Norman Stanley Fletcher, you have pleaded guilty to the charges.
It is now my duty to pass sentence.
You are an habitual criminal who accepts arrest and imprisonment as occupational hazards.
We commit you to the maximum term allowed.
You will go to prison for five years.'
Come on, girl, force it out! Effort!
Get going! Come on my beauty!
Come on, darling, effort! You can do it, squeeze it out, my son. Come on, son!
"Son"? It's a girl, you nurk!
What are you talking about? How do you know it's a girl? All hens are, Ives. Yer male's yer cock.
Oh. There's a lot more females than males, then.
That's why yer cock always looks so smug. He's got plenty of it about. Hence the term "cocksure".
Here, mine looks inniment. Inniment? What?
Nah, go on, she's dropped off. Want to double the bet? All right. Done.
You certainly have been. Look at that - jackpot.
See? Thanks, my darling. And thank YOU, Ives.
Listen, double or quits. Which hand are they in? Go on, fair's fair. All right.
That one.
We're even. Oh, THAT'S the one.
Look at that. Now that's not funny.
Not funny at all. Can't take a yolk, some people.
Ives!
What are you going to do? Shake hands with him, go on.
What a loser. Poor old Ives, what a loser. You know, if Liz Taylor had triplets, and he was one,
he'd be the one in the middle, on the bottle.
There you are, darling. You ain't a loser. You'd have won if I hadn't cut off your access.
Look at that, it's a beautiful one. How do you get them so egg-shaped? Hang on a minute.
Now then, girls. This is what's known as a perk of the job.
With these eggs I'm smuggling in, I can get a quarter ounce of shag, two tubes of toothpaste,
or three bars of Fruit 'n' Nut.
Or I could see Smutty Garland, the porn king, and swap 'em for two dirty books,
full of full-frontal, naked nubiles.
I'd rather have the Fruit 'n' Nut, meself.
SQUEALING
God, you're messy. You eat like pigs an' all.
Here, can you lot run? That's a thought, a pig race. Make a nice little flutter.
The Slade Prison Selling Plate For Pigs.
The Royal Cheltenham Pork Cup.
Yeah, nice thought, that.
I could run a book, couldn't I?
Become an owner, have my own stable...sty. The thought appeals.
SQUEALING
Bacon Handicap.
Hello, darling. You trying again?
Morning, Fletcher. Eh? What?
Oh, hello, Mr Barrowclough. I thought it was... All right?
What was Ives doing? He came in on his way to the silos, Mr Barrowclough. Was he taking bets?
Bets? We suspect he's Harry Grout's runner.
Runner? Well, for taking the bets.
I see. Grout's a long-term prisoner, and an unpleasant man. A sort of...
..unhealthy influence. We're pretty sure he runs both the gambling and the tobacco in this prison.
You're a good chap, Fletcher. I don't want you sucked in to that circle. Never fear, Mr Barrowclough.
Gambling appals me. I've seen its consequences. It's a plague in this prison. My poor old mother.
It's not one of my vices. Here, can pigs run? Run? Can they be trained to run?
Why? I dunno, I just thought... Well, I thought they might like a little run,
instead of having to walk like us pedestrians. A bit of exercise.
Nice to see you taking an interest in your fellow creatures.
Don't sit there! Sorry, you might dirty your suit. I'll get a chair.
Very considerate of you. Not at all. There you are. All right?
Oh, Gawd, sorry. You seem to be settling in down on the farm.
I resented it a bit at first, because I've never been a rural man.
I have a deep mistrust of animals.
I thought you told the governor you liked farming and livestock.
Livestock, yeah, it's just the animals I don't like.
You're very lucky. Normally, a trusty gets a privileged job like this.
I appreciate it, Mr Barrowclough, and I'm sure you helped me, knowing your kindness.
I didn't. Say no more. When are you going to get me a single cell?
I can't do that. I can't share, I've no rapport with Heslop and Evans,
there's no intellectual stimuli.
Is Evans still eating light bulbs? No,
he's changed his taste. He ate my shaving mirror.
There's little I can do, you know. You shouldn't ask me.
Wait, Mr Barrowclough, please don't think I want to influence you, or coerce you,
or, I hardly like to say it, bribe you.
You're chosen by the Home Office for your honesty and integrity.
Would a dozen eggs help, at all?
No, I'm sorry.
CHICKENS CLUCK
Lovely day for it. You won't be getting IT for a long time.
You obviously haven't had it for a long time.
Here you are, Lukewarm.
38 eggs. What's wrong with the hens since you took over, shell shock?
No need for that. Thieving? Mr Appleton, no need to be defamatory. Always pilfering, all of you.
I resent that. I've done some bad things, or I wouldn't be in here,
but sneak thieving is not my style.
All right, all right.
Here, Lennie.
Anyone been with a message for me?
Yeah, a bloke said Harry Grout gave permission. Good. Permission for what?
For a game. What game? Keep your voice down. WHISPERS: What game?
A game of chance. How do you mean? For Gawd's sake, Godber, a flutter, a gamble.
Gambling ain't allowed. 'Course it flamin' ain't, that's why we do it!
Why do you need Grout's permission?
Godber, you've been here a week. Ain't you learnt anything?
Officially, this hotel is run by a governor appointed by the Home Office, name of Mr Venables, right?
But we know different.
We know that genial Harry Grout could bring the place to a standstill.
Do you play for big stakes? If we can nick any out of the meat safe.
No, we play for anything negotiable, snout, mostly. Whatever it is, it won't be chicken-feed.
Pity, I've got a lot of that.
Blokes here are always betting. The excitement counters the misery of their monotonous existence.
You what? Well, it's not winning or losing, it's doing it under the screws' noses, surreptitious, like.
Blokes by me bet on how many bricks are in the cell. That's common.
I can't think. It drives me mad, listening to their recounts. "341, 342..."
Blokes in stir bet on anything - two flies crawling up a wall, the numbers of the hymns in the chapel,
two flies crawling down a wall. There was a big game last night. Didn't you notice the tension?
Yeah, but I thought it was because of the female social worker.
What, gruesome Glenda, her with the bicycle and the brogues?
You couldn't have an erotic fantasy about her.
Nifty Small's in love with her. Is he? He stole her bicycle saddle.
I bet the ride back was a bit painful for her.
They'll soon find that, though. Under his pillow? I bet they won't.
You're on. How much? No, my mum said gambling would get me into trouble.
Did she? You may not have noticed, son, but you're in prison. You ARE in trouble.
I still ain't watching flies crawl up walls or counting bricks.
I'm going to resist gambling inside.
Bet you can't. Oh, yes, I can.
Bet you some soap you can't. Bet I can. See, you bet you wouldn't bet, so you lost. Work that one out.
Where are you off to, Ives? I've got the spuds. Hurry up, then.
Got the spuds? Yeah. Listen, how much do they weigh, then?
You know, don't you? No, there's no scales out there. What's the bet, then?
All the eggs you've got in there. You crafty nurk. All right, against what?
Ounce of snout? OK.
Are you in, son? Oh, no. Right, nearest one? Yeah.
23 pounds. I say 27. You gave that a lot of thought(!) Well, just over 27.
Would you believe it? TOGETHER: Just over 27.
Thank you. Get off. You knew that already.
Listen, I'm no cheat. You're in here for fraud!
What are you on about? Cheating's your career. Come on. All right, here.
You are a crafty, conniving nurk, what are you? You're a bad loser. These'll come in handy. I owe Grouty.
It doesn't do to owe Grouty. There you are, five. Now naff off.
Morning, Mr Appleton. What's that, Ives? The spuds, Mr Mackay. Fletcher! Pigswill.
What?!
Just going to give the pigs their swill. They need their swill.
All right, just a minute.
I swept all this, Mr Mackay.
Come here. Oh, "come here", sorry.
I'm told that your chickens are on short time.
Since you arrived on the farm, egg production has fallen drastically.
Not my fault, Mr Mackay. The hens are in a FOWL mood.
Don't come it with me, Fletcher. What've you got here?
The crown jewels. Chicken meal. Empty it.
Ives, stop!
Empty it? Empty it. It'll make a mess, Mr Mackay. Godber!
Don't move!
Empty it.
OK, Fletcher, just don't let me catch you thieving. I won't. Won't what?
I won't let you catch me, Mr Mackay.
Ives! Where are you going? Listen... Horrible Ives. It's late, Mr Mackay, I have to do the turnips. Come here.
But... Come here!
Come on!
Now,
you're a bit of a jackdaw too, Ives. Last time you were caught, you were trying to steal a meat cleaver.
Only to sharpen my pencil, Mr Mackay.
No, it wasn't. It was to be used to persuade your cell-mate to part with his Pirelli calendar. Now...
..what have we got today?
A meat skewer, maybe? Eh?
CRUNCHING SPLAT
Follow me, Mr Ives.
Looks like the YOLK's on you, son.
MURMUR OF CONVERSATION
Evans, did you eat my shoe polish?
'Course not. Are you sure? 'Course I am, why would I eat your shoe polish?
It might make my shaving mirror go down a bit easier.
Here, listen! Don't we knock? Word is, you've got a game going.
Speak up, they didn't catch that in E-Wing. Bellow it from the rooftops. It's OK, the screws are brewing up.
You're as subtle as an air raid. Is it true you've got a game going? Yeah.
Did Grouty give the OK? At a price. When is it? Saturday afternoon,
while Grandstand is on and the screws play E-Wing at football. Can I play? No, full house. Who's in?
Me, Mr Heslop up there, Lukewarm from the kitchen and Mr Evans here, provided he don't eat the dice.
Dice, is it? Possibly, yes. I've said enough.
Listen, you can get one more in. Not you.
It's all fixed up, all arranged, so naff off.
Set up a game in this place? You haven't got a snowball's! Gambling, in here?
In any nick, where there's a will, there's a way.
You're so leery. They cut off your privileges here, for the toss of a coin. I've had mine cut off.
Have you?
Hasn't affected your voice, has it?
They'll do you for any kind of gambling. Draughts, dominoes, even that spelling game. Scribble?
Yes, Scribble. Venables has cracked down ever since the Earwig Derby.
Earwig Derby?
Yeah, the Earwig Derby. Tragic, that.
What Earwig Derby, when was that?
Last earwig season. Oh, well, then. Grouty ran it like the Jockey Club.
Handicaps, eliminators, and the finale -
the Derby. Eight yards across the laundry. The whole prison was on.
Until Mackay finds out. Ah, we never knew.
What did he do? He put his foot down.
Yeah, right on top of them! Splat!
No need for that, though, was there? No.
It's dice, is it?
Morning, Mr Heslop. Are you with us? You never said it was dice.
I did, yesterday. It obviously just permutated. Listen, you stand no chance at all.
Yes I do, geraniums grow well in chalk, if they're moist and you keep cats away...
Oh, hello, Mr Barrowclough. Evans? Ives, up to no good? Well, you usually are.
We're both interested in geraniums.
Yes, nice. My cousin bred them... Grew them.
..Er, grew them.
I'm a bit of a horticulturalist, too.
Are you? Oh, Gawd.
But no time for that. More's the pity.
Evans, time to see the psychiatrist.
Still trying to get yourself out by eating things?
Yes, he's playing havoc with my possessions. And with my digestion.
Here, where did you get the dice?
Lukewarm made them out of pastry in the kitchen. He baked them.
Won't they break? No, not his pastry.
I'm very fond of geraniums.
Flowers, things like that. Not that we had a garden. My house just had a yard.
It had a bicycle and a wringer in it.
But the wife's sister's house in Sidcup,
that has a riot of colour. And what with his vegetables, she never had to want for nothing.
That it?
That's it, ain't it?
It comes in short bursts. Poignant anecdotes from the rich pageant of Heslop's past.
The Patience Strong of Block 11. I'm lucky to have him.
I see why you dealt him in. No, no, first come, first served.
You'll never get away with it. What? Organising this game. It's organised.
You'll be caught. Put your money where your mouth is. How much? Try me.
A biggie? If you like. How big? Try me. Snout? Naturally.
All right, then, half a pound.
Fair enough.
Did you hear what I said, half a pound?
I heard you. That's eight ounces. Oh, nice one, Einstein.
Let's get this perfectly clear, and you're witness, Heslop.
I bet you half a pound of snout you get found out, busted, or whatever. You're on.
Oh.
Well, all right then. That's it, then.
Right, I'll be off, then.
I should lay some of that off, if I was you, my son.
You've got a lot of bottle, Fletcher, a lot of bottle.
I used to be a milkman, didn't I?
Ah, here's my bloody polish. When I was doing bird in Shepton Mallet,
we used to bet... Did you? ..on the number of bricks in a cell.
Oh, that was original. How did you get on?
All I know is, there was over 37.
Roomy, wasn't it? Roomy, yeah.
Know what we had going in Maidstone? ONLY roulette, that's all! With a dart board, see.
You could bet on even or odd, see, or red or black, or single numbers,
or groups of numbers. A blindfolded croupier threw the dart.
We'd play in association hour, bribe the screw to turn a blind eye. A great game, mammoth.
Crafty, that, roulette. Yeah, pity it had to end so tragically. What happened?
The croupier got careless one day. Now the screw turns a blind eye to everything.
You sure they won't find us in here? Lukewarm assures us that they won't.
As a trusty, he's got access to the keys. Cosy, ain't it?
They won't look here today. E-Wing are playing the screws at football, a game which commands attention.
And the attention of the hospital. Should be a bloodbath, with any luck.
I asked McCready to try his escape today. He's sure to cock it up and the diversion would have been handy.
He refused, because, as he says, the state this country's in, you can't rely on the trains at weekends.
I didn't know Tommy was escaping. Common knowledge. Domestic problems. His wife's got nerves.
Getting on top of her? Not at all, she's sleeping with a limbo dancer.
A limbo dancer? Black, is he? Black and blue, the way she goes on. Real raver, she is.
Something to nibble on. Lovely, it's ages since I had a square meal.
Not since my shaving mirror.
You spoil us. With a mother like you, I might have gone straight. Or bent.
Can I eat mine now? No, you can't. He's a big kid.
One step outdoors, you want to start the picnic.
First of all, rules. Minimum stake is one fag, right? You can't raise more than half the kitty.
Losers - we must have losers - get 24 hours to pay,
or Mr Heslop gives you a reminder, see, like the Post Office.
Post Office? He sticks one on you.
Are we all right, then? Right.
And the game? The game, gentlemen...
..is snakes and ladders.
I knew something was up. My antennae told me.
I know when there's a big deal at Dodge City.
Perhaps it's a waste of manpower to crack down on gambling. I mean, men WILL gamble.
Gambling leads to debts, debts to ill-feeling,
antagonism, indiscipline. Did your antennae tell you where the game is?
No, that was horrible Ives. No honour among thieves.
Not with gambling at stake. That's why it must be stamped out. Where are they? We're getting warmer.
Eh? They're down there.
What, in the boilerhouse? In the coke store. Oh.
Well, should we, er...
No, no. Wait a moment.
I have arranged for a special delivery.
THEY COUGH AND SPLUTTER
Welcome to The Black And White Minstrel Show.
Evening, Mr Fletcher.
I hear that, this time, the COKE was on you.
Very witty. Full of that irrepressible Liverpudlian wit, aren't you?
What did the governor say? He said I'd betrayed his trust.
I'd forfeit my position on the farm, and lose all privileges for four weeks.
He said I'm unfit to be sharing with Heslop and Evans. He's moved me to a single cell.
Oh, how tragic. I AM sorry.
Don't give me that. I know you grassed, as does the whole prison.
As you'll find out in the exercise yard. I'm not saying there'll be any unpleasantness -
but borrow some shinpads from the PT instructor.
Here... I hold nothing against you, you nasty, contemptuous little git.
You was a pawn in my grand strategy.
There's still the bet. You owe me, Fletcher.
True. It may be a small consolation in the nightmare of your days ahead.
Ready, Fletcher?
I'll do a deal. Take the heat off me and I'll forget the bet.
You can't raise half a pound of snout. I can, out of my winnings.
What winnings? Win some, lose some.
I bet the entire landing I'd be in a single cell by Sunday.
I'll be rolling in it.