Underbelly (2008–2013): Season 6, Episode 1 - Squizzy Steps Out - full transcript

You wanna know my secret, do you?

How I'm gonna
pull off a job like this.


There's three points
you gotta consider

to take on
this sort of... enterprise.

First, you need
to pick your crew.

They gotta have a range of
skills and do as they're told.

Second, timing.

They gotta be
where you want them

at precisely the moment
you want them there.

They get there too soon and
they stick out like dog's balls.

Get there too late and, well,

the whole thing's
down the dunny, isn't it?

Then there's the all-important
third element.

Someone's gotta be in control.

Someone's gotta see
the whole enterprise playing out

like a general,
directing his troops.

But, ladies and gentlemen...

the most important thing
you need

to pull off a job like this,

the thing that I have
by the bucketload...

is confidence.


We're gonna turn over
a jewellery store,

but not any old
jewellery store.

We're going top end of town.

We're gonna turn over Drumm's
emporium in Collins Street.

Right. Tank, Snowy,
you're guarding the door.

Don't let anybody else in.
And keep your eyes peeled.

There's at least two jacks

patrolling the arcade
at all times,

and they'll be armed.

Gus, you're on the inside.
You gotta keep up the chat.

Wait till I give you
the signal, then move fast.

Oh, by the way,
I'm gonna wear a disguise.

Doll, you're the decoy.

Just imagine
you're a respectable lady.

- Don't drop your 'H's.
- I can't 'elp it.

Doll, come on.

Don't get distracted.
You'll give the game away.


- And just one guinea, sir.
- Right.

It's of the best quality,
is it?

The finest quality, sir.
Just one moment.

May I help you ladies?

The muffineer in your cabinet.

Beautiful quality.

Best out of Birmingham.

Do you have any larger?

Uh, larger?

Also very fine.

The jacks.

Put it away!

He hasn't noticed anything.

- Come on.
- Excuse me!

Uh, one moment.

This one here -
a guinea, you said?

- Uh, yes, sir. That's correct.
- A guinea?

- Yes.
- I'm gonna need some change.

- I can supply you with change.
- Do you mind?

I have a cold in my head,
and I haven't got all day.

Yes, madam. I'll just be
with this gentleman first.

- This is most unsatisfactory.
- Apologies, madam.

- It's a busy spell.
- The cruets behind you.

Uh... Yes, madam,
they are a very fine article.

From whence did they originate?

- Venetian.
- Venice!

Love the canals.

I shall enjoy perusing them.

The finest...


Wait! Wait!

Somebody! Help!


How good was that?

How much do you reckon we got?

Thousands. Doll, millions.

Pitch bloody perfect.

The salesman had no idea.
It was perfect.

I was perfect.
I told ya.

I told ya.
I can do anything.

What are you gonna do
with your share?

Don't know. I can do
whatever we want.

Room for three at this party?

- No.
- Snowy. Mate.

- I could kiss you. Come here.
- Hey.

How come Gus
is carrying the loot?

Oh, come on, you square.
We've been through this.


That was clockwork, mate.
You were clockwork!

It was great, wasn't it, eh?

And no rough stuff.

Doll, get us a drink.
Come on, let's celebrate.

How come Gus
is carrying the loot?

I told you, mate,
he doesn't attract attention.

Suppose someone rolled him? One
of Long Harry Slater's boys?

- No, Gus can look after himself.
- Oh, yeah, what?

Wallop 'em
with a book of poems?

I should have gone with him.

Right, so you can shoot up
Collins Street, huh?

And didn't I particularly
tell you not to bring a gun?

- I just want my fucking haul!
- Put the gun away, Snowy.

Ask and ye shall receive!

Oh, ye of little faith!

Ah, Les, I do believe you have
found us the riches of Solomon.

Show us what we risked our
necks in broad daylight for.

Deadset bloody legend.

To Les,
the bloody little legend, hey?


A legend.

Yeah, I don't mind
the sound of that at all.

Jewellery robbery! Police
baffled! Jewellery robbery!

Police baffled!

Drumm's jeweller's
has just been turned over.

- Do we know by whom?
- No, we do not.

Word is they got away
with thousands.


We don't mind
a bit of cheek, do we?

Who the bloody hell was it?

Dunno. You know?

I dunno.

Henry Stokes?

Someone new, then.

New crew?

It's lucky
it wasn't on our patch.

Otherwise I'd have to
hunt them down

and cut their fuckin' nuts off.

Oh! Thank you, Raymond.

That's good. Here.

Bad business,
that 'Galla-polli'.

- Gally-what?
- You know, over in Turkey.

- Our boys, done over.
- Yeah, well, bloody Poms.

Don't know how to
stick by their mates.

Speaking of mates, what
the dickens was Snowy doing

bringing that shooter to a job?

Just showing willing.
Snowy's alright.

Showing that he's bloody loopy.
He'll be the death of ya.

Mate, you just worry
about keeping the swag safe.

I'll do the talking.

Leslie Taylor for Mr Stokes.

He's busy.

He'll want to see me.

Might have trouble
spotting you in a crowd.

I just thought, you know...

I thought he'd want to
decide for himself.

Wait here.

I could play baccarat,
you know.

- With these toffs?
- Yeah, if I wanted to.

Yeah, well, I prefer
a game of two-up myself.

G'day, Mr Stokes.
Have I got a treat for you.

Thought you were a pickpocket.

Must have very deep pockets.

Oh, we do what we must.

I actually regard myself

as cut from your cloth,
Mr Stokes.

Pig's arse.

Well, like you, I see further
than from me hand to me mouth.

So, what can you do me?

300 the lot.

- 300?
- Quality merchandise.

- I'm not denying.
- Oh, you bet it is.

There's more carats here
than South Melbourne Market.

This stuff would fetch more like
3,000 in the shop.

You reckon we should
go back to Drumm's,

see if they'll sell 'em for us?

No, no, but...
Well, you know.

Blokes who melt 'em down,
recut 'em.

And you clearly don't know
that items as hot as these

would make them nervous,
and that costs.


Well, seeing as
we can't do business,

I'll be taking my merchandise

Suppose I could see my way
to 320.

- 400.
- 340.

- 375.
- 350.

Pleasure doing trade with you,
Mr Stokes.

- Or can I call you Henry?
- You can whistle 'Dixie'.

I want to go through this
all again.

Where's Detective Brophy?


Freddy! You've come
to slum with us, have you?

Another pot, please, Clem,

and a glass of milk
for my lady friend here.

The Drumm jewel robbery.
What have you heard?

Come, now, John.

Don't you have more fizgigs

than any other officer
south of Victoria Street?

They've all been afflicted with
a terrible case of the shrugs.

What about
your habitual jewel thieves?

One's doing three to five
in Geelong,

the other one was
last heard of in Hobart,

trying to pass off
marcasite watches as diamond.

A heist like that
doesn't happen out of thin air.

- Needed planning.
- Inside job?

The staff all check out.

Someone new in town, maybe?

I'm thinking a blue.

Oh, blue is good. Navy?

Navy is a hue that would
set off your piercing eyes.

- In a pinstripe.
- A blue pinstripe.

- A blue-and-red pinstripe.
- Blue-and-red.

How audacious!

Now, pay attention, class.

What the hell was that? Huh?

You bloody little sook.
Watch this.


Mate, when I was your age,
I could pick the ring

off a bloke's finger -
he wouldn't feel a thing.

Smarten up. Go work the arcade
and work those doors, alright?

And do it like you mean it.
Go on.

And here's
me favourite bad penny.

Took the words right
out of me mouth, Mr Brophy.

- How's tricks?
- Can't complain.

Good, 'cause I wouldn't listen.
Now, those boys of yours.

They been flat out
like lizards drinking, I hope.

That job up in the arcade, that
robbery at Drumm's jeweller's.

- What about it?
- You heard anything?

Uh, no, just... just, uh,
what I read in the paper.

It was, um,
done in broad daylight,

and they got away
with thousands.

And a smart enterprise.

Pulled off by a couple of
sheilas, if you can credit it.

But it's got a funny smell
about it, that job.

Smell of what?

Well, for a start, it took
real brains to pull it off.

Now, that rules out
all the crooks in this city.

Bunch of gutless wonders
and bantam roosters, you lot.

But never mind.
I still love ya.

The most important
thing you need

to pull off a job like this,

the thing that I have
by the bucketload,

is confidence.

Now, that's just
another word for balls.

You got clean hands, Bert?

Pass us that ribbon?

Dumb prick.

He's a thick-arsed,
big-bellied bastard, isn't he?

- Who?
- Bloody Brophy.

Always taking me dosh,
looking down on me.

Think your mum'll like yellow?


I thought roses,
on account of...

And then I thought...

you know, I could
maybe give 'em to her.

I might just, um...


Well, we've been together
for three years, Les.

- She's gotta meet me sometime.
- Oh, of course.

But today's not a good idea.
You know, she's an old busybody.

She'll give you the third
degree, ask a hundred questions.

Well, I wouldn't drop
me haitches.

Or me daks.

You can drop your daks for me
any time.

That tickles.

Oh, roses! Oh, Leslie.

But you always were so poetic.

I got you this too.

A muffineer!

It's pure silver.

Have you been spending
all your wages on me again?

- You know me, Ma. Lucky punter.
- No, Leslie.

You're not lucky.
You're clever.

And you make the most of
your chances. Isn't that right?

- Absolutely.
- Well, that's my boy.

Well, this is lovely,

though you know all I really
want from you, don't you?

- Oh, Ma!
- Now, Leslie.

I just want to see my son
married to a nice girl

who'll give me
grandchildren to spoil.

I don't have time for that.
I'm a busy man.

Oh, I know I don't know all
the ins and outs of your job,

and I'm sure
it's very, very important,

and you know I couldn't
be prouder of my clever boy.

But you're never gonna
make your mark in this world

as a bookie's clerk,
now, are you?

I don't usually
patronise the Crystal Cafe,

but I was feeling
kind of lonesome.

What a coincidence.
Miss, uh...

- Call me Lottie.
- Miss Lottie.

- I'm all alone too.
- Oh.

Well, let's see if

we can't be of some comfort
to each other.

Squizzy was christened

Joseph Theodore Leslie Taylor.

The nickname referred
to the fact he was short.

And if that wasn't bad enough,

"squiz" was also slang
for a bowel motion.

Nobody likes to be called
"a little shit",

but the moniker would stick
for the rest of his life.

You do have
the most developed leg muscles

I have ever seen.

Well, that'd be my bicycling.

Wouldn't have taken
a handsome bloke like you

for a delivery boy.

I'm a bank manager.

I manage two branches.

and up at Templestowe.

Let me get that. Doncaster?
That's bloody miles away, love.

Nice orchards, but.

Well, fruit-picking season's
my busiest time of the year.

These days, I'm cycling
20 miles twice a week,

delivering the pays
to the Templestowe agency.

Oh, really, love?

And all that exercise
gives me a fearful appetite.

Oh! Oh, well.

You seem to be in a big hurry.

A big, big, big hurry.

Oh! Oh!

That was a waste
of me time and expertise, Les.

You are so...

We didn't make
any money off him.

I know we didn't.

- I know.
- But...

But we will.

Because we're gonna rob a bank.


So, he leaves
the Doncaster branch at 10:00

and he cycles down Doncaster Road
to Williamsons, right,

and then he turns left
into Manningham Road,

and he follows that all the way
down to the crossroads

at Templestowe Road -
is that right, Gus?


All along here, the paddocks
are filled with fruit pickers,

so I reckon we take him out
here, right at the crossroads.

There's nothing there but
bloody Jersey cows and sparrows.

And there's bushes up here,
for cover.

Where we knock him.

No, only if we have to.

Course we have to.
He's going to see our faces.

No, he won't.

We'll be wearing disguises.

Hang on.
I'm not wearing a frock.

But you look
so good in one, Snow.

Les, how exactly do you plan
on getting us to Doncaster

and back again?

Yeah. It's the back
of bloody beyond.

Took hours to walk.

- We use a car.
- But none of us drive.

Burns Motor Taxis.

How much to hire a good car
tomorrow morning?

And I'd like to travel
to Eltham and back.

The usual charge
is a shilling a mile

and 5-shilling
detention fee.

And you're sure
it's a good car, a good driver?

All our chauffeurs
are excellent.

And the driver -
how do we, uh, manage him?

We knock him once
we're back in town, right?

- Wrong. We cut him in.
- But he's a squarehead.

Tank, he's a chauffeur.

Mate, we drop him
a couple of quid,

he'll drive us to Darwin
if we want.

I'm not working
with some outsider.

No, I'll sort
the taxidriver out.

Jeez, if... if we
want to do this caper,

we need a car
and someone to drive it.

Les, I admire your plan,
but it's rather... Byzantine.

Now, perhaps it's just better
if we don't bother.

- Don't bother?
- Mmm.

This bank manager
carries 500 quid in that bag.

500 quid, right?

Even split four ways, that's
more than a year's wage each.

So we can make a year's wage
in a single morning.

And, Gus, you're right.
It is a tricky caper.

And no-one's done it before. But
that is why it's going to work.

Cold, hard cash?

It's me favourite kind.

The taxi company
isn't gonna like

taking its fancy little motor
up Little Lon to collect us.

Tank, that is why
you're with the smart party.

Cliveden Mansions, East
Melbourne, 8am. You got that?

Yes, sir. And the name
of the booking party?

Uh, Mr L'Estrange.

Thank you.

and there's one more thing.

There's not enough room
in the taxi for all of us.

We're all gonna get
a share of the coin,

but I'm only gonna use
one of you on the day.


Sure Snowy's
the right choice for this?

I mean, Gus is smarter,
and Bert's bigger.

No, Gus is too soft.

Tank's too slow.


scares people.

- Thought it all out, ain't ya?
- Yeah, of course I have.

I'm on top of it all.

- Just leave it be.
- It tickles.

Leave it be, I said.

- Mr L'Estrange?
- That's me.

To the countryside, I hear.
Lovely day for it.

Better for taking in
the sights.

- What's your name, mate?
- Uh, Bill.

You been driving cabs
long, Bill?

Yeah, no, couple of years.
Won't be much longer, but.

- I'm joining up.
- Is that so? Good on ya.

All me mates are over there.
Figure I shouldn't miss out.

Actually, take Templestowe Road,
would you, Bill?

You know, it's quicker if we...

He said take
bloody Templestowe Road.

You having a shindig
before you head to France, Bill?

Oh, I ain't got the moola.

Oh, well, you can't go to war
without a party, hey?

That's not right.
It's not Australian.

Yeah, I know. Well...

Maybe if I kill the Kaiser,
the King'll give me a prize

and I can have one
when I get home.

See, I can't serve meself
on account of flat feet,

so... oh,
the least I can do is...

is make sure you have
a decent send-off, Bill.

Hey, fair dinkum?

Well, that'd be real bonzer
of you, sir.

All you need to do is, uh...

is help us out
with a little something.

No-one gets hurt,
no-one loses out,

and you get your big shivoo.

I knew there was something off
about you the second I saw you.

There's nothing off
about the chance

to make an easy quid, Bill.

- Please get out.
- Beg your pardon?

I won't do what you're asking,
so... get out. Please.

Mate, there'll be nothing
to link you into this.

It's not right.
It's stealing.

Don't turn your nose up
at the chance of a lifetime.

Shut the fuck up
and do as he says.

Or I'll give you a new hole
to whinge through.

Doesn't have to go this way,
alright? You hop back in.

You drive us to Doncaster,
we spot our bloke,

we do our thing,
and in half a jiffy,

we're all that much richer
and you're off to the front.

Or I can blow your fuckin' scone
to kingdom come right now.

Come on, mate.
It's not that hard.

Look the other way
for 10 minutes tops.

Bugger this.

What did you do that for?

Well, you told me to bring out
my shooter if he didn't agree.

To scare him, not to blow
his fucking brains out.

Jesus, Snowy!

Well, he wouldn't do
what you said.

- He wasn't gonna drive us.
- He's certainly not now, is he?

Huh? I was talking him round
and you shot him.

Snowy. What a moron!

Who you calling
a fucking moron?

You, you moron. What, you
learned how to drive, have ya?

Huh? So we can roll
our bank bloke?

Gonna drive us back to Melbourne
after, are ya?

Go on, get his body off the road
before someone comes along.

Why do I have to do it?

'Cause you shot him.

So, what do we do now?

Where you going?

I'm taking a constitutional

back to Melbourne,
thanks to you.

Why don't we hitch?

What, so someone can put

two and two together between
King and Country here?

Jeez, you're a nit.



- Can I have me gun back?
- No.

Fuck me, Les.

Not if you were
the last bloke on the planet.


- Come on, you.
- Fuckin' new suit.

I didn't hear shots or nothing.

I was just coming
to see to the fence

and I heard voices -
two blokes.

You hear what they were saying?

They was angry, but.

And then I saw 'em heading
across the bottom paddock.

- Towards town?
- By way of the weir, yeah.

- Did you get a gander at 'em?
- Not their faces.

The tall one, he had one
of them straw Panama affairs.

- And the other bloke?
- Bit of a titch.

Wore a black bowler.

Well... Good on you
for dropping in.

Oh, um, one of 'em,
the short bloke,

he was carrying something.

- What?
- A suitcase.

But when they come out
of the trees round the weir,

he didn't have it no more.

Well, thanks for dropping in.

One short, one tall. Not
exactly Mr Observant, is he?

Detective Bruce,
do you know how to swim?

- I can manage the 50 yards.
- That should be plenty.

What do you want
to do that for?

Evidence, Jack.
The key to modern policing.

The key to modern policing
is locking up crooks, Fred!

Always has been.

The shorter one
was in the front.

- How tall was the tall one?
- Taller than me.


- Short one? How high?
- Well, he was shorter than me.

- 5'6".
- 5... No, no.





- And gloves.
- Dress-ups.

Frederick Piggott
was ahead of his time.

He believed good police work
was purely a matter of science.

John Brophy, on the other hand,
was an old-school cop

with a nose for character,
especially bad character.

Both men would play significant
roles in Squizzy's downfall.

"Police have formed the
suspicion that taxidriver Haines

"was an innocent victim
in a cunning plan to rob

"either the Doncaster
or Upper Templestowe bank

"or waylay the bank officer
carrying Treasury notes.

"Police say
it was a foul scheme

"but one requiring
great ingenuity."

I mean, black and white.

- I'm a genius.
- Genius, my arse.

Which is hanging
out of me trousers
since we didn't make any dosh.

And whose fault was that?

Says here he was gonna join up.

He was gonna fight the Fritz.

I need a real drink.

I might sup from the font
of the Bard.

I gave the kid a choice, Tank.

If he'd... if he had have
listened to me,

he wouldn't have come
to any harm.

He was just a foot soldier,
you know?

I'm a general.

Tactician. Planner.

If he'd obeyed my rules, he'd
be halfway to France right now

and we'd be rolling in it,

but he missed his opportunity,
didn't he?

They don't really
kill kittens, do they?

Oh, yeah, they stab
their frickin' eyes out.

The pubs have to shut
at 6pm from now on, right?

Hip, hip hooray for
the new licensing laws, I say.

'Cause if I know
the Aussie male's capacity

for consuming
fermented vegetable products,

then I know that
your excellent establishment

will be getting a lot more
new customers come Monday 6pm.

That is, of course, unless they
wander down to your competitors.

But why would they? Right?
When I happen to know

a young,
enterprising businessman

who can supply you
with plenty of amber fluid

for the right price.

How much?

I'm sure we can come
to an arrangement.

The pure genius of my scheme

is that nobody gets hurt.

The trick's getting our hands
on a regular supply of grog.

Well, that requires
a long-term arrangement,

and the best way to do it

is to make sure every bloke
along the way gets a handshake.

Wagon driver, foreman,
depot manager.

Yep. Pure genius.

There really is
more to you than just a...

a pickpocket, isn't there?

Oh, more strings to me bow
than Paganini, Mr Stokes.

Call me Henry.
You're Squizzy, aren't you?

Oh, I prefer Leslie.
Me mates call me Les.

Put it there, Les.


The new restricted
trading hours for pubs,

I imagine people
will be drinking more coffee.

I thought you'd be
applauding 6:00 closing

all the way down
to the Temperance Union, Fred.

It's a futile law,

destined to make
the solving of real crime

all the more difficult.

Now, to this matter of
the Haines taxidriver murder.

This fellow calling himself
L'Estrange has booked a cab

to pick up from Cliveden Mansions,
East Melbourne.

- Who is he?
- Who indeed?

Surely, he's got to be
known to us.

I don't know about you blokes,
but all the crims I know

haven't got the patience
for this sort of job.

Surely it's
an out-of-town mob.

Can I have an oolong tea,
please, a scone?

Can I get a black coffee
and a finger bun, thanks?

Look, this description you took

from the residents
of Cliveden Mansions.

"The second man I observed
getting into the taxi

"was short, no more than 5'2"
in my reckoning."

And our farmer witness insists
that one of the two men he saw

was quite the shrimp.

Look, there is
this titch of a bloke.

Leslie Taylor is his name.
They call him Squizzy.

- But...
- But what?

He's a petty crim.
He lifts wallets.

Runs bets down the track.

He's not a murderer
or a bank robber.

He hasn't got
this sort of fancy gig in him.

There's nothing fancy
about shooting an unarmed man

in the side of the head.

No, but the other stuff -
using a phone and false name

to book the taxi.

Planning the robbery down
in the boondocks. Disguises.

I mean, this bloke is a...
is a pickpocket in Little Lon.

- He's not Professor Moriarty.
- What's your connection to him?

He's a fiz.

Slips me a bit of information
from time to time.


So even though
this criminal fellow Taylor

fits the description,
you don't believe he's our man?

He's a short-arse with a
big head full of piss and wind.

He comes into this place,

he swans around
like he owns the joint.

Hang on, gentlemen.

Now, the bloke
who booked the taxi

used a telephone, correct?

- That's right.
- What was the name he used?


You should have seen it.

I had him
eating out of me hand.

He asked me to call him Henry.
He even called me Les.

Les, there's
someone to see you.


Sorry, Les.



For that young bloke.

...and for the kittens.

Here's to Tank.

May he shoot
every Hun he meets.

And show those French sheilas
how an Aussie bloke does it.



Fuckin' dickhead.

Did you say something, Taylor?

I was just asking how's tricks?

I hear that you've
been getting chummy

with no less
than Henry Stokes himself.

I might have done a bit of work
for him here and there, yeah.

A pickpocket from Little Lon,
playing with a big boy.

I hope you ain't overstretching
your reach, hmm?

Boxing in the wrong div.

I do alright.
But thanks for your concern.

Fuckin' string bean.
Overstretching me reach.

If he knew
what I'm capable of, huh?

You know, what I've done.

Fuck, everyone here
should know who I am.

They should all know,
every single...

Don't think
that's such a good idea, Les.

- Just calm down.
- Get him.

- Hey, hey.
- And him.

What's going on here?

Brophy, what the fuck?
What is this?

"One tall and fair,
the other short and dark".

- You're under arrest.
- Under arrest?

What for? Brophy!

If this is about the booze,
I can cut you in, you know that.

This is a lot more than
a bit of slap and tickle.

You've gone a lot further
than that.

Leslie Taylor,
you are charged with the murder

of taxidriver William Haines.

a difference between confidence

and overconfidence.

Squizzy's greatest enemy
wasn't the police,

and it wasn't
Long Harry Slater.

It was much closer to home.