Three-card brag is a simple form of poker.
You get three cards only.
And these you can't change.
If you don't look at your cards, you're a blind man and you only put in half the stake.
Three of a kind is the highest you can get
but the odds are about 450 to 1 against getting any three.
Then there's running flush - you know, all the same suit, all in order.
Then there's a straight and a flush and a pair
and finally, whatever the highest card you've got.
Now, there are some telltale signs that can help
but it took me long enough to learn these, I'm not telling you.
But they can only help a player, not make one.
So... do you wanna play?
Sort the buyers from the spiers, the needy from the greedy
and those who trust me from those who don't.
'Cause if you can't see value here, you're not shopping, you're shoplifting.
You see these goods?
Never seen daylight, moonlight, Israelite, Fanny By The Gaslight.
Take a bag, take a bag.
I took a bag home last night, cost me more than ten pound.
Anyone like jewelry? Look at that.
Handmade in Italy, hand-stolen in Stepney,
as long as my arm, I wish it was as long as something else.
Don't think these boxes are empty. The only man who sells empty boxes is the undertaker.
By the look of you, I'd make more money with me measuring tape.
One price, £10.
- Did you say£10? - Are you deaf?
- I'll take one. - Squeeze in if you can.
Left leg, right leg, they call it walking.
You want one as well, darling? You do? That's it, they're waking up.
Treat the wife, treat somebody else's wife. It's a lot more fun if you don't get caught.
You want one? Show me a bit of life, then. Don't stand there like one o'clock half struck.
You better buy 'em. These are not stolen.
They just haven't been paid for and we can't get them again, they've changed the locks.
No good coming back later when I've sold out.
"Too late, too late" will be the cry when the man with the bargains has passed you by
and you'll be crying tears as big as October cabbages.
Bacon! Cozzers!
Shit!
Ed can hustle a few quid but his real talent lies in cards
and gambling with cards.
Bacon could see that his days of selling moving goods are numbered.
It's time to move on and he knows it.
- Six foot one, that's perfect for my height. - Thirty-two? You're catching up with me.
- What you talking about? I'm skinny, pal. - Course you are. All right, Ed?
Nick the Greek. Tom, what have you been eating?
- I've been telling him... - Enough already.
You two, join me in my office.
- Soer... how much is it? - You know how much it is.
- And that includes the amp? - No. That does not include the amp.
- Shit, Tom. I thought it included the amp. - Well, it doesn't.
I'll throw in one of these telephones but it does not include the amp.
Very nice. I hope it includes the speakers.
It doesn't include the speakers, it doesn't include the amp
and it doesn't include me getting the hump with your questions. You want it, you buy it.
- What else do I get? - You get a Rolls if you pay for it.
Dunno, Tom. Seems expensive.
Seems. Well, this seems to be a waste of my time.
That is 900 nicker in any shop and you're complaining about 200?
What school of finance did you study? It's a deal, it's a steal,
it's sale of the fucking century.
- In fact, fuck it, Nick, I think I'll keep it. - All right, all right, keep your Alans on.
- Here's a ton. - Jesus Christ!
You could choke a dozen donkeys on that and you're haggling over £100?
What do you do when you're not buying stereos? Finance revolutions?
- £100 is still £100. - Not when the price is £200, it's not.
And not when you've got Liberia's deficit in your sky-rocket.
Tighter than a duck's butt. Let me feel the fiber of your fabric.
The skinny one is Tom and he's the entrepreneur of the bunch.
He's got a couple of dirty little fingers in a couple of dirty little pies.
Nick, however, has made it his business
to have all 20 fat little fingers and toes in every dirty bent and stolen pie in London.
Between the two of them, there ain't much you can't get hold of.
That's my 25 grand. It's all there.
I had to earn that, so you treat it with respect.
What about the chef?
What have you come as?
Cupid, stupid.
That's the last time I'm getting any fruit off of you. Call that fresh?
There was more small hairy-armored things in your fruit than there was fruit.
You should open a butcher's.
If you will order stuff from Katmandu, don't be surprised if it picks up a few tourists.
Anyway, enough about that. Where's the money?
Oi! Keep your fingers out of my soup!
Soap is called Soap because he likes to keep his hands clean of any unlawful behavior.
He's proud of his job and even more proud that it's legal.
He represents the more sensible side of the four.
- You sure you can afford 25? - That depends on how you look at it.
I can afford it as long as I see it again.
- Got the rest from the fat man and Bacon? - The fat man, Bacon and myself.
Looks like it's time to make that call to Harry.
Who's this fat man, then, eh?
- Eh? - Do you want a sandwich, Bacon?
It's not easy to take a seat at this card table.
The amount of money involved has to be 100 grand upwards
and there's no shortage of punters.
The man who decides whether you can play or not is this man, Harry.
Or as some, including himself like to call him, Hatchet Harry.
You got it all?
- 100 grand. - Well, if you’ve got it, you've got it.
Now, if you don't mind.
What's this Eddie like, then?
He's a fucking thief.
Harry has a colleague, a monster of a man, Barry the Baptist.
The Baptist got his name by drowning people for Hatchet.
- Are you gonna fucking pay? - Yeah, I'll pay!
Barry makes sure the administrative side of the business runs harmoniously.
The boy's got a rare ability.
He seems to make cards transparent. He's got...
- All right, all right. So we can say he's good. - He's better than good.
- He's a fucking liability. - Here, hold on.
What do you think of these? We're selling hundreds.
Very nice, Harry. What's it for?
Don't play the innocent, Bazzer. Spanking!
That's 25 from me, Tom, Soap and yourself - that's 100 grand to the pound.
- So why the fuck are you counting it? - 'Cause I like to.
A reasonable return should be in the region of 120 grand.
That's for 25 grand invested, going on previous experience.
Going on optimism.
Whatever. It should be enough to send you on a cooking course.
You're not funny, Tom. You're fat and look as though you should be but you're not.
Who are you calling...?
Jesus! It's good in here, innit?
Handy for the Tube, great electrics.
Don't knock it. It's cheap. Like the budgie.
And nobody wants to live next to the people we live next to.
- Antisocial to say the least. - What do you mean?
He means they're thieving bastards.
I mean, when they're not picking peanuts out of poop,
they rip off unfortunate souls of their hard-earned drugs.
Not exactly thick, these walls.
Nice work. Get yourself a drink.
- Is that it? - How many times do I have to tell you?
You find us a job worth doing, you'll find your share improving.
Now, have you got a problem with that? Charlie...
You know, Charles, this gear is getting heavier.
I've a strong suspicion we should've been rocket scientists
or... Nobel Peace Prize winners or something.
Peace Prize?
Be lucky to find your penis for piss tonight if you keep smoking.
Who the hell's that?
All right, Willie?
Does it look like I'm all right?
Take this.
I'm in danger of breaking sweat at any second.
Charles, why have we got that cage?
Er... security?
That's right. That's right. Security.
So what's the point in having it if we’re not gonna fucking use it?
Well, I would've used it, Winston, but this is Willie and Willie lives here.
Yes, Charles, but you didn't know it was Willie until you opened the door, did you?
Chill, Winston!
It's me. Charlie knows it's me. What's the problem?
The problem is, Willie, that Charles and yourself are not the quickest of cats,
so just do as I say and keep the fucking cage locked!
- What is that? - That's Gloria.
Yes, I know that's Gloria. What's that?
Er... fertilizer.
You went out six hours ago to buy a money counter
and you come back with a semiconscious Gloria and a bag of fertilizer?
Alarm bells are ringing, Willie.
- We need fertilizer, Winston. - Mm-hm. We also need a money counter.
This money's got to be out by Thursday. I'm buggered if I'm gonna count it.
Oh, and if you do have to buy sodding fertilizer,
could you be a little more subtle?
What do you mean?
We grow copious amounts of ganja, yeah?
Yeah.
And you're carrying a wasted girl and a bag of fertilizer.
You don't look like your average horti-fucking-culturalist.
That's what I mean, Willie.
- How long's he been in there, son? - About 20 minutes.
- Is he on his own? - Yeah. He's carrying a bag.
Let's pay him a little visit, then, shall we?
Big Chris settles debts for Harry.
The only thing he cares more about than an unsettled debt
is his son and heir, Little Chris.
This is one of them high-power jobs, innit?
Oh!
- I've got some bad news for you, John. - What the fuck...?
- You mind your language in front of the boy. - Jesus Christ!
That includes blasphemy, as well.
Now, tell me, John. How can you be concentrating on improving this lovely tan -
and it is a lovely tan, by the way -
when you've got more pressing priorities at hand?
Tell Harry...
Did I say speak?
And it's Mr. Harry to you.
Now, don't disappoint me. Choose your words very carefully.
You may now...
...speak.
Tell Harry- I mean, Mr. Harry- I've been busy. I'm nearly there.
Check his locker, son.
I don't suppose there's any chance of you lifting this sunbed up?
He's not poor. He's got over a monkey just in his wallet.
Fucking hell, John. Do you always walk around with that in your pocket?
Oi! You use language like that again, son, you'll wish you hadn't.
- Sorry, Dad. - Right, well, put the rest of the stuff in that.
You can go home in a plastic bag tonight.
You owe what you owe and by the time this tan's faded
you wanna have paid.
- You never wanna pay. - Who would pay for shit?
Yeah, exactly, I mean...
- Well, what the hell are you doing here? - Why, what's up?
Let me guess. My foot in your arse.
Game of cards? Hatchet Harry?
You're supposed to be getting your rest in, boy.
You playing cards tonight, son?
- With Harry? - Oh, don't be silly, Dad.
I wouldn't have anything to do with that.
Where did he get 100 grand?
He's got some adhesive mates, they're like brothers. They've tossed up between them.
And JD is his dad and owns the whole property?
No mortgage, no debts - lock, stock, the fucking lot.
Don't you worry, Harry, I've got it under control.
Good. You can get this under control now.
Lord Appleton-Smythe has run out of money and these beauties are up for auction.
But I'm not paying a quarter of a million quid,
if you know what I mean, Barry.
Make sure we get everything from inside the gun cabinet.
I don't want to know who you use as long as they're not complete muppets.
And don't tell them what they're worth, Barry.
- Right, where was we? - Shotguns?
What, like guns that fire shot?
Oh, you must be the brains. That's right. Guns that fire shots.
Make sure you bring everything from inside the gun cabinet.
There'll be a load of old guns, that's all I want.
Everything else outside the cabinet, you can keep. It's yours.
Oh, thank you very much. There'd better be something there for us.
It's a fucking stately home. Of course there'll be something there.
- Like what? - Like fucking antiques.
Antiques? What the fuck do we know about antiques?
- We rob post offices. - And steal cars.
What the fuck do we know about antiques?
If it looks old, it's worth money - simple.
So stop fucking moaning and rob the place.
So who's the guv? Who are we doing this for?
You're doing it for me is all you need to know.
You know because you need to know.
I see. One of those on a "need to know" basis things, is it?
Like one of those James Bond films.
Careful. Remember who's giving you this job.
Right, I'm off. Call me when you're done. Ta-ra.
Fucking Northern monkeys.
I hate these fucking Southern fairies.
Ed has been playing cards since he could lift them up
and he discovered he had an advantage.
It's not that he's good with cards or even good at counting them.
It's that he's good with reading people's reactions, no matter how subtle.
And everybody has reactions.
- Especially when it comes to money.
- Invitations. - Invitations?
Yeah, invitations. You know, four pretty white pieces of paper with your names on.
We've got 100,000 bits of paper with the Queen's head on. Will that do?
All right, just you. The others, they can wait next door in Samoan Jo's.
Samoan Jo's? You mean the pub. Hold on. They...
Hold onto your fucking tongue and I will hold onto my patience, OK, sonny?
No one in here tonight but card players and I do mean no one.
Evening, Frazer. Don, Phil.
It's a bit dramatic, innit? Is this supposed to be symbolic?
Apparently it's for security.
Yeah? I'd've brought me gloves if I'd've known.
You must be Eddie, JD's son.
You must be Harry.
Sorry, didn't know your father.
Never mind, son. You just might meet him if you carry on like that.
Evening, Tanya. Been a while.
All right, Ed.
- Right. We call each other Kenny, OK, Gary? - All right, Kenny.
You gonna put your stocking on or what?
I just spent 220 quid on me hair. I'm not pulling a stocking over it.
You're gonna have to put something on.
This is three-card brag, gentlemen,
that means three threes are the highest, then three aces,
then running down accordingly.
Then it's a running flush, a run, a flush and then a pair.
An open man can't see a blind man
and it will cost you twice the ante to see your opponent.
Now, don't fuck around. You know the rules and you know I won't stand for it.
Can I have three of your most refreshing drinks, please?
- How comes we end up in here? - I dunno.
But I don't think I mind.
...he's got past his marker...
- You sure you've got that TV up loud enough? - Leave it out, Bacon. He looks like a loony.
What are you doing? Put that back! We're here to rob the guns.
Put it back. It's crap, anyway.
Come on. Come'ead.
800.
Did you like that, did you, son?
When my knees stop knocking, I'll live with it.
400, blind.
Listen, ladies, this is cards.
Men play cards.
If you wanna talk soft, go to the fucking hairdressers,
so shut it and play.
- I'll fold. - 1,000, open.
What sort of pub's this, then?
It's a Samoan pub.
- What's that? - It's a cocktail. You asked for a cocktail.
No. I asked you to give me a refreshing drink.
I wasn't expecting a fucking rainforest.
You could fall in love with an orangutan in that.
You want a pint, go to the pub.
- I thought this was a pub. - It's a Samoan pub.
Whatever. Can you get your man to turn the TV down?
You can ask him. I'd leave him well alone.
Here, get rid of that. Bring us a Diet Coke.
Excuse me. Can you turn that TV down?
No.
Ooooh!
2,000.
2,000, blind.
You what? Two grand blind?
You've been eating too much British beef, mate. You're bonkers, mad.
Well, are you gonna play?
Fucking right I'm gonna play.
Three grand - there.
Four thousand's an open man. You know that.
You do know how to play this game, don't you, Donald?
The reason I've only put in half the ante is because I don't know what I've got.
Now, you play or you fold.
- Fold. - Fold?!
Is that the only word they taught you at school, Donald?
No, Phil.
They also taught me the word "cunt".
Whoa! Whoa, Kenny! What are you doing?
I am trying to find out where they keep their money!
You twat. Can't you see these people have got no money?
They can't even afford new furniture.
We've got the guns. What's the matter with you?
Everytime we do a job, you have to go burning people's feet.
You wanna be more careful, old fella.
You nearly took my man's head clean off with that.
You all right, Kenny?
Kenny?
Ten grand, blind.
Twenty grand, open.
The deep end, eh? Fold.
Gotcha.
20 grand, open.
I fold.
Don't go spending that all at once, boy.
Cor. Bloody hell.
- What? - You said there'd be no staff, Barry.
- Did you get those guns? - You wanna see what they did to Gary.
Gary! Gary!
I said, did you get those guns?
Yes! We got them!
Good. I'll speak to you later.
Fucking Scouse cunts.
Gary, if you can hear me, get back in the car now, mate, OK?
Barry? Barry!
Fucking sodding shandy-drinking bastard.
Gary!
Give me my money! Give me back my money!
Give it back!
Wankers!
Fucking hell! Come on! Not now, please!
Oh, you fucking bastard.
Fuck... you bastard.
Oh, my good God. We'll take you to the cleaners.
20 grand, open.
30,000. Back to you already, Eddie.
50 grand.
80 grand.
- 100 grand. - Whoa, whoa, whoa.
- Look, fellas, I know... - I know you’re not in,
which means no one cares what you know.
250.
That's quite a raise.
That's 150 on my 100.
Yeah. Is there anything else you want to say?
As you know, this puts us in an awkward position.
I don't have enough to continue.
We will have to see both your cards if no one loans Eddie the money.
It's a loan or we see both your cards.
I will.
You will what?
I will loan you the money.
No, I think I'd rather just turn them over.
I'm not interested in what you would rather. I want to keep going.
I'm also offering you the money.
So we don't have to turn them over because you can borrow.
I need 250 grand.
No. You need 500 grand to see me.
That's if I want to see you.
Well, you're gonna have a problem carrying on, ain't you?
I'll see you.
For half a million?
Unless you're gonna accept 20 quid.
You still got a sense of humor.
That's not monkey nuts, son.
You can still fold.
I'll see you.
OK. Before I loan you this, I expect - if you lose, of course -
my money back within a week. Crystal?
That's Sunday, OK?
- Is that it? - Now let's see his fucking cards.
Hello, boy. Feeling a bit poorly?
I know your friends are responsible for most of the cash,
so I'm gonna give you one week to find it.
Otherwise, I will take a finger of each of you and your friends’ hands
for every day that passes without payment.
And then when you've run out of digits,
your dad's bar and who knows what then?
All right, my son?
This doesn't look good.
He then proceeded to explain the unfortunate position they were in.
Harry was going to start sizing up all their fingers in a week
because he knew there was no way Ed could settle that debt on his own.
Harry saw it as their money on the table so it was also their debt.
Ed could've kissed the old bastard for that.
If he'd said he wanted to settle the debt on his own, it would've been a lie.
I wish to Christ he would've let me settle the debt on my own.
- I'm gonna kill him. - Stop fucking about, Tom.
And think about what we're gonna do. Now, sit down.
What's all the fuss about, Harry? Why don't we just boycott the payment?
Let me tell you about Hatchet Harry.
Once there was this geezer called Smithy Robinson who worked for Harry.
It was rumored that he was on the take.
Harry invited Smithy round for an explanation. Smithy didn't do a very good job.
Within a minute, Harry's lost his rag, reached out for the nearest thing at hand,
which happened to be a 15-inch black rubber cock.
He's then proceeded to batter poor Smithy to death with it.
Now, that was seen as a pleasant way to go.
Hence, Hatchet Harry is a man you pay if you owe.
Don't worry. I'll think of something.
Golf. The best way to spoil a good walk.
Winston Churchill said that.
I say it's a dog-eat-dog world
and I've got bigger teeth than you two.
I think he's trying to tell us something.
Perhaps not. Perhaps I should take another swing just to make sure.
- Give me a five-iron, John. - Certainly, Dog.
Now keep still.
Yes, Gordon? Is there something you'd like to tell us?
- It's in the fireplace. - Shut it, you idiot, he'll kill...
- Yes, Gordon? - It's in the fireplace.
Just pull it out. It's in the bottom.
It's in the fireplace, Plank. Just pull it out. It's in the bottom.
Oh, Dog, you'll want to have a look at this.
- You gonna let me down now? - Nah. I'm not finished with you yet.
Steel.
Help! Help! Help!
Oh, Dog!
You have to decide who the winner...
Who the hell's that? It's only 12 o'clock.
Use the cage, that's what it's there for.
Who is it?
We have got security for a reason, Willie.
Chill, Winston.
It's only Plank.
This weed's getting quite a rep, you know, fellas.
All right. Easy.
Jesus!
Never saw you there. Hello, love.
Enjoying yourself?
- Is she compos? - What do you think?
Boo!
- Fuck me! - Clean that up, Charles.
- Sod you. You clean it up. - That stupid cow scared the life out of me.
Never mind. Can you, er... just sit down? Stay out the way?
Look, how much is it you want?
I'm, er... after a halfweight.
Right, well, that's 1,500, then.
Pass the scales, Willie.
Give us some gear, J.
Any chance of actually seeing the money?
The odds are 100-1.
All we need is five grand.
I'd rather put my money on a three-legged rocking-horse.
The odds are 100-1 for a good reason, Bacon. It won't win.
Where's Eddie?
Where do you think? The bottom of a bottle and has been for two days.
- It's hit him hard. - Yeah, it's hit us all hard.
- He's got to tell his dad he's losing his bar. - Listen to this one.
You open up a company called Arse Ticklers Faggots Fan Club.
- You what? - You take out an advert in some gay mag
advertising the latest in arse-intruding dildos.
You sell it with, I don't know, "Does what no other dildo can do until now,
the latest and greatest in sexual technology, guaranteed results," all that bollocks.
Now, these dills cost 25 quid a pop.
That's a snip for the amount of pleasure they're gonna give the recipient
but they send their cheques to the other company name - nothing offensive, er...
Bobby's Bits or something - for 25 quid.
You take that 25 quid, you stick it in a bank until it clears.
Now this is the smart bit.
You send back the cheque for £25 from the other company name,
Arse Ticklers Faggots Fan Club,
saying we're sorry and we couldn't get the supplies from America.
Now you see how many people cash that cheque. Not a single soul.
Because who wants their bank manager to know they tickle arse?
- How long do you have to wait for the return? - Four weeks.
A month? So what fucking good is that if we need it in six - no, five days?
- Well, it's still a good idea. - All right. I've got one for you.
Look, he set us up, right?
Which means he put money into us, which means he expects some money out.
Don't have to be an economist to work that out.
He may know we smoke a lot and burn a bit of profit
but he can't have any idea how much hard currency we've accumulated.
I don't know. Do you know?
We can just slice it off the top.
You guys've got to realize who this chap is.
He might look a bit silly but he's a fucking lunatic.
If he gets the slightest inkling we're not throwing straight dice,
then you and me are gonna know what the sharp side of a kebab knife feels like.
Yeah, but I mean, we're in this for the cash however it comes.
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.
Your stupidity might be your one saving grace.
- Uh? - Don't "uh" me, Greek boy.
How is it your fucking stupid, soon-to-be-dead friends
thought that they might be able to steal my cannabis and then sell it back to me?
Is this a declaration of war? Is this some white cunts' joke that black cunts don't get?
'Cause I'm not fucking laughing, Nicholas.
I have three interests in life, Nick.
No, four.
Football, music, money and the annihilation of anyone that interferes in that shortlist.
I know you couldn't have known my position
'cause if you did, you wouldn't have turned up here scratching your arse
with that "What's going on here?" look slapped all over your Chevy Chase.
But what you do know is where these people live.
If you hold back anything, I'll kill you.
If you bend the truth, or I think you're bending the truth, I'll kill you.
If you forget anything, I'll kill you.
In fact, you're going to have to work very hard to stay alive, Nick.
Now, do you understand everything I've said?
Because if you don't, I'll kill you.
Now, Mr. Bubble and Squeak,
you may enlighten me.
- So we've got a bit of a problem, haven't we? - Oh, well, yeah, we do.
In fact, it's a bit more than a bit of a problem.
You could say it's the Mount-fucking-Everest of problems.
And the reason it's such a mon-fucking-strosity of a problem
is you haven't got the first idea who did this, have you?
Dog, we've been up all night. We've had them all lined up against the wall.
- If they was from round here, we'd know. - We'd know.
You'd know? You'd fucking know? You wouldn't know if it was the fucking neighbors!
Now, get out there and find them! I'm sick of the fucking sight of you!
You little shit!
Scarface.
I've watched Scarface.
You want to know how to do a drug deal, you watch Scarface.
- That really inspires confidence, that. - This guy Rory Breaker.
Rory Breaker? Psychotic black dwarf with an Afro?
- That'd be the same man, yes. - I heard about him.
- He's a fucking lunatic. - Well, he can afford to do the deal.
He won't give us any trouble 'cause we'll be a pain in the arse.
- I'd take a pain in the arse for £500,000. - You'd take a pain in the arse for Air Miles.
- The fatter you get, the sadder you get. - Will you two stop flirting?
After we pay Hatchet, this deal puts us up nearly £200,000 each.
That's not bad for a morning's work, I think you'll agree.
- So they had the cash. - And the puff.
Cheeky bastards. Count it.
Shit, Dog, there's a lot.
Don't you want to do it next door?
We're not going next door till we've flayed them dead men walking.
We'll count it upstairs. I don't want them to see you when they walk in.
But, Dog, look...
Give us it here, dozy bastard.
Check your guns, get yourselves well hid.
You wait till they get right inside the door.
Then you give it them.
Give me them shooters, you can use your own.
- Yeah? - That's no way to answer the phone.
- Is that you, Dean? - No, it's Lord-fucking-Lucan.
- Who'd you think it is? - What can I do for you?
- Those guns I sold you? I need them back. - Not likely. I won't be seeing them again.
- I've got the money to pay for them. - I don't think you understand.
I ain't seeing them or the guns again.
- Can't get them. - So we can't get them.
You'll have to fucking get them.
We made a deal for everything inside the cabinet.
Inside, out-fucking-side, I don't give a shit.
- You get those guns, because if you don't... - Yeah, Bazzer, or what?
Have you heard of Harry Lonsdale? Otherwise known as Hack You Up With A Hatchet Harry?
Well, this is James Bond, need-to-know time.
When you dance with the devil, you wait for the song to stop,
know what I mean?
I mean, find them, torture them and kill them.
And bring back what belongs to me.
Because if you don't, your family’s bang in trouble.
- Who was that? - That was Harry Horrible Hatchet.
- Jesus, I've heard of him. - We're in shit.
They were his fucking guns we sold. We've got to find them.
Now, no fucking about now, Nick. Where can I find those guns?
Six black cocks and a little white kitten sitting on the side of the road.
We're gonna do a proper decoration job.
I want the grey skies of London illuminated. I want that house painted red.
All right. There's this brass standing on the corner, right.
Dwarfwalks up to her carrying a suitcase.
Winston there is going to come along and see if he recognizes any of them.
Now watch out for these fellas.
They've got a bit of an arsenal and they don't mind using it.
...and I'm taking down her panties...
Does everyone know what they've got to do?
Yeah.
What the fuck is going on?
You got something here for me, have you?
Come on. Chop-chop.
Thank you very much.
- He's got the guns. Go ahead, you get them. - Why me?
- You're the hard case. - You get them. I drive the car!
Here you go, boy.
- Get the fucking guns! - I'm not gonna get the fucking guns!
- You fucking shithouse... - Nah, nah, nah...
Right, wrap them guns up, count the money...
...and put your seatbelt on.
...fucking guns! - We get them or we're dead.
So I made sure I fucked the one that was coughing.
You yuppie fucker!
Aaah!
- He's the one we shot in the neck. - Is that right, Mr. Botanical?
Jesus!
I don't believe this. What the fuck has happened here?
Jesus!
The money, the gear...
This is fucked. No money, no weed.
It's all been replaced by a pile of corpses.
All right, don't panic.
- Let's think about this. - No, fuck that.
You can think about it. I am panicking and I'm off.
Hello, John. Nice holiday?
Yeah, terrific, Chris. I got sunstroke and concussion thrown in for an extra grand.
Sounds like a good deal.
- You're not complaining, are you, John? - No, mate. I'm taking the family next year.
Fair play to you.
- That you, Chris? - Harry.
- How did you get your hands on these, then? - The boys had them.
I know you like these sort of things, wondered if you wanted them.
Yeah, I'll have them.
- Was it hard work getting the money? - Not especially.
Upset a few characters, though.
- You counted it? - Yeah, it's all there, to the pound.
- And they were gonna pay? - Looks like it. But who knows.
The opportunity was there. In my experience, it's best to take that opportunity if it's there.
Good work, Chris.
- We've got to get those guns. - We don't even know who lives there.
I don't care who lives there. All's I know is that it's preferable to death by hatchets.
Fair enough. Let's go.
I don't think it's the right move.
It's either that, the old boy's place and we lose a digit daily.
- I'm gonna phone him. - As if he'll care.
He'll care all right. That was his money.
Whether he cares about us or not is different. Pass me the phone.
Yeah? Oh, that you, boy?
It's Ed, if that’s what you mean.
- Pay-day, isn't it? - Yeah. I wanted to talk to you about that.
I'll bet you do.
I got half a million nicker sitting here, which means some poor sod doesn't.
You've been upsetting a few people, boy, but that really isn't my concern, is it?
What does concern me is the guns you had.
I want to talk to you about that.
So get your arse over here now. And I do mean now.
Bastard! You fucking bastard!
You fucking bastard!
What the fuck are you doing here?
Ah!
Job well done. I made a few quid out of that one.
- Son? - Made a few quid, did you?
Where's what I want?
- You all right down there, mate? - Very fucking funny.
- Where's what I want? - I've just left it in the office.
Well, we'd better go and get it, if you want your son to see his next birthday.
Now chop-fucking-chop.
All right. Fair enough.
Where are you going?
It's a 30-second drive or a 5-minute walk.
And I couldn't have parked outside. I'd have got a ticket.
- I suppose that don't matter now, does it? - Just be careful.
Right.
- You and me. - You and who?
You know where the door handle is, Tom.
Oh, no, not again.
That's it. I'm off.
Tom, that is our bag.
- Ed! - Hold on!
This is our bag.
- That's it, we're off. - I'm gonna take these guns.
- Tom, don't fuck about. - I'll see you in the car.
It'll only take a minute.
- What is going on? - I don't know.
But what I do know is there's no more Harry.
Which means there's no more debt
and if there’s no more debt, there's no more problem.
And there's no problem with the neighbors because they're all dead
and I think, if I get this right,
we haven't done anything wrong and we're in the clear.
Never, ever
has anyone
been as fucking rude to me
as you have!
You all right, mate?
Cheeky bastard.
This was an embarrassing position for Tom to be in,
but Chris had to respect the fact
that he was holding what appeared to be loaded shotguns.
And Tom had to respect the fact that they were not loaded
so without anybody losing too much face, Tom left through a side-door
and Chris left with the money and everybody else got arrested.
Odds, chaps. Gotta remember the odds.
Hope I'm not interrupting.
I need to know. What's going on, son?
He's not one of them.
Your dad'd like a word with you, Ed.
- Where are the others? - They got out yesterday, they're at the bar.
- All right, Dad? - I'm all right. How about yourself?
Oh, I'm all right.
- I could do with a drink, though. - All in good time, all in good time.
So, you in the clear? More importantly, am I?
- It appears so. - Appears?
You'll have to do better than fucking appears, my friend.
Well, everybody's dead, Dad, I think that’s about as clear as it can get.
- How about that drink? - You know where the bar is.
Eh?
Don't make yourself too comfortable. Alan's got to sit there.
Alan!
You're lucky you're still breathing.
Let alone able to walk.
I suggest you take full advantage of that fact.
...before he pays. It's in all our interest.
All right, lads? How's it going?
- How you doing, Soap? Still cooking? - Yeah, you know...
How about the girls?
What about your diet?
Where's that son of mine?
You took your time. Where the hell have you been?
Sit down, I'll tell you.
So the traffic warden identified the neighbors' bodies,
which sort of puts us in the clear.
The only thing connecting us with the case is those shotguns.
And Tom took care of them.
You did take care of the shotguns, didn't you, Tom?
- I wanted to talk to you about that. - Well, talk.
Well, actually, no.
They're in the car. I was gonna sell them back to Nick the Greek.
- You dippy bastard. - So,
the only thing connecting us with the case
is in the back of your car which is parked outside?
They cost us 700 quid. I'm not gonna throw them away.
And they're hardly likely to trace them back to us, are they?
Do you really think it's worth taking the risk for £700?
Tom, you're a dick.
Now, you take those guns and you throw them off a bridge.
- And throw yourself off while you're at it. - Now, Tom.
- Look, all I'm... - Now, Tom!
- Can I have a beer, please, Dad? - I'm busy, get it yourself.
It seemed Hatchet underestimated you lot
and it seems to have cost him.
I ain't going to make the same mistake, am I?
So I've decided to bring your bag back.
I think the words you're looking for, gentlemen, is, "Thank you."
Thank you.
Now, you've presented me with a problem.
I've lost my employer.
So I've taken care of myself and my son.
Now, if you think that's unfair, you come and pay me a little visit
but you better be waving a white flag, high and clear,
so's I can see it,
or it'll be the last little visit you ever make.
You understand?
That's all I've come to say.
There is one more thing.
It's been emotional.
We are now officially in the money-lending business. All right, son?
Put your seatbelt on. We're out of here.
It's empty.
What's his number?
Don't, don't, you'll jam the line. I'll call him.
- The fucking battery! - You muppet!
- I'll dial it! Keep calm for a minute. - Give me the phone, give me the phone.
Give me the phone! Give me the phone!
- Give me the phone! - Shut it! It's fucking ringing!
All right. There's this brass standing on a corner, right.
Dwarfwalks up to her carrying a suitcase. Says, "How much?"
She says, "A oner." He says, "All right," goes up to her room.
He says, "Right, get on the bed," so she lays down.
Dwarf opens his suitcase, pulls out these four springs, puts one on each hand and foot.
Bounces over to the bed, gets on top of her, boing-boing, bouncing up and down.
Boing! Boing! Best shag she's ever had in her life.
He's on her for, like, two hours, shagging away, boing-boing.
Bounces off her after a while, right, and it's the best fuck she's ever had in her life.
She's like, "I'm sorry but that was just amazing, the best fuck I've ever had."
"What technique do you call that?"
He says, "Four spring dwarf technique."
- There were two old guns there. - Not in the cabinet, there wasn't.
There was a couple of hammerlock muskets the butler was carrying
- but we sold them. - Well, you've got to unsell them.
- They were ours! We had to sell them! - 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 suggest you get those guns, quick!
- All right. - And get us an ice cream while you're at it.
That takes care of that lot, son.
...phone.
- Oh, my God. - Hey- hey! Go on! Go on, son!