Snatch (2017–…): Season 1, Episode 5 - The Smelt Down - full transcript

-How much gold is this
Nas Stone fellow looking to buy?

-250K sterling.

That should take care
of your immediate problem.

-King Royston's boy.
-Yeah.

-I haven't seen you
around here in a while.

-Didn't think I was welcome.

(overlapping shouting)

(woman)
-Business or pleasure?

-Loads of pleasure.

-My man!
How you want your skrilla?

(all)
-Cash.



-Who are you?
-I'm Uncle Dean.

(shotgun blast, glass shatters)

-Looks like
you're single, girl.

(Fink)
-I never could smell
the roses, Mrs. Hill,

but I could always sniff out
a rotten apple.

(Vic)
-Well, it all went
according to plan.

Until it didn't.
Yeah.

(chuckling)

Yeah, listen, I'm going away
for a very long time, darling.

I need you to be tough, Lil.

I need you to be hard
as nails.

And I need you to do
something very important for me.

I want you to send
a smoke signal

to every firm on the plot.



You tell them there's
bent cops on the streets

with gold.

Shit loads of gold.

You tell them finders keepers.

You tell them I don't care.

I don't care
who gets the gold.

So long...

as it's not...

Bob Fink.

-Bingo.

(theme music playing)

(siren blaring)

(man speaking indistinctly)

* *

* Monday *

* You came on over to me *

* Late night *

* We shared a drink
or three... *

-Give us a minute,
would you, Charlie?

-Who is that lump, Al?

-You don't wanna know.

Patsy.

-So what's it gonna be,
Albert?

The bolt cutters
or a happy ending?

-Here you are.

It's all there.
It's all accounted for.

Every last bean.

So we good?

-Skin of your teeth, son.

Now don't forget,

if you ever need a stop gap,
you got my digits, boy.

-First stop, take a little
trip to Saul Gold.

Get him off my case.

-Yeah, the best place
for your cock

might have been
that pickle jar.

-And what is that
supposed to mean?

-No, just kidding, Al.

You know, sense of humor
and all that.

-Yeah, well, I fail to see
the funny in that

actually, Charlie.

Mum?

Mum!

-Oh, no, no, no, no!
-This cannot be happening!

-Where's the gold, Al?
-Give me a second, Charlie.

All right?
-Where is it?!

How are we gonna fix this
unmitigated fucking disaster?!

-Will you shut up?!

-Charlie, give us
a minute, please.

-Of course, Mrs. H, yeah.

(Lily chuckles)

(people chatting in market)

-When were you planning
on telling me?

-I didn't want
to worry you, did I?

-It's a bit late for that.

(stool rattles)

Talk.

-On fight night,
we went after Castillo,

but we hit the wrong truck.

The truck we did hit
was transporting the gold.

-Who's gold is it, Albert?

-I don't know.

But it's got
the same stamp as Dad.

-This bloody gold.

Bloody, bloody family!

-Leave it now,
it's gone now, leave it!

-Bob Fink was here yesterday
asking about dad.

Asking about you, Albert.

-Bob Fink was in here?

Did he do this, Mum?

-That would be my guess, yes.

He didn't find
the gold, though.

-So where is it?

-I should've thrown it
in the bloody river.

-Mum, where is it?

-I moved it down the market
to Father John's.

(Charlie exhales)

-You beauty.
Come on, Charlie.

-You got plans?

-Maybe.

-Maybe what?

-Who's to say we got
those diamonds back?

-Maybe...
-Mwah.

-We could take
a long ride together.

Mwah.

Get out of this shithole.

Nothing holding us down,
nothing holding us back.

Live life on the move.

Freedom.

-Keep the stones.

Leave the others
with the gold.

-Fair trade, if you ask me.

-I've been best mates
with Al for 20 years.

You think I'll bail on him

for a half-decent
pair of tits like you?

-Half-decent?

Best tits you ever
copped hold of.

-I had to keep an eye on you

while Castillo
was still a threat.

Now it's done.

-You kicking me out?

I've got nowhere to go,
you asshole!

-Oh, you're a smart girl!

You'll work something out.

-Yeah, too smart

to be with a cupboard
squatter like you.

Moving on?

-Moving on.

(cell phone chimes)

-No.
-Yes.

-No!
-Yes!

-No, how did you
pull that off, Billy?

-Well, four Pikeys
walk into a pub...

(laughter)

-Oh, yes.
What about Castillo?

-There is no Castillo, Al.

(Charlie)
-What about Norman?

He still got a pulse?

-Barely!

They dropped him off
at your mum's.

-My mum's, why?

-We couldn't exactly
take him to the hospital

with fragments of safe
decorating his face,

now could we?

-All right, fair enough.

Bob Fink's messed
the shop up.

-Reckon he was looking
for the gold.

-How did that turncoat
get onto us?

-I have absolutely
no idea.

-Yeah.

That one...

might-- might just be on me.

The video.

My bloody slippers.

-Slippers?

-Make some sense, Charlie.

-Fink cornered me
the other day.

* *

Ooh!

Spouting some nonsense
about seeing my slippers

on the heist video.

-What?

And you told him
what exactly?

-I didn't say a word.

Okay, he got nothing
from me.

-You might as well
have worn a badge

with your name on it.

-You should've told me
about this, Charlie.

We could have avoided
this problem.

-Well, I messed up.

Okay, I'm sorry, guys.

It's not like I'm a seasoned
armed robber, is it?

-No, you're not.

-Oh, now I've burned
the bloody eggs.

-I'm gonna get these back
to Saul Gold.

-Ooh, yeah, uh,
wait for me, Al.

* Oh, please, Mr. DC *

* Won't you have
some pity *

-This better blow
my wig back, boy.

* D.C. *

* Don't you touch
my ishen *

* Oh, D.C. *

* Don't you take
my collie *

* Oh, D.C. *

* Don't you touch
my ishen *

* Oh, D.C... *

-The inventory's
accounted for.

* No, no, no, no,
Mr. D.C. *

-So we're done?

-Don't get all puffed up

because you fixed
your own screw-up.

Your father, poor bastard,
can rest a little easier now.

Now, listen good.

I've got a pickup down
by the railyard,

and I need two boys.

Couldn't be simpler.

* Oh, D.C. *

* Don't you take
my ishen *

(Chloe speaking
foreign language)

-I've got a Sheikh
with more money

than a horse has hair.

He needs a wedding gift
for his new wife.

-What kind of a wedding gift?

-I don't know yet, but I've
set up a meeting to find out.

-Lovely, so what you need
me to do?

-It's what Charlie
Cavendish-Scott can do.

-Oh!
Do tell.

-So Sheikh Zeshan studied
at Oxford University.

He'll be used to a...

certain type of Englishman.

-Country estates
not council estates, I get it.

(phone buzzing and chiming)

-Let's pay
your Sheikh a visit.

Let's put him into
a gold state of mind.

* *

(door buzzer in background)

-Ahh!
I heard the good news.

(laughing)

All sorted with Saul.

-Told you I'd sort it,
didn't I?

-Oh, and sort it you did
my boy, and sort it you did.

Mwah!

-You're chipper.

What happen,
you win the bingo?

-Well, you know,
a stretch in the hole

gives one time to reflect
upon life's priorities.

-The hole?

Come on, what did you do?

-Oh, no, the prison therapist
calls the hole

a metaphor
for my emotional condition.

If, perish the thought,
you'd visit me

a little more often
these past few months,

you'd be more acquainted
with what your old man's

been going through.

-I've terribly sorry, Dad.
Why don't you tell me?

What have you
been going through?

-Well...
I've had visions, son.

Visions of the past.

Visions of the future.

Visions of how things
should be.

What's the skinny
on the truck heist?

The gold bullion?

-Don't know, the street
went dark on that one.

-But you've seen
the video, haven't you?

-Yeah, of course I have.
Who hasn't?

(Vin chuckles)

-It really reminded me...

the way they robbed
that truck...

of...
(laughing)

me!

Although, it does
lack a certain finesse.

All brass bollocks

and no brains.

-So what's the plan
with the winnings?

What are you gonna do with it
on the inside, anyway?

-There is no inside.

No walls.

None that matter, anyway.

You look tired, son.

Get some rest.

* *

(metal clangs)

* Something's not like
the others *

* Sweet thing
never had a lover *

* But you confuse all
the people walking as you go *

* Yeah *

* First time,
every one's a winner... *

-Do you trust Father John
with our gold, Al?

-I don't trust anyone
with that gold, Billy.

Until we can move it,

better the devil we know, eh?

* *

-Comes from the Lord!

He who keeps you
will not slumber.

The Lord will keep you
from all evil.

Amen.

* Mighty be his name,
Hallelujah!

-You get all that, Billy-Boy?
-Oh, I'm born again, Al.

-In the house of Father John.

-Albert Hill.

-Give him praise.
Give him adoration.

-So it appears you have
inherited your father's

spirit for adventure.

-Something like that,
Father John.

-Life's either
a great adventure

or nothing at all, my son.

I have a parish project

I'd like to discuss
with you.

-Give whatever you can give.

Reach in your pocket and--

-Are you looking
for redemption, mate?

-Redemption?
Before lunch?

-Your path begins here,
brother.

With Father John.

For a tenner.

-Cheap at half the price.

-Keeps the Devil
from your door.

-Speak of the Devil

and his horns shall appear!

Put one of those
on ice for me.

-I trust attendance is good
at the moment, Father John?

-Yeah, well, there are
many lost souls in need

of the Lord's protection
in these most troubled of times.

-So what's the price to keep
my commodity safe and sound?

-That depends on the value
of the commodity

and its exposure.

Two million views.

The Internet is
a marvel of communication,

is it not, Albert?

-So what's this
gonna run me?

-Well, the mission is
in desperate need of repair.

I've been quoted 50,000
for a new roof.

A fair contribution
for the work involved.

-And what insurance do I get
for this contribution?

-Security's tighter than
Fort Knox's asshole, son.

* Man, he run off
with the cash, man *

* He run off with the cash *

* W-W-W-W-Wait a sec *

* He run off with the cash? *

* No, man, that kid
all right, man... *

-50 grand to a bent priest?

Mate, I thought
we were the ones

supposed to be making good
off the gold.

-We just gotta find
a buyer.

Charlie, where are you?

-I'm at the hotel.
-Chloe there?

-Right by my side.

-Come over to the houseboat
as soon as you're done.

(cell phone chimes)

-I gotta take care
of something.

-Billy Ayers getting attached.

-Behave yourself,
soppy bollocks.

(phone chimes)

-You don't think I'm
overselling it, do you?

-No.
-Oh, oh.

-One thing to bear in mind,
the Sheikhs are super fickle.

A year back, Saul spent weeks
trying to fix a deal.

only to lose it by calling
one of them sir.

-Well, what should he
have called him?

-Sheikh, Charlie.

Their title is Sheikh.

-Once we're done
with these Sheikhs,

um, maybe you and I--

-Lord Cavendish
and Chloe Koen

here to see Sheikh Zeshan.

* *

* They say there's friends
then there's business *

* Who do you really know? *

* Whoa *

* *

-I like these Sheikhs.

-What's this?
Who are you?

-Sheikh Zeshan, Chloe Koen.
Pleased to meet you.

Please may I present
Lord Charles Cavendish.

-At your service, Sheikh.

-So what do you have for me?

More necklaces?
Tiaras?

Not another
damn Faberge egg.

-Better.

Lord Cavendish
has a large holding

of exquisite, one-of-a-kind
gold artifacts.

-I have palaces
full of gold artifacts!

I'm getting married
in a few months,

and the princess is not
easily impressed.

I need something, um...
unexpected.

(water running in background)

-I know exactly
what you mean.

Lord Cavendish has
just the thing.

-Yes, I do.

Wh-- wh-- which one
of my many artifacts

did you have
specifically in mind?

-The... solid...

24... karat gold...

bathtub.

Imagine it.

Your fiancée.

A soapy lather.

That unmistakable glint.

Bathing in gold

every night.

A glimmer of pure opulence.

-Enriching the man

who slips in beside her.

-I want one.

-What?!
You don't have one?!

-Of course we have one, Sheikh.

-When is delivery?

We fly out to Dubai
tomorrow night.

-The price is
10 million pounds sterling.

-Blah blah, I like it!
I'll buy it.

-Well, you won't be
disappointed, sir--

Sheikh Ze-- Zash-- Zee--

-4:00pm tomorrow,
we'll be in touch

about the location,
and your men

can pick up the bath.

Thank you so much,
Sheikh Zeshan.

(bell rings)

(Vic humming)

(phone dialing)

-Ahh, throw another log
on for me, love.

-Nice day at the beach,
darling?

-Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah,
the water was lovely and warm.

Now-- now listen,
before you react,

uh, just take a moment.

-What have you done, Vic?

-I hit a screw.

I don't know why!

(laughter)

-You selfish bastard.

You had three months left.

You'll have another 18 months
on your sentence.

-I've done enough time
in here, Lil.

I can't do anymore.

-No, Vic, no.

Don't you try it.
Don't you dare.

-The wheels are in motion.
Gotta go.

-Vic.
-I gotta go, luv.

-Vic!

(phone beeps)

-It's time.

I'm gonna fly the nest.

-Should we use the same lab
up in Chelmsford?

Nasty zombie meths up there.

Them boys were chewing
their faces off.

-Heh.
The nastier, the better.

-Yeah.

(train rumbling)

* *

* Don't you touch my ishen *

* Oh, D.C... *

-Done deal.

-We deliver to the Sheikh
tomorrow afternoon.

-Tomorrow-- Slow down.
How much does he want?

-All of it.
He wants all of it!

-A ten-million-pound
gold wedding gift.

-I mean, money is just
no object to this guy.

-So all the gold gone
in one fell swoop?

Ten million quid?
Simple as that?

-Well, there is
one small catch.

-What catch?
-Yeah.

We have to smelt it first.

-Smelt it?
Into what?

-A bathtub.
-A solid gold bathtub.

-And how we supposed
to do that?

-Oh, Jesus, Al.
We don't have all the answers.

* *

-What do you want?

-I dunno.

I guess I just wanted
to sort things out

after this morning.

-Nothing to sort out.

We're moving on, right?

-Oi, here's the thing.

I'm not the boyfriend type.

I'd be a shit boyfriend
'cause...

I've never actually been one.

-What are you talking about?

-You know, the guy you call
every day,

the guy you spend
all your time with.

That guy isn't me.

I just wasn't made that way.

-What, and you think I am?

Sonny Castillo is dead
in a dumpster.

I'm not the settling down
type either.

I just wanted to get away
from all this shit.

And you were the closest guy
with a six-pack,

a motorbike,
and a bag of diamonds.

-So, uh, we good?

-Good, bad.
Who gives a shit, right?

-Yeah.

Who gives a shit?

(phone chimes)

-Mmm mmm mmm!

So... what's with
the big rush?

-We've got a buyer lined up
for tomorrow afternoon.

-Your traveler mates,
they know how to smelt gold?

-Yeah, Uncle Dean.

He'll be the man for the job.

-Why are we
smelting gold exactly?

-We need to make a gold bath.

-A gold bath?

-A gold bath?

-Yeah.
-Well...

I made a gold shitter once.

-So can you do it?

Can you make a gold bathtub?

-Aye.

I'll give it a crack.

(bell tings)

Ladies and gentlemen,

ready for the main event.

Contrary to popular belief,

the majority of Travelers
are well-heeled,

hard-working citizens.

True, we enjoy
an alternative lifestyle.

attempting to evade
the punitive taxes

that a hostile government
imposes upon us.

But never forget

you are amidst

the greatest craftsmen

you have ever seen!

* *

(Travelers cheering, laughing)

-You sure about this, Al?

-I am far from sure
about this, Charlie.

-Horse shit and wood ash.

Nature's crucible.

Sure, it has to withstand
temperatures

of 1,950 degrees Fahrenheit.

I have the young'uns
on the job,

bringing it to the boil.

In our little community,

when there's a job
worth doing,

we all muck in.

So... start digging,

ya ballicks!

The girls have fashioned you
a beautiful bath

made entirely from wax.

-Won't it melt?

-That's the whole idea,
darlin'.

Lost wax casting.

It's in the name.

(laughter, shouting)

(man)
-Come on, girls!

-Hey!

Time is a 'wasting!

Ready to pour?

-Ready so.

-Alchemists and metallurgists

have been in our family
for generations.

Millennia.

We have taken our skills

east to China,

south to Egypt,

and all across
the Holy Roman Empire

until this place

at this time.

But never...

has an outsider

been witness to our magic.

(Travelers laughing)

Tonight, tis your honor

to pop the cherry.

-Pop whose cherry?

-One clean strike.

(all cheering)

* *

-So...
what happens now?

-Well... now...

we get twatted.

'Cause there's nothing
we can do till the morning.

(cheering continues)

* *

-It's a painful proposition

being human.

From the moment
we leave the womb...

we're at the mercy
of the oppressors....

the lecherous...

the inhumane.

It's a wonder...

a miracle really...

that one ever achieves

any peace at all.

Eat up, boys.
We're here all night.

(birds chirping)

-All right, so let's...

open her up,
take her clothes off,

and see her naked.

(Uncle Dean chuckles)

(all)
-Whoa!

(Travelers laughing)

* *

-And come on!
Ahh!

-Aah!

* *

-Sheikh's here, Charlie.

-Okay.

Okay, stay calm.

(van pulling up)

-Hello, Sheikh Zeshan.

-Why did we have to
come here?

No showroom?

-For such a high-priced item,

we deliver on-site
for insurance purposes.

-I have a plane to catch.
Where is this bath?

-I'll have it brought
around now, Sheikh.

(phone chiming)

-We're on.

-Where the hell is it?!

I should have just
bought her another yacht.

-Oh, here it is now, Sheikh.

-Who are these two?

-Th-- Th-- These are just
my delivery men, Sheikh.

-I like it.

It's unique.

-Does the bird come
with the bath?

-What did you say?

* *

-What is this?

-I'm a mediator.

Engaged to make sure
all parties are satisfied.

Nothing to be
concerned about, Sheikh.

-Uh, shall we, uh, complete
the, uh, transaction, Sheikh?

-This is a lot of force
for a bathroom fixture.

-Bathroom fixture?

This is a 24-karat,
handmade gold bath, mate.

-With all due respect,
Sheikh,

this is an exquisite piece.

As my assistant here
plainly pointed out,

this is a 24-karat bath.

A collector's item.

Handmade by
the finest artisans.

(Zeshan sighs)

Well, there are other...

people interested.

-I'll take it,
I'll take it.

-If you could transfer
the agreed funds--

-Ring it up.
-Okay.

-Yes, 2-5-3-6-7-1...
-Zero.

-6...
-Zero zero.

-Albert Hill!

You've been a naughty boy.

-Yalla, let's go,
let's go!

(engine starts)

-No, no, no, no, no!
Shit!

(tires squeal)

* *

-Up and at 'em, boys!

(overlapping shouting)

-Fink!

-Well, come on then!

-Chloe!

-Don't you touch her!

-Aah!

(man moaning)

-Whoa!

-Are you prepare to shoot
a man of the cloth

for material gains?

-Uh, yeah.

In a heartbeat.

(van engine starts)

-Get in!

-Go, go, go, go, go!

(gun clicking)
-Fuck!

Fuck!

(sirens approaching)

-We need to get out of town.
There's way too much heat.

-My family's place
in the country.

Straight up the M1,
it's perfect.

-Well, I hope
it's comfy, Charlie,

'cause we might be there
for a while.

(Fink groaning)

-Aah!

(groaning)

(breathing deeply)

Aah!

(engine starts)

-To the brim?

Everything okay?

-Yes, Norman, fine.

-Thinking about Vic?

-Amongst other things.

-So...he's on the countdown.

Three months
and he's home--

-Oh, I don't know, Norman.
What's with all the questions?

Eh?

You worried gonna have to start
cooking for yourself again?

Sorry, that was
a little strong.

-While I was convalescing,

I was remembering the times
you'd cook me and Vic

a fry-up after a job.

Always at some ungodly hour.

We'd polish off
a bottle or two.

Vic would be snoring
on the sofa, and...

you and I would talk and...

and giggle
till it got light.

Having a laugh.

(car pulls up outside)

-Yeah, they were
good times, Norman.

(car door closes)

For all of us.

(knocking on front door)

-Who is it?

(Fink)
-Police!

Open up
or we'll put the door in.

-No need for that.

-Lily Hill, you alone?

(chatter on police radio)

-Firstly, you know
exactly who I am,

and secondly,
of course I'm on my own.

You put my husband
behind bars.

-We have reason to believe

you're in possession
of illegal firearms.

-Up to your old tricks
again, Bob?

(officers moving around
upstairs)

Oi, be careful
with my things!

Come on!

-Find anything?
-Nothing here, sir.

-All right, well,
check in there.

-Done, checked, it's--
-Check again.

-Sir!

I found something.

-Oh, for Christ sakes!

-Lily Hill, I'm arresting you

on suspicion of possessing
Prohibited Weapons

defined by Section Five
of the Firearms Act, 1968,

You do not have to
say anything,

but it may it harm
your defense

if you do not mention
my questioned

something which you later
rely on in court.

Anything you do say may be
given in evidence.

All right?
(handcuffs clink)

-Off we go.
Two pair.

-Deal me again.
-Right, why, you up?

-Can I get involved?

-There is a minimum stake.

-Will these do?

-Ah, white chocolate.

(sniffs)
My favorite.

(chuckles)

-Nice bit of shopping,
Smudger.

That's for you.

I can smell the fresh air
already, Vic.

-Good boy.
-Cheers, Mr. H.

* *

(Albert)
-Whose house did you say
this was again, Charlie?

-Oh, my cousin Monty.

(Chloe)
-Where exactly is
Cousin Monty?

-Zurich, last I heard.

Might have run a bit afoul
with the Inland Revenue.

(Lotti)
-Naughty, naughty Cousin Monty.

-In we go.

-They leave the keys to this
place under the plant pot?

-You know, rich people shit.

* *