Fancied himself as a property developer.
- Said he had big plans for Sandford. - Pissed on the floor in The Crown.
But more importantly, was a good friend and client of...
- Martin Blower. - Respected solicitor.
- Affirmatron. - Leading light of the local drama society.
- Bad actor. - Undoubtedly.
- Bad driver. - Not necessarily.
- Cheated on his missus. - Most certainly.
- And we both know who with. - Eve Draper.
- Blower's leading lady. Distinctive laugh. - True.
- Favored older men. - Fingered.
- Worked at? - Council.
- More specifically? - Department of Planning and Development.
Where George Merchant secured permission
to build his dubious mansion on Norris Avenue.
So...
Maybe they were all accidents. People have accidents every day.
- What are you two up to? - Nothing.
Well, look sharp.
- There's been reports of a fire in the station. - What?
Happy birthday to you
- Danny, why didn't you say something? - We were working, weren't we?
- Hey, where are you going? - Personal errand.
Hello, Miss Tiller.
I was wondering, do you have any Japanese Peace Lilies?
Of course.
I was just about to pop off, actually.
I can never find my scissors.
- Is this for someone special? - Yes. Yes, it is.
- Are you going somewhere, Miss Tiller? - Yes. I'm moving away.
And why the move, if you don't mind me asking?
- Well, just between you and I... - Yes?
- You know that fella who blew up? - George Merchant.
Well, George Merchant, God rest him, wanted to buy this land,
so he sends round his legal fella, Martin Blower, God rest him,
and I thought I might take them up on it.
I haven't really got that much family round here, save for Cousin Sissy.
So I thought I might take them up on the offer and move to Buford Abbey.
Would you like a card with this?
No, sorry, you were talking about the offer?
Well, it turns out that Martin Blower, God rest him,
knew where the new bypass road is going
because he was knocking off Eve Draper from the council, God rest her,
and then that reporter, God rest him, finds out about the route
and tells me this land's very valuable.
Ten times what George Merchant and Martin Blower, God rest them, offered me.
So, with them having passed on, I decided to sell it on myself
to some folks from the city that Martin, George and Eve,
God rest the lot of them, had been talking to.
Apparently, they want to build a big shopping center or something.
Of course, Cousin Sissy won't be too happy about that,
but as far as I'm concerned, Cousin Sissy can go and fuck...
Would you just excuse me, for just one second?
Stop!
In the name of the law!
Hang about, hang about.
You're saying this wasn't an accident?
Leslie Tiller was fucking murdered!
- What, just like Tim Messenger? - Yes!
- And George Merchant? - Yes!
- And Eve Draper? - Yes!
- And Martin Blower? - No, actually.
- Really? - 'Course he fucking was!
Thank you, Danny.
Oh, murder, murder, murder. Change the fucking record.
Thank you, Andy.
Come on, Sergeant, you've gotta accept it was just another nasty accident.
What are you suggesting?
That Leslie Tiller tripped and fell on her own shears?
Ben Fletcher fell on his pitchfork the other week.
Yeah, accidents happen all the time. What makes you think it was murder?
- Because I was there! - There's a point.
Why were you there?
I was buying Constable Butterman a Japanese Peace Lily for his birthday.
What absolute horseshit.
I chased a suspect from the scene. Innocent people don't run!
Here, maybe it was our old friend, the cactus thief.
Oh, yeah, he was a prickly customer, weren't he?
Am I going completely mad?
Maybe you are.
Maybe you did it.
Yeah, seeing as how you're such a big fan of murder.
- What the... - Sergeant Angel?
Yes! Sir.
Nicholas, Nicholas, Nicholas.
What am I going to do with you?
- Sir, you have to understand... - No, you have to understand.
The boys here aren't used to the concepts you're bandying about.
The "M" word, Nicholas.
There hasn't been a recorded murder in Sandford for 20 years.
But, sir, I'm certain.
And what's more, I know who did it.
Can I see the manager, please?
Mr. Skinner to the Manager's office. Manager's office. Mr. Skinner.
Sergeant Angel. And to what do I owe this pleasure?
Simon Skinner, I'm arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Leslie Tiller.
Leslie Tiller's dead? How?
She tripped and fell on her own shears.
I'm also arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Tim Messenger on May 1st,
of George Merchant on April 29th
and of Eve Draper and Martin Blower on April 28th.
- Why on earth would I do that, Sergeant? - I'm glad you asked.
My suspicions were first aroused when you appeared
at the scene of the Blower-Draper death, on the outskirts of Sandford,
despite the fact you live and work in the center of the village.
I couldn't help but recall your comments at the theater on the previous evening.
When you not only indicated an awareness of the couple's affair
but also inferred that Eve's connections at the council
might make her privy to important information.
You even spoke of "bashing her head in."
Perhaps hoping you might discover the route of the proposed Sandford Bypass.
You were already suspicious that George Merchant was buying up
a large area of land on the outskirts of Sandford,
after an article Tim Messenger wrote in the Sandford Citizen.
You see, the land Merchant was buying had little value in of itself but,
if it became accessible by road, it would be a prime location for say,
a retail park.
Consumed with concern for your business
and potential disloyalty from fickle customers,
you yourself expressed a wish to behead.
You killed the competition in cold blood.
Staging the murders as accidents.
You used a vehicle removal truck to stage the Blower-Draper death
and incinerated an old man in his own house.
Covering your tracks with the judicial application of bacon and beans.
However, there was a loose end.
Tim Messenger.
Splattered before he could share with me
what he told Leslie Tiller that very afternoon.
The true value of her land.
Upon discovering she was about to sell up to the developers,
you brutally murdered her with her own shears.
And made good your escape utilizing your impressive skills as a fun runner.
Very entertaining. But I rather think you've been watching too many films.
He hasn't.
Why would I kill Leslie? You clearly aren't aware that we're related.
Oh, but I am, "Cousin Sissy."
I'm afraid my nickname of Sissy is only a revelation to yourself.
My teenage years studying ballet are well known.
- Yeah, Sissy Skinner. - What a Gaylord.
Thank you, Andrews.
Now, despite my comments about "beheading" customers,
I personally relish the competition of another store.
Anything to energize my workforce.
And anyway, what makes you think I could dislodge part of the church roof?
Or for that matter, stage a car crash?
It's a well known fact that the church roof is in dire need of repair.
And isn't it true that two of your own employees
operate the vehicle removal service for the council?
Sergeant, this is the 21st Century.
Many people hold down several jobs.
I myself host a life drawing class at the Village Hall.
Tina here is a table dancer at Flappers.
Nevertheless, you could have utilized the vehicle removal truck for your own ends.
These accusations are quite meaningless, Sergeant,
unless you can back them up with hard evidence.
Well, you've got me there.
I'd need something conclusive.
Something that placed you at the scene of the crime.
Perhaps a wound you sustained on a piece of broken glass this very evening.
This very evening.
Sergeant, this is beginning to get embarrassing.
How could I possibly be in several places at once?
I'm sure the store's security footage will absolve me.
Do feel free to spool through.
I can handle this, Danny.
You might as well go back and just enjoy the rest of your birthday.
- Did you really get me that plant? - Yes, I did.
But it's been impounded as evidence.
Well, I mean, maybe Dad will still let me water it, eh?
Yeah.
Sergeant, I wanted you to know that
if I do indeed now own the land belonging to...
belonging to Leslie, that I intend to turn it into a memorial garden, in her honor.
Mr. Skinner, what you do with your land is of no concern of mine,
so jog on.
Michael, will you escort the Sergeant off the premises when he's quite finished?
Yarp.
I just can't believe Leslie's dead. How did it happen?
She tripped and fell on her own shears.
Hey, that weren't me.
Hey, look.
Look, Mr. Treacher's got his big coat on again.
- You want anything from the shop? - Cornetto.
- No luck catching them killers, then? - It's just the one killer, actually.
- What's the matter? You got brain-freeze? - No, I got brainwave.
Get us back to the station, now!
- It's more than one person. - Come again?
- It's more than one killer. - It was Skinner a minute ago.
Yeah, well, maybe it still is.
You know, maybe he's... Maybe he's not alone. Maybe there are others.
Nicholas, you're an exceptional officer. But I've seen this before.
- Sir? - Sergeant Popwell.
It was exactly the same thing.
You've come from a city where there's danger round every corner,
and it's driven you round the bend.
Yes, sir.
Do yourself a favor. Sleep on it.
And if you still feel the same in the morning, I give you my word, I'll get right on to it.
Hey. Hey, what's happening? What's going on?
Nothing, nothing. I'm just gonna go back to the hotel.
- I mean, do you want a lift? - No, no, I could do with a walk.
Hey, big one, playtime's over.
Michael?
Michael? Are you there?
Michael? Is everything okay?
Yarp.
Sergeant Angel's been taken care of?
Yarp.
He's not gonna get back up again?
Narp!
Good. Proceed to the castle.
Frank, this shit just got real.
Skinner just sent someone to kill me, and, now, now he's gone somewhere.
Up to the... To the castle, I think. I'm gonna... I'm gonna go after him.
Okay? It's Nicholas, by the way.
Oh, my God. What happened to your Peace Lily?
Danny. Danny, just stay here, okay? And watch him, and call your dad.
- Tell him I was right. - What are you gonna do?
- I'm gonna bust this thing wide open. - Nicholas, wait.
- You might need this. - Thanks, partner.
How could I possibly be in several places at once?
I just can't believe Leslie's dead. How did it happen?
You'll find that we run a very tight ship here.
Who could do something like this?
Seems like Mr. Merchant tried to have a little fry up and left the gas on.
Nasty way to go.
What happened, Danny?
No luck catching them killers, then?
No luck catching them...
Now, quick announcement before we begin.
Janet Barker has decided to call her boys Roger and Martin.
And the christening will be a week on Saturday and we're all invited.
- Tom. - Thanks, Joyce.
Now, you'll all be delighted to hear
that the tenacious Sergeant Angel has been taken care of.
Joyce will discover the Sergeant lying on the wet floor of his bathroom,
having slipped and tragically broken his neck.
So, with the dispatch of the Sergeant,
we will now be able to concentrate on the eradication of our hoodie infestation.
Quite right.
After which, nothing will stand in our way.
Oh, I beg to differ, Mr. Weaver.
Well, well, well, I see we have visitors.
Sergeant Nicholas Angel. Sandford Police Service.
My, he is tenacious, isn't he?
I'm arresting you under suspicion of conspiracy to commit murder.
Oh, come, come, Sergeant.
You should be ashamed.
- Calling yourself a community that cares. - Oh, but we do care, Nicholas.
It's all about the greater good.
The greater good.
How can this be for the greater good?
The greater good.
You see, as much as I enjoyed your wild theories, Sergeant,
the truth is far less complex.
Blower's fate was simply the result of his being an appalling actor.
Quite appalling.
You murdered him for that?
- Well, he murdered Bill Shakespeare. - What?
The Dramatic Society is an important feather in our cap.
Couldn't let Blower jeopardize that.
Not when we had two semi-professionals waiting in the wings.
Let's not forget that Greg was an extra in Straw Dogs.
And Sheree played a cadaver in Prime Suspect.
Yes, I know!
Martin was less concerned with the reputation of the village
than he was with his sordid affair with Eve Draper.
And so Eve deserved to die too?
Well, she did have a very annoying laugh.
Annoying.
- And, and George Merchant? - He had an awful house.
Awful.
We begged him in vain to make his residence
more in keeping with the village's rustic esthetic.
And what about Tim Messenger? What was his crime?
Tim Messenger's tenure as editor of the Sandford Citizen has been unbearable.
Our once great paper had become riddled with tabloid journalism.
Not to mention persistent errors.
- He listed her age as 55. - When, actually, I'm 53.
Fifty-three.
What, what about Leslie Tiller? One of your own?
Her horticultural expertise helped put Sandford on the map.
Oh, she was ever so good.
Cousin Leslie was a terrible shame.
But it seemed she was set on moving away.
We couldn't have her sharing her green fingers with anybody else.
Not least those heathens at Buford Abbey.
If we can't have her, no one can.
How can this be for the greater good?
- The greater good. - Shut it!
These people died for no reason. No reason whatsoever!
Oh, I wouldn't say that.
Hello, Nicholas.
I was like you once.
I believed in the immutable word of the law.
That is until the night Mrs. Butterman was taken from me.
You see, no one loved Sandford more than her.
She was head of the Women's Institute, chair of the floral committee.
When they started the Village of the Year contest,
she worked round the clock. I've never seen such dedication.
On the eve of the adjudicator's arrival, some travelers moved into Callahan Park.
Before you could say, "Gypsy scum," we were knee-deep in dog muck,
thieving kids and crusty jugglers.
Crusty jugglers.
We lost the title and Irene lost her mind.
She drove her Datsun Cherry into Sandford Gorge.
From that moment on, I swore that I would do her proud.
And whatever the cost, we would make Sandford great again.
Sir, this doesn't make any sense.
The adjudicators arrive tomorrow. We had to get everything ready.
Are you saying this is all about winning the Best Village Award?
This is the best village, Nicholas. You've seen the people.
- They're happy, contented. - They're living in a dream world.
Sergeant Popwell thought much the same as you.
I'm disappointed you can't see the bigger picture.
Well, I'm happy to disappoint you, sir.
And I'm afraid you're gonna have to come with me.
You are all gonna have to come with me.
No, Nicholas, I'm afraid it is you
who is going to have to come with us.
Danny, no.
Back off! Back off!
Or I swear to God, you'll be explaining how Danny tripped over
and accidentally cut off his own head.
Come on, Nicholas. You haven't got it in you.
I mean it!
Shit!
Gypsy scum. Travelers.
Thieving kids. Dog muck.
Crusty jugglers.
Crusty jugglers. Crusty jugglers.
Crusty jugglers.
There hasn't been a recorded murder in Sandford for 20 years.
There's a reason we accommodate a few of the younglings at the pub.
Spot of bother up at Ellroy Farm.
I'll make sure everyone gets their just deserts.
If we don't come down hard on these clowns...
We'll get round to it.
Danny!
Ta-da.
- What are you doing? - Saving your skin.
- This is murder! - It's not, it's ketchup.
I'm not talking about that, I'm talking about the others.
- What others? - The others the NWA have murdered.
- That's not true. - It is!
Dad just said it was his special club, he...
I thought it was about rapping people on the knuckles
- and sending them on their way. - There are skeletons back there!
I don't know nothing about no skelingtons.
- What did you think was happening? - Not this!
It's Frank.
He's appointed himself judge, jury and executioner.
- He's not Judge Judy and executioner. - He is!
- You've gotta help me take him down. - I can't.
He's my dad. Take my car.
Go back to London. There's nothing you can do.
I can come back.
I can come back, and I can bring the blue fury
of the Metropolitan Police Service with me.
They'll make it disappear. Who are they gonna believe?
My dad, or a loony London police officer.
But it won't be just me, will it?
We can do it together. You and me. Partners.
Forget it, Nicholas. It's Sandford.
Is that everything? Sir?
Sir? Sir?
- Is there anything I can do for you? - No.
This is something I have to do myself.
Another beautiful day in God's country.
Danny?
It's...
Mum!
What you gonna do?
Just walk in and arrest the whole village?
Not exactly.
Oh, Sergeant Angel? Someone from London called for you.
I'll tell them you'll ring them back.
- Well, that's funny. - What's that?
I didn't know we had a mounted division.
Nobody tells me nothing.
Wanna do something useful?
Annette, that Sergeant Angel's back. Check out his horse.
Roger that!
- It's... - Angel.
Morning.
That's what I'm talking about.
Still feel like you're missing out?
Fascist!
Hag!
Stop! Stop this, please!
Let us stop this mindless violence.
Nicholas, my son.
You may not be a man of God, but surely you're a man of peace.
I may not be a man of God, Reverend, but I know right, and I know wrong,
and I have the good grace to know which is which.
Oh, fuck off, Grasshopper.
No!
Jesus Christ!
Nicholas! Nicholas!
I thought you was a goner.
Drop your weapons!
- Dr. Hatcher, no! - Shut up, Danny.
I brought you into this world, I think it's rather fitting
I should be the one to take you out of it.
You and your interfering little friend.
Now...
drop them.
- You're a doctor, deal with it. - Yeah, motherfucker.
- Danny, let's roll. - What you thinking?
Pub?
Roy!
Somebody call the police!
Freeze!
Officers, arrest that man.
- Danny, step away from the Sergeant. - No, Dad.
Danny, you'll do as you're told.
I'm not taking orders from you anymore.
- Officers, arrest these men! - Wait, wait!
You can arrest us if you like.
You can throw us in prison and go back to being blind, submissive slaves.
Or you can be real police officers,
and help us bring an end to this absurd story.
What the fuck is he on about?
Fuck are you on about?
Have you ever wondered why the crime rate in Sandford is so low?
- And yet the accident rate, it's so high? - No. Yeah. What?
You've been brainwashed, Tony.
Brainwashed into naivety by an old man with a murderous obsession.
- This is ridiculous. - No, it's not, Dad. It's very unridiculous.
And it's only now that I'm starting to realize how unridiculous it all is.
Silence, Danny!
- Think of your mother. - Mum is dead, Dad.
For the first time in my life, you know, I'm glad.
If she could see what you've become,
I think she'd probably kill herself all over again.
Sorry, I am completely lost.
Sandford is a lie, Doris.
For the last 20 years, the village has been controlled by Frank and the NWA.
They've lulled everyone into thinking this is a perfect village
and killed anyone who's threatened to change that.
I reckon he's got something there.
He says, "He reckons you got something there."
I know.
You're not seriously gonna believe this man, are you?
Are you? He isn't even from round here.
Maybe it's time to give it up, sir.
You incompetent flatfoots!
Officer Walker, stay here with Saxon and hold everything down.
Fair enough.
Officers, let's go.
- What about Dad? - He'll come round again.
Want anything from the shop?
- What you thinking? - Well...
We should strike now, while we've got the element of surprise.
Longer we wait, more time they've got to mobilize.
I say we go in through the front entrance, take the place aisle by aisle.
They won't be expecting that.
Very good. What he said.
My, my. Here come the fuzz.
- Maybe they're not here. - Wait here.
- Don't go in on your own. - Don't worry, he knows what he's doing.
Okay. They're in.
You deal with the store. I'll deal with the trolley boy.
No, listen. Wait, wait, wait, Michael, wait, listen to me. Listen, listen.
Is this what you really, really want?
Yarp.
Suit yourself.
Go, go, go.
Oh, come on.
Andy!
It's all right, Andy. It's just Bolognese!
- How's Lurch? - He's in the freezer.
- Did you say, "Cool off"? - No, I didn't say anything, actually.
Shame.
There was a bit earlier on that you missed
when I distracted him with the cuddly monkey.
And then I said, "Playtime's over," and I hit him with the Peace Lily.
You're off the fucking chain!
- What's the situation? - Two blokes and a fuckload of cutlery.
What do you reckon?
Idea.
Good work, everyone.
- Nice one, Doris. - Nothing like a bit of girl on girl.
Fruit attack!
Can you handle this, Sergeant Fisher? We're gonna go after the big boss.
We're on it, Sergeant.
- Danny, let's rock. - Angel!
Don't go being a twat now.
I wouldn't give you the satisfaction.
- We should get down there. - How?
Skip.
- Head them off? - Fuck, yeah.
- I'll drive. - Shotgun! Punch that shit!
Bang! Bang!
Swan!
Stay back! Or the ginger nut gets it!
You little fucker!
Get out of my village!
It's not your village anymore.
- You did good, kid. - Ta.
- What's your name? - Aaron A. Aaronson.
Sorry?
Angel!
It's over, Danny.
It's over.
This really hurts.
I'm going to need some ice-cream.
Yeah, well, don't worry. There's plenty of ice-cream at the station.
Isn't that right, Danny?
Stay back!
- Pack it in, Frank, you silly bastard! - Now, now.
We don't want any more bloodshed.
Frank, this whole thing started because you lost somebody you loved.
Don't expect me to believe you'd let it end the same way.
I'll tell you how this is gonna end!
I feel like I should say something smart.
You don't have to say anything at all.
Satisfactory conclusion to the whole operation.
Now, my perfect Sunday would begin with...
What do you say, Nicholas?
We... We... We have been trying to reach you for days.
- Yeah, well, I've been kind of busy. - We need you back.
The figures have gone a little squiffy in your absence, it has to be said.
Come back to London.
Sandford's hardly a fitting place for such an exceptional officer.
Yeah, well, the thing is, sir.
I kind of like it here.
Besides, we have to do a considerable amount of paperwork.
- Fuck's sake, Nick, this is gonna take ages. - Yeah, it's gonna take all night.
Well, good job we've got the manpower, Andy?
Well, official vocab guidelines state that we say "staffing," not "manpower,"
'cause "manpower's" a bit sexist.
You don't mind a bit of manpower do you, Doris?
Oh, dirty bastard!
Andy!
You cheeky fucker!
You know what you are?
A bloody busybody!
No!
Oh, God, no!
Danny!
Oh, God.
Hold on, Danny, just hold on.
Hold on, it's gonna be fine. It's gonna be fine.
Just hang on, hang on!
Everything's gonna be fine.
Everything's gonna be just fine.
Hope these are okay.
Yeah. They're lovely.
- Any officers near the church? - Go ahead, Doris.
Chief, we've had a report of some hippy types
messing with the recycling bins at the supermarket.
- Leave it with us. - Righto.
Sergeant Butterman, little hand says it's time to rock and roll.
Bring the noise.