Hamish Macbeth (1995–1997): Season 3, Episode 4 - The Good Thief - full transcript

- Have I missed him?
- He hasn't started yet.

- Any minute now.
- Shh.

Gillian, do the curtains.

Ladies and gentlemen, Frankie Bryce.

Och, man, would you listen to that!

I'm listening.

I'm listening!

I definitely want a piece of this action,
Barney.

Sure, honey, sure.

It would take an angel to beat that.

An angel.



You all right, Mr McClintock?
Something in your eye?

Only a tear, Hamish, only a tear.

You know, I thought I had a hard life
until I met that poor boy.

My life's been full of good fortune

compared with the life and times
of blind boy Tusker Gray.

Blind boy?

He was an orphan, Hamish.
He was raised in a home.

He'd to endure a life of pain
and desertion.

"When people came for children,
to take them for their own,

"they always took some other child
and I was left alone."

Those were his very words, Hamish.

Left alone, eh?

A wee sing-along-a-Hamish,
eh, Mr McClintock?

♪ Now people come for children



♪ To take them for their own

♪ But they always seem to pass me by

♪ And I am left alone

♪ Now I know that they would take me

♪ But when they see I'm blind ♪

On you go.

♪ They always take some other child

♪ And I am left behind ♪

That's Nobody's Child, Hamish.

Did blind boy Tusker Gray
have a ticket?

Hey, you!
Come back here, you wee toerag.

Who - me?

Aye, you're right, Rory, 26 years.
26 years of eating humble pie

and watching a Dunbracken boy

walk off
wi' the Willie McGraw Memorial Trophy.

26 years watching the regulars
of the Dunbracken Arms

walk off wi' the annual wager
but not this year, this year it's our turn.

I think you and I should have a wee chat.

About what?

About the kinda lowlife that goes around
pretending to be blind

just so he can dodge his train fare.

Lighten up, eh?

What's his name?

Never mind his name.
What if an inspector had come on?

Mr McClintock could've been signing on
come Monday - did you think of that?

What if, what if?!

Thanks tae me,
that guy was feeling good aboot himself.

Enjoying that warm glow you get
when you help the less fortunate,

- then you go and spoil it for him.
- I spoiled it for him?

I'm no the one pretendin' to be blind.

Take it easy, yer hurtin' ma ears.

I'll be kicking yer backside
if I get any more cheek.

It was out of order, pal,
it was offensive.

- Offensive tae who?
- Tae blind people.

How are they gonna know
what I'm daein if they're blind, pal?

Somebody might tell them. This is
a small village. Something like that can...

But it's no the issue,
it's the ethics o' the thing is the point.

Look, ye caught me fair and square,
so either toss me in the jug or let it rest,

but spare me the sermon,
cos frankly, you're no very good at it.

Well, it is still an option, ye know -
the jug -

unless I get yer word
there's no more blind boy Tusker Gray.

Solemn promise. OK?

OK.

His name's Jock.

- Hello, Jean.
- Thanks for coming up, Thomas.

This is the best day ever, Lachie. I'm
gonna sing for Lochdubh and Cnothan.

As long as you win
for Lochdubh and Cnothan.

Come on out,
there's someone here to see you.

Who?

- Hello, Frankie.
- Tusker!

Tusker!

Nobody said ye were comin'.
Not a word, not a dickie bird.

Who won last time out?

Me. Double or quits?

- Post Office on the corner.
- On.

Go.

- Jock!

Jock!

Thanks for collecting him, Hamish.

Was he impressed
to get picked up in the police van?

Ah, no. I don't think there's that much
would impress that kid.

How'd you get on at the school?

If we don't beat Dunbracken this year,
we'll never beat them.

Frankie's a real surprise talent and
Esme's done a fantastic job with him.

Right, Jock?

- Who won?
- A draw, I'd say.

Come on, let's get Thomas inside.

That, ladies and gentlemen,

was the honey-sweet voice
of young Frank Bryce -

discovered and trained
by our own delectable Esme here,

to represent us against Dunbracken for
the Willie McGraw Memorial Trophy.

So... what did you think of him?

- Well, I think I'll have a tenner on him.
- Ten for the doc.

A tenner for Duncan.
Maggie? Fiver for you.

There's something bothering you,
I can tell.

Have you heard from Isobel
or something?

No, no, it's no that.

It's that wee pal of Frankie's, that Tusker.
There's something no right wi' the boy.

What d'you mean?

I caught him up to a bit of mischief,
I came the heavy copper,

he acted like he couldnae care less.

Maybe he could see through your act.

I dunno.
Maybe I'm losing my touch.

Well, while you ponder on that,
I'll go and get the bets on.

Here, John...

stick a tenner on for me, yeah?

Sorry I'm late.

- How'd it go?
- Och, fine, you know.

Thomas.

- Business, Mr McCrae?
- Yes.

So, who's off the turf, then?

- What?
- Who's dead?

Oh, Colonel McGregor,
as a matter of fact.

The McGregors are a prominent family
in the area, Thomas.

Minor aristocracy.

That reminds me, I asked Hamish to get
me some special cones for the street,

for the colonel's final journey.
Bound to be a big turnout.

Lachie's a brilliant undertaker, Tusker.

Every funeral's planned
like a military operation.

I mean, the bereaved just worship him.
In't that right, Auntie Jean?

That's right. There's more than
the bereaved worship Lachie McCrae.

That's the downside o' this setup.

Every night you have to sit in
the middle o' that romantic crosstalk

and blowing kisses -
it'd turn your stomach.

Frankie!

Sorry.

- I was thinkin', Frankie...
- What?

D'you think you could
stop callin' me Tusker?

I find it kinda... juvenile.

Sure.

From here on, it's... Tommy.

I understand your predicament perfectly,
Thomas.

You see, I'm known locally
as Lachie Junior -

a title that is wholly at odds
with my social position.

What position's that, Mr McCrae?

Well, local undertaker.

That's funny. I never thought of
an undertaker as having a position.

I always thought of it as a creepy job
that was tailor-made for, well, creeps.

Thomas!

He's kidding you on. Right, Tommy?

No, I'm serious.

Dead serious.

Oh, he's kidding you on.

He's kidding you on, in't he?

Black Bob.

Well, well, well, it's the Lochdubh men
come to part with some of their money.

Ignore him.

Did I tell you
I had a nightmare last night, Lachlan?

No, you never said, John.

No? Well, I was standing on a cliff
and this bus came careering towards me.

All the passengers
were Dunbracken men and as I watched,

the whole bus
went straight over the edge.

Shut up.

A busload of Dunbracken men going
over a cliff - you call that a nightmare?

It was! There were two empty seats.

Ah-ah-ah! A little bit of respect
for the law, gents, if you don't mind.

Now get on wi' this or I'm outta here.

We've come for
the Willie McGraw Trophy

since it's our turn to exhibit it
before the competition.

And to let you know
that the Stag Bar wants to put £336

on our boy winning the competition.

If you good people
are able to match that.

Oh, we'll match it, Hamish!

And here's the trophy.

336?

Aye, 336.

And just to help you conceptualise that,
Black Bob,

it's the same as all the toes on 28 men.

That can't be right, Lachlan.

That would mean
every man would have to have 12 toes.

I was thinking of 28 Dunbracken men,
TV John.

Oh, aye, right enough.

I was forgetting about the effects
of the old limited gene pool.

OK, this is gonna be kept in the Stag Bar
in its usual place

and once you're able
to raise the money, OK.

I'll bring it round personally, Hamish.

Champion.

Oh, and...

...this is a recording
of young Frankie Bryce -

our boy in the competition.

- Thought ye might like a wee listen.
- Hmph.

After you, TV John.

Aye, gents.

See, it's the acoustics here.
That's why this is the spot.

You keep taking them. What're they for?

They're for hay fever.
All this heather goes for me.

I didnae know ye had hay fever.

I didn't know you could sing.

There's judges
that come up frae Inverness

and hunners o' people come here
to hear it - hunners!

I mean, I'll have tae wear a highland kilt.

This guy I'm up against, Brainy Balfour,

he's won the contest
for the last two years,

but no this time, Tommy,
cos I'm gonna win it.

I mean, it's ma way of saying thank you
tae the villagers

for treatin' me so nice.

As I said, it's a big deal really.

Sounds like a load o' tosh tae me.

Well, maybe, but frae my point o' view,
it's important.

And as for that Lachie,
talk about a choob, eh?

"Position in the community"
How d'you pit up wi' that stuff?

The man's a ghoul, that's what he is.

Lachie's one of the best people I ever
met, but since ye don't really know him,

I guess yer entitled tae yer opinion.

If somebody called ma friend a choob,
I'd take exception.

Take exception - what is this? You're
ma best pal, ye can say what ye like,

even if it's somethin' I don't agree with.
So what, right?

Sure.

A present for ye.

But it's yer multi-function
prized possession.

Dae ye want it or not?

- Sure, but...
- Well, it's yours.

Tusker, what's wrong?

- D'you really want tae know?
- Sure I do.

You owe me a quid. Go.

That is a fine singer they have this year.

Who did McCrae say it was?

Alfie?

Frankie Bryce. He's from Glasgow.

From Glasgow? Are you sure?

I'm sure.

Something wrong, Harry?

Oh, there's something wrong all right,
Black Bob,

but only if you're a Lochdubh
or Cnothan man.

This is going to be the easiest money
we've ever made.

So, come on. Stomp up!

Wouldn't you like lemonade?

No, this is fine.

Are you all right?

Is it a headache?

No, they're for hay fever.

Hi.

Would you turn that off, boy.

- Hamish.
- Harry, Black Bob.

Should've said you were coming,
I'd have come in with you.

- There's no need, Hamish.
- They're all in deep shock, Hamish.

Too numb to be of any trouble.

Come on, boy.

OK, what's up?

Harry Balfour
brought Dunbracken's money round.

- So what's the problem?
- They've doubled it.

They also brought a copy of the rules for
the Willie McGraw singing competition.

What rules?

Ones that say the competitors must be
natives of the village they represent.

Frankie's not eligible, Hamish,
being from Glasgow.

Did anyone think to check this out?

We didn't even know
there were rules, Hamish.

It would seem the Dunbracken men
aren't quite as retarded as we thought.

So there's nothing we can do?

Esme says there's no time
to get a substitute ready.

It'll be a walkover, Hamish.

And the Dunbracken men
walk away with our money.

Wait a minute.

What is it, dearest?

I think there's something here
we might be able to use.

Rule eight.

- Rule eight?
- Yes.

Apparently Willie McGraw
was keen for entrants

to be more than just kilt-swinging
himbos with nice voices.

Spit it out, dearest.

According to rule eight, boys putting
themselves forward for the trophy

were meant to be well-rounded lads

who, in addition to possessing
a good singing voice,

should be of excellent character

and be capable of displaying
some depth of intellect.

Some depth of intellect?
Young Alfie Balfour?

He's got the intellectual depth
of a bluebottle.

I'd say there has to be room
for negotiation on these rules.

A trade-off, maybe.

- Would you hold on?

Quiet out there!

Yes, I can see rule eight, Meldrum,
so what's the point?

I see.

No, there'll be no objections from us,
Meldrum,

not since it's in the rules.

- What is it?
- They have found a substitute.

But they want to incorporate a general
knowledge quiz into the competition.

Any boy failing to score 50%
will be inedible.

- Can they do that?
- Oh, they can do that, Black Bob.

General... knowledge?

Has anyone got a book?

Here you are, Esme. It's on the house.

Of course I did play a substantial part
in the plan too, Barney.

- So you did.
- But will it work?

- It's got to work.
- Right.

What do you call it
when a shadow passes across the sun?

We call it... night time.

Correct!

No, that's not correct.

An eclipse.

You call it an eclipse.

An... An eclipse.

Right, next question.

What sport
do you associate with Cowes?

Jumpin' over the moon.

Cowes - C-O-W-E-S, the Isle of Wight.

Sailing!

I'm tired. My brain's sore and I'm tired.
I want to go to bed.

No, you are not going to bed
until you've answered one question,

just one right answer.

Now,

there was a prince that was known
as the Young Pretender.

He led a Jacobite rebellion in 1745 -
what was his name?

For the love of God, what was his name?

It was...

Yes?

It was...

Bo...

- Bo...
- Bo...

Bo...

Prince Bo-Bo.

- What?
- That's what you said.

No. Bonny Prince Charlie.

Bo-nny, no Bo-bo!

I've never heard of a Prince Bo-bo.

No one is called Bo-bo. No one...

Dear God!

Hello.

Ah, Mr Balfour.

That's very generous of you...

and of course, we agree.

Well? What did he say?

Frankie can sing in the competition if...

we drop the general knowledge rule.

Yes!

Do you like that Macbeth?

Yup.

I think he's a numpty.
What d'you say to that?

I told you, you're entitled tae
yer ain opinion, even if it's wrong.

Frankie, I've come up wi' this great scam.

It's like ye get tae take a rise oot
the whole world. Ye in on it?

What dae ye want tae take a rise
oot the whole world for?

I've got ma reasons.

So, whit d'ye say?

Sounds interesting.

Tomorrow then.

- Aye, Lachie.
- Aye.

How many cars are we expecting?

A dozen or upwards, Hamish.

This should just about do it.
Give us a shout if you need any more.

Thanks, Hamish.

My daddy mentioned this business
about the singing contest.

Thank God for rule eight, eh?

I just hope that Dunbracken crew don't
come up with any other impediment.

No way. We've been through the rules
wi' a fine tooth comb.

Nothin' can go wrong.

I picked it up in a jumble sale.

I give you the blind boy, Frankie.

What're you doing?

Blind and homeless, blind and homeless.

Tusker, stop this - this is wrong!

Thank you, sir... or madam.

See, he didn't seem tae mind.

Blind and homeless, blind and homeless.

Tusker, stop this, it stinks.

Shut up, right? Just shut up.
If you've no got the bottle, then beat it.

Hey, you.

- Blind and homeless.
- Tusker, it's Hamish.

So what? And I told you,
it's no Tusker, it's Tommy.

Blind and homeless.

Haven't I warned you about this?
What've I told you?

- You're queering ma pitch.
- What's goin' on here?

Listen, you made me a promise,
you gave me your word.

I had ma fingers crossed. Promises
don't count wi' crossed fingers.

Every dimwit knows that.

Blind and homeless.

Stop this right now
or I'll lose my patience wi' you.

Do what he says or you're out
o' my house and on your way home.

They're ganging up on me,
so who you with?

I said who you with, Frankie?

I'm wi' you, Tommy.

And will you let 'em take me away?

If you go, I go.

I'm sorry aboot this, Lachie,
but that's the way it is.

I was part o' this too, Hamish.
If you lift Tommy, you have to lift me.

I'm goin' home. Come on, Tommy.

I said, come on, Tommy!

What're you gonna do, Hamish?

Forget about it.

- Thanks, Hamish.
- For what? Frankie's no part of this.

The kid's playing the loyalty card.

Funky rate, pal.

This is my place. Who are you?

Name's Tommy Gray.

Can I have one?

Sure.

- I'm Alfie Balfour.
- Ah, the singer.

How'd you know that?

I'm a friend of Frankie Bryce.
I hope that's OK.

No problem.
You can tell him I think he'll win.

Tell him I don't give a monkey's. I've won
twice before and it's no worth the hassle.

I'll tell him. Can I have a shot?

There you go.

- Look out there.
- For goodness' sake!

And don't forget this lovely wedge,
my darling.

Have you thought about what you're
going to do with your winnings?

Something, er... sheer, I thought.

What about you?

I've been considering a radical change
in the underwear department myself.

You mean,
out with the boxer shorts at last?

And in with the pink satin pouch,
just like you've always wanted.

Be still my beating heart.

Good evening, Mr Meldrum.

Frankie.

Just having a wee... joke here
with Mrs Meldrum.

Whose just finished polishing the Willie
McGraw Trophy for the umpteenth time.

Seeing as how it's going to be
up on the shelf there for a year.

I'll try my best, Agnes, my very best.

That's all anyone can ask, young Frankie.
Now, what can I get you?

- A Coke?
- No, thanks. I was looking for the Doc.

- Over there, son.
- Thanks.

Is that, erm...

What?

No, no, no, no, no. You don't?

- Nah.
- Good.

What can I do for you?

What I want tae know, Doc, is,
can medicine change people?

I mean, my friend Tusker, Tommy,
he's just no been the same person.

It's been Jekyll and Hyde wi' him.

It's possible.
What kind of medicine is he taking?

I wrote it doon.

Don't know it. You wouldn't know
who his doctor is, would you?

Sure, same one I had.

Then write that down too
and I'll see if I can contact him.

You're a gent, Doc.

So, where are the boys, then?

Oh, sleepin' in.

Oh, so it's... just you and me then?

Of course it's just you and me.

Oh! Just... you and me!

Right.

Just... you and me.

Well, you can... bring it into me then...

my tea.

Your wish is my command, O Great One.

In here.

Hi, Agnes.

What was taken?

Just the trophy and the money,
Hamish.

Whoever it was, came in through
the window in the gents toilet.

And I think
they slipped the latch with that.

I found it outside.

Where's Barney?

Well, as far as he's concerned,
this is the work of the Dunbracken crew.

He said he was gonna raise an army
to go over there.

I can't see this belonging
to a Dunbracken man, Hamish.

All these blades
would only confuse them.

A Dunbracken man wouldn't have to
search for the trophy either, would he?

Around the back.

You can deal wi' this.

Agnes.

What the hell happened?

We were sorting out
these thieving halfwits,

when we fell into Balfour's harem.

My harem?
What are you insinuating, Meldrum?

I think you better
get yourselves cleaned up

and then we can see what's what.

Would you fancy a glass of lemonade
or something, Agnes?

Only if you're havin' one yourself, John.

I think I might risk a pint
of Balfour's watery beer.

Well, I better go ahead,
make sure the glasses are clean.

There is no watery beer in my pub

and there are no dirty glasses!

Come on and get cleaned up
like John said.

Esme'll kill me
when she sees the state o' me.

She says I've got skin like a peach.

It's what turns her on, she says.
Now look at me.

Ever seen this before?

That's mine. Tommy gave it to me.

Hamish, Frankie didn't take the money.

Why would he do that? You know him.

He went out late last night.
He thought I was asleep

and when he came back,
I seen him put something in his drawer.

- Tusker!
- You're a liar.

- Thomas, what are you saying?
- Mind if I look in the drawer?

- Look all you want.
- It's the bottom drawer, Hamish.

Auntie Jean, I never took it.
Lachie, I swear.

For God's sake, Hamish,
Jean said it, you know the boy.

I know and I know he didn't take this.

Whoever broke into the hotel
had to search the lounge bar first.

Frankie wouldn't do that.
He knew exactly where the trophy was.

I doubt there's a person
in the entire district

who wouldn't know
where the trophy was.

Whoever broke in was a stranger.

A stranger that could get close enough
to Frankie to steal his penknife.

- You mind if I look in your things, son?
- His things are over here, Hamish.

Tusker!

I told ye, it's not Tusker, it's Tommy.

Get him out of here, please, Hamish.

I want my parents to know
everything I did here.

Thomas...

Can I get the next train?

Yeah, there's one at five.

Come on, I'll take you to the station.

No, I don't want anybody with me, Jean.

Nice bit of police work that, Hamish.

Aye.

How come I don't feel
that pleased wi' myself then?

- What do you...
- Where's Macbeth?

Ah, Mr Balfour.

Something stinks here.

The story is
that young Bryce is off the hook

because you say
the Stag Bar was turned over

by someone who didn't know
where to find the trophy.

That's right - Thomas Gray.

Tell him, boy.

The other boy, Tommy,
he knew where the trophy's kept.

He asked me and I told him.

Then why in God's name
did he search the place, Hamish?

Maybe young Frankie
did the deed himself

and then faked the search
to throw suspicion on this other boy.

Well, that's my hypotenuse.

- Rubbish!
- Hamish?

Not now, Doc, I'm busy.

Tusker Gray, is he here?

What do you want him for?

Just... treat him carefully, Hamish.

- Why?
- That boy is seriously ill.

What?

I made a call to his doctor.
Young Frankie was concerned.

It's doubtful whether that boy
will see his 18th birthday.

No.

My thoughts exactly.

Hamish?

On the basis of what you just told me,

I could be about to screw up big-time.

So, if you're lying,
your singing days are over.

I'm tellin' the truth.

I just spoke to young Alfie Balfour.

Who's he?

You know who he is.

It doesn't really add up, does it?

You knew exactly where the money was
because Alfie told you,

yet you still searched the lounge bar.

You never took anything.

You just searched, you just
left things lying around for me to find

and come over all policeman-like.

That's what you did, innit?

You left me a clue.

Exposed yourself as a thief.

Worse, you exposed yourself as a thief

that'd try and shift the blame
onto his best pal.

I know you're ill, Thomas.

I know how ill.

And I think you know as well,
is that right?

How d'you find out
aboot that kinda thing?

You listen at the door.

You hear them crying.

Your mum and dad?

That's right.

Listen, if I promise
not to breathe a word about this,

d'you think you could maybe, erm...
tell me the truth?

Solemn promise?

Absolutely.

You think that... when the time comes

it's gonna be easier on Frankie
if he hates you, is that what you think?

I tried to turn him against me
by makin' him call me Tommy.

Then I was badmouthing Mr McCrae,
then you,

next it was the begging scam
but nothing worked...

so I did the robbery.

And you intend doing the same thing
to your parents - make them hate you?

Worked here, didn't it?

Y'know, if you don't mind me sayin',

I don't think your plan
really makes an awful lot of sense.

I mean, you think Frankie's walking
about just now hatin' your guts.

Well, for my money,
he's gonna be pretty hurt -

wondering what he did to deserve this,

feeling all the things
you thought you were gonna spare him.

But bad as that is,
Frankie's no the real worry here.

The worry's your parents.

If you do this thing,
you're gonna destroy them,

sure as you and me are standing here.

Can I go for my train now?

So, it's you, is it?
Blind boy Tusker Gray himself.

Well, well, well.

- Sorry about that.
- And so you should be.

Well, get on if you're getting on.

I'm not going to bite you.

I think I'll stay here a wee while longer,
Mr McClintock.

As you wish.

All aboard.

- That was a close run thing.
- Aye, it was close.

But you did it. Thank you.

What an eejit you are, Tusker.

You promised.

Well done, boy!

- Good luck.
- Thanks.

It's in the bag, ma man.

It's in the bag.