(dramatic music)
- I made an honest mistake.
- They're not gonna believe anyone can be that stupid.
You're doing a PhD in History of Art.
- In 17th century Flemish textiles.
- [Woman] Blood antiquities are being looted from Syria
by jihadist militants.
- We have a war crime in our kitchen!
- We are not hiring a bounty hunter.
- Barnaby?
- My dad's a crook, I'm lying to the police.
- I shot a guy from a cartel!
You happy?
- The body count rises.
Who wants tea?
- [Leah] The statues are worth at least $5 million,
I said I'd sell them to the cartel for two million.
- You want me to go to Mexico?
- I need this money.
And so does Nina.
- Oh, that is, um, more-ish.
(crack) (groans)
- Open it.
You earned it.
Two million dollars!
Of cocaine?
(moans) (punches loudly)
(shouts in foreign language)
(jaunty theme music)
(groans from car)
(foreign language song)
(muffled yells)
- Ola, senor.
Por favor, uno, roomo.
Trying to make an effort.
- Two or double?
- Double, because we are a married couple on holiday.
- Okay.
- Why the hell did you tell him we were married?
- Because I didn't want him asking questions.
- It's not Victorian England,
- Yes I know, but we do look like a pretty odd couple.
- What the hell do you mean by that?
- So, how you wanna pay?
- Do you by any chance accept...
(slams) Cocaine?
- Jesus Christ, we're in Los Cartenas territory
and you just gave some schmuck
10 grand of their own coke.
- I'm sorry, I don't know what the exchange rate is.
Oh, God, I always overpay on holiday.
- We are not on holiday!
You better wake up, kid, or we'll both end up dead.
- You want me
to take your bags? - No, no, all good, thank you.
We travel light.
Just the clothes on our back and a, load of snort.
(birds cheeping)
- TV, bedroom, bathroom.
- What a dump.
- It's lovely.
(kicking from car) - It used to be one room,
I make it two room.
- [Barnaby] Oh, very entrepreneurial.
- Think I left something in the car.
(man groans)
- This bed is very comfy, bit of spring to it.
Bet it's seen a fair bit of action in its time.
If these sheets could talk.
What's the toggage on that?
- Todgit?
- Toggage.
- Todgit?
(grunts and moans from outside)
This is lovely.
Have you visited Japan?
- No.
- De bano, de bano.
- You want me to show how to use toilet?
- Yes, thank you.
(Nina shouts and grunts)
(speaking in foreign language)
One always assumes but assumption
can be the mother of all failure.
Ooh, case in point.
(shouts and grunts)
Una moment.
Are you okay?
- Hmm!
(dramatic music)
(truck roars away)
- I wonder what's happened to Leah?
- After all the lies and shit your sister put us through,
I could give two poo-poo's where she is.
- But we've got her cocaine.
- Our cocaine. (comedy music on TV)
Listen Barnaby.
We're gonna be fine.
All we need to do is get new passports, and some cash, and,
kill the drug lord in the trunk.
- Pull!
(gun fires twice)
(gentle orchestral music)
You're late
Grayson Perry's.
She wrote a piece in The Guardian
calling us a cultural cancer.
Pull! (gun fires twice)
I have a job for you.
Nigel Walker's deposit box.
It's in the City of London vault.
200 feet below ground boasting to 25 ton doors
capable of withstanding a 30 megaton blast,
requiring both iris and voice recognition.
Interest.
(clock ticks loudly)
(projector beeps)
(projector beeps at picture change)
(speaks in German)
Adolf Hitler's only nude.
The Braun sisters, Eva, Elsa, and Grandmother Gretel.
- Nigel Walker had it the whole damn time
so why aren't we turning his store upside down?
- Softly, softly Keegan, the man died at our house.
We need Barnaby Walker,
- Dead or alive.
- No, no.
We need him alive, he'll lead us to the painting.
Feel free to dispose of Nina Morales.
(gun mechanism clicks)
- Good luck.
- What.
- No way!
- Shooting a guy who's all tied up
is a sneaky bitch ass move.
You should do it.
- I'm not a bitch ass.
Rock, paper, scissors? (birds cheep)
(blows out) (traffic hums on bridge)
One, two, three.
- [Both] One, two, three.
- One, two, three.
- What, so now you wanna kill him?
- What, no.
Paper beats rock.
- No it doesn't.
- Paper covers rock.
- So what the fuck is that gonna do?
The rock will just rip right through it!
- Sorry.
You think that rock can beat paper and scissors?
- Obviously.
- That makes no sense.
In that scenario, who would pick paper?
- All right.
We'll toss a coin.
- Wait.
Tails, you kill him, heads, I kill him.
Oh, it's heads.
- Fair is fair.
- But it's not fair is it?
It's totally unsporting.
- Man up.
- Right, let's not resort to crude gender stereotypes here.
Your womanhood should in no way
impact upon your abilities to kill that man.
If anything, it entitles you to murder him.
- Don't Beyonce me into this.
(gun clicks)
- Jesus Christ, just give me that.
(dramatic music)
(Nina groans)
(boot slams shut)
- 'Tis done?
(bangs from boot)
- He'll need to use bathroom.
I'll get my passport, you deal with that.
(car starts) (alarm pings)
- Miss, er, Morales. - Morales.
- You came to Mexico on vacation,
but you can't remember what flight you were on.
Nor do you have a ticket, or a credit card,
or any identification, and you want me,
to give you a US passport? (chuckles)
Lady, do I look like Santa Claus?
- You look like you ate Santa Claus,
and had his reindeer for dessert.
(church bell tolls) (people chattering)
What are you doing?
What is that?
- I dealt with it.
- You untied him?
- No.
- So did he go?
(birds tweet)
- I held him.
- You what?
- I unzipped his flies and,
decanted him into a bottle of Fanta.
- You touched his dick?
- Yes.
- Jesus, Barnaby.
Better kill this guy before he needs to take a dump.
- Hmm, how did it go in there?
- Not good.
- Maybe they'll let me call the British Consulate.
- Okay, go waste your breath.
(rapid percussion) - Here you go.
This might seem like a dumb question, but,
do you know Prince William?
- Yep, still here.
- A friend definitely can't travel with me
on my temporary passport.
What was that?
I can get a temporary passport
at the British Consulate in Cancun.
- But?
- But, you can't travel with me as a friend.
- What the hell's that mean?
- Oh hell, no.
- Nina Morales.
- Get the fuck outta here!
- Will you make me the happiest--
- Get up! - Okay.
(she sighs) I don't like it, either.
(Tijuana brass bridal march)
- What are you grinning for?
- Just saying hello.
- What's up with your hair?
- I thought it would be nice
to make a little bit of an effort for our special day.
- This is weird enough.
Please don't make it any weirder.
- Please join your hands before God.
Barnaby Mahler Walker, - My lord!
- And Nina Maria Morales,
do you enter into marriage freely, and wholeheartedly?
- I do. - Sure.
- Will you celebrate each other's bodies
as man and wife to produce children,
raising them according to the law of Christ?
- Can we ramp this up?
. Now you may exchange vows.
- What?
Vows?
- Nina, you have protected me and comforted me
through thick and thin, like a good Barbour jacket.
You've been my friend, my source of strength,
and I feel I can cope with whatever life throws at me
knowing that you will be at my side.
I know it can be hard putting your feelings onto paper,
so just speak from the heart.
- Okay.
Barnaby, when I first met you,
I thought that you might have some type of
social, whatchamacallit?
- Awkwardness.
- Autism, but, then I realized
it was just a British thing, so.
- Thank you.
I'm overwhelmed.
- Well,
witness?
You need a witness otherwise
that marriage certificate is not legal.
(upbeat music)
(she sighs)
- You know, at some point we are
going to need your date of birth.
- September 4th,
- 19... 6... 70?
- Give me that.
- Padre, about the payment.
(clunk)
(Nina clears her throat)
- I also do baptisms and funerals.
(tense music) (computer beeps)
- Got us a flight.
Leaves at midnight, goes via Toronto,
but beggars can't be choosers.
- Passports?
- Awaiting us in Cancun, Mrs. Walker.
- You do know I have a gun?
(people chattering)
- Understood.
- Right, now, you wanna talk about
how we're going to get that cocaine back to London?
- What?
I don't deal in drugs in London Nina.
I mean here, you know, when in Rome, but erm.
- You sell blood antiquities!
- That's just completely different.
Cocaine is responsible for some terrible things.
You only have to walk round Tate Modern to see that.
- What do you want Barnaby?
- I want to go home.
See my mum again, put this whole nightmare behind me.
- Yeah, kid, I hear you, but it ain't that easy, okay?
I hate drug dealers.
I spent my entire life tracking those scumbags down,
but, we both have obligations.
So step up, at least for your family.
- Our family, technically.
(Mexican music on radio) (pump whirs)
(speaking in foreign language)
(box rattles) (dramatic music)
(truck doors slam) (screeches away)
(he gags)
- Be careful, that thing explodes inside of you
you'll die slowly.
- For the hundredth time,
I have a very sensitive gag reflex.
- Well, what won't go down must go up!
- What?
No, not for all the tea in China!
- Oh, come on.
- Why does it have to go up my bottom?
I mean technically, you have a larger receptacle.
- Are you implying I have a fat ass?
- No, I meant, um...
- You mean my vagina?
- Yes.
Anatomically it is more, capacious,
- Ca-what?
- Voluminous, roomy.
- And how do you know I have a roomy vagina?
- Not your vagina, the vagina.
- You were happy to put a man's dick in a bottle.
- Happy?
I derived not an ounce of satisfaction
thumping that man's glans into a bottle.
This is ridiculous.
- You know your father died for this deal?
- Don't use that against me.
- All right, I'm sorry.
But right now we have absolutely nothing
to show for all the shit we've been through!
You put this up your ass,
and I'll kill Angel.
(dispenser squeaks)
- I'm using some hand lotion to lubricate the package.
- Don't need a commentary.
- I'm deflowering myself in a hotel lavatory.
The least you could do is show me some support.
You're supposed to be my-- - Don't say wife.
- Friend.
(dramatic music)
(purposeful footsteps)
(handle creaks)
(pants and gasps)
(sighs)
The package has been delivered.
Oy, get out!
- Shhh.
(door creaks open)
Is that my toothbrush?
Stay calm.
Shh, shh, shh, shh.
(gun clicks)
- Oh my God, I'm clenching.
- Stop it!
- How can I?
- It'll break.
- Get it out of me?
- What?
Ooh, no! - Please.
The package is retreating.
(handle creaks)
(crash)
(door thumps shut)
(man groans)
Hello!
(thumps) (man shouts)
(dramatic music) (shouts and groans)
(loofah slaps) (man shouts)
(Barnaby chokes)
(constant groans and moans) (thumps and punches)
(toilet flushes) (man roars)
(wall crashes) (woman screams)
Don't let me interrupt.
Nina, help me.
(heavy kick) (man cries out)
(speaking in foreign language)
Pull me through.
Sorry about this.
- Get the fuck outta here!
(squeals)
- Son of a...
(thumps and moans)
- Nina!
- Relax!
That's easy for you to say.
- [Nina] You can overdose!
- That is not relaxing.
- Oh, no, no, no, no, no.
- Ooh, what is that?
(door slams)
(speaking in foreign language)
(gunshot)
(thumps) (Nina shouts)
(thumps and whacks)
(Nina pants)
Nina, a little help.
(groaning)
(crashes down heavily)
I think it's time to check out.
- Whoa!
(guns click)
(gun smacks him) (heavy thump)
(rapid Tijuana brass wedding march)