So you know these geezers well?
Well enough. I've been buying gear off one of them for a couple of years.
- So, what are they like then? - Poofs, nothing heavy.
Four public schoolboys, soft as shite.
And you keep all the money.
I've heard some stupid fucking ideas but yours makes Bacon sound inspired.
... prance around in hippy clothes talking bollocks.
They're just good at growing weed, that's all.
Business is a lot bigger than they can keep up with.
They can't all be stupid, can they? Think about it.
They've got a container- load of cash in shoeboxes, they're selling class-A gear.
Don't you think there might be someone sensible involved?
- What about security? - There's a steel gate but they never lock it.
What do you mean, never lock it? What's it there for?
I must've been there 50 times, it's never locked. They're not suspicious.
Everyone who goes there's a toff. They're all into that karma crap.
"If I don't harm nobody, nobody harms me" stuff.
- No way they can get back to you? - They'd be shit-scared. I'm a geezer.
They got no muscle, gutless faggots.
Fancy one?
If you're so fucking clever, why don't you come up with a suggestion?
Look, I'm thinking, all right? I am thinking.
Gonna be here all night, then, aren't we?
- Is Big Chris on his way? - He should be here any minute.
I think you’re making a big mistake, Harry.
That is a lot of money for Chris to be running after.
Who the fuck are you to question my judgment?
What do you know about Big Chris, eh?
You put Big Chris on a job and he will get it done, no matter what gets in his way.
His dad used to collect debts and his dad before that
and that monster of a boy will after he's gone.
It seems the Almighty Himself requested them to collect debts for eternity.
And not to fear knocking on Old Nick's door himself
if he was behind on his payment.
And he's never nicked a nicker in his life.
Straight as an arrow and strong as the bow that fired it.
If you dropped a tenner, he would search till he found you.
There is a problem. He isn't stable.
Heaven protect anybody who touches that boy.
Not that that boy needs protecting.
What's all the flapping about? You told the old man yet?
I'm hoping I won't need to.
I've got a plan. Now listen carefully.
- Hello, boys. - Harry.
- Do you want a drink? - Hello, my son. Do you want a lolly?
- Piss off, you nonce. - Oi, watch it.
No, thanks, Harry. We're both all right.
Nice shooter.
Yeah, one of a pair.
- Holland and Holland. Do you want to hold it? - No, not my thing, thanks, Harry.
Business good? I imagine that's why I'm here.
Four young fellas got in deeper than they could handle.
- They owe me half a million pound. - How much?
Half a million.
Well? What do you want us to do about it?
Hit the fuckers.
I know it sounds a bit strong but it's not as if we’re doing anything illegal.
How'd you reach that conclusion?
Because they can't report they've had all their drugs and money nicked, can they?
- How heavy are these fellas? - Don't look all that.
- Hitler didn't look all that. - Yeah, all right.
But we are in the soup here and this is a silver spoon.
And it's not as if we’ve got all the time in the world. Dig?
I'm game.
Me too.
Oh, God.
Right. We hit them as soon as they come back.
We'll be prepared, waiting.
- And they're armed. - What was that? Armed?
What you mean, "armed"? Armed with what?
Er... bad breath, colorful language, feather duster.
What do you think? Guns, you tit.
Guns? You never said anything about guns.
A minute ago, this was the safest job ever. Now it's a bad day in Bosnia.
Soap, stop being such a mincer.
- I've thought about that and... - And what, exactly?
And... all we have to do is find out who's carrying them.
Carrying them? They could all be carrying them.
No. Only one of them carries them going to the job,
so I assume the same one will be carrying them when they come back.
You assume? And what do they say about assumption being the brother of all fuck- ups?
- It's the mother of all fuck-ups, stupid. - Brother, mother, any other sucker.
It don't make any difference.
They're still fucking guns
and they still fire fucking bullets.
Soap, if you have a better idea how to get £500,000 in the next few days,
let us know.
Tom, you talk to Nick the Bubble about shifting the weed.
- Weed? - No, it's not normal weed.
It's some fucked-up skunk, class A, "I can't think let alone move" shit.
- Doesn't sound very good to me. - Neither me.
It depends what flicks your switch and the light is on and burning brightly for the masses.
Anyway, you do know anyone?
I know a man, yes.
Rory Breaker.
Not that madman with an Afro? I don't want anything to do with him.
You won't have to. Just get me a sample.
No can do.
What's that? A place near Katmandu? Meet me halfway, mate.
Look, it's all completely chicken soup.
- It's what? - It's kosher as Christmas.
The Jews don't celebrate Christmas, Tom.
I'm gonna need some artillery, too. Couple of sawn-off shotguns.
This is a bit heavy. This is London, not the Lebanon.
- Who do you think I am? - I think you're Nick the Greek.
Hold those two.
I don't normally deal in weed, Nick,
but if it is what he says it is, I'll take it off him for three and a half grand a key.
That is if it is what he says it is.
I don't want to see it after a sample or touch it after a sample.
I'll leave you in the capable hands of Nathan, here. He'll sort out the details.
But just let me tell you one thing.
If the milk turns out to be sour,
I ain't the kind of pussy to drink it.
Do you know what I mean?
- Rory Breaker. - Rory. Yeah, I know Rory.
He's not to be underestimated.
He's a funny-looking fucker, I know,
but you've got to look past the hair and the cute, cuddly thing. It's all a facade.
A few nights ago, Rory's roger iron rusted,
so he's gone down the battle cruiser to watch the end of a football game.
No one's watching the custard so he switches the channel over.
A fat geezer's north opens and he wanders up and turns the Liza over.
"Now fuck off and watch it somewhere else."
Rory knows claret is imminent but the game's on.
So calm as a coma, he picks up the fire extinguisher,
walks past the jam rolls who are ready for action
and plonks it outside the entrance.
He then orders an Aristotle of the most ping-pong tiddly in the nuclear sub
and switches back to his footer.
"That's fucking it," says the geezer.
"That's fucking what?" says Rory.
And he gobs out a mouthful of booze, covering Fatty.
He flicks a match into his bird's nest and he's lit up like a leaking gas pipe.
Rory, unfazed, turns back to his game.
His team's won, too. Four-nil.
Oi!
Is your hair supposed to look like that?
Never mind. Listen, the next time we do a job like this, we're gonna want more money
or we're going back to post offices and cars.
Where's the others?
- There was no others. - Stop fucking around. The old ones.
- I don't know what you mean. - The two old guns.
- Where are they now? - Not in the cabinet.
There was a couple of hammerlock muskets the butler was carrying, but we sold them.
- Well, unsell them sharpish. - We needed the money.
I'm not fucking interested!
If you don't want to be counting the fingers you haven't got
or sharing a bed with the Antichrist,
I want those guns, quick!
All right, Barry. Calm down. We'll get them, all right.
Now, fuck off,
you Scouse cunts.
Jesus!
If I pick them up, will they stay in one piece? Where'd you get them?
I've got contacts.
Listen, Tom, you point them at me, I shit myself or do whatever you say to do.
They look nice,
but... well, they're lacking in criminal credibility, ain't they? I might get laughed at.
- How much do you want for these muskets? - 700 each.
What, a pound for every year they've been about?
I know they're antiques but I ain't paying antique prices.
They're a bit long, ain't they?
Sawn-offs are out. People want a bit more range these days.
Range? I don't want to blow the arse out this country, granted,
but I don't want anyone blowing a raspberry at me, either.
I wanna look fucking mean.
Of course you'll look mean. You'll look really scary.
Anyway, enough about that. What about this geezer who sells drugs?
Rory Breaker's standing by. You stand to make a lot of money,
Tubby Tommy.
I understand if this is a bit of a shock but let me tell you how this can be resolved
by you, a good father.
Go on.
- He likes your bar. - Yes?
He wants your bar.
And?
Do you want me to draw you a picture?
Look, that boy doesn't know his arsehole from his ear hole.
This is my bar, it's got nothing to do with him.
What, and I care?
Remember, you do have the advantage of being able to sustain your son's life.
And you do have a reputation, so I choose my words very carefully.
You tell Harry to go fuck himself.
Careful, JD.
You'll give Harry another heart attack.
Now...
I'll put that down to shock.
Only once.
Only once can I or shall I let you get away with that.
Your son's got three days to find half a mill.
But make up your mind which you prefer.
Your bar or your son.
It's gonna be easy.
There's no such thing as easy in my experience.
If you think it's going to be easy, you're a prick.
Though it might be easier than most.
What's that idiot doing next door?
We use your van. There's stairs up to the flat so we'll stick out like bollocks on a bulldog.
Plank goes in first. There's a cage but it's never locked, is it, Plank?
- Never. - It don't wanna be.
Right, once he's got himself set, he gets the rest of us in.
Now, we get nasty with a couple of them, shit them up, gag them, whatever.
Now, these wankers shouldn't give us any problems
but like any cowboys, there'll be a few tools lying around.
When the job's done, we come straight back here and unload.
And Robert's your father's brother.
- Everyone savvy? - Sweet.
We do it tomorrow at eight.
They'll lay about in bed till midday - lowest ebb and all that.
That's the way I like it.
Jesus.
Don't worry, we can manage this.
- And what do you want me to do? - I don't know, Soap.
Turn up and look mean.
- What do you mean, look mean? - You know, growl a bit.
Look, just look as if you know what you're doing.
Well, I can do better than that.
- Have a look at these. - And what are we supposed to do with these?
Put them on your head, stupid.
Christ!
If you think I'm gonna turn up there, clean-shaven and grinning,
you've got another thing coming.
These are your neighbors. I thought it might be a good idea to disguise ourselves.
Right. Er... yeah, good thinking, Soap. Well done.
- I brought weapons, as well. - Weapons? What do you mean, weapons?
- These. - Jesus! Let's keep them covered up, eh?
Couldn't you have got anything a bit bigger?
What, like that?
What do you think?
I think you need help.
Bar steward, can we have a couple of drinks, please?
Have you seen your dad? Hatchet sent one of his men round.
Oh, shit. When?
Crazy.
A good few years ago, your dad and Harry played brag together.
Now, JD is a better player but Harry is a shit and a cheat.
This game went on for about two days until your dad lost everything he had.
But Harry wanted more. He wanted to put your dad deep in debt
so he plays on and on until the stakes are a joke.
Harry's got some filthy little scam going on where he wants to put JD in trouble for years.
Harry turns over and...
he has got next to unbeatable cards.
Everyone falls over. Of course, they all hate Harry.
JD starts to weep. It's a real mess.
Harry starts laughing, he's cheering, he's doing a little jig.
Harry turns JD's cards over. JD by this time is crying proper tears.
I mean, this is next to pathetic.
We see the cards.
He's got three threes, the best possible cards,
and the only time I have ever seen them.
JD continues to cry but now it doesn't seem so pathetic.
Harry, he's had a heart attack.
JD's bought this place with the profits and he's never played cards since.
Harry's been looking to get revenge for all those years.
Now you have just given him his cue.
If Harry don't kill you, then your father will.
He is not a happy chappie, Ed.
- Yes? - It's happening tomorrow morning.
No fucking about, Ed. Get back here, now.
Where did you get these? A fucking museum?
Nick the Greek. Pow!
- How much did you part with? - 700 for the pair.
Drachmas, I hope.
I'd feel safer with a chicken drumstick.
These are gonna do more harm than good.
- Jesus, Tom. Do these work? - I don't know.
- They look nice, though. I rather like them. - That's top priority, that is.
Ladies! Back to more important issues, if you don't mind.
We have only got two real guns - apparently, that's what they are -
so we hide next door.
We wait for the right time, then we jack-in-the-box, look nasty and stuff,
cocoon them in gaffer tape, nick their van, swap the gear into the new van,
and bring it all back here.
We’ve just got to be out of our hiding places quickly.
Oh, and if anyone feels like giving them a bit of a kicking,
I'm sure it won't do any harm.
Yeah, little bit of pain never hurt anybody.
If you know what I mean.
Also, I think knives are a good idea.
Big, fuck-off shiny ones.
Ones that look like they could skin a crocodile.
Knives are good because they don't make any noise
and the less noise they make, the more likely we are to use them.
Shit 'em right up.
Makes it look like we're serious.
Guns for show, knives for a pro.
Soap, is there something we should know about you?
I'm not sure what's more worrying, the job or your past.
Come on, girls.
Where the fuck are they going? To shift a piano?
I thought this was meant to be a robbery.
Where'd they get those outfits?
Not a bad idea, that.
Come on, you fucking jellyheads, move it!
You've been up for two hours, you should've got somewhere by now.
The money and gear's got to be out by 12.
Who's that?
J, don't you dare open the door until you've used that cage. I'm serious.
Find out who it is first.
- Hello, can I help you? - It's Plank. Is Willie there?
No, I'm afraid he's out at the moment.
- Perhaps you can help. - Well, perhaps I can't, Plank.
If you know what I mean.
If you open the door so I can talk without shouting...
I can't help you, Plank.
- I think you'll find it is in your interest. - Hold on, OK?
Look, Willie, it's Plank for you. He's says it's in our interest.
Listen, I don't care if it's King-fucking-Kong.
He's not coming in here, not today.
Hold on. We are in business and, correct me if I'm wrong, that is business.
Corrected. That's a walking accident, that we can do without.
Jesus. He's OK.
He knows only to buy weights now. We're looking at at least a couple of thou.
What do you think, Winston?
Willie, this is the last time, all right?
But you and the money are going out the back. Let's clear this shit up.
- What, now? - Yes! Now!
- Just get rid of him quick. - All right, just coming.
What the fuck is he doing?
- Come on! I can't wait out here all day. - All right. Just coming.
I thought you was gonna leave me out there all day.
- I didn't know you were a removals man. - Lives and learns, don't you?
- Keep the gates locked now, do you? - Yeah. Got to do business like this now.
- Can't be too careful these days. - I know.
Shut it! You say a word, the right ear goes.
- What are you doing? - What do you think?
Oi, hang on, what are you doing? Unlock the gate! Unlock the fucking gate.
That's it, go, go, go!
- What the fuck's going on? - Hang on, I've got the keys.
The gate's locked. I don't believe the fucking gate's locked.
- What you done to Fauntleroy? - He just passed out.
Don't just stand there, get the fucking door shut.
What's going on down there?
Shit.
Charles,
get the rifle out - we're being fucked.
- It must be this one. - Hold that gun.
Give me the keys. Give me the keys.
Don't point it at me, point it in there!
Planks of wood. I'm working with fucking planks of wood.
What the fuck is that?
- What the fuck's that? - Me Bren gun.
Couldn't you bring something more practical?
I'll kill the fucking lot of you!
Who you gonna kill, Plank? There's no one fucking there.
- Ah! They fucking shot me! - Well, shoot them back!
Couldn't you have got smokeless cartridges? I can't see a bloody thing.
Ow! Shit!
- I've been shot. - Could everyone stop getting shot?
John, sit down and patch yourself up.
You tart, it's a fucking air rifle.
- What the fuck was that? - That was the Bren gun.
If you fire that again, you're a dead man.
- No ifs, no buts, you're dead. - All right.
Where's me fucking gun?
Right, now have I got your attention? Firstly, I'm gonna blow his toes off.
- Shit... - There go his toes.
Now, if you want me out of here in five minutes flat,
open the fucking gate 'cause I'm gonna blow his leg off.
They're gonna fucking kill us if we do, man.
J will get it if we don't. He's serious.
- I'm losing patience. Hurry up, girls. - All right. All fucking right.
Willie, he doesn't know you're here. Just... sort something out.
And all your friends, there's a good lad.
There's only three of us here.
- I don't believe you. His leg's going. - I mean it.
- There's only three of us. - Plank?
Yeah. One of them's out.
Now open the gate.
Up, up, up, there's a good lad.
John, get them tied up. Plank, where's the money?
There. In those shoeboxes.
- Where? - Out the back.
- And the weed? - Out the back.
- Point! - With what?
- Your fucking hands! Now! - I'm tied up.
Well, nod your head or something.
Check it out. Plank, get Paul out that van lively.
Ow!
Knife.
I'm gonna cut him. Make sure he knows he's dead.
- How you doing, Mick? - He's fucking nearly chopped me arm off.
Jesus Christ.
Gordon Bennett. What the fuck's been going on here?
Shut up, you idiot.
It's Hanukkah.
Well, have you got the bags? Can you fit it all in?
Well, it's a lot.
I can't get Epping Forest in the van.
Can't? I don't want to hear "can't". You'll fit it all in if you have to make two trips.
Bollocks.
You've got a ticket already and if you don't move it we will move it for you.
- I'll only be a minute. - You've already been 15.
Look. Come and have a look.
At what, exactly?
- Well, the van's half full. - So?
So, all I've got to do is fill it up, put you in it...
What?
...and I'm off.
Can you carry more than one bag this time?
I can't! My neck, Dog.
- How many more bags? - Just a couple.
Mick, you dead yet?
I'll be all right. Once I've dealt with that lanky prick.
Do it quietly.
It's time to say "Good night, nurse."
Where the fuck did she come from?
That is it. Tie her up, we're out of here.
- What you doing, Ed? - Do you want one?
No, I don't. You cannot make a cup of tea.
- The British Empire was built on cups of tea. - And look what happened to that.
And if you think I'm going to war without one, you're mistaken.
Going to war with what? Have you forgotten those guns, you dozy prat?
You won't get away with this.
Paul, what's that?
- It's a traffic warden. - What's it doing in the back of the van?
He was gonna call the cozzers.
Fair enough. We'll deal with him later.
How are we doing, Tom?
Right as rain. I'm just gonna take care of the cabs.
Keep us posted.
All right, mate? Do you do airports?
Where the hell are we gonna hide?
Don't complicate things. Just hide.
Ow! Fuck!
We're on.
- They weigh a pound or two. - Shut up and back up!
Spin round, big boy.
- What the fuck...? - Stay down! Stay down.
Tie them up, tape them up, hands and face.
On the floor!
Bend over the fucking desk.
Keys. I want keys, now.
- I'll find you. - 'Course you will, sweetheart.
- I'll find you. - What do you think this is? Hide and seek?
That one. Search that one.
Right. I'll see you in the van when you've finished with handsome, here.
Jesus, that wasn't too bad, was it?
When the bottle in my arse has contracted, I'll let you know.
Bacon, see what we've got.
Let's have a butcher's, eh?
We've hit the jackpot, lads.
We've got God knows how much of this stinking weed,
a shitload of cash...
...and a traffic warden. - What?
Jesus! Have we got a traffic warden?
I think he's still alive.
He's got claret coming out of him somewhere.
- What did they want with a traffic warden? - I don't know but we don't need him.
- Knock him out and dump him at the lights. - Knock him out?
- Knock him out with what? - I don't know! Use your imagination.
Ow!
Don't touch him up, knock him out.
I'll knock you out in a minute. You wanna knock him out, you knock him out.
I fucking hate traffic wardens.
It's about time you gave my young friends a visit, Chris.
Tomorrow's the day and mum's the word.
- Now, I can't have that, can I, Baz? - No, Harry, you can't.
I mean, it's a liberty.
And I can't have a liberty taken, can I, Chris?
No, Harry, you can't.
I mean, it's enough to give me the arsehole.
And I can't have the arsehole, can I, boys?
No, Harry, you can't.
Dead. I don't know who they fucking think they can be
but I'll find them, of course I'll find them.
I don't give a flying fuck who they think they are.
I'm gonna kill them. I'll peel them, I'll slice them.
I'll fucking hang, draw and quarter them!
All right, that's it. We're done. We're off.
You sure it's a good idea, taking this back to yours?
It's the last place they're gonna look. Anyway, fuck it, the war is won.
Now, Tom, you take this to Nick the Bubble and we get rid of it quick.
It's skunk and it's as good as it gets.
All right. We'll take it.
- Half price. - I don't think he'll like that.
You said three five a key and you know that's a good price.
It was yesterday I said three and a half and now it's today.
We'll take it tomorrow. Half price.
If he wants to get rid of it, he'll take it.
Now, look, I've got a race coming up in a minute, so if you’d just...
Lenny, take that round to Snow White and the three little chemists.
They should have a gander at that. I want a second opinion.
Hang on a minute, Nathan, something stinks.
Yeah, your fucking aftershave.
Fuck you, funny man.
For God's sake, help me!
I'm in pain! I'm in so much pain!
- Go in slowly, Nathan. - Fuck you, funny man. You go first.
Just get the fuck in there, will you?
I want this house searched for bugs. I mean, I want it stripped.
Even if there was a bug, they'd have taken it with them.
It's a bit late for you to start thinking, John. It's a possibility.
When you've stripped this place
I want every slag this side of Ceylon pulled in and tortured, badly.
I want to know who's responsible for this, otherwise I'm gonna hold you responsible.
Not a bad day.
That pile takes care of Harry.
- What's left over? - Give me half a chance to count it.
What about this gear, then, eh?
Oh, what? Anyone want a toke on that?
No, I don't think I want any of that horrible shit. Can we lock up and get drunk?
Look, we had the gates up but, I mean, they stuck a shotgun through.
And poor bloody J got shot. A right mess.
It will be more than your life's worth if you jest with me.
Some girl took one of them out. He was in a right two and eight.
We shot one of them in the, er... throat.
What do you want, a medal? I'll shoot you in the throat if I don't get my ganja back.
- The one you shot, is he still in there now? - Oh, no, it was another one.
That's more like it. Where is he?
Well, they took him with.
He's still alive.
What did you shoot him with? An airgun?
Look, we grow weed, we're not mercenaries.
You don't say.
Who could it be? Where do we start, Rory?
Mr. Breaker. Today, my name is Mr. Breaker.
You think this is a coincidence?
This white shite steals my things and thinks he can sell it back to me.
He's got less brains than you, Lenny.
Get Nick,
the greasy wop shistos pesevengi gamouri Greek bastard, round here now.
If he's still stupid enough to be on this planet.