was an accident. Yeah, I've
got something wrong with my stomach.

We need a van, Sergeant.
Oh, great.

Oh, shit.

All right? All right.

Can you do us a favour?

Will you spar with me?

What, is this like when your
uncle wants a tickle fight

because he really wants
to touch you up?

No! It's just
they're ragging me.

"Robbie Fucknuts,
can't shoot a woman."

It's starting to get inside my head,
and I know it's stupid but...

I'm second-guessing myself. What
if it's a woman on the exercise?

Robbie, this is fucking 101. It's
not the person, it's the intent.

It doesn't matter if it's a
lollipop lady or your mum.

If they've got a Glock,
you pop-pop-pop.

You'd shoot your mum?
You wouldn't?

All right. I'm going to come at you.
At some point during the day

I'm going to come at you. If I've
got a weapon, then you attack,

and if I don't have a
weapon, then you don't.

All right. Yeah.

Thanks.

But in no version of this
do you get to touch my tit.

Clarkey.

Nice arse.

Tell you the best thing to do -
work till you're 59, then die.

Family gets a lump sum, missus
gets a widow's pension,

everyone's a winner.

Do you want to play a game?

What sort of game? We
used to play it on car

journeys when we were
going on holiday.

It's called Who's The
Cunt In The Car?

Let me guess, was it your mum?

Right, I'll go first.

Banjo, are you The
Cunt In The Car?

No. Now you've got to ask me.

Warwick, are you The
Cunt In The Car?

Nope. That's weird, innit?

Because there is definitely
a cunt in the car,

and if it ain't you,
and it ain't me...

You all right, Tony, mate,
you feeling all right?

Yeah, not bad. Cos I'm fine, thanks
for asking, I'm just fucking peachy.

Shall we play again?
Banjo, you start.

You know when you
have a big idea

and you wake up the next morning and
you're like, what is this shit?

Total opposite of that.

The more I think about it, the
more I realise how huge it is.

Yeah, it's huge.

I'm super excited.

We're just knocking around options
re processing Grant Delgado's son,

which, erm...

Paddington Station or Maze Hill?

We arrested the
Deputy Mayor's son?

It was an operational matter,
until it became a press matter.

Which is now.

Well, Paddington's a bad idea.

I mean, there's a backlog, it'll get
jammed up. Yeah, Maze Hill does seem

to make more sense, bearing in mind we've
got the policing conference next Tuesday.

Maze Hill. Famously leaky
custody sergeants.

I'm not sure Metcalf's working
at the Maze any more,

so we may have to give them a helping hand.
He's a child.

He's a minor and we're
leaking his name.

OK, Liz, you're putting
words in mouths.

Smearing a child.

Is this really who we are?

It's just possession, Liz,
it's a column on page six.

This is a friendly reminder
to our friends at City Hall.

It's Roy Keane, straight through the
back of you. Welcome to the prep.

I think bearing in mind the
backlog at Paddington,

we're all agreed that Maze
Hill is the preferred option.

Richard, could I have
a word in private?

Thank you, everyone.

With respect, I am getting
a little tired of being

the angel on your shoulder every
time the shit starts to fly.

In three days' time that bleating
crow's anus is going to stand

up there at MY conference and
he's going to posit a bright,

shiny new future where this
old institution is forced

down onto her knees to
start sucking corporate

sponsorship dick and
before you know it, every

copper in London will
be running around

with a fucking Umbro helmet
and a McDonalds logo. So

we're sacrificing children now?
For the greater good?

Why don't we just paint ourselves with
chicken blood and burn them out front?

I have a son, Liz. I
don't like this either.

But this story is going to break
eventually. If his name gets out there

in three days it's no good to me,
if it gets out today, he's sunk.

We're on the same page, Liz.
But we need to work together.

I need your big ideas, that's key,
but I also need a little elbow room.

The gossip piece - where
are we on the apology?

I read it, I think we're
really splitting hairs.

Liz, yesterday I saved three
lives, today I saved two.

Tomorrow I'll be a
balloon-popping meth addict.

My name is my currency.

It's the stack of 50 pences I
use to keep the meter running.

This matters.

You're right. I'll
fix it for you.

Matt Coward. 'Matt, it's Miles.
What are you up to?'

Er... Nothing. Just rattling
around the flat. Watching TV.

Bored out of my brain. 'Change
of plan for tomorrow.

'We'll get Leon to roll
with the transport lot.

'I want you to get with the
frogmen.' Amazing. Frogmen.

I'm so jazzed. I've never been so jazzed.
I'm DJ Jazzy Jeff.

'Just get the footage, Matt.

'You never know, they might dredge
up something fucking interesting.

'I mean, they won't find a body,
God forbid. They never do.

'That's what they dangle, but it
never happens, thank the Lord,

'but you might get a
domestic pet of some kind...

'What's that noise?'

Just watching Reservoir Dogs again.
See you later, man.

Thanks, mate. Rob!

No cameras.

Just a coffee. As mates.

Grant, Richard Miller.

'Richard? I'm seeing
you at conference?'

God knows what I'm
doing with my speech.

My assistant's done a draft

which means I'm going to have to do a
new draft and take out all her jokes.

'She seems to think
I'm Lenny Bruce.'

I'm calling as a courtesy.

It's a private matter, and I thought
it best if it came direct from me.

OK. Sure.

Jamie, hi, it's Finn.

Now, I don't know where
you heard this from,

because it certainly
wasn't from me.

Grant Delgado's son
has been arrested.

Right.

When?

'What for?' Possession
of a Class B substance.

Around an eighth of grass.

It was deemed to be sufficient
grounds for arrest.

Right.

So, what's the next step?

Well, we've had to
notify his parents,

which has obviously been
done with great sensitivity.

We'll charge him and then
he'll be free to go,

so you can head down to Maze
Hill station to collect him.

OK. Well, thanks for letting me know.
Appreciate that.

No worries.

No worries at all.

'See you at the conference.'

Richard, is he OK?

He's fine.

Savour that one, guys.
Drink it in.

That'll keep us warm on
those cold winter mornings.

That was invigorating.

I should go down to the station to
deal with Grant when he arrives.

Absolutely. Extend him every courtesy.
This isn't personal.

Shall we play another game?

Ah, you know what, Warwick?

Yeah, I had a word with Hopwood.
About what?

About nothing, stuff, just keeping
an eye on you, as a mate.

What, so you think I'm a bottler?
Er, no... God, no.

Look, me and Banj were talking.
Oh, so you're in on this and all?

What? No. Piss off, Tony. No-one's
having a go at you, mate.

No, course not, you
just think I'm a pussy.

Ah, no-one called you a pussy.
No, not to my face,

cos you prefer going behind my
back, like a fucking woman.

You busy prick.

Fuck.

'Armed robbery.
Whitechapel High Street.

'Blue Peugeot 207
travelling eastbound.

'Cashbox taken from van.
No tracking device.'

Yep, yep. Trojan 131 on it.

So, what about your Neil?

What about him?

Big scary ARV man.

I bet he's well hung.

Big fat dong like a rubber
bullet, right up your guts.

You want me to tell you
about Neil's penis?

Cos I can show you some photos
if you're that interested.

Oh. Oh, Neil.

Is that your baton? It feels
more like your battering ram.

Oh. Oh, go on, bang
my back door in.

We only do anal on Sundays.
It's a religious thing.

What are his balls like?

Bit like the ones you've
got on your forehead.

Oh, yeah. Get them
resting on your chin.

Little gonad beard.

Eh, it's not a goatee,
it's a scrote-ee.

Neil's nice, big, weighty
balls sitting on your face...

Give it a rest, Nobbo, yeah?

Oh, Clarkey loves Davina.

I've just had enough of
this in my ear all day.

Do you love her? Do
have dreams about her?

Do you want to take
her to the cinema

to see a film with Colin Firth in it?
Piss off.

Maybe I just don't have it.

I'm like a dog with no teeth.

It's you or him. That's
all you've got to think.

Hunger Games, right? There's a KFC bucket.
Me against you.

You better believe I'm slitting
your throat for a chicken wing.

Really?

Shit, man, that's...
That's a bit cold.

I thought you media types
were all soft little bellies.

Nah, law of the jungle.

Sometimes you've got to do whatever
it takes to get ahead. You know?

Dog eat dog.

Yeah. Yeah, you know
what, you're right.

Thanks.

Shit. Oh, my God! That was amazing!
Wicked reflexes.

Are you all right? Well, in a way
that's a bit of a result, right,

cos I didn't even hesitate,
but, also, are you OK?

I've got to get a photo of this.
Yeah, come here.

This is what happens when
you mess with the Big Dog.

Yeah, big man, yeah.
Punching a girl in the face.

I can't help it, it's
just natural instinct,

but, seriously, are you
all right, though?

Come here, let me have a look.
Get off me.

They're sending someone
down from upstairs.

They just want you to walk
them through your report.

Yeah, no problem.

Shit, man. Get that
dog off me, yeah?

You did search his
trainers, didn't you?

Another three baggies
in his shoe.

That takes us up to five eighths in
total, which is approximately...

Sorry, I'm just trying to
convert it into metric.

Then he's been a very naughty boy.
Three baggies.

It's possession with intent. I mean,
that's worth a knock on the door

and a sneaky look under the mattress.
What's the address?

About 17 grams.

Oh. Erm.

156 Tadmarton Road.

Same address as mum and dad.

So now we're raiding the
Deputy Mayor's house,

two days before the
policing conference?

Bit of a sidebar. He's
making a complaint.

Says we split his chin open.

This was supposed to be
a slap on the ankles,

not a nail bomb down the
back of his fucking pants.

Then, fine. 17 grams. We
say it's personal use.

It's a little on the heavy
side, but it's a valid call.

Charlie, this is out there.

Is this out there?

Which means right now every
fascinating prick with a blog

is watching me,
eyes like a hawk,

with his big fat
fingers on the keys.

And what then? I'm the bent copper
handing out grubby favours?

Cosy little reach-arounds? His son's a
dope dealer. It's a ruiner. He's over.

If he's not, he's a wounded
bear with an arrow

sticking out of his eye,
he'll break into my house

and eat me in my pyjamas.
Shall I reach out to Grant

as a courtesy? Brilliant.
Let's phone the criminals

before we raid their houses. "You
might want to hide the guns,

"fellas, cos the boys are
on their way round."

Let's just do it
quickly and quietly.

Make sure Liz is up to speed.
I need her on this.

Mr Delgado, could you comment
on the arrest of your son?

I don't know what
you're talking about.

Well, based on the quantity of
cannabis we requisitioned...

Which we... We dropped
on the ground.

As you can see
from the detritus.

We, erm, made the decision
to instigate an arrest.

Anything else I should know?

One of them farted.

Farted? Aggressively. It
was an act of aggression.

Whether or not it's an assault, I
mean, well, it was a nasal assault.

Right. And is that a
separate charge or...

The fart won't be in the report.
It's a detail.

Liz, I've got the
Deputy Mayor for you.

Nasal assault? What?

Where are we on the gossip
piece on the Commissioner?

Oh, I've been digging. I've tracked
down two guys that he saved.

Not the third.

Do you think Richard's lying?

Honestly? I don't know.

Mr Delgado, I wanted
to come in personally

to make sure that this
is taken care of.

You don't mess about, do you?

You've got the press
out there already.

I can assure you whoever is out
there has nothing to do with me.

Business as usual down at
Scotland Yard then, is it?

Same shit, just a nice
new shiny wrapper.

Oh, God! Stop, stop! Can you
control your dog, please?

Right, fucking get off my leg.
Control your dog!

Right, she's Head of Comms,
can you move it along?

I'd like to take my
son now, please.

Yes. Let me get you
an update on that.

Well, you dodged a bullet there, Liz.
You big druggie.

Yeah. Funny.

Blue Peugeot.

Is that a 206 or a 207?

It's a 206. It's a 207.

Well, it looks like
a fucking 206.

All right, lads. Here we go. Yeah,
we got a blue Peugeot 20...

I don't fucking know... Blue
Peugeot travelling eastbound.

Yeah, that's it, mate. You keep
swerving because that'll lose us.

Fuck's sake.

Lights are flashing. Move
out the fucking way!

Fuck! Fuck!

They've triggered the smoke
pack on the cashbox.

Absolute nob-clowns.

Ah, shit. Ah.

Go, go, go, go, go!

Armed police! Armed police!
Armed police!

Get out of the way!
Armed police!

Armed police, stop!
Move, fucking move!

Fucking stay down!

Get down on the ground
and drop the weapon!

I tell you what. Why don't
you shut the fuck up?

Warwick!

Don't come any closer,
silly bollocks.

Warwick!

Warwick!

Drop the fucking weapon!

Warwick!

Warwick!

Ha-ha! You fucking nutter!

Did you fucking see that?

Good job, man.

Warwick? Warwick?

Don't call this a comeback.
Return of the Mad Man.

Wozza the Warrior. The
Viking of Hounslow.

Jesus, Warwick. Christ's sake.

My head's gone. I'm fucked.

All right, mate. Let's just get
you out of here. I'm fucked.

Come on, man.

Ah, come on.

Thank you, everyone.
Updates, Finn.

Sharon.

I hear you're doing a tasing.
That's a good move.

I just want us to get
the message out there.

You know, reassure the public.
Yeah.

You're not worried about
evacuating yourself?

No. No? No, no. The
likelihood is...

It's marginal.

Well, it's pretty brave.
All them cameras about.

I had a look at Liz's e-mail.

Metwork, the news idea.

Interesting.

Tighter control of the press, a
better handle on the agenda.

Yeah. My only worry is your exposure.
Do you really want to be

the Commissioner who
shuts out the press?

Because if you stick your head
in the hornet's nest and shout,

"Fuck hornets," you are
liable to get stung.

Finn, I know this doesn't apply
to you because you're a good man,

but I don't like backstabbing.

I think it's a wanker's game.

How about you?

Absolutely, sir. PHONE RINGS

Excuse me.

Yep.

Can someone kindly tell me what
is going on with Grant's son,

because I have a very
angry man on my hands

and I am running
out of chit-chat.

Yeah, change of plan. It's now
Possession with Intent to Supply.

We're searching his house.
Are you joking me?

Finn, I have the
Deputy Mayor down here

eating soup out of a
fucking vending machine

and we're off raiding his house?

Got to dash. I'm just
in with Richard.

We're thrashing out your Metwork idea.
All the best.

Clarkey and Davina,
sitting in a tree.

At least we know he can spell.

Is that right, what you were saying
in the van? About you and Neil?

What? Like anal on Sundays,
dong like a rubber bullet?

Because me and Sandy we...
We don't. We've stopped.

Yeah, we don't do it any more.
Because of us. Oh, right.

I didn't realise it was like one or
the other, sort of thing. So you are?

I don't know. Well,
yeah, sometimes.

Right. Nah. That's just good to know.
But not loads. You know.

Just like... I mean we're
not at it all the time.

I don't really want to know, thanks.
Shall we get going?

So you lure me down
here, and, meanwhile,

you're off terrifying my wife?
Are they still out there?

There's seven or eight, plus a camera crew.
For God's sake.

It's amazing. Your ability to
screw me over knows no bounds.

This really is a 360 degree shafting.
So, yeah, kudos.

Trust me, this is not how
I run my communications.

Is that right?

We could arrange for a car to
collect you from the rear entrance.

What would you do?

I would go out the front.

You're the law enforcement
administration,

and that goes double
for your own home.

You are going to come down hard,

but there isn't a household in
the country that won't relate.

And I would praise the
police to the heavens

for bringing this
to your attention,

and this is why London works.

You're wasted over there in The Swamp.
You do understand that?

Oh, and Richard Miller,

he's like an iceberg.

It's what's below the surface
you need to worry about.

But you're a smart girl,
you'll figure that out. Hmm?

Nice to meet you, Liz.

Safety off!

Armed police! Knife down! Knife down!
Drop your weapon! Drop it!

Get down on the floor! Look at me!
Look at me!

Fire!

Nice one, Robbo. You nailed it.

I did it. Matt, I did it.

This is what happens when
you mess with the Big Dog.

Yeah, big man, yeah.
Punching a girl in the face.

In two days' time, this man will be
armed and on the streets of London.

The pin has been pulled
from the grenade.

Thank you so much for
stepping in so last minute.

Sharon's just feeling
a little bit iffy.

No. Glad to be of service.

I was under the impression
Liz might be present?

Oh, she got caught
up in something.

Right. And pretty sure I
know the answer on this one,

but bearing in mind the...

associated risks,

might it be advisable for
me to wear some kind of...

absorbent pad?

Not like a nappy?

No, not a nappy, no. God.

Something in that wheelhouse.

It feels like it's slightly bumping
against the reassurance vibe.

No. Totally. Couldn't agree more, actually.
Couldn't agree more.

I shall...

hold on tight.

OK, if we're all ready?

OK, sir. Brace yourself.

Taser. Taser.

Down he goes. Clean. Simple.

And, as you can see,
totally immobilised.

Any questions?

Mr Delgado, how do you feel
having a stoner for a son?

I'd like to thank the police
for their robust response.

We like to think of ourselves as
the law enforcement administration

and that goes double for my own home.
So he'll be grounded?

Well, that's just for starters.

Once he's been interviewed and
processed, I'll be taking him home

and then we'll sit down
together as a family...

'I've got my binoculars out, Richard.
I'm watching you.

'And I've got my
little pad and my pen.

'So keep an eye on the papers.

'Because I think they could
be very interesting for you

'over the next couple of weeks.

'All the best. See you
at the conference.'

Absolutely. I look
forward to it.

Well, he's upset, but I don't think
we're going to have a problem.

We tracked down Kevin McSorley.
What did he say?

He was there the night of the firebombing.
He backs your story.

Let's get him on the phone, I want
to put a statement out tonight.

He was working out of security
services at the time.

He's very sorry, but
he can't go on record.

I wrote the two-pager
on Metwork.

Take a look, see what you think.

Yeah, I've been thinking, we're
going to need to park that.

I've got enough people trying
to chew my bollocks off

without marinating them and
firing up the barbecue.

Is this coming from Finn?

It's not happening, Liz.
No website.

Let's not get pouty.

OK. Point one. It is not a website.
It's a news network.

Point two. We do not
park it and move on.

I am trying to dig
this place out

and you keep shooting
holes in my bucket.

You know what? I want this idea.

And I want Finn gone, and if
you won't back me, I walk.

When you throw mud,
we all get dirty.

My name, my reputation, we're all
sinking in this swamp together.

'It's been a difficult day for
Deputy Mayor Grant Delgado

'since the arrest of his son
was leaked to the press,

'but the consensus appears to be

'that he has escaped
significant political damage.

'Even the Home Secretary,

'with whom he's had a notoriously
strained relationship,

'has come out in support, saying
that the Deputy Mayor came across

'in public statements as a

'"Family man doing what
any family man would..."'

Don't.

Look. Pack it in.

What? Really pack it in?

I said get off.