Show: Shameless - 8x18
Ask why she won't change the boiler.
Anyone who thinks we know fuck all about owt should watch their back.
So you've had your Labour, reclassifying skunk, sending prices sky-high, literally, literally taking the grass from its own roots!
And now you've got your ConDemNation...
Liberals noshing Tories like altar boys picking dimps up!
Have we had a national fucking stroke...
Or what?
Is revolution a word...
or was it never?
Anybody watching...
needs to know, we cope better than average with irony in Chatsworth.
Well, for fuck's sake, we live in Manchester and they charge us for water.
I wandered lonely as a clown, necking mushrooms rarely found...
This green and pleasant land in ancient times...
yak yak yak yak yak yak yak yak yak!
It's not theirs any more.
This is our England now.
Paaaarty!
Unless you get nicked, married or sectioned, nobody can tell you what to do.
I've got three weddings this month, old mates stepping up, looking tall.
Being in charge.
Fiona was sixteen when she took over this family.
Debbie was about eleven...
well...
eleven or twelve.
Lip never did, but only cos he was born knowing about that kind of stuff.
I'm twenty-one and never been asked!
Is he sulking?
Is he fuck.
Who my age gives this up for that?
Being a best man is as in charge as I wanna be.
Micky this, Micky that...
Micky who?
Micky Foodchain Ringpiece, that's who.
I've got nasal sprays, throat sprays, skin like Grandma's and I'm wheezing like someone who's got a note for games.
That only started the day...
exactly the day when they fitted that new boiler.
Sunday, I burnt a cake and broke a nail.
Two things in one day.
Just turn it off!
It's freezing.
It's summer.
It's East Manchester!
It can't be fucking hayfever!
Who's fucking arguing?
And stop swearing back!
Ask why she won't change the boiler.
Nobody else is whingeing, cos there's nothing wrong with the boiler cos the boiler does exactly what a boiler is meant to do...
Just like the last one did!
Until the gas chap twigged we'd piped into next door's and condemned us with it.
Have we heard?
Are they prosecuting?
Nah!
Only turns out his wife's one of me best clients cos she's a total fuck-up.
Mam!
Micky!
It's me...
or the boiler.
Give us a shout if you need anything, Cynth!
Back to nearly normal, yes - two secs!
Bang on cue, missus!
Who the fuck says "Happy Wedding", you knob!?
All right, so the next time there's a funeral we just stick up DEAD?
Get this finished, then sort your kid out...
Micky...
Fullmoon.
Why?
Where?
Talking about moving to Sydney for good.
Upstairs.
Guess who's mam's chucked me out?
Shit!
Did you get it out?
Little fuckers.
Has Marty gone?
Yeah.
He's in a bit of a rush so he asked me to give you this.
Took two Pot Snacks, two beans - bigguns, crackers, teabags - cheapest.
Cheers, Kel.
Why'd you say Sydney?
I didn't.
I let "Sitges" slip then flipped it round to Sydney before Karen twigged.
Bum Boy Barca Sitges?
Cooking in thongs, and that?
And how would you know, Jedward?
Look, don't start, right, because things got said.
Over a boiler?
Are you serious!?
Boiler, what?
You weren't kicked out.
Mum doesn't know you're gone.
She's just seen you taking bags out for the bins.
Just?
Five hours ago.
And they're not binbags, they're clothes.
See!
Micky, go home.
You're sorry, you've calmed down.
Fuck off!
I will literally die.
I'm twenny-six.
You don't flick ears at twenny-six!
Right, couple of nights, tops.
For that, you help us cover the bar for this wedding do.
Sound.
Shifting already.
Fuck's sake!
Why didn't you open up?
Could've been the filth.
For lifting from Chesney's and trying to burn his shop down?
They'd come in through the window.
From a skip outside the youth club.
You had company?
Not since you were here last.
I just wanted you to know it'd be better if you kept your distance.
You said.
Last time I saw you.
I know but - safer.
It might be safer to...
Cos of Shane?
Cos of Shane.
Might get the wrong end of the stick.
Like last time.
Don't want that happening again.
All just a misunderstanding.
Him being the jealous type.
There's nothing to be jealous of.
If there had been.
Possessive, I think.
More than jealous.
He's your husband.
Yeah.
Either way, best if I kept my distance.
You OK with that?
Have to be.
See you, then.
Yeah.
Look after yourself and stuff.
You too.
Bye.
Bye.
Save your breath.
Them lot'll be over there.
You're on the tables with me.
But I still get to wear a special t-shirt?
What you going on about, Cynthia?
It's a scratchcard - you scratch it.
But it doesn't say where.
Lucky me.
Hey up, there you go.
What am I dropping now?
Few chromosomes.
Left.
Left foot.
Near the toilets.
Well.
Bastards!
Send all your winners to Cheshire pubs, eh!
It's a no, then?
You can't be helped.
It's all right, couple of stitches, it'll mend.
Boss wants a word, Frank.
What, who?
The woman's poorly, you scrubber.
So?!
You know she'd be licking it if I hadn't put the time in!
How in god's name is that not mine?
Go on...
fifty each?
You know she will.
She'll have it on her cornflakes, the pointless old window licker.
I made a speech!
Me!
You said they were posh.
I said they had money.
You watch 'em drink!
OAPS...
Cynthia!
More voddy, less red.
Not gonna get changed?
In my family, first thing a bride sees when she walks into church...
Aisle.
Altar.
Hymn.
Mam!
Maaaaam!
Someone get her a big drink on me!
That's for later.
Someone get her a cardigan, man, she must be about 60!
None shall fucking sleep tonight.
Right, I'll have...
Easy, money bags.
One of them, one of them and two of them.
Now, 'ere, 'ere, 'ere!
Listen!
Listen!
Listen!
Listen!!
Right, state your name and how you're pleading!
There's a banker, a taxpayer and a little single parent on housing benefits, all sitting round this table with a plate of twelve biscuits to split between 'em.
Banker's straight in, nabbing eleven of 'em.
Straight in the pocket!
Right...
he turns to the taxpayer and he says... "
Watch that thieving cunt.
Keep an eye on your biscuit, mate!"
Yeah, but while them two are swapping email addresses, he's having their laptops.
What the fuck have you been up to?
Yeah...
it's me!
I'd fuck off Frank, before they eat you.
North Manchester Police today confirmed that gun crime levels were at their lowest since 1998.
Tonight a pensioner was brutally assaulted in her home in Belvedere Road.
Detectives found traces of new green paint close to the crime scene...
possibly from footwear...
and they urge anyone with information to call their confidential helpline on 08081 570 999.
Cynthia!?
Frank.
Police have this morning confirmed that the pensioner violently assaulted in her home in Belvedere Road is Miss Cynthia Rose Feltz.
Miss Feltz was found when a neighbour...
We must fight crimes like this with zero tolerance...
Miss Feltz, who has no next of kin, was thought to have been carrying a large sum of money.
Here you go, Frank.
Cheers, Stafford!
Don't forget fat's the new black, so you'll be laughing with Babs.
I'll walk from here.
I've got a medical this afternoon so it'll help if I look fucked.
Fuck off, dickhead.
Full English when anybody's ready.
Who disappeared after Cynthia went home?
Everybody, eventually.
Frank.
And who got refused credit before he left here, lagging?
Jamie, Frank's a lot of things but he's not that.
Yeah?
Who tried nicking her scratchcard swag before she knew she'd won?
He left lagging and cadging...
Yeah, and then bounced back later chucking twenties about?
Frank!
He'll be a lot of things in a dozen bags when I find the nonce.
Jamie, speak to him.
And don't give it that on Facebook because you know nothing, and it's Frank's name on the line.
Yeah, and his head.
Like you've never robbed purses?
Yeah, but not since school.
There's lines you don't cross.
The poor cow's retarded, and raspberries is a no-no.
Patty.
Last night, where'd you and Frank been before the Jockey?
Excuse me!
Last night I went line dancing on my tod, being ignored or insulted, as per usual.
Somebody said they saw you in a taxi together laughing your tits off.
I was waiting for the last bus from line dancing.
Frank rolls up in a taxi.
I'm not quick enough, so he drags us in.
Couldn't understand a word the man said, and happy to be with him only until his money ran out and I had to buy me own drinks.
Then I shot to the buffet.
So where did his money come from?
Well, he wouldn't know, never has!
Hence me thinking, it's either fighting or gambling, to explain the big spender.
But he didn't have a bruise on him, the gimp.
'Male Maguires should be banned' from ever thinking in pairs, they're lethal!
And you're dafter than them for listening to it!
Kelly, I saw it.
Ask Shane!
We had to practically stop Frank from nicking her prize card.
So?
He'd nick prams if he didn't hate babies.
Don't make him a granny-basher.
He left straight after her and was back buying doubles and bubbles.
Is it in there?
The Cynthia thing off the radio?
Give it here.
Take the freebie.
Have you ever seen a barrel scraped so low?
Literally can't give 'em away.
35 rental.
50 deposit.
They're keeping the lot because somebody got fucking green paint on it!
What?
Medics had to resuscitate her in the ambulance.
Hiya, Avril.
Mam, Kell's still round there with Lady Gaga, so I haven't locked up.
I want this on the streets and round your mates.
Mimi Maguire is putting up a grand for the name of the fucker who did this.
You serious?
A grand?
You don't even like her.
I'm organising a whip-round for Cynthia, poor cow.
Door to door, the lot.
Cos we want everyone chipping into this.
Not in here, Frank.
We've already got one on.
Carl...
Just a five.
Ten!
Till Thursday-ish.
C'mon.
Fucking...
Fuck, that's me bus fare.
I've got a fucking medical, which is...
Thought you were just taxis these days, Frank.
Leave it, Butch.
Yes, Kel?
Er, chilli and chips and a vodka tonic.
Bring it over.
Thank you.
All right, Frank.
Hiya.
If they think you're with me, nobody'll touch your car.
I'm safe.
Sorry, Frank, yours is here, mate.
You didn't leave a mobile phone, did you?
Er, if it's got credit on it, it's probably mine.
You're Cynthia Feltz's employers, is that right?
Give her a few bob every now and again to keep her busy.
Look, if this is bad news...
Relax.
She proved us all wrong and regained consciousness an hour or so back.
Has she said who...?
She's not talking yet, but she seems to know where she is.
She didn't before.
I just meant...
Whoa!
Just that she didn't before!
What's the score, then?
What's all this, people blanking me dad?
They're not very keen on what he might've done.
As in?
Cynthia.
Cynthia's nothing to do with you, is she?
Related to that parcel?
Fuck off!
No, the kicking.
It's just your name keeps surfacing, Frank, and it's not just me.
There's others whispering and I'm picking stuff up.
Fractured skull, broken ribs, fucked-up windpipe.
Me?
I said I was sorry before I asked, precisely to avoid this getting ugly, Frank.
Let you down, did it?
'Your dad's name's coming up too many times to be guesswork, Carl.
' From who?
Some you know, some you won't.
But too many want to string him up to ignore.
You're not right in the fucking head, you lot!
Watch your mouth, Gallagher.
How long've you known him?
When has he ever laid into anybody round here?
What, discounting his kids?
You never twatted your own?
And if that's a no, do shit-thick wankers run in your family?
Who the fuck do you think you are, Maguire?
Whoa!
Fucking hell!
You fucking better run, Gallagher!
What you saying about my dad?
Karen Maguire asked me questions I gave honest answers to.
Pack your bags and get the fuck out of his house.
Carl, I've repeated nothing I didn't see with my own eyes.
So where did "coked off his tits" come from?
I can tell gak from gossip.
This smells a bit off.
'We were back in the Jockey.
' Fuck!
I'm on Warfarin, you cunt!
Off his tits, Carl.
I swear!
Nobody wants your dad involved in this.
But you need to see what we've been looking at.
And people don't speak to me like that.
Where?
Nowhere, actually!
No, where are we going?
Apollo side of Ardwick.
Branson, this is Carl, a friend and neighbour.
Carl, Branson, a colleague every third Sunday.
Just show Carl what I saw earlier, Branson.
This is Frank dancing outside Panama 2.
Now Cinnamon Street.
It's a bit ropier than I'd like, but...
Round that corner's where Cynthia lives, right?
And 62 minutes later, coming back this way.
Hailing a taxi.
Where did he get the money?
I didn't make it up, Carl.
These pictures speak for themselves.
Your dad's in deep shit.
So you're experiencing about two fits a month?
Correct.
You still getting pain down the right of your neck?
Yeah, it's worse, if anything.
Any falling injuries when you have the fits?
No.
You're what, six foot?
That's a long way to horizontal without bumps and bruising.
I'm mostly on me arse when they strike.
So what's this lot?
The fuck?!
Well, if you're surprised, I don't know what the wife's gonna think.
When you've got dressed, you can go.
Oy!
Dad!
If you help us shift a bit of furniture for a mate, there's a tenner in it for you.
Tell him it's 20 or he's had it.
No, sack that.
Not in here.
You all right?
Smoke if you want.
I got up and sang a top notch version of that at Manny Holden's pre-trial party.
We'd been on mushrooms his twisted wife had brewed up for us...
just twatted, totally twatted...
I couldn't believe me eyes when they played that tape at his wake when he copped-out at Strangeways.
Dad.
Hang on.
A) I can't remember a thing about that night with the mushrooms, Manny and the singing.
Not just as in normal "can't" like waking up in Fallowfield between that fat, black, spotty bird and her mam.
I mean...
There on stage like belting Fix You out...
which still scares me shitless because, B)...
I couldn't sing it sober if I tried.
I didn't think I was capable.
If it was you and I've to hear it from anyone else, that'd be us finished.
You know that, don't you?
And I haven't a fucking clue where I got these.
What we gonna do with me, Carl?
If they've to come and fetch you, there's three years' difference.
Out of how many?
Says five to seven on the web.
Jesus wept!
I can't.
I can't, I can't!
I can't do time again, Carl.
Not at my age.
Nobody leaves you alone...
It'll crucify me.
In all seriousness, I reckon your arse is fine smelling like that.
Fuck me arse, we've all sold arses!
But nowadays it's random drug tests so you can't take a piss without literally grassing yourself up.
What else is there?
Come on, Dad.
Come on.
I'm coming with you.
I'm here to hand meself in.
Commencing interview with Vernon Francis Gallagher, on charges of burglary, common theft and causing grievous bodily harm to Mrs Cynthia Feltz.
Attending Officers DI Carroll, DC Sheridan, with Mr Ashton Strang from duty legal services representing the defendant.
Slept OK, Frank?
Not three hours.
Hopefully see you through till teatime, though, eh?
And sleep's the great healer so how's that voice coming along?
Wrong man or Fifth Amendment that's all you're getting cos it's all I've got.
Forensics rustled a few new words up for you, Frank.
Scene of crime.
DNA.
Positive match.
Prisoner 1052, Gallagher, Vernon Francis.
Get your head down while we proof your press release.
Interview terminated 13:52.
Police today named their prime suspect in the attack on the Beswick pensioner, 76-year-old Cynthia Feltz...
at her home late Thursday night...
Francis Vernon Gallagher from neighbouring Chatsworth Estate...
was formally charged with actual bodily harm and remanded into custody after...
magistrates denied his application for bail.
Three and four...
Where's Frank?
Where is he?
Where is he?
Where is he?
Where is he?
I don't know where he is.
I don't know.
The Officer in charge of the case, Detective Inspector Clarice Carroll, confirmed police are pursuing...
no further leads in connection with the crime at the time of this report.
Yeah, that's right!
If you're gonna chain-smoke five in a row, spend a lot more on 'em.
And I'm booking three health and fitness reviews for eight in the morning.
Back to your desks.
I've just remanded your dad on positive DNA samples.
You know he didn't do it.
I can tell.
If he swears he never set foot in Cynthia Feltz' home, how come his DNA was found in her living room?
Old lady beaten literally half to death, Carl.
Stella!
Stella!
Carl!
Avril's got her next door.
They nearly hit us with that.
These were local, Carl.
My old boyfriend.
I've an ex works for Novotel.
We live here.
We've done nothing wrong.
Hey, it's not a soup kitchen!
We've a system.
Get off!
Carl!
Aaah!
Carl!
What are you...
Where's your kid?
What's a your kid?
Your kid, Kev.
I need to speak to Kev now.
Where is he?
Carl, dragging me out in the street looking like Life Of Brian's mum isn't how you ask for a favour!
Kelly.
If you fuck me about, I'll dump you on a roundabout and set fire to your blanket.
He's in Nottingham.
But what good's that without a postcode?
And why the fuck would I keep a postcode in a blanket?
What do you want him for?
Well, I'm not walking back.
You'll have to go and get my stuff.
Tell her she's in big bother for this!
Cheeky thing.
It's over a year old, I don't know whether...
Hello?
That's not Veronica, is it?
I'm trying to reach Kev Ball.
Kevin Ball.
And where's work?
Yo!
Phone!
Yeah.
Before you start, the kids used 'all the hot water.
' Kev.
It's Carl Carl Gallagher.
Give over!
That's more Tom Waits.
'What happened to Tin Man?
' What's up, Carl?
Carl?
'Carl?
' No, it's a ginger bloke.
Wow!
Who's tidied you up?
Who missed you out?!
All right, Kev?
Size of this!
Wow.
Swear to God right, his 13th birthday, he looked way too weird to have going-out clothes.
You actually said it, when I couldn't blow me candles out.
Only cos they were Silk Cuts!
Jesus, Frank!
Where've they had you, Guantanamo?
Sorry, love, ignore me.
It's just me sense of humour.
I'm Kev.
Patricia.
Patty.
Whoa!
Don't need to ask who your dad is, do I?
Stop there, cos he doesn't.
Who?
Cynthia Feltz.
Dinner lady they sacked from St Ted's.
Kept turning up in her pinny with no knickers on.
Little Cynth?
How old now?
Mental age barely double figures with the mirror, God bless the specimen, but...
77 this coming Saturday.
Who the fuck'd try nailing Frank for a stunt like that?
Look.
I'm right, though, aren't I, Kev?
I remember me and Debs fetching you and me dad butties and stuff helping him on a job round Cynthia's house.
Soz, Carl.
That's not how I remember it, mate.
You said on the phone.
You did.
Debbie's kept receipts.
I said on the phone I'd worked on the house.
Yeah, with me dad!
Yeah.
In his dreams, the bedridden gonk!
'He'd buggered off with half my tools and a brand-new step ladder, 'which I was fairly chilled about cos he'd nicked 'em from me 'before and forgotten who from, so he always tried selling 'em back to me.
'Comes around, goes around, y'know?
' I only went round to Fuzzy Feltz's cos the cheeky twat was trying to sting her for 200 quid plus petrol.
Had no fucking car anyway!
Should I be swearing on it?
Phrase it how you like, long as I get the truth.
It's the truth.
Took me a week to make it liveable for her.
So, Frank Gallagher was physically inside Cynthia Feltz's living room when you were present and clearly able to identify him.
I know, should've got five years for that!
Look, even if Frank did this...
He just...
didn't.
There you are, mate.
Know what?
I looked her right in the eye till I knew she believed every word.
You know what else?
It don't count for a fucking bean, because they've still got witnesses to the scratchcard stunt, CCTV of him round her patch that night, and every fucker seen him flashing big cash at the bar.
He couldn't be more fucked, Carl.
You wanted to see me, Frank?
Frank, c'mon.
Nobody in my team wants to nail the wrong bloke, just for public opinion brownie points.
They think you're concealing evidence.
I know you are.
I did walk her home.
And I was after her winnings.
My turn.
'I caught her up after she'd left the Jockey.
' on our secret telly?
Tinker Tailor.
Tommy Cooper.
Blue Remembered Hills.
Ronnie Barker.
Edge Of Darkness.
Pans People flashing their clouts to Diamonds And Pearls.
And?
Pearls!
I thought you were going to say Follyfoot Farm.
Why the fuck would I?
Cos you know I like it.
You fucking watch it then, can't you?
Look it's like I said, I'll get my own telly, right?
And you sub me till an election...
the election.
Ask Cynthia properly!
Pleeeease.
Fuck it, I can't do this.
Just tell Cynthia to get back in her box, the silly old slop rag.
Granted!
Go on.
If it gets any clearer...
I'll be topping meself.
What?!
Tell us something about Frank, Mimi.
Kevin fuck'n Ball!
You owe us 30 for weed and six years of interest.
Not twice, you thieving scouse bastard!
Pint?
Yes.
You lived here years before me.
Frank Gallagher?
Come on.
He hasn't give us one line of defence.
He shouldn't need to.
Plus I worked here seven years.
Never paid scratch-card prize money in 20s, cos before midnight, some of 'em can still count to five, but ten tens, count three out before they've palmed one and they're...
Y'know what I mean?
Plus, Frank was paying in 20s, wasn't he?
Is this on the house?
Ta.
Y'all right, Monroe, how's it going?
Actually, I was in the shower this morning, going, "Things are looking..."
Y'know when everything looks more colourful?
If Shane's laid a finger on you, now is the time to say.
What?
Give over.
Twice with oven gloves cos I'd blow him off if he did!
So that's a Man B.
Marty.
Mar...
Marty?!
Are you stuffing crack up your crack, Kel?
Marty is me, Kev.
Myrna?
Did you get it for us?
Marty?
Marty...?
No, hang on, hang on!
Pen.
Pen, pen!
Right!
Got a pen?
Right, go on.
Brilliant.
'Tell 'em thanks for the collection.
' 'Erm...
and...
' Jamie.
Borrow you a sec?
This's Saturday's takings.
The only person drinking Flip-Flops was Patty.
The only person paying was Frank.
He spent way more than Cynthia lost.
And between 'em, they spent more than that on scratchcards!
What, he couldn't have gone under her floorboards for more?
Plus, we paid her in tens.
Frank was blowing 20s.
Now then, I'll have one of them.
It wasn't her money.
Karen?
Yeah?
Can you come and look at something for us?
'Erm...ears waxed.
'And de-loused...
'And they've made me look absolutely champion down here!
' You didn't leave that in on purpose?
I didn't make her do it!
You showed me this yesterday.
Nah, this is different.
D'you remember Jody Garcia?
Yeah.
Yeah, she's piled it on!
Tell me about it.
When I get hold of her number, first thing I ask is, "When are you due?"
What were you ringing her for?
Well...
she was in the queue for Panama Two and got Frank on her phone.
He wasn't jigging on his own!
Look!
I haven't a clue who it is, have you?
One of the Macreadys is dealing that patch.
That's "Growbag" Macready.
He's bunging something into Frank's pocket, and it isn't fucking caster sugar!
Which is a lot more believable as to where Frank got his hands on that turnover.
Is he working for Growbag?
Grow up!
Afghans wouldn't let Frank run drugs for 'em!
Do you know a Growbag?
Growbag Macready?
I was at school with him.
Why?
Watch this.
Why's this good news?
Cos look!
He's slipping coke in me dad's pocket.
Will they let us take it in to show him?
Will they fuck!
We can't let the police get hold of this!
They'll string him up!
Frank has to see it.
Or we'll be here till the Olympics.
Fucking 'ell, I am in trouble.
Kev Ball?
Your hair looks good.
You, you fucking Harmony hairspray.
Sheriff of fucking Nottingham.
Listen, Frank.
In a sec, not now...
Aidan's going to open his jacket and show you what's underneath.
Y'got a bit of weed?
Just drop it by me shoe.
Drop it.
No, Dad, the nipple.
What?
Argh!
Argh, you fucking thing!
Yes!
Yes!
Yes!
Growbag!
That's Growbag!
Yeah, we know!
But Growbag...
what?
He was there.
Dance. "
" He goes, "Keep fucking dancing, Frank."
I will cut your throat here and now!
What?
There's a drink in this.
Just something I need you to look after for me for a couple of hours.
Cheers, Growbag.
Don't look round.
Cops are milking the overtime like Chilean fucking miners!
Don't look!
Start walking.
You go straight to the Irish Club...
I'm on an errand.
You go straight to the Irish Club...
No, I'm meant to be walking her home...
You go straight to the Irish Club and you stay fucking put till I turn up.
You don't sell it, you don't take it, you keep it safe.
Eleven o'clock.
With the coke.
With the dog.
She won't be able to find her way if...
What dog?
A mad fucking Nazi mutt trying to hump me senseless.
But I must've got to the Irish Club as instructed.
I'm here Growbag, when you're ready.
Oops, sorry.
Begging your pardon, miss!
For fuck...
What's...?
But I've got a meeting!
What happened with the drugs?
Well, no surprise there, I can't fucking remember!
But I must've had the nouse to shift a few bags to pay for the cabaret.
So...
Hey, I'm not the dumb fuck that everybody makes out, eh?
I've a gone a bit Mandela there.
Hey, and I get me money today, so...
skunk for tea!
Frank, Frank, Frank!
If you didn't walk Cynthia home, who did?
C'mon, grandma, let's have you.
Where's he gone again?
Keep smiling, sweetheart.
Just walk and keep smiling, all right?
Good girl.
Mushroom, get her home.
Get her home!
H...
'kin 'ell!
But, I wouldn't, would I?
I wouldn't, would I?
Why would...
How would I...
I dib in a Macready...
Frankly, Frank, it's a bit late for that.
No, seriously...
don't.
Hang on a minute.
If you've heard all that, you know Frank's not in the running for this.
I want it in a written statement.
No, no, that's your noose, Frank.
If you don't, I'll let you go and you take your chances with Growbag.
Don't, Dad, seriously.
No way.
All right.
You testify in both investigations...
Mrs Feltz', Vince Macready...
Who?
Growbag!
Which guarantees you full privileges of the official Witness Protection Program.
You've no other option, Frank.
Don't do it, mate.
He's out cold!
What time do you call this?
I've been in a coma ten hours?
You've been knocked out for ten minutes.
The rest you slept through.
St Mary's, if it makes any difference.
Right...
police guards, and shit?
We're here.
And I'm on full expenses for wotnot?
Y'know, witness thingy.
Frank, fuck off!
As soon as she's done with your stitches, you're on your own.
Fuck...
they'll shred me!
Fucking shred me!
Preventing that is totally within your power.
Give me a supportable statement, I'll get CPS to grant you protected status.
Either way, you're going somewhere you've never been, so don't forget your toothbrush, eh, Frank?
Any chance of a nosh, chubbychops?
All right.
I give you a phrase, you give me the name of the book.
'Bright Eyes'.
Most Haunted!
We've no carrots so I'll give you extra onion gravy, all right?
Pass us an 'onion gravy' Frank.
Who said in which film 'Please Sir, can I have more?'.
Bobby Sands!
Jamie!
Take over, Paxman.
How'd you get here?
Through Highgrove Park.
These should fit.
Fuck off, they're mine!
And that is going nowhere near him.
Oi!
This is all down to you shamrock gobshites.
The least you owe me is protection, free bar and sustenance.
He's not kicking me out, the tramp.
This is the first place the Macready's'll look.
Fucking hell!
Osama Bin Deadawhile!
Right Frank in the shower, for fuck sake.
I'll stick some of Dad's clothes outside the door.
And Frank, can I say summat while we're all in one room here...
we're all genuinely gutted about the rumours and...
And brainless, lethal bullshit.
But I'm telling you, Frank, if you had done it, you'd be lucky to be alive.
We were only wrong about you decking a retarded pensioner, but that's cos you were elsewhere muling gak for a reptile whose gear you spunked and never paid for, but never once was I fingering you...
that was Geoffrey and Bungle here.
Fuck off!
Open the fucking door now!
Where's Frank?
Macreadys are on their way.
Frank's only dead if he's lucky, I'm telling you.
Get him out the bath.
Gimme your car keys, I'll disappear Frank.
Quicker than that!
Frank, move!
Where the fuck are you taking me now?!
Just get him in and...
in!
Not so fucking rough, Karen!
Just give us enough for a Holiday Inn then.
Who'd you think you are?
Says the prossie!
Relax.
It's a Muslim.
Nah, Ches, come on mate, this is bad timing this, mate.
Will you chill out?
Seriously, I can't, mate.
I've got Patty and Stella out there.
Where they belong, the tramps.
Light that.
She's teaching your Stella Paddy rebel songs, you know.
We do that, it's fucking Guantanamo.
Scared to go out.
Yeah, I'm not surprised, with that scraggy old turnip!
Can I say 'turnip'?
Fuck!
Look, stay in your cot!
Two secs!
Where is he?
He'll be ages yet.
These won't last two minutes!
I'll sort you a lift home!
Taxi, please.
You couldn't split a fiver for the slot machines, could you?
Hiya!
Hello again.
Wow, what a coincidence!
You and the mujidaddists, eh?!
The Jihadists.
You had 'em all sitting about in your kitchen, fuckin' singing, songs you couldn't even remember.
Name one.
Any fuckin' one!
Look I knew plenty of songs...
Just mixed all the words up.
Hey, they've stopped texting.
What've I done?
You serious?
You said they scared you shitless?
You said they were 'lethal'.
Yeah, they are.
All they wanted from me was bulk Jammie Dodgers at less than cost.
I told 'em to fuck right off!
Standard!
Yes, lad!
I know, but look at all this bleach I'm stuck with!
And who else round here buys bleach?
So where's the helmet?
M?
Chatsworth to here's five A-roads.
Taxi.
To see me?
It was, yeah.
Jump?
Or Justice?
Well...
I've had a couple of pervy accidents thinking about the first, when we met...
But, no, I'm no threat cos I'm happily married.
Or happily married cos I'm no threat.
Fuck it, you know what I mean, and hey...
just for the record I'm no pussy-gimp either.
But y'know, Cheers anyway, how are you?!
I'm good.
You're being a bit thick about Frank, no offence.
Whatever happens, he's rattling like a vibrator in a biscuit tin, poor tramp.
He's had it with your lot if he doesn't make a statement against Mushroom, Growbag's hit list if he does.
I don't need to do anything with Frank, but wait for him to fall into prison.
Then why are your lads still out looking?
For reasons I can't disclose and in the public's best interest, I want action sooner than later, yeah.
We could sort this out...
if you stop being greedy.
Who the fuck d'you think you're talking to?
Wow.
That's just given me a semi.
You can collar Growbag anytime.
You wanna flash your tits upstairs, bagging Mushroom for attempted murder and a Drug Swoop.
Yeah, they're gonna love you upstairs, but I'm begging you, don't orphan Carl.
Being in charge is crippling the lad, whose dad, we all know, is innocent.
Please, I'm begging you.
Bagging one Macready is more than enough to flash tits for your James Andertons.
What's Growbag's thoughts on that?
You've nothing without Growbag.
And if he can't hand his brother over, which he won't, you've nothing.
You've fuck all without Frank.
I can trust you?
Where's Frank?
I don't know how you coulda missed him!
You two two-faced useless little twat!
It was me, Frank.
Kev did that.
No, I want the full Miranda,
Anyone who thinks we know fuck all about owt should watch their back.
So you've had your Labour, reclassifying skunk, sending prices sky-high, literally, literally taking the grass from its own roots!
And now you've got your ConDemNation...
Liberals noshing Tories like altar boys picking dimps up!
Have we had a national fucking stroke...
Or what?
Is revolution a word...
or was it never?
Anybody watching...
needs to know, we cope better than average with irony in Chatsworth.
Well, for fuck's sake, we live in Manchester and they charge us for water.
I wandered lonely as a clown, necking mushrooms rarely found...
This green and pleasant land in ancient times...
yak yak yak yak yak yak yak yak yak!
It's not theirs any more.
This is our England now.
Paaaarty!
Unless you get nicked, married or sectioned, nobody can tell you what to do.
I've got three weddings this month, old mates stepping up, looking tall.
Being in charge.
Fiona was sixteen when she took over this family.
Debbie was about eleven...
well...
eleven or twelve.
Lip never did, but only cos he was born knowing about that kind of stuff.
I'm twenty-one and never been asked!
Is he sulking?
Is he fuck.
Who my age gives this up for that?
Being a best man is as in charge as I wanna be.
Micky this, Micky that...
Micky who?
Micky Foodchain Ringpiece, that's who.
I've got nasal sprays, throat sprays, skin like Grandma's and I'm wheezing like someone who's got a note for games.
That only started the day...
exactly the day when they fitted that new boiler.
Sunday, I burnt a cake and broke a nail.
Two things in one day.
Just turn it off!
It's freezing.
It's summer.
It's East Manchester!
It can't be fucking hayfever!
Who's fucking arguing?
And stop swearing back!
Ask why she won't change the boiler.
Nobody else is whingeing, cos there's nothing wrong with the boiler cos the boiler does exactly what a boiler is meant to do...
Just like the last one did!
Until the gas chap twigged we'd piped into next door's and condemned us with it.
Have we heard?
Are they prosecuting?
Nah!
Only turns out his wife's one of me best clients cos she's a total fuck-up.
Mam!
Micky!
It's me...
or the boiler.
Give us a shout if you need anything, Cynth!
Back to nearly normal, yes - two secs!
Bang on cue, missus!
Who the fuck says "Happy Wedding", you knob!?
All right, so the next time there's a funeral we just stick up DEAD?
Get this finished, then sort your kid out...
Micky...
Fullmoon.
Why?
Where?
Talking about moving to Sydney for good.
Upstairs.
Guess who's mam's chucked me out?
Shit!
Did you get it out?
Little fuckers.
Has Marty gone?
Yeah.
He's in a bit of a rush so he asked me to give you this.
Took two Pot Snacks, two beans - bigguns, crackers, teabags - cheapest.
Cheers, Kel.
Why'd you say Sydney?
I didn't.
I let "Sitges" slip then flipped it round to Sydney before Karen twigged.
Bum Boy Barca Sitges?
Cooking in thongs, and that?
And how would you know, Jedward?
Look, don't start, right, because things got said.
Over a boiler?
Are you serious!?
Boiler, what?
You weren't kicked out.
Mum doesn't know you're gone.
She's just seen you taking bags out for the bins.
Just?
Five hours ago.
And they're not binbags, they're clothes.
See!
Micky, go home.
You're sorry, you've calmed down.
Fuck off!
I will literally die.
I'm twenny-six.
You don't flick ears at twenny-six!
Right, couple of nights, tops.
For that, you help us cover the bar for this wedding do.
Sound.
Shifting already.
Fuck's sake!
Why didn't you open up?
Could've been the filth.
For lifting from Chesney's and trying to burn his shop down?
They'd come in through the window.
From a skip outside the youth club.
You had company?
Not since you were here last.
I just wanted you to know it'd be better if you kept your distance.
You said.
Last time I saw you.
I know but - safer.
It might be safer to...
Cos of Shane?
Cos of Shane.
Might get the wrong end of the stick.
Like last time.
Don't want that happening again.
All just a misunderstanding.
Him being the jealous type.
There's nothing to be jealous of.
If there had been.
Possessive, I think.
More than jealous.
He's your husband.
Yeah.
Either way, best if I kept my distance.
You OK with that?
Have to be.
See you, then.
Yeah.
Look after yourself and stuff.
You too.
Bye.
Bye.
Save your breath.
Them lot'll be over there.
You're on the tables with me.
But I still get to wear a special t-shirt?
What you going on about, Cynthia?
It's a scratchcard - you scratch it.
But it doesn't say where.
Lucky me.
Hey up, there you go.
What am I dropping now?
Few chromosomes.
Left.
Left foot.
Near the toilets.
Well.
Bastards!
Send all your winners to Cheshire pubs, eh!
It's a no, then?
You can't be helped.
It's all right, couple of stitches, it'll mend.
Boss wants a word, Frank.
What, who?
The woman's poorly, you scrubber.
So?!
You know she'd be licking it if I hadn't put the time in!
How in god's name is that not mine?
Go on...
fifty each?
You know she will.
She'll have it on her cornflakes, the pointless old window licker.
I made a speech!
Me!
You said they were posh.
I said they had money.
You watch 'em drink!
OAPS...
Cynthia!
More voddy, less red.
Not gonna get changed?
In my family, first thing a bride sees when she walks into church...
Aisle.
Altar.
Hymn.
Mam!
Maaaaam!
Someone get her a big drink on me!
That's for later.
Someone get her a cardigan, man, she must be about 60!
None shall fucking sleep tonight.
Right, I'll have...
Easy, money bags.
One of them, one of them and two of them.
Now, 'ere, 'ere, 'ere!
Listen!
Listen!
Listen!
Listen!!
Right, state your name and how you're pleading!
There's a banker, a taxpayer and a little single parent on housing benefits, all sitting round this table with a plate of twelve biscuits to split between 'em.
Banker's straight in, nabbing eleven of 'em.
Straight in the pocket!
Right...
he turns to the taxpayer and he says... "
Watch that thieving cunt.
Keep an eye on your biscuit, mate!"
Yeah, but while them two are swapping email addresses, he's having their laptops.
What the fuck have you been up to?
Yeah...
it's me!
I'd fuck off Frank, before they eat you.
North Manchester Police today confirmed that gun crime levels were at their lowest since 1998.
Tonight a pensioner was brutally assaulted in her home in Belvedere Road.
Detectives found traces of new green paint close to the crime scene...
possibly from footwear...
and they urge anyone with information to call their confidential helpline on 08081 570 999.
Cynthia!?
Frank.
Police have this morning confirmed that the pensioner violently assaulted in her home in Belvedere Road is Miss Cynthia Rose Feltz.
Miss Feltz was found when a neighbour...
We must fight crimes like this with zero tolerance...
Miss Feltz, who has no next of kin, was thought to have been carrying a large sum of money.
Here you go, Frank.
Cheers, Stafford!
Don't forget fat's the new black, so you'll be laughing with Babs.
I'll walk from here.
I've got a medical this afternoon so it'll help if I look fucked.
Fuck off, dickhead.
Full English when anybody's ready.
Who disappeared after Cynthia went home?
Everybody, eventually.
Frank.
And who got refused credit before he left here, lagging?
Jamie, Frank's a lot of things but he's not that.
Yeah?
Who tried nicking her scratchcard swag before she knew she'd won?
He left lagging and cadging...
Yeah, and then bounced back later chucking twenties about?
Frank!
He'll be a lot of things in a dozen bags when I find the nonce.
Jamie, speak to him.
And don't give it that on Facebook because you know nothing, and it's Frank's name on the line.
Yeah, and his head.
Like you've never robbed purses?
Yeah, but not since school.
There's lines you don't cross.
The poor cow's retarded, and raspberries is a no-no.
Patty.
Last night, where'd you and Frank been before the Jockey?
Excuse me!
Last night I went line dancing on my tod, being ignored or insulted, as per usual.
Somebody said they saw you in a taxi together laughing your tits off.
I was waiting for the last bus from line dancing.
Frank rolls up in a taxi.
I'm not quick enough, so he drags us in.
Couldn't understand a word the man said, and happy to be with him only until his money ran out and I had to buy me own drinks.
Then I shot to the buffet.
So where did his money come from?
Well, he wouldn't know, never has!
Hence me thinking, it's either fighting or gambling, to explain the big spender.
But he didn't have a bruise on him, the gimp.
'Male Maguires should be banned' from ever thinking in pairs, they're lethal!
And you're dafter than them for listening to it!
Kelly, I saw it.
Ask Shane!
We had to practically stop Frank from nicking her prize card.
So?
He'd nick prams if he didn't hate babies.
Don't make him a granny-basher.
He left straight after her and was back buying doubles and bubbles.
Is it in there?
The Cynthia thing off the radio?
Give it here.
Take the freebie.
Have you ever seen a barrel scraped so low?
Literally can't give 'em away.
35 rental.
50 deposit.
They're keeping the lot because somebody got fucking green paint on it!
What?
Medics had to resuscitate her in the ambulance.
Hiya, Avril.
Mam, Kell's still round there with Lady Gaga, so I haven't locked up.
I want this on the streets and round your mates.
Mimi Maguire is putting up a grand for the name of the fucker who did this.
You serious?
A grand?
You don't even like her.
I'm organising a whip-round for Cynthia, poor cow.
Door to door, the lot.
Cos we want everyone chipping into this.
Not in here, Frank.
We've already got one on.
Carl...
Just a five.
Ten!
Till Thursday-ish.
C'mon.
Fucking...
Fuck, that's me bus fare.
I've got a fucking medical, which is...
Thought you were just taxis these days, Frank.
Leave it, Butch.
Yes, Kel?
Er, chilli and chips and a vodka tonic.
Bring it over.
Thank you.
All right, Frank.
Hiya.
If they think you're with me, nobody'll touch your car.
I'm safe.
Sorry, Frank, yours is here, mate.
You didn't leave a mobile phone, did you?
Er, if it's got credit on it, it's probably mine.
You're Cynthia Feltz's employers, is that right?
Give her a few bob every now and again to keep her busy.
Look, if this is bad news...
Relax.
She proved us all wrong and regained consciousness an hour or so back.
Has she said who...?
She's not talking yet, but she seems to know where she is.
She didn't before.
I just meant...
Whoa!
Just that she didn't before!
What's the score, then?
What's all this, people blanking me dad?
They're not very keen on what he might've done.
As in?
Cynthia.
Cynthia's nothing to do with you, is she?
Related to that parcel?
Fuck off!
No, the kicking.
It's just your name keeps surfacing, Frank, and it's not just me.
There's others whispering and I'm picking stuff up.
Fractured skull, broken ribs, fucked-up windpipe.
Me?
I said I was sorry before I asked, precisely to avoid this getting ugly, Frank.
Let you down, did it?
'Your dad's name's coming up too many times to be guesswork, Carl.
' From who?
Some you know, some you won't.
But too many want to string him up to ignore.
You're not right in the fucking head, you lot!
Watch your mouth, Gallagher.
How long've you known him?
When has he ever laid into anybody round here?
What, discounting his kids?
You never twatted your own?
And if that's a no, do shit-thick wankers run in your family?
Who the fuck do you think you are, Maguire?
Whoa!
Fucking hell!
You fucking better run, Gallagher!
What you saying about my dad?
Karen Maguire asked me questions I gave honest answers to.
Pack your bags and get the fuck out of his house.
Carl, I've repeated nothing I didn't see with my own eyes.
So where did "coked off his tits" come from?
I can tell gak from gossip.
This smells a bit off.
'We were back in the Jockey.
' Fuck!
I'm on Warfarin, you cunt!
Off his tits, Carl.
I swear!
Nobody wants your dad involved in this.
But you need to see what we've been looking at.
And people don't speak to me like that.
Where?
Nowhere, actually!
No, where are we going?
Apollo side of Ardwick.
Branson, this is Carl, a friend and neighbour.
Carl, Branson, a colleague every third Sunday.
Just show Carl what I saw earlier, Branson.
This is Frank dancing outside Panama 2.
Now Cinnamon Street.
It's a bit ropier than I'd like, but...
Round that corner's where Cynthia lives, right?
And 62 minutes later, coming back this way.
Hailing a taxi.
Where did he get the money?
I didn't make it up, Carl.
These pictures speak for themselves.
Your dad's in deep shit.
So you're experiencing about two fits a month?
Correct.
You still getting pain down the right of your neck?
Yeah, it's worse, if anything.
Any falling injuries when you have the fits?
No.
You're what, six foot?
That's a long way to horizontal without bumps and bruising.
I'm mostly on me arse when they strike.
So what's this lot?
The fuck?!
Well, if you're surprised, I don't know what the wife's gonna think.
When you've got dressed, you can go.
Oy!
Dad!
If you help us shift a bit of furniture for a mate, there's a tenner in it for you.
Tell him it's 20 or he's had it.
No, sack that.
Not in here.
You all right?
Smoke if you want.
I got up and sang a top notch version of that at Manny Holden's pre-trial party.
We'd been on mushrooms his twisted wife had brewed up for us...
just twatted, totally twatted...
I couldn't believe me eyes when they played that tape at his wake when he copped-out at Strangeways.
Dad.
Hang on.
A) I can't remember a thing about that night with the mushrooms, Manny and the singing.
Not just as in normal "can't" like waking up in Fallowfield between that fat, black, spotty bird and her mam.
I mean...
There on stage like belting Fix You out...
which still scares me shitless because, B)...
I couldn't sing it sober if I tried.
I didn't think I was capable.
If it was you and I've to hear it from anyone else, that'd be us finished.
You know that, don't you?
And I haven't a fucking clue where I got these.
What we gonna do with me, Carl?
If they've to come and fetch you, there's three years' difference.
Out of how many?
Says five to seven on the web.
Jesus wept!
I can't.
I can't, I can't!
I can't do time again, Carl.
Not at my age.
Nobody leaves you alone...
It'll crucify me.
In all seriousness, I reckon your arse is fine smelling like that.
Fuck me arse, we've all sold arses!
But nowadays it's random drug tests so you can't take a piss without literally grassing yourself up.
What else is there?
Come on, Dad.
Come on.
I'm coming with you.
I'm here to hand meself in.
Commencing interview with Vernon Francis Gallagher, on charges of burglary, common theft and causing grievous bodily harm to Mrs Cynthia Feltz.
Attending Officers DI Carroll, DC Sheridan, with Mr Ashton Strang from duty legal services representing the defendant.
Slept OK, Frank?
Not three hours.
Hopefully see you through till teatime, though, eh?
And sleep's the great healer so how's that voice coming along?
Wrong man or Fifth Amendment that's all you're getting cos it's all I've got.
Forensics rustled a few new words up for you, Frank.
Scene of crime.
DNA.
Positive match.
Prisoner 1052, Gallagher, Vernon Francis.
Get your head down while we proof your press release.
Interview terminated 13:52.
Police today named their prime suspect in the attack on the Beswick pensioner, 76-year-old Cynthia Feltz...
at her home late Thursday night...
Francis Vernon Gallagher from neighbouring Chatsworth Estate...
was formally charged with actual bodily harm and remanded into custody after...
magistrates denied his application for bail.
Three and four...
Where's Frank?
Where is he?
Where is he?
Where is he?
Where is he?
I don't know where he is.
I don't know.
The Officer in charge of the case, Detective Inspector Clarice Carroll, confirmed police are pursuing...
no further leads in connection with the crime at the time of this report.
Yeah, that's right!
If you're gonna chain-smoke five in a row, spend a lot more on 'em.
And I'm booking three health and fitness reviews for eight in the morning.
Back to your desks.
I've just remanded your dad on positive DNA samples.
You know he didn't do it.
I can tell.
If he swears he never set foot in Cynthia Feltz' home, how come his DNA was found in her living room?
Old lady beaten literally half to death, Carl.
Stella!
Stella!
Carl!
Avril's got her next door.
They nearly hit us with that.
These were local, Carl.
My old boyfriend.
I've an ex works for Novotel.
We live here.
We've done nothing wrong.
Hey, it's not a soup kitchen!
We've a system.
Get off!
Carl!
Aaah!
Carl!
What are you...
Where's your kid?
What's a your kid?
Your kid, Kev.
I need to speak to Kev now.
Where is he?
Carl, dragging me out in the street looking like Life Of Brian's mum isn't how you ask for a favour!
Kelly.
If you fuck me about, I'll dump you on a roundabout and set fire to your blanket.
He's in Nottingham.
But what good's that without a postcode?
And why the fuck would I keep a postcode in a blanket?
What do you want him for?
Well, I'm not walking back.
You'll have to go and get my stuff.
Tell her she's in big bother for this!
Cheeky thing.
It's over a year old, I don't know whether...
Hello?
That's not Veronica, is it?
I'm trying to reach Kev Ball.
Kevin Ball.
And where's work?
Yo!
Phone!
Yeah.
Before you start, the kids used 'all the hot water.
' Kev.
It's Carl Carl Gallagher.
Give over!
That's more Tom Waits.
'What happened to Tin Man?
' What's up, Carl?
Carl?
'Carl?
' No, it's a ginger bloke.
Wow!
Who's tidied you up?
Who missed you out?!
All right, Kev?
Size of this!
Wow.
Swear to God right, his 13th birthday, he looked way too weird to have going-out clothes.
You actually said it, when I couldn't blow me candles out.
Only cos they were Silk Cuts!
Jesus, Frank!
Where've they had you, Guantanamo?
Sorry, love, ignore me.
It's just me sense of humour.
I'm Kev.
Patricia.
Patty.
Whoa!
Don't need to ask who your dad is, do I?
Stop there, cos he doesn't.
Who?
Cynthia Feltz.
Dinner lady they sacked from St Ted's.
Kept turning up in her pinny with no knickers on.
Little Cynth?
How old now?
Mental age barely double figures with the mirror, God bless the specimen, but...
77 this coming Saturday.
Who the fuck'd try nailing Frank for a stunt like that?
Look.
I'm right, though, aren't I, Kev?
I remember me and Debs fetching you and me dad butties and stuff helping him on a job round Cynthia's house.
Soz, Carl.
That's not how I remember it, mate.
You said on the phone.
You did.
Debbie's kept receipts.
I said on the phone I'd worked on the house.
Yeah, with me dad!
Yeah.
In his dreams, the bedridden gonk!
'He'd buggered off with half my tools and a brand-new step ladder, 'which I was fairly chilled about cos he'd nicked 'em from me 'before and forgotten who from, so he always tried selling 'em back to me.
'Comes around, goes around, y'know?
' I only went round to Fuzzy Feltz's cos the cheeky twat was trying to sting her for 200 quid plus petrol.
Had no fucking car anyway!
Should I be swearing on it?
Phrase it how you like, long as I get the truth.
It's the truth.
Took me a week to make it liveable for her.
So, Frank Gallagher was physically inside Cynthia Feltz's living room when you were present and clearly able to identify him.
I know, should've got five years for that!
Look, even if Frank did this...
He just...
didn't.
There you are, mate.
Know what?
I looked her right in the eye till I knew she believed every word.
You know what else?
It don't count for a fucking bean, because they've still got witnesses to the scratchcard stunt, CCTV of him round her patch that night, and every fucker seen him flashing big cash at the bar.
He couldn't be more fucked, Carl.
You wanted to see me, Frank?
Frank, c'mon.
Nobody in my team wants to nail the wrong bloke, just for public opinion brownie points.
They think you're concealing evidence.
I know you are.
I did walk her home.
And I was after her winnings.
My turn.
'I caught her up after she'd left the Jockey.
' on our secret telly?
Tinker Tailor.
Tommy Cooper.
Blue Remembered Hills.
Ronnie Barker.
Edge Of Darkness.
Pans People flashing their clouts to Diamonds And Pearls.
And?
Pearls!
I thought you were going to say Follyfoot Farm.
Why the fuck would I?
Cos you know I like it.
You fucking watch it then, can't you?
Look it's like I said, I'll get my own telly, right?
And you sub me till an election...
the election.
Ask Cynthia properly!
Pleeeease.
Fuck it, I can't do this.
Just tell Cynthia to get back in her box, the silly old slop rag.
Granted!
Go on.
If it gets any clearer...
I'll be topping meself.
What?!
Tell us something about Frank, Mimi.
Kevin fuck'n Ball!
You owe us 30 for weed and six years of interest.
Not twice, you thieving scouse bastard!
Pint?
Yes.
You lived here years before me.
Frank Gallagher?
Come on.
He hasn't give us one line of defence.
He shouldn't need to.
Plus I worked here seven years.
Never paid scratch-card prize money in 20s, cos before midnight, some of 'em can still count to five, but ten tens, count three out before they've palmed one and they're...
Y'know what I mean?
Plus, Frank was paying in 20s, wasn't he?
Is this on the house?
Ta.
Y'all right, Monroe, how's it going?
Actually, I was in the shower this morning, going, "Things are looking..."
Y'know when everything looks more colourful?
If Shane's laid a finger on you, now is the time to say.
What?
Give over.
Twice with oven gloves cos I'd blow him off if he did!
So that's a Man B.
Marty.
Mar...
Marty?!
Are you stuffing crack up your crack, Kel?
Marty is me, Kev.
Myrna?
Did you get it for us?
Marty?
Marty...?
No, hang on, hang on!
Pen.
Pen, pen!
Right!
Got a pen?
Right, go on.
Brilliant.
'Tell 'em thanks for the collection.
' 'Erm...
and...
' Jamie.
Borrow you a sec?
This's Saturday's takings.
The only person drinking Flip-Flops was Patty.
The only person paying was Frank.
He spent way more than Cynthia lost.
And between 'em, they spent more than that on scratchcards!
What, he couldn't have gone under her floorboards for more?
Plus, we paid her in tens.
Frank was blowing 20s.
Now then, I'll have one of them.
It wasn't her money.
Karen?
Yeah?
Can you come and look at something for us?
'Erm...ears waxed.
'And de-loused...
'And they've made me look absolutely champion down here!
' You didn't leave that in on purpose?
I didn't make her do it!
You showed me this yesterday.
Nah, this is different.
D'you remember Jody Garcia?
Yeah.
Yeah, she's piled it on!
Tell me about it.
When I get hold of her number, first thing I ask is, "When are you due?"
What were you ringing her for?
Well...
she was in the queue for Panama Two and got Frank on her phone.
He wasn't jigging on his own!
Look!
I haven't a clue who it is, have you?
One of the Macreadys is dealing that patch.
That's "Growbag" Macready.
He's bunging something into Frank's pocket, and it isn't fucking caster sugar!
Which is a lot more believable as to where Frank got his hands on that turnover.
Is he working for Growbag?
Grow up!
Afghans wouldn't let Frank run drugs for 'em!
Do you know a Growbag?
Growbag Macready?
I was at school with him.
Why?
Watch this.
Why's this good news?
Cos look!
He's slipping coke in me dad's pocket.
Will they let us take it in to show him?
Will they fuck!
We can't let the police get hold of this!
They'll string him up!
Frank has to see it.
Or we'll be here till the Olympics.
Fucking 'ell, I am in trouble.
Kev Ball?
Your hair looks good.
You, you fucking Harmony hairspray.
Sheriff of fucking Nottingham.
Listen, Frank.
In a sec, not now...
Aidan's going to open his jacket and show you what's underneath.
Y'got a bit of weed?
Just drop it by me shoe.
Drop it.
No, Dad, the nipple.
What?
Argh!
Argh, you fucking thing!
Yes!
Yes!
Yes!
Growbag!
That's Growbag!
Yeah, we know!
But Growbag...
what?
He was there.
Dance. "
" He goes, "Keep fucking dancing, Frank."
I will cut your throat here and now!
What?
There's a drink in this.
Just something I need you to look after for me for a couple of hours.
Cheers, Growbag.
Don't look round.
Cops are milking the overtime like Chilean fucking miners!
Don't look!
Start walking.
You go straight to the Irish Club...
I'm on an errand.
You go straight to the Irish Club...
No, I'm meant to be walking her home...
You go straight to the Irish Club and you stay fucking put till I turn up.
You don't sell it, you don't take it, you keep it safe.
Eleven o'clock.
With the coke.
With the dog.
She won't be able to find her way if...
What dog?
A mad fucking Nazi mutt trying to hump me senseless.
But I must've got to the Irish Club as instructed.
I'm here Growbag, when you're ready.
Oops, sorry.
Begging your pardon, miss!
For fuck...
What's...?
But I've got a meeting!
What happened with the drugs?
Well, no surprise there, I can't fucking remember!
But I must've had the nouse to shift a few bags to pay for the cabaret.
So...
Hey, I'm not the dumb fuck that everybody makes out, eh?
I've a gone a bit Mandela there.
Hey, and I get me money today, so...
skunk for tea!
Frank, Frank, Frank!
If you didn't walk Cynthia home, who did?
C'mon, grandma, let's have you.
Where's he gone again?
Keep smiling, sweetheart.
Just walk and keep smiling, all right?
Good girl.
Mushroom, get her home.
Get her home!
H...
'kin 'ell!
But, I wouldn't, would I?
I wouldn't, would I?
Why would...
How would I...
I dib in a Macready...
Frankly, Frank, it's a bit late for that.
No, seriously...
don't.
Hang on a minute.
If you've heard all that, you know Frank's not in the running for this.
I want it in a written statement.
No, no, that's your noose, Frank.
If you don't, I'll let you go and you take your chances with Growbag.
Don't, Dad, seriously.
No way.
All right.
You testify in both investigations...
Mrs Feltz', Vince Macready...
Who?
Growbag!
Which guarantees you full privileges of the official Witness Protection Program.
You've no other option, Frank.
Don't do it, mate.
He's out cold!
What time do you call this?
I've been in a coma ten hours?
You've been knocked out for ten minutes.
The rest you slept through.
St Mary's, if it makes any difference.
Right...
police guards, and shit?
We're here.
And I'm on full expenses for wotnot?
Y'know, witness thingy.
Frank, fuck off!
As soon as she's done with your stitches, you're on your own.
Fuck...
they'll shred me!
Fucking shred me!
Preventing that is totally within your power.
Give me a supportable statement, I'll get CPS to grant you protected status.
Either way, you're going somewhere you've never been, so don't forget your toothbrush, eh, Frank?
Any chance of a nosh, chubbychops?
All right.
I give you a phrase, you give me the name of the book.
'Bright Eyes'.
Most Haunted!
We've no carrots so I'll give you extra onion gravy, all right?
Pass us an 'onion gravy' Frank.
Who said in which film 'Please Sir, can I have more?'.
Bobby Sands!
Jamie!
Take over, Paxman.
How'd you get here?
Through Highgrove Park.
These should fit.
Fuck off, they're mine!
And that is going nowhere near him.
Oi!
This is all down to you shamrock gobshites.
The least you owe me is protection, free bar and sustenance.
He's not kicking me out, the tramp.
This is the first place the Macready's'll look.
Fucking hell!
Osama Bin Deadawhile!
Right Frank in the shower, for fuck sake.
I'll stick some of Dad's clothes outside the door.
And Frank, can I say summat while we're all in one room here...
we're all genuinely gutted about the rumours and...
And brainless, lethal bullshit.
But I'm telling you, Frank, if you had done it, you'd be lucky to be alive.
We were only wrong about you decking a retarded pensioner, but that's cos you were elsewhere muling gak for a reptile whose gear you spunked and never paid for, but never once was I fingering you...
that was Geoffrey and Bungle here.
Fuck off!
Open the fucking door now!
Where's Frank?
Macreadys are on their way.
Frank's only dead if he's lucky, I'm telling you.
Get him out the bath.
Gimme your car keys, I'll disappear Frank.
Quicker than that!
Frank, move!
Where the fuck are you taking me now?!
Just get him in and...
in!
Not so fucking rough, Karen!
Just give us enough for a Holiday Inn then.
Who'd you think you are?
Says the prossie!
Relax.
It's a Muslim.
Nah, Ches, come on mate, this is bad timing this, mate.
Will you chill out?
Seriously, I can't, mate.
I've got Patty and Stella out there.
Where they belong, the tramps.
Light that.
She's teaching your Stella Paddy rebel songs, you know.
We do that, it's fucking Guantanamo.
Scared to go out.
Yeah, I'm not surprised, with that scraggy old turnip!
Can I say 'turnip'?
Fuck!
Look, stay in your cot!
Two secs!
Where is he?
He'll be ages yet.
These won't last two minutes!
I'll sort you a lift home!
Taxi, please.
You couldn't split a fiver for the slot machines, could you?
Hiya!
Hello again.
Wow, what a coincidence!
You and the mujidaddists, eh?!
The Jihadists.
You had 'em all sitting about in your kitchen, fuckin' singing, songs you couldn't even remember.
Name one.
Any fuckin' one!
Look I knew plenty of songs...
Just mixed all the words up.
Hey, they've stopped texting.
What've I done?
You serious?
You said they scared you shitless?
You said they were 'lethal'.
Yeah, they are.
All they wanted from me was bulk Jammie Dodgers at less than cost.
I told 'em to fuck right off!
Standard!
Yes, lad!
I know, but look at all this bleach I'm stuck with!
And who else round here buys bleach?
So where's the helmet?
M?
Chatsworth to here's five A-roads.
Taxi.
To see me?
It was, yeah.
Jump?
Or Justice?
Well...
I've had a couple of pervy accidents thinking about the first, when we met...
But, no, I'm no threat cos I'm happily married.
Or happily married cos I'm no threat.
Fuck it, you know what I mean, and hey...
just for the record I'm no pussy-gimp either.
But y'know, Cheers anyway, how are you?!
I'm good.
You're being a bit thick about Frank, no offence.
Whatever happens, he's rattling like a vibrator in a biscuit tin, poor tramp.
He's had it with your lot if he doesn't make a statement against Mushroom, Growbag's hit list if he does.
I don't need to do anything with Frank, but wait for him to fall into prison.
Then why are your lads still out looking?
For reasons I can't disclose and in the public's best interest, I want action sooner than later, yeah.
We could sort this out...
if you stop being greedy.
Who the fuck d'you think you're talking to?
Wow.
That's just given me a semi.
You can collar Growbag anytime.
You wanna flash your tits upstairs, bagging Mushroom for attempted murder and a Drug Swoop.
Yeah, they're gonna love you upstairs, but I'm begging you, don't orphan Carl.
Being in charge is crippling the lad, whose dad, we all know, is innocent.
Please, I'm begging you.
Bagging one Macready is more than enough to flash tits for your James Andertons.
What's Growbag's thoughts on that?
You've nothing without Growbag.
And if he can't hand his brother over, which he won't, you've nothing.
You've fuck all without Frank.
I can trust you?
Where's Frank?
I don't know how you coulda missed him!
You two two-faced useless little twat!
It was me, Frank.
Kev did that.
No, I want the full Miranda,