Peaky Blinders (2013–…): Season 2, Episode 4 - Episode #2.4 - full transcript

Arthur Spearheads a ferocious takeover of Londons Eden Club, meanwhile Thomas and his new horse trainer become better acquainted.

Are you wondering how healthy the food you are eating is? Check it -
A vacancy has appeared and you're going to fill it.

From now on, Mr Shelby, you shut your gypsy mouth

and listen to your instructions.

I know it was you who carried out the murder of Mr Duggan.

--You are on my hook, Mr Shelby.

- Name? -Harold Hancox.

- Have you ever been arrested? -No.

Arthur, we can stand him up.

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

I'm not real!

Gentlemen? This is your cousin. Polly's son, Michael.

- I want to go with them. -Over my dead body.

Do we hear 800 guineas? 850.

May Carleton. I breed racehorses and train them.

- So will you consider me? -I will consider you.

Thomas Shelby?

Did they behave themselves?

They were really amazing.

You might think this is a curious place for me to suggest a meeting,


your surprises have only just begun.

You look a little unsteady, Mr Shelby.

Take a seat.

You're working together.

Blowing up the Garrison was your idea.

You chose me.

It's funny, I thought the Fenians had a policy...

- Enough. -Eh? Of not mixing

the personal with the political.

- I said enough. -I think

I will decide on what is enough.

Who's in charge here then, eh? Who's in charge?

Right, let me understand this.

- You answer to an agent of the Crown.
- Perhaps we can just...

- Very interesting. -Perhaps we can stick to the agenda.

- Whose agenda? -There is a form of words here.

- Whose words? -Arrogant bastard.

I'm not accustomed to being spoken to like that.

just come to order.

I am here to listen, but not to the fucking infantry.

Enough! Jesus!


Some weeks ago, Mr Shelby carried out a military mission

on behalf of pro-treaty Republicans here in Birmingham.


Working for the King.

- There is a unique political situation. -Yea h? How does that feel?

- Let us... -Tell me. How does that fucking feel?

...stick to the form of words.

- Temporarily, we have a shared interest. -Oh, I see.

- Shall we just stop him laughing? -You want me to stop laughing?

Explain this, pal.

Following the success of your mission...

- We're going to make you do it again. -Will you shut up?

Can we just conduct ourselves here, please?

- Conduct ourselves! -Please.

No one in this room wants to breathe the same air as anyone else.

- Nevertheless... -Nevertheless the pro-treaty Paddies

and the King want the same man dead.

Am I right?

- Why him? -Did you ask why in France?

- Yeah. -So, it's the same answer, because.

Why me?

- Because. -Because.

Because if anybody connects me to this,

it will be assumed that it was a criminal act

and not a political one.

No, you need not fear being connected to the killing

because I will see to it that no connection is ever made.

You will have complete immunity after the fact.

But, in the execution, you will get no help from agents of the Crown.

And we can't be seen to be involved.

You have been chosen, Mr Shelby,

and there really is no choice.

No equals bang,

and your man here will shed no tears as he looks the other way.


I say no.

Mr Shelby?

What about your export licence, Mr Shelby?

You had a deal with Mr Churchill.

The one with the mouth, Donal Henry, he is a spy.

He is working for the Irregulars against the pro-treaty Paddies.

He reports every fucking word back to them.

No, it's not possible.

They've both been security vetted by my own department.

I have men in places your men can't go.

Donal Henry meets the anti-treaty Paddies in the back room

of the Mother Red Cap in Saltley, sometimes twice a week.

These Irish enemies are fucking brothers and cousins.

You are stepping into a world you don't understand.

If what you're saying is true, he'll be dealt with.

Bring me proof the spy is dead and we have a deal.

Mr Shelby.

- Billy boy. -Watch it.

Now on you go.

Right. boys, let's go!

Fuck you!




Come here.

Sabini's day is done.

I'll protect you now.

Oh, shut up!

Stop fucking whingeing.

Due to my razor blade,

and a few complaints from the neighbours

about the terrible fucking music...

Do you want to tell them or should I?

This place is under new management.

By order of the Peaky Blinders.


Somebody to see you, Mr Shelby.

He says he's come about the position of accounts clerk.

Send him in.

- just through here, sir.
- Thank you.


Vacancy's been filled.

Not according to this morning's paper.

At school, I was top of the class in mathematics,

and I did a night school course in accountancy at Worcester College.

Mum says you've had six different accountant clerks

in the last six months.

When respectable men see the other things you do, they leave.

But I, like Lizzie out there, already know what you do.

Mum says you want to be 80% legal within two years.

- Three. -I can help.

I know both sides and you know you can trust me.

I want to help you, Tommy, become legal.

Do the right thing.

I want to be proud of this family.

Does Polly know you're here, Michael?

I'm 18 on Friday, I go where I please.

You phone your mother.

Good luck.

We're not open for winnings yet.

I'm here to see Thomas Shelby.

I have an appointment.

Come in.

- May Carleton.
- Mr Shelby has his proper meetings

in his other office.

This was the address that he gave me.

- He gave you this address? -He said it was a gambling den.

I told him that I'd wanted to see one

since I'm always reading about them in the papers.

Quite the big scandal in The Telegraph lately.

Anyway, he said that I could come and have a look.

And now I feel like a bit of an idiot

because I'm early and he's late and I have no idea how to behave.

In a gambling den?

I'll wait in the car.

If I open the door again, they'll all want to come in.

Like flies.

So what are you?

What am I?

To Thomas?

I'm going to train his racehorse... For Epsom.

You know horses?

Yes. You?

Born riding.

I slept in a manger when I was a baby.

I was born riding, too.

There's a fucking great Riley parked out there

and nobody's watching it.

John, this woman says she's training Thomas' horse.

He's told us a lot about you.

Don't know where he is, do you?

Sorry I'm late. There was a family matter.

Esme, keep it locked up for a minute.

- Yes, Thomas. -I'll show you around.

So, be my guest.

That's my brother Arthur's office.

Down there is my brother John's office,

that's where we slate the runners and the riders.

It's so out in the open. What about the police?

What about them?

When I drove into Small Heath, I thought I was going to get murdered...

Then I mentioned your name.

It was like being escorted to see a king.

- You came here to get my girl, right? -Right.

She looks in very good condition,

considering she's not been out on the gallops.

Curly's the best horseman in England.

I have a man called Mickey who'd argue the point.

Ah, Curly here is half horse himself.

She's blessed. Very blessed.

Well, she's from the best stock.

But I'd rather have a coloured pony. Mixed blood is stronger.

Not to win the Derby, Curly.

Don't like them racing, Tommy, not the way they beat them.

- She's all yours. -Thank you.

He gets sad when one leaves.

- What time is your box van coming? -Midday.

Maybe you've got time to take the lady to the Garrison,

show her the spa and the tearooms.

I'd like that, why not?

I just had it done up. There was a fire.



What do you drink?

So early, but gin.

Goodness. With something?

Like what?

Tonic water or...

Erm... We have, erm...


There's not much room in there but...

You want to fuck me, Mrs Carleton?

Perhaps because I...

Perhaps because I would represent something to you?

We should have this conversation before the booze

starts talking for us.

You have a horse.

Yes, I have a horse.

The horse is why I'm here.

Purely that.

And because you're paying me a lot of money to train your horse,

that's why I'm here.

Purely that.


Good. Well, a toast, then.

To the horse, to the Derby.

- Cheers. -Cheers.

So is that what you say to women?

Only if I don't know what they want.

And what if they don't want to fuck?

Then life is simpler.

You want a simple life?

Do I look like a man who wants a simple life, eh?

So what do you want?

For what I'm paying you, Mrs Carleton,

I want a horse that'll pay out at Epsom on an each-way bet.

Before I took your account,

I did some credit checks on you.

Apparently, you don't exist.

My existence is questionable.

Gypsies don't like registers.

You see, I'm not gypsy like you mean.

But you did register for France.

I also sent your name to the War Office,

I have friends there.

You won two medals for gallantry.

Does that really impress you, Mrs Carleton?

Call me May.

Charlie says the box Van's here.

Thank you, Finn.

You know, I still don't know what you're going to call your horse.

The horse will be called Grace's Secret.

Grace's Secret.

I told him he definitely can't take the job.

He said, "All right, I'll move to London, then."

I said, "I won't give in to blackmail. No is no."

Well... That settles it, then.

I'll give the job to the other candidate.

He's much better qualified anyway.

Michael did City and Guilds, six months.

Yeah, but he doesn't know racing, Poll.

He knows horses, but he doesn't know racing.

This other boy, he knows racing.

He's good. He's a fast learner.

What if Michael really leaves?

You just got to let him go, Poll.

He'll get a job in an office in London.

I'm sure he'll write to you.

He made a big speech

about wanting to help you build up a respectable business.

Oh, he's like his dad, he could make me cry.

There are trains to London.

So I just let him leave?

Every month or so he'd be back.

Unless, of course, he meets a girl.

Then, who knows?

Oh, my God.

You want him to do this job.

Polly, I want what you want.

What about this other more qualified candidate?


Well, I lied, there isn't one.

How much you paying?

- The advertised rate. -Like hell.

- Three bob. -Like hell.

- Three and six. -Four.

Four it is.

- I love him, Tom. -I know.

That's why I'll keep him away from the old business,

put him charge of the new. Agreed?


Well, Finn, you've got two choices, mild or mild.

- Mild. -There you go.

--Here he is, look.

Happy birthday, Michael.

Eighteen years old. You're a man today.

Give him a drink, John boy.

- There you go, lad. -And after that,

we'll go to find you a lady of the night.



What's that?

So you're never late for work.

Welcome to the business, Michael.

- Welcome to the business. -Thank you.

Right, come on, let's get him drunk. Come here, you.

All right, whisky.

No whisky, he's at work tomorrow. Give him only dark mild.

A toast.

- Toast.
- To Michael.

To Michael.

You all right?

- What is it?just us? -just us.

We celebrating?

just taste this.

What do you think, Arthur?

Yeah, it's good. Good stuff, really nice.

Too good for the Garrison.

I suppose we could shift it to the toffs at the Eden Club.

Why? What is it?

That is part of an export drive.

We now have a secure warehouse in Camden Town

and secure passage to the Poplar Docks.

So, on Monday morning,

we'll be sending out our first export crates.

A crate of Riley car spa res,

bound for Halifax, Nova Scotia.

Where there's prohibition.

Where there is prohibition.

All over Canada and America,

people are making their own booze in bathtubs.

But rich people in New York, in Toronto and Boston

are still paying a lot of money for the real stuff.

So, on Monday, the first Shelby company crates

will contain a thousand Riley carburettors.

But hidden in the packing will be 500 bottles

of the finest quality single malt Scotch whisky.

And we Shelbys, have a licence

granted by the Minister Of The Empire himself,

which means our crates won't be searched.

And, Polly, all of the whisky will be packed at the docks,

so Michael can do the books without being involved.

Like I've been telling you all for a year now,

motor cars are the future.

So, how is your life then, Tom?

On the up, Johnny, on the up.

But, Tom, really, come on, how is it?

You know I hate to see you not even married yet.

I have a fine looking cousin, she'll make your life hell.

You deserve her!

We haven't had a good old wedding in a long time.

Rather look inside these boxes, then, Johnny?

What do I want to look at car parts, Tommy,

when I haven't even got a car?

Faith in family's a fine thing, eh?

And I wouldn't even be counting.

Twenty-five becomes 24, then 24 it is.

Oh, you know I'm no good with numbers, Tom.

And if 24 ever became 23,

then that'd be tax.

We don't pay tax.

No, Tom.

Good man.

I put an iron door on,

and we've put iron bars on the windows and across the skylights.


So what will you be keeping in here, Tommy?

Temptation, Billy. Temptation.

Morning, Arthur. I was just passing.

I think I'm in fucking love.


She don't know where to look.

Whisky, Tommy?

No, I've got a long drive ahead.

You off home?

Mmm-hmm. Eventually.

To Birmingham.

What's this?


Yes, it's miscellaneous.

It's, erm, olives.

Sticks, you know, with little bits of fucking onion and things.

That's what that is.

We've taken 600 pounds on olives.

Yeah, with little bits of onion.

I told you, Arthur...

The dealers sell the cocaine, we take a cut.

We don't sell direct.

The Home Secretary's cracking down

and I don't want this,

to fuck up everything else, you understand?

I understand.

How much of that 600 came out of your pocket?

It's under control.

I put you down here cos people are scared of you, Arthur.

But if you don't straighten up, it'll be John's turn in London.

No need.

I can handle it.

It's under control?

It's under control.

Fucking tidy profit, though, eh?

It's happening, Tom.



Straighten up, soldier.

Yes, sir, Sergeant Major.

What's your business?

Sorry, I'm, er, I'm lost here.

Yeah, well, you can't stop here.

- Move on. -All right.

Twenty-three seconds.

It's all right, Ada, it'll be Andrew for me.


I'm looking for Ada.

Who are you?


I asked you a question.

It's all right, James.

This is my brother.

Who's he?

He rents a room.

You need to rent out rooms?

Actually, she doesn't charge rent.

He's a writer, which means he's skint.

You get up late these days, Ada.

Mmm. I go to bed late.

Yeah? Where's Karl?

What do you want, Tommy?

Oh, God, before you start sizing him up for a wedding suit,

he's not interested in me.

- Or in girls of any kind. -Ada!

What? Tommy won’t judge you.

He sure as hell won't go to the police.

Look, I'll go and get dressed.


I'm Thomas.

Pleased to meet you.

Can I have a minute with my sister, please?

Yes, of course.

So, does your lodger know your name?

Yeah. Thorne.

You think I'd tell anybody anything else?

Your Brummie boys are all over the papers.

Just one last push, eh? Then you'll go legit?

Just one more obstacle to get round, then it'll all be straight?

Actually, yes.

Personally, I find it quite amusing.

Men like you are becoming very fashionable down here.

No society party in London is complete without a gangster

for the girls to go giddy for.

Anyway, what is it that you want?

I don't have any children, Ada,

so I have set up a trust fund.

The beneficiaries will be John's kids and Karl.

In order for Karl to benefit, I need your signature.

I've set up an account.

The money will be transferred in the event of my death.

It'll set them up for a new life.

Are you sick?

I'm just doing what any ordinary man would,

putting my affairs in order.

Did you know they was going to take the Eden club?

I know about the Eden club, yes.

Did you know they were going to do it before they did it?

Because that's someone who's in charge, isn't it?

The one who knows before it happens.

I know what I know, you know.

If you don't know, then you don't fucking know, do you?

Did you know they was going to take Wimbledon Docks?

Harringay? The trotting tracks?

Talk, all right? I genuinely want to hear you.

You've lost control, Alfie.

Have I?

Everybody knows.

- Talk to me, Alfie. -Talk to you?

All right, I'll talk to you. I'll fucking tell you how it was, right?

What happened was this.

All the time you were talking about dirty fucking Jews.

All the fucking time,

dirty fucking Jews, dirty Kikes, dirty dustbin lids...

- Everyone makes jokes. -You want to talk about

-not getting into places? -Everybody makes fucking jokes.

I didn't know you had no sense of humour!

And I ain't going to fucking mention, right,

the great big fuck off elephant in the room.

Look, Alfie...

How many of my bookies worked Epsom this last May?

None. None.

Not one.

So, for a few fucking jokes and Epsom,

you fucking invite a tribe of savages into the city

and just fucking unlock the fucking gates!

I'm sorry, what are you saying, mate?

I'm saying...

I'm sorry about the Jew thing.

- You saying you're sorry? -Yeah.

- You're sorry about the Jew thing? -Yeah.

- Really? -Yea h.

I want that in writing. Write that down. He said, "I'm sorry".

And also write down

that all our bookies can go back to Epsom.

- He didn't say that. -Who's asking you?


Write it down.

It's all right. Come on.

Alfie's an old friend.

My friend.

Now, admit it,

the Peaky Blinders is out of control.

Yeah, they're out of fucking control, mate.

They come down the canal, they spread like the fucking clap.

Right. So now they're

-everybody's problem. -Yeah.

- Alfie. -Mmm.

You and me, we've been fighting

-since we was at school. -Yeah.

All right? Now, also,

-we've been friends. -Mmm, yeah.

You know, it goes backwards and forwards.

How much better is it when we're friends?

Oh, it's much better, mate, yeah.

You write that down.


So what we're doing here, right,

is we're writing down some kind of a deal thing, right?

- Yeah, a written deal. -Written deal, good.

Well, why don't we discuss the border between the Italians

and the Jews going back to Farringdon Road.

- Farringdon Road... -Yeah, Farringdon Road.

Fuck! That's ancient history.

- Write down Farringdon Road. -No, no, no, write down Camden Road.

- Farringdon Road. -Camden Road.

- Write down Farringdon. -Camden.

- Farringdon. -Camden.

Write down Camden Road.

Just write down "peace".

Just write down "peace", right,

between the Jews and the Italians.

And war against the gypsies.


Mr Thomas Shelby, madam.

Nice house.

Would you like a whisky?

Scotch or Irish?


Sorry for the short notice.

I was passing.

We're not quite on the Birmingham road.

It was a small diversion.

Sixty miles, I checked.

That's a small diversion these days.

So, I'm a small diversion.


Your horse is still out on the gallops,

but I had Mickey prepare this report.

You can read it now if you'd like, then we can go see her.

--Is there enough light for you to read?

Yes, it's fine.

It's getting quite late.

Mickey says she has the lungs of an elephant.

She's nimble in the heavy going,

but bounces a little on the hard ground.

Sorry, I'll let you read.

So, he thinks she'll favour good to soft ground, eh?

- A little juice in the grass. -Mmm.

Well, that's good for Epsom.

Does he think she's not good enough for Epsom?

She needs a lot of work.

The race board will need convincing.

- I imagine you have some influence. -Mmm.

That's the suggested programme for the next two months.

Your glass is empty.

It's fine.

Are you hungry?

Yes, a bit.

I can prepare something.

Do you have engine oil?

Before I set off for Birmingham, the car needs oil.

I'm sure my husband kept some in the garage.

I can get someone to do it.

This evening or tomorrow?

Well, we're so far from anywhere, people usually stay over.

Especially before cars, when it was just carriages,

people used to stay over all the time.

But I have a car.


And you have engine oil.


But it would be very usual.

What would?

For a guest to stay.

We have a whole wing called the guest wing.

Oh, you...

You have a guest wing.



Have a smoke.

Thank you.

Ignore this. It's actually all right.

I put all his photos in a drawer and locked it...

As if that was going to make a difference.

I'm like a fucking lighthouse keeper...

Out here on my own...

Keeping his flame burning.

But, of course, when anyone sees a lighthouse

they steer clear, don't they?

Now, do you have a map?

Of the house. Do you have a map?

Because I'm not going to be able to find my way in the dark.

You see, at midnight,

I'm going to leave my wing

and I'm going to come find you.

And I'm going to turn the handle of your bedroom door

without making a sound

and none of the maids will know.

You don't know maids.

They hear a pin drop?

If there's a man in the house, they listen.

They take turns.

So, let them listen.

Right. Day rate, seven shillings. Loading, unloading.

Night rate, three. Total ten.

Let's go and get a drink.

No, I'm all right.

Come on, it's payday.

Everybody has a drink on payday.

Not me.

You think your mum don't have a drink on payday?

You think the Lord Almighty don't have a drink on payday?

Man, it's on fire out there,

women from the BSA offices, honest.

They go out on their own without their men these days,

in twos and threes now.

Mickey, they go out in twos and threes and buy their own drinks.

The Marquis, that's where the BSA secretaries go.

Look, they won't serve a black man without a Shelby by his side.

So you're using me?


Come on.

I told you, I fucking told you, this city's gone mad.

Girls go out on their own now.

Two pints of dark mild, please.

Fuck that. We're Peaky boys.

Two whiskies.

You get used to it, then you can't stop.

I don't drink with blacks.

Here we fucking go.

Paddy, they're okay.

Not with me, they're not.

I don't drink in pubs with blacks.

So leave.

Look, my dad is the preacher round here.

He has connections, ask anybody.

I couldn't give a fuck who he is.

I'm telling you to leave it, Paddy.

And I'm telling this darkie to get out of here.

You know something? Fuck off.

It's all right, Isaiah, come on, leave it.

- We'll go to my cousin's pub. -I like it here.

You fucking nigger.

Paddy! The white kid's a Peaky Blinder!

He's Polly Shelby's son!

He's Polly Shelby's son! Are you fucking suicidal?


Sir, I'm sorry, I didn't know.

Get out!

Get out the fucking pub.

I clearly didn't know.

Fuck, let's go. Let's go!

We ordered some drinks

and we're going to drink them.

His face, man. Did you see his fucking face?

You punch like a fucking kangaroo.

I seen one once in a circus, you punch like that.

All right, anyway, I need a fucking drink.

- It's on you. -It's on me? You just got paid.

Yeah, from you.

You can get a whisky, maybe even a dark mild.

Fucking hell, it's packed in here, isn't it?

So it's as easy as that?

Easy as that, John boy. London, you wouldn't believe it.

Finn, stick your head in a bucket.


The women, John boy, the women...

I've got this one, she's a dancer, right?

She can do things with her...

If Finn would just piss off, I'd explain a little bit better.

Well, if it's so good, why are you here?

Decent pints.

The cockneys can't get that right.

He misses us, Finn, that's what it is.

Here they are, look, junior Peaky boys.

What's happened to you? You been scrapping?

Some idiots at the Marquis of Lorne.

Tried to stop me and Isaiah from drinking, but it's all right.

We fought them off.

Arthur, we had to stand our ground and we did.

The Marquis, eh? Where's your dad?

- Preaching. -Right.

Don't nick any of me chips, Finn!

- Where are you going?
- We won't be long.

Where are they going?

The Marquis of Lorne.


It was a nice pub.

Eh-up. Bet the big bastard got cut.

You didn't have to do that for me.

We didn't do it for you, Michael.

We did it for the good name of the company.

None of this happened, all right?

Come on, let's go and get that drink.

The date has been set.

Three weeks from today.

You checked out his house?

There's coppers all over it.

You'll take care of them?

No. That would arouse suspicion.

You'll have to deal with them yourself.

And if a copper gets killed?

There will be no consequences for you, I have given you my word.

Which I know to be worthless.

That is why I have been settling my affairs in the event of my death.

And making your peace with God, perhaps?

Well, good luck with that.

I have made arrangements with men I trust.

If I should die,

then you will die.

Know that.

Ritz Hotel.

London, Piccadilly.



- Who was that? -Call got cut.

I guess the telephone lines in England are not so good, huh?