Peaky Blinders (2013–…): Season 2, Episode 3 - Episode #2.3 - full transcript

Whilst Irish gangs fight each other in Birmingham Arthur is threatened by the mother of the boy he killed in the boxing match and who is not appeased by promises of money.

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The Italian gangs and the Jewish gangs have been at war in London.

The Jews have been having the worst of it. They need allies.

Tell us your plan.

I can offer you 100 good men.

Get him out of there, get him back!

Arthur killed a boy.

Polly, these are the files for Michael and Anna Gray.

Your daughter is dead.

But, Pol, Michael is alive.

I'm looking for someone called Elizabeth Gray.

What do you want with Elizabeth Gray?



I think she might be my mother.

There's an old friend of ours coming back to the city.

He's head of some secret department,

the Irish Desk.

He was murdered this morning in a street show in the Patch.

He was Irish. Is he a person of interest to your department, sir?

Do you read the papers?

Birmingham papers.

I recommend the Daily Mail.

It will broaden your mind.

Now, if you read the national press, you would know

that the king has offered the rebel Irish a treaty.

Now, some of the Fenians want to accept it.

The IRA do not.



Now, the IRA have a long and glorious relationship

with the garrotte.

Oh, dear.

Are they fighting amongst themselves, are they, sir?

- That will be all. -Right, sir.

Oh, Moss, I'm going to be up and down from London quite a bit.

I'm going to need some lodgings. Can you help me with that?

Well, you wouldn't want to stay in the lodgings

you had last time then, sir, eh?

Too many bad memories, I suppose.

You should understand, Moss,

I have no regrets about my previous mission in this city.

No, sir?

I imagine you boys have quite a laugh at my expense.

A laugh, sir?

You think it's funny that I developed feelings?

No idea what you're talking about, sir.

I have no regrets about what happened with Miss Burgess.

No "bad memories".

Right, sir.

He's losing his bloody mind.

Next.

Next.

All right, then.

Name?

The Digbeth Kid.

The Dig...

What are you? A boxer?

Digbeth Kid like Billy the Kid.

Spend a lot of time at the pictures, eh?

Cowboy pictures? Tom Mix?

Yeah?

What are you...

Wait, wait. It's not a real gun.

- Let's have a look then, eh? -It's made of wood.

Bang.Bang.

Very nice.

Where did you get the gun belt?

My sister made it out of an old blacksmith's apron.

My mum did most of the stitching.

She's not my real mum, but...

She does what mothers do.

So she made you a gun belt.

All right then, mother's boy.

There's the door. On you go. We're looking for...

Have you ever been arrested?

- Yeah.
- Yeah?

- No. -Good.

You're the first bloke we've had in here today with no criminal record.

Arthur, we can stand him up.

Do you know what that means?

The new Home Secretary wants something done about illegal gambling.

Damn right.

About bloody time.

So we help our coppers make their quota of convictions by having men stood up

to be arrested.

First offence, you'll get a week inside.

We'll give you five quid for your trouble.

How does that sound, cowboy?

Yeah.

Good. Write your address down for Finn on your way out.

I can't write.

That's all right, Finn can't read.

Don't worry.

Just tell him your address and we'll send someone round.

If the sheriff don't run you out of town first.

Good man.

- Oh, I don't know, Tom. Kids these days. -Hmm.

They didn't fight.

So they're different.

They stay kids.

How was it?

I was starving, so I would have eaten anything.

But really it was super.

Super.

So, uh, are you a cook?

Not a cook. No.

The man who came to the house,

he was driving a posh car. He looks rich.

What does he do?

- He works with horses. -Really?

I love horses.

- I've got a bay mare. -No!

I ride it all the time.

Then it's in the blood.

I've got about a million questions.

So do I.

I've had different pictures in my head.

Well, here I am.

It's all right that it's me, isn't it?

I don't have any choice.

I mean, you are who you are, aren't you?

We don't choose.

And that's it.

Yeah, that's right.

God gave you to me.

People took you away.

And it is all right that it's me, isn't it?

In a place like this.

I thought it would be worse.

Run for the hills! It's the Digbeth Kid!

Get out of town, kid, or I will shoot your fucking head off!

Time's up!

- You're dead, go down.
- John!

All right then, Polly.

Who's this?

Gentlemen, this is your cousin.

Polly's son, Michael.

Pleased to meet you.

John.

I'm Arthur. You've already met me.

I used to throw you out of the window, so John could catch you.

I used to put you in a shoebox and kick you down Watery Lane.

I bet you're glad to be back.

I don't remember any of it.

All I remember is the day they took me away.

Well, you're here now, son.

Welcome to the Shelby family.

Later on, we'll show you the ropes.

Hmm. Yeah, we'll show you what's what.

Let's leave him be for now, eh?

Come on, boys.

- Nice suit.

They seem nice.

Here he is, Mr Inconspicuous.

Corporal Billy Kitchen. Bloody grand to see you.

How are you feeling?

I've just come out of bandages myself.

Ready for active service.

Thanks for seeing me here, Tommy.

It's all right, Bill.

You don't have to stand in line for us.

It's men like you we're looking for, Billy.

But you have to pass the medical first.

Sheffield mob showed up at Wincanton trotting track.

I took a bullet.

When do the bandages come off?

When I take 'em off.

One week. Not before.

You'll smell no rot.

There's no gangrene.

It's been a long time. Eh, Billy?

What did you do with your medals?

Threw them in the cut. Same as you.

It was never a hardship having you Black Country boys on our left flank.

And you Brummies did all right on our right.

Damn right.

I want you to be the head of a brigade, Bill.

It'll be Brigadier Kitchen from now on.

You'll have 100 men under your command.

And now we've got a member of the Kitchen family on the payroll,

maybe your cousins and brothers will let our boats pass through the Black Country

without being held up and robbed.

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

Go home, Bill.

Round up any good men you can trust and put the word out.

Black Country boys and Brummie boys are on the same side again.

That'll be the bloody day.

Well, this is the bloody day.

London, man. There for the taking.

Tommy, I need to use the telephone.

Polly said you had one in the pub.

All right, be quick. I have business.

Sir.

Polly said you own this place.

She said you own lots of different businesses.

You call her Polly or Mum?

I can't get used to calling her Mum yet.

Who are you calling?

My mother. I mean...

I know what you mean.

And what are you going to tell her?

I'm going to tell her where I am.

And now you're going to tell her you're going home.

Polly said I could stay for a few days.

- You want to stay?
- I've only just arrived.

What age are you Michael?

Seventeen.

Seventeen. Which means it's not up to you, right?

I'm 18 in a few weeks. I make up my own mind.

You smoke?

No.

Drink?

You're going to call your mother,

going to tell her you're getting the next train home.

And when you get there,

you're going to write a letter to Polly saying when you're 18,

you'll come back here and sort things out.

I just told you.

I make up my own mind.

Do you know what we do, Michael?

We, Shelbys.

Yes. I think I know what you do.

Yeah.

You've got smart eyes.

But you're young, so you think what we do is all right.

It's not all right.

People get hurt.

Now, call your mother and I will drive you to the station.

No.

In my village,

there's this little wishing well.

It's made of white bricks, right in the middle of the village green.

Everybody says how pretty it is.

But I swear to God,

if I spend another day in that village,

I'm going to blow it up with dynamite.

Probably blow my hands off with it, but it'd be worth it.

Just to see all those pretty white bricks

spread over the pretty village green.

Hmm.

Yep. You're Polly's son, all right.

All right boys, let's go to work.

Let's be having it!

Don't wait!

Keep it moving.

Move!

Next lad!

Name?

Abbey Heath.

Abbey Heath. Profession?

Baker.

Good lad. Fill it out and fuck off.

Next lad!

Name?

Buddy Halls.

Buddy Halls. Right. Profession?

Baker.

Good lad. Fill it out and fuck off.

Next lad!

- Name? -Billy Kitchen.

Billy Kitchen. Occupation?

Head baker.

Fill it out.

Um, Tommy Shelby, mate.

Never give power to the big man, what did I tell you?

Hmm?

Never give power to the big man.

Next lad!

Name?

All right, boys, you've now all been enrolled as bakers

in the Aerated Bread Company of Camden Town.

If anyone asks, that's what you do.

You're bakers.

The coppers in Camden Town are on our side,

but north or south, you show them that piece of paper.

Tell them you've come down from north to find work, to break strikes.

Tell them you're fascists, if you have to.

We're finding lodgings for you, but for now you'll sleep here in the bakery.

But don't touch any of the bread, it'll most likely explode.

Any questions?

Yes?

I haven't even seen any bread.

He'll wake up.

Granted, he won't have any teeth left, but he will be a wiser man for it.

And the last thing he will remember is your funny little joke. Won't he?

Right!

There are fucking rules here.

Yeah, there are fucking rules for a fucking reason.

Quite simply, they have to be obeyed. All right?

Rule number one.

The distinction between bread and rum, yeah, is not discussed.

Rule number two.

Anything, right, that your superior officer

says to you or any of your other fucking superior officers say to you, yeah?

Not discussed!

Rule number three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, I don't care.

For the rest of your fucking miserable measly lives, yeah?

Because I, like you,

am also a complete fucking sodomite.

Jewish women.

You do not go anywhere near them

because Jewish women for you are off the fucking menu.

I think that's fair.

Hmm.

Hmm.

All right, that's it, yeah.

Forgive me, I interrupted you.

Pick him up.

Get them out of here and make this fucking work.

Don't fucking wait!

You're meant to be fucking soldiers!

You're a fucking disgrace!

Go!

You've got a key?

I kept a spare.

Give it to me.

Could do with some paint, eh?

Yeah, when I decide.

What is it that you want, Tommy?

Just came by to say hello.

Tommy Shelby never goes anywhere for no reason.

Fine.

I've got 800 pounds left in the Shelby property fund,

and I need someone down here to look for suitable properties.

To rent?

Yes.

To poor people.

Ten to a room.

No repairs, no water.

And if they complain, you just send Arthur and the boys round.

You know, I give advice down at the library.

Families thrown on the street.

It's men like you we're fighting.

Well, anyway, I was just passing. Thanks for the tea.

Tommy.

There are always men outside watching the house.

Yeah. Gangsters of the worst kind.

But they're there to keep you safe.

No there are others. They look like coppers.

Well, they're on your side as well.

I don't have a fucking side.

Ada, yes, you do.

And, anyway, if I thought there was no-one watching the house,

I couldn't sleep.

Cheerio then.

That was great. Well done.

Out we get then.

This house is mine.

I've taken on a maid.

She's made up the big room for you.

Come on, let's have a look.

I thought we could spend the week here.

You know, get to know each other again.

I've got ham. Do you like ham?

I like ham, yes.

- I've got a maid... -Yes, you said.

She's upstairs.

She can give us some tea.

Look, I ring this bell. Watch.

Yes, madam?

I think we'd like some tea.

You get used to it.

The cleaning job's gone. Vacancy's filled.

I'm not a cleaner.

But I have come to clean away some dirt.

Why don't you put that away before it goes off?

You killed my son!

You Peaky bastard!

You beat him

and beat him and beat him.

Your son was a boxer.

No!

He was a boy

who got into a ring with an animal.

Yeah, ain't that the truth.

I've come to stop you

because the coppers and nobody else will.

If you're going to use it,

point that thing at my head.

That's where the trouble is.

Gut-shot soldiers take half a day to die.

I've seen 'em.

Walking around with their guts in their arms like dirty washing.

Hold that gun up and do it!

Fucking do it!

Do it!

I'm going to finish my drink.

You can finish it with me, if you like.

Now, look. Look at me.

We've got a fund.

For you. You'll get paid weekly.

I know it won't bring back your son.

I know that.

You have other sons.

You do.

And we'll find them work.

And you won't have to work.

- You'll be...

Somebody has got to stop you people.

Who broke the fucking mirror?

Seven years' bad luck, that is.

There'll be another four boatloads tomorrow.

What's up, Charlie? Business is good.

This isn't business, this is bloody work.

Cigarettes and booze is all right, but this manufactured stuff, it's heavy.

I'm not even sure it's stolen.

Some of it is legally purchased.

One day, all of it will be.

It's like having a fucking job.

Hey! Easy with them fan belts.

I'll wipe that smile off your face. I want another pound a boat.

Done.

You don't even fight me any more.

And it's no sport getting through the Black Country with this truce.

They just fucking wave at you from the bank.

Well, just wave back, eh?

And all these fucking cars.

When did you last ride a horse, Tom?

--Uh.

These are just dry, Mr Campbell.

Major Campbell.

Beg pardon?

It doesn't matter.

Are there any other Irishmen lodging in this house?

No, Mr Campbell, I keep a respectable house.

With your special exception, I have no Irish here.

Well, let me know if any come enquiring after rooms.

Even if you turn them away, let me know, would you?

You're not expecting trouble, I hope.

They only said you was a policeman of some sort.

No. I'm not expecting any trouble.

Is there a cafe nearby that serves chops? Lamb or pork?

There is a chophouse two streets away.

But I myself serve sandwiches.

Egg and cress, or ham.

Or anything that pleases you.

No. No. No.

I, I think I'll go out and get some air.

Our scheduled meeting is not until Sunday.

I decided to bring it forward.

You just wanted to show me that you know where I live, isn't that it?

Am I supposed to be impressed?

You know, Mr Churchill was impressed.

Yes, he was.

All my demands have been met.

Did he tell you?

Yes.

Yes. We had a meeting and your letter was read aloud.

As a matter of fact, there was quite a lot of hilarity at the meeting.

- The gentlemen all found it quite funny.

I see, the gentlemen found it funny.

Tell me this, Mr Campbell, do the gentlemen sometimes find you funny?

We will discuss our business on Sunday,

on the agreed day, at the allotted time,

and at the place that has already been determined.

You have made your point. Good night, Mr Shelby.

There was another reason I came to see you tonight.

I just didn't want you to be made a fool of, is all.

The lodgings chosen for you by the police department,

how shall I put this?

Well, your landlady used to run the most famous whorehouse in Stechford.

She's only semi-retired.

I bet the gentlemen would find that funny, eh?

Told to you in the spirit of friendship and co-operation.

See you Sunday!

- Name? -Digbeth Kid.

Your real name.

Harold Hancox.

Profession?

Illegal bookmaker.

You don't admit that.

You say something like, "Umbrella mender".

And then we decide you're lying and then we arrest you.

Umbrella mender.

You were found in possession of betting slips,

race cards and ticker tape.

Any explanation?

No.

No.

"No.

"I have no explanation

"for my possession of those items, officer."

Take him down, will you? I'll fill in the rest myself.

Come on, son.

Bloody hellfire.

You've killed him, huh?

As I've explained, he's not easy to get at.

He's got an army round him.

But when the time is right...

The time is right. It's right now.

When he's away from his familiar territory, I will take him.

- So what do you want? -We heard from a guard

at Winson Green prison that one of their bookies has just been put inside.

Kid called Harold Hancox.

We could make a point.

How many bakers is there in Camden Town now?

There are a lot of bakers in Camden Town, Mr Sabini,

but, as I have said, we don't as yet have a definite number.

Who won the 4:15 at Chepstow?

Ragman.

- Where's my dry cleaning? -It's been collected.

Who won the 3:50 at Kempton Park?

- What? You don't know? -I can find out.

No need. I know already.

You see, the favourites, they're all winning.

And the second favourites are being done.

He's bewitching them.

Bewitching?

Gypsy stuff. Herbs, potions.

And he's tipping off our big punters, so they know who's going to win.

Regular customers betraying us for profit.

You'd think they'd be loyal to us. But profit, you see,

comes before race, creed, family.

Results look normal to me.

You see shit!

Mr Sabini, if you think they're planning to fix Northern races,

we'll take no more bets on anything north of Towcester.

- I gave you a job already. -And the job will be done.

- But meantime... -Meantime, fuck!

Meantime, what do you want us to do about the kid

in the cage in Birmingham?

Why would you want me to say that out loud?

Is there somebody listening?

All right, I'll say it.

We'll kill the Hancox kid to send a message.

Good, and then you deal with Tommy fucking Shelby.

You wanted to see me?

Aye.

Take off your clothes.

I know what you are.

So, take off your clothes.

Not done in a very gentlemanly-like way, if I may say.

Indeed not.

So it's true. Stop.

I only wanted proof. Not satisfaction.

Or indeed infection.

Are you in on the joke?

What joke?

I have unfinished business in this filthy city.

And when the time comes, I will finish that business.

And then my wrath will come down on all of youse.

--But now,

tell your friends in the police station

that I know.

And when my judgement comes,

I'll be the one that's laughing.

Get out.

On the right. On the right.

We haven't got all night. Come on!

Let's be having you, Watkins, in there on the right.

On the right! Come on, boys!

Harold Hancox?

Tell everybody,

this is what happens to Blinders who come into the Green from now on.

Orders of Sabini.

Look, I'm not a Blinder. I'm not a Blinder. I've been stood up.

I'm not real! I'm not real!

I'm not real!

This had better be good to interrupt my holiday.

Where's the boy?

In the back room.

I only brought him because afterwards we're going to the museum.

- He wanted to come in and say hello... -Shut up, John.

There is nothing of interest to Michael in this room.

Tommy, get on with it.

Last night, one of our men had his throat cut in Winson Green.

This morning, I had a telegram saying it was Sabini who ordered it.

And it says here that Thomas Shelby's next.

If our men think we can't look after them in prison,

they'll not work for us.

Sabini knows that. So we need to get the Green sorted out.

Scudboat, you and one of the boys

break a couple of windows, get yourselves arrested.

I'll have our coppers get you into the Green

and you can find the bastards who did it.

Instead of breaking a window, can we pinch a car?

What? Everybody else is getting a bloody car.

- I'm still on a donkey.

All right, just get yourselves fucking arrested, it doesn't matter how.

And before you all laugh,

a boy is dead.

He was just a kid.

We'll start a fund for his family, Pol.

Agreed.

So is that it? Can I go now?

Well, as company treasurer,

I need your permission to spend 1,000 guineas.

On what?

On a horse.

A thousand guineas on a horse?

That's right.

When was this decided?

You've been busy with Michael.

Oh, my God.

So, in the absence of common sense, you boys have had an idea.

Polly, there's a thoroughbred, quarter-Arab filly

up for auction at the Doncaster Bloodstock.

What do we want with a 1,000-guinea horse?

When we make our move on Sabini's racing pitches,

any men we get into the betting enclosure

will be lifted by Sabini's police.

A good racehorse is a passport to the owner's enclosure.

We'll be in there with all the toffs.

- Coppers won't know where to look. -Hmm.

Yeah, the Epsom Derby, Pol.

We'll be drinking with the bloody king.

The Derby?

Did he say the Derby?

That's right.

For the last 10 years, Sabini's made it his race.

If we're going to take him down, might as well make it there, as a symbol.

Did you come up with this idea in a pub by any chance?

Pol.

A good racehorse is an investment, like property.

We need to diversify the portfolio.

So when is this sale?

Tomorrow.

Tommy's had a death threat, so we'll have to go with him for protection.

So, you're going to close up the shop, go out on a piss-up

and blow 1,000 guineas on a horse that's not even whole Arab.

Quarter-Arab is better!

- Quarter-Arab, it means... -Curly, shut up.

I thought I told you to lock that door.

He did. I used the key on the nail.

Look, I've been listening.

- I want to go with them. -You see?

I love horses. I could even help.

Over my dead body!

It'll be all right, Mum.

I've been to loads of horse auctions before with my uncle.

They're very respectable. People bring their butlers.

Yeah, and their posh wives!

And their mistresses.

Let him come, Polly.

We'll go there, buy an 'orse, come back.

I'll drop him back at the house in Sutton before it gets dark.

No.

Fucking no!

All right, that's it. Back to work.

Come on!

Aunt Pol, when I was Michael's age,

I'd killed 100 men and seen 1,000 die.

If you want to scare that kid away forever,

carry on how you're going.

If you want him to stay,

let him come.

I can't believe it.

All John's old things fit me.

Christ, you look like your father.

Shrimp, ham.

What was he like? My dad?

How did he die?

Well, I won't lie to you.

He died drunk, squeezed between a boat and a lock.

A real river gypsy's death.

But he could sing,

play the piano...

His smile would break your heart.

You've got his same beautiful eyes.

When he was sober, he was kind and gentle.

His trouble was,

he fell in with the wrong crowd when he was a boy.

I have told them not to blow that horn.

This is a respectable fucking neighbourhood!

- She's heating up, Curly. Take a look. -Yeah.

Let me out for a piss.

She made loads. Do you want one?

What the bloody hell's that?

Sandwiches. Ham, I think. And we've got shrimp paste, too.

There's tea, but we'll have to take turns 'cause there's only one cup.

What?

Sandwiches?

- Yeah. -Polly made bloody sandwiches?

What's this? Teddy bear's fucking picnic?

All right. We will drink the tea and we will eat the sandwiches

and then we will drive on. All right?

No crumbs, Charlie.

- Hand them over.
- Herd them up, Arth, you fat bastard.

- Fuck off.
- John, come on!

All right, lads, this is a respectable event

and we will all behave accordingly.

No weapons, no drinking. John, we will stay together.

When the horse comes up, I will do the bidding.

I've already registered my interest with the auctioneer.

So he knows to expect my bids.

Do I get to run a hand over her, Tommy?

We'll have a vet's report, Curly. But keep an eye open when she walks.

I've got a feeling, Tommy. Something isn't right.

It's all right, Curly. You're just in an unfamiliar place, we all are.

- I get feelings sometimes, Tommy. -It's all right, Curly. It's all right.

- Shut up, Curly.
- Do I hear 1,450?

Do I hear 500, 500,

1,600, 1,700? Thank you.

1,900, 2,000,

2,100, 2,200..

Why do people come late to these things?

Hmm?

People come late 'cause they know what they want.

It's only you who needs to see every horse.

Am I bid?

2,600. I am bid!

Sold!

Morals of Marcus, Sedgemere stud, by Tetrarch out of Lady Josephine.

We'll start the bidding at 800 guineas.

All right, Tommy, this is her.

Do I hear 800 guineas?

850?

850. Do I hear nine?

Do I hear nine? Nine, am I bid?

Bid for this one.

The grey? Why?

- He's beautiful. -It's a filly.

Micky needs some pace on the gallops. I promised him.

1,000. Do I hear 1,050?

1,100?

1,200?

Do I hear 250?

250.

I'll go halves with you from the spring fund. Go, go.

1,300?

1,400?

Do I hear five?

1,500.

1,600.

Do I hear seven?

1,700. Thank you.

That's it, Tom, you have to stop.

You don't have it in your belt.

Yes, I do. I'm having the horse.

She's a sweet beast, Tom. But, stop, I tell you.

- I feel something bad! -Shut up, Curly!

2,000. Do I hear 2,050?

2,050. Am I bid?

-2,050... -Enough!

Billy could use one of my geldings.

2,000, I am bid. Do I hear 2,050?

Last time.

2,050?

Sold! To Mr...

Thomas Shelby.

To the premises of Mr Charles Strong,

Small Heath.

- What kind of premises? -Boat yard.

Yachts?

Canals.

I'm curious. What is your business, Mr Shelby?

Import, export.

But I also sell pegs and tell fortunes.

You beat us to it.

Did I?

I was trying to nab a filly for my stud.

- Sorry. -Thomas Shelby from where?

From Birmingham.

Goodness!

No, not much.

May Carleton. I breed racehorses and train them.

What is it you do?

I rarely answer questions, is what I do.

Tommy, come on, hurry up! We've got to go!

Well, before you go, if you ever decide to put that filly out,

- I'd be interested in having her. -I plan to race her.

- Do you have a trainer? -I know people.

- I know people, too. -Tommy!

We've got to get this kid back before dark

or Polly will have your balls!

She will have 'em!

We know different people, I would guess.

My father knows Mick Hancock.

- Trained three Ascot winners. -Oh, so that was your father?

Yes.

We're joint-owners of the stud.

He took the majority share when my husband was killed.

Ypres.

Tommy! We've got to get back to the caravans!

The chickens are hungry!

So will you consider me?

I will consider you.

You still didn't tell me what you do.

Oh! I do bad things.

But you already know that.

Right, about bloody time!

It's the fucking truth, John boy.

Rich women these days, all they want is working-class cock.

Tommy, maybe she was the something bad I had the feeling about!

Ah! She looks all right to me, Curly!

All their men are dead, see. Officers, all shot.

Yeah, by us.

All I'll say is she has good contacts in the racing world.

Here, Michael, you drive.

Thomas Shelby?

- Tommy!

- Tommy! Down!

Tommy Shelby?

How about fucking Arthur?

Fucking good to meet you.

Get him off him!

Arthur! Arthur!

Get him off him!

Come on. Stop it, Arthur.

Get him off.

Arthur, that's enough.

Arthur, come on!

Come on, Arthur, come on.

That's it. It's over.

Arthur!

Come on, shut up.

Come on, come on.

He's still breathing.

Don't get blood on the kid!

Michael, you didn't see a thing. This didn't happen, all right?

Give me the keys.

Michael, give me the keys.

I'm all right to drive.

All right. Go on. Go on, go on!

Tommy, he's fucking scarpered!

- Right, let's get out of here, sharpish. -Come on!

So?

How'd it go?

Well, it was cold in the van,

but it was super. Really.

Let me smell your breath.

Did they behave themselves?

They were amazing, Mum.

They were really amazing.