Anyone watching thinking they know fuck
all about knowing fuck all about aught
needs to watch their backs!
So you've had your Labour reclassifying skunk, sending
prices sky high literally.
Literally taking the grass from its own roots.
Now you got your Con-Dem-Nation.
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 really found.
This green and pleasant land in ancient times--
fucking yak, yak, yak, yak, yak, yak, yak, yak, yak, yak.
It's not theirs anymore!
This is our England now!
Party!
SHANE (VOICEOVER): I don't do navel gazing.
I don't believe in it.
Boo-hoo-hoo.
The reason I'm such an asshole is
because my mommy never tucked me in at night
and read me a story.
Fuck that.
But this guilt, it's a seductive bastard.
Swelled up, washed over, and carried
me off before I knew where I was, so I find meself here.
Seeing him night after night, day after day.
Can't fucking shake him.
Now I'm a grief junkie.
Addicted to guilt, the knot in my chest, the bile in my gut.
I barely fucking recognize myself.
Thank you.
I'm so grateful.
SHANE: Is this what it's like to be weak.
Hey, there you go.
Good lad.
And tomorrow morning, 5:30, I want you
out of your kip, rod in hand.
If not, I'll come and drag you.
You're not my dad, you know.
Sean!
I'll be there.
I can't tell you how much I appreciate
all the time you've given him.
He's a good kid.
I enjoy it.
He's had problems, even before his dad died.
Well, he's a teenage lad.
Life's a problem.
Anyway, I won't take up any more of your time.
Actually, I wanted to ask a favor.
Eddie's sister's a total psycho.
You know, always getting her digs in.
When we got married, we moved over here, so I kind
of adopted all Eddie's mates.
So I'm a little bit isolated.
No relatives offering help?
I need someone to help me choose his headstone.
It's too weird.
I'm sorry.
I hardly know you.
His sister's probably got the--
I'd be glad to help.
There's a couple of psychos in my family.
I know how that feels.
Just let me know, yeah?
Thanks.
Danny?
Do you want another cuppa?
Hm.
Hey, he's pretty nice.
What do you think?
WOMAN: He's all right, isn't he?
I know these give the right impression and that,
but I don't remember anyone from "The Sopranos"
drinking out of these dickhead little cups.
You on a drought or summat?
She can feel you nudging her from here.
Fuck off.
I'm looking for someone, someone in particular.
What?
Big tits, small tits, blonde, brunette, ginger?
That's a fetish, you know.
No!
I keep having this dream, the same dream.
I keep having one of them as well.
Has it got a dolphin in it?
A A Sex dream.
Yeah, so?
Same thing every night. It's incredible.
[moaning]
She's perfect, totally perfect.
I can't get her out of my mind.
I need to find her.
Do you spunk in your PJs?
I don't wear folks fucking PJs.
I feel like I've seen her.
Like I know her, but--
What are you gonna do if she walks past?
Chuck a brick at her head?
You're shit at talking to girls, you.
- No, I'm not! - Mate, come on.
Yeah, you're right.
The better-looking they are, the worse I get.
Well, I can give you some lessons.
What I do, right, is I stare at 'em into the soul.
I draw 'em in.
It's irresistible.
Watch.
Mate.
Just watch!
For fuck's sake.
What are you doing?
I'm a working man now.
It's been a while.
I don't suppose any chance of a--
you know, I mean?
You're being serious?
Mhm.
Well, hang on.
Kelly, you're a beaut.
You're a woman, and I have needs.
All right, wait.
[coins jingle]
Mate's rates?
Just a nosh?
It's not you.
It's me. - You can't say that.
We're not married.
One of the few perks of this job is that I get to decide--
always.
Yeah, it's a stupid, anyway.
I see you're trying to bleach your 'tache.
Wouldn't be able to get the picture out of me head.
And I couldn't do it to Marty, anyway.
I mean, look at his little face.
You filthy boy!
Fuck!
Tell me you're not gonna slip me wife a length, Danny/Shane?
First you cave me head in and bolt in a hit and run,
then you befriend me son, which is creepy enough on its own,
by the way, and worm your way into me home.
And now you're looking to bum me missus!
My lovely, mourning missus with that dirty little Irish cock
of yours!
It's just fucking bad manners.
And what's with the pretended name, eh?
This is not gonna end well.
What's going on?
What?
You smashed a plate.
Yeah, I did. uh--
I-- tell your mum I had to shoot off, yeah?
Tomorrow morning, 5:30 sharp.
Can you get the door?
Where you headed, Sparky?
Across the road to that new family.
They've been there a month, and they haven't
got a proper curtain up yet.
How many times?
It's not a family.
It's a knocking shop.
It's competition!
But they call the older one "mum."
They call her "ma'am."
It means "madam."
One who runs the gaff.
Well, you lot don't call me "madam."
We call you "certifiable."
And we're hardly gonna crush 'em with cake!
But I like to be a good neighbor.
They want to put you out of business, Lillian,
And everyone here out of a job!
Right.
I preferred it when you didn't have two pence to rub together.
Yeah, well, so did--
learn to take a compliment.
You've had enough.
Time to head off home.
I've got the horn.
I need to de-juice.
Ugh.
You're less offensive-looking than you used to be.
Flattered as I am, I'm taken.
Put your money away and pop off home.
Madam.
Don't even fucking think about it, knobheads.
Explicit sex dreams tell us a lot.
I mean, details are the big indicator of our anxieties,
our fears, our hopes in life.
Fear of not getting laid, hopes that we do.
Yeah.
And does she say anything to you, this girl in your dreams?
I mean, does she talk to you?
Yeah, mainly "oh yeah, faster.
Right there, please!"
What the fuck's wrong with you?
You're never here.
And when you are, you're miles away.
I'm sorry.
What was the joke?
Ugh!
Batu stupid staring.
It's not seducing me.
It's just creepy!
Oh, you fucking weirdo.
CHESNEY: Told you it don't work. - It does work!
Ugh!
"Yes" is the answer.
And very nice it was too.
They let you stay the night?
Well, they didn't turf me out or rob me.
How much?
I've got nothing to compare it to.
Never had to pay.
How much, Frank?
You know what we charge.
Half.
Fuck.
Are you gay?
No.
Are you?
Fuck off.
Why do you keep looking at me?
I'm trying to find something to say
that help you not be such a miserable little bastard.
My dad died.
Yeah, that's not a license to be a dick all the time.
You have to get past this.
Have you got any drugs?
Not for you.
I'm off down the shops.
He won't be back.
He'll be next.
It was an accident.
The boy'll be found hanging from a tree in the woods
by the end of the year, and his mother
will develop a vodka and pills habit and run with it.
How does that feel?
Feels good, does it?
Take your time, Ches.
I've nothing planned for the day.
You've got a fucking nerve.
I don't want any trouble.
So what do you want?
Chewing gum, maybe some mouthwash.
Opening up directly across the road is an act of war.
We're just trying to make a living.
KELLY: You're practically giving it away.
Well, Louise decides on that stuff--
prices, rota, shifts.
You'll need to talk to her.
We fucking will.
And shortly after, you'll be pulling
down the shutters for good.
We haven't got any shutters.
Are you busking?
Should we throw coins?
I've got a box of lo-cal, but it's out of date.
[moaning]
It's you from the dream.
Fantasy girl's a hooker.
Delightful.
What about the granite with gold lettering.
GHOST: Granite's for assholes!
Go on, tell her.
Yeah. Yeah, that'd be good.
GHOST: Oh, you bollocks.
I'll go and have a weird with him.
GHOST: Never saw this coming, did you?
Shopping for gravestones!
I didn't even wanna meet 'em.
I was gonna watch from a distance,
make sure they were all right.
That's all.
But you did meet 'em!
Nice little ready made family, eh?
Tidy little broken in wifey.
Watch your mouth.
Oh, he likes her!
I fucking knew it!
You know what, your funeral wasn't
exactly bursting at the seams.
By all accounts. you were a bit of an asshole.
Oh, that's right.
Yeah, justify it. Forgive yourself.
That's where this is heading, isn't it?
Eh?
Hey, maybe you did 'em a favor by killing
the nasty husband and father.
This'd be where you apologize.
I am sorry.
GHOST: Not good enough.
Too easy.
I don't accept.
What fuck are you doing?
Hasn't worked since last year.
I know your wife.
As long as I don't bother her, she don't mind.
[moaning]
Dirty bastard!
Credit card payments, online booking, profile of every girl,
so's a selection can be made in advance.
My girls know exactly when they're working, for how long,
and with whom.
She said "with whom."
Live webcam in one of the rooms upstairs.
I've got another one on the girl in the window.
You're not worried about getting busted,
being so in your face?
We're well connected.
Assuming she can't actually hump
out there for public consumption,
how does she get paid?
She doesn't.
We all have to take our turn, raise the profile of the place.
This is all wrong.
It's efficient.
It might be the oldest profession,
but it's still a dirty secret for a reason.
And that would be?
That it is dirty, and risky, and wrong.
It's part of its lasting appeal.
You serve it all with lattes and frappuccinos, and you make it--
What?
Just another transaction.
Would that be so bad?
Well, it depends.
Does the coffee come free with the girl,
or the girl with the coffee?
You're smart.
There's a job here, if you want it.
You're gonna wear a hole in the carpet.
They didn't even have carpets across the way, did you notice?
There's room enough for two brothels.
No, sweetheart, there isn't.
That's the whole fucking point!
25 girls on her books!
Students paying their tuition, single moms
boosting their income, fucking credit cards, Discreet billing.
It's not right, is it?
T'internet's not for sex.
I've been saying it for months that we had too make changes.
And now it's too late.
We are so fucked.
Don't do anything I wouldn't with this.
It's coffee.
I was gonna drink it.
What would you use it for?
I'd drink it.
That might be the lamest thing I've ever seen.
Shut up!
You get your fair share of silly little tarts
with less underwear than sense.
So I never had you down as a foot-in-mouth merchant.
I'm not.
Usually.
Only when it matters.
Tell me you're not thinking you can win
the fair heart of the hooker.
Oh!
Well, perhaps she'll give it all up,
cook your tea of an evening, and breed
little shop children for you.
Yeah, laugh it up.
I could help.
[doorbell ringing]
Oh, excellent.
Now you're a knicker-sniffer.
Fuck off.
Maybe they've found out, done a runner, called the cops.
[knocking on door]
Sorry.
Wondering where you got to.
Thought I'd turned up a bit early.
Unscheduled stop at school.
Oh.
Suspended.
[door opens]
He's a trophy masturbator, a danger wanker.
He masturbates in public places.
On the bus, in the dining hall, the school library.
[masturbating]
We thought we'd put an end to it.
Nothing for almost a year.
And then Eddie died.
This is his second incident since the funeral.
The school and police have been patient, you know?
Circumstances and all that.
But no more.
Next time, it'll be the children's panel.
And what stopped him the first time?
Months of counseling, and eventually the back
of Eddie's hand.
What can I say?
I'm old fashioned.
I won't have him hit again.
Of course not.
How you gonna sort this one out, Super Danny?
Danger wanking?
I'm best off out of it.
All right, girls?
Fancy a drink?
What are we having?
You're not gonna to serve 'em, are you?
We're a pub, Kel. It's what we do.
Hiya.
Four vodkas, please.
OK.
So what do you think?
Love pad?
It'll be like living inside a messy boy's pocket,
and smells like it.
No disrespect, but how can you help me?
Because women weren't invented in 2001 by Simon Cowell.
We've been around a while.
I could tell you what to say.
I was chatted up once or twice in my time.
By men?
By fucking llamas!
What do you think?
Attach this to your phone.
I'll hear what you say and what she says.
And I can instruct you what to say via this.
Stick it in your lug.
It's a Cyrano de Bergerac thing.
What?
Is that Irish?
What if it don't work?
[beep]
Ah.
Can you hear me?
Agh!
Shit!
I adjusted the volume to max.
[laughter]
Why are you not working tonight?
I'm on call.
See?
Me beeper.
Who's watching shop?
There's nobody in, so I thought I'd come and see you.
Oh, aye?
I think we can go all modern.
I've got a fella coming to lay a laminate.
I can get a subsidy for a laptop from the social 'cause of me
age, and we can do credit cards.
You don't get it, do you?
Click-flooring and carbon copies won't make a difference!
Whoa, take it easy!
It's not just how the shop's run.
It's you, Lillian!
It's everything about you!
The world's move on, and you're still stuck
in Abigail's fucking party!
[laughter]
I can change.
No, you can't!
But I can!
That job offer still stand?
Breaking and entering?
You're a regular A-Z of criminal behavior.
She gave me a key.
She trusts me.
That why you're rifling through her knicker drawer?
I'm looking for proof.
GHOST: Of what?
Of the fucking scumbag I know you are!
Were.
And when you find this proof, what then?
Everybody sleeps a little easier, mourns a little less.
Are you suree that's what she needs to hear?
That maybe her dead husband didn't
love her as much as she thinks? I'd hide it in the bottom.
You were good to yourself.
Life's for living, mate.
No pockets in a shroud, evidently.
Weekend breaks, florists, gifts.
She didn't know about any of this, did she?
Every man has his secrets.
Why would you risk it, fuck it all up?
This place? Her?
I didn't fuck it up.
It was all going great till you came along.
She loved me.
And the boy?
He's-- he's delicate.
I thought we'd fixed him, but--
Oh, that's-- that's on me as well, is it?
Better watch the time.
She catches you up here, she'll be asking for that key back.
PATTY (ON RADIO): Is she there?
Yeah, she's here.
Pardon?
Not you!
Can she see you?
Yeah, she sees me.
Pardon?
Her!
Cross to her, then.
- My mouth's gone all dry. - Pardon?
I will kick you in the bollocks if you speak again.
PATTY (ON RADIO): I had to tell you that I dream about you.
I had to tell you that I dream about you.
Beautiful dreams, wondrous dreams.
Dreams that swell my heart.
Are you sure about it?
Fucking say it!
Beautiful dreams, wondrous dreams.
Dreams that swell my heart.
I can't hear you, shop boy.
But you must take your hand off the window,
or Louise will get--
She's touching my hand through the glass.
PATTY (ON RADIO): I'd like to walk with you just once,
take your arm in mine.
Fuck off.
I'm not saying that.
If you're chasing romance, you need to.
I'm not chasing romance.
I want a rider, like in my dreams.
You're an arsehole!
I never said I wanted to marry her, have babies and a Volvo!
Nor did you tell me it was all about dipping
your filthy little apology for a penis!
Yeah, that's 'cause you never asked!
You just jumped in, all Sir Stano di whatever.
Cyrano de Bergerac.
I don't speak fucking Irish.
I hope your appendage drops off through lack of use.
Well, that's hardly fucking likely, is it?
GHOST: You should have your own show!
Why do you do it, toss off in public?
It breaks your mum's heart, you know?
And don't give me that shit about your dad.
Because it was going on long before.
Whoa, whoa.
Sit down!
Oh, I see it now.
You are like him.
Listen, if I have to clip you, I won't feel guilty.
Is that what you're here for?
'Cause you feel guilty?
You don't even know us!
GHOST: Oh, do you think he knows?
Nah, he can't do.
Must be just wondering why a complete stranger
is sniffing around his mother.
I am not.
I knew this lad at school once, right?
He took a kicking at break, shat himself in the process.
Today he's a teacher or a an accountant.
Summat that requires fucking work, anyway.
The point is, to everyone around our way,
he's still known as the boy that shat himself.
Always will be.
Is that really what you want, to be the lad that spunks himself?
Spunky Sean?
Keep your pecker in your pants, eh?
Was it you, Shane?
Was it you who did a poopoo in your pants at school?
Just made it.
Or a little late, but let's not split hairs.
So what's the scores on the doors?
It will be slow until we've got you profile
and some pictures online.
Can't expect them to book blind.
'Course not.
Every girl's responsible for their own profile,
escorting and full service.
Are you computer literate?
Four days business admin at school.
I shop, therefore I am.
In the meantime, it's just passing trade.
Though you'll soon build up your own client base.
Don't wanna blow me own trumpet, but I breed loyalty.
Often by blowing their trumpets.
But if I'm gonna be sitting around,
I might as well sit around in there
and drum up some business.
[moaning]
GHOST: How long did you plan on hanging around?
Could ask you the same question.
GHOST: I'm your guilty conscience.
You tell me.
Feeling good about yourself?
Cause more harm than good? Know what I think?
No, enlighten me.
I think he won't be right until you own up.
Until you tell the less than merry widow
that you killed her husband.
Might still be a chance for you, if you're honest.
Hiya.
- Did you talk to Sean? - Uh-oh.
You fucked up!
He went to football training.
The first time since Eddie died.
SHANE: Good.
Thanks.
[masturbating]
Come on, let the 'tache see the gash.
Get--
[thunder rumbles]
GHOST: For what it's worth, I think you're a cunt.
Danny?
I'm going to toss most of this stuff at last.
But this, Eddie never wore it.
Because I prefer to not look like a tit.
Seems a shame.
I'm sure it'll fit.
Oh, you're her bitch now.
She's giving you gifts.
Either that, or she's completely flipped, full bhuna mental.
I like it.
How are you finding it?
It's different.
Are you on?
Not till next week, fingers crossed.
I meant on the job.
I won't ask about your cycle till my second day.
2:00.
Father and son.
Hoping dad's just chaperone.
Cherry-popper.
What are you doing here?
Why aren't you in college, or traveling, or something?
Just because she gave you a bed doesn't
mean she owns your soul.
Louise has been wonderful to me.
Are you two?
No, that's disgusting!
But a father and son is just a 2:00?
Wow.
What you have to understand is that
without engagement of the heart, you might as well
be pulling your own plunker.
Yeah, but what you don't understand
is, I really want her.
Well, it's like a physical pain.
Why would you think I don't understand the pain of longing?
Because I have a pension book?
This is the age at which you will make your memories.
And they have to last you a lifetime.
So they better be good.
I treasure mine very much.
You have to earn her.
Well, that's what I was doing.
Respect her.
Think about what the girl does for a living.
She's an object 12 hours a day.
Now, think about how great it would be for her
if she thought you considered her more than just a repository
for your clumsy fuck.
[sigh]
GHOST: Look at you, sitting there,
drinking your frappuccino, like you're not a scumbag.
Yup.
GHOST: You have actually stole my life.
Do you want me coat and all?
I mean, these things will come out in a boil wash.
Yak, yak, fucking yak!
Change the record.
You stepped out into the road.
Get over it!
And why shouldn't I have the life, the fucking woman,
the boy, the home? Why?
Come on, why don't me?
Are you fucking better than me, are you?
You deserve it, I don't?
I'm supposed to just get back in me fucking box, know me place.
I could-- I care for 'em, right?
Careful what you wish for.
Just ask your mate there.
Only drinks bought on the premises, Shane.
It's weird seeing you doing a shift somewhere else.
I'm gonna bring the place down from the inside.
Trojan hooker.
It's not healthy, Shane, talking to schizophrenic ghosts,
just because you feel so bad for her.
GHOST: Technically speaking, you'd be the schizophrenic one,
not the ghost.
Even widows have to move on some sometime.
I just don't see why you--
I killed him.
I hit him with a motor a couple of month ago.
Nine weeks, four days, as it goes.
Did you stop?
'Course I did.
He'd had a skinful and he was dead at the scene.
Ahem.
I just didn't see who benefits if I--
if I got banged up for five years.
No.
You have to stop seeing this woman immediately.
He was a prick to her, Kelly.
Other women, secret credit cards.
This lad's a right fucking mess.
And every other excuse under the sun.
She's lost her husband.
You're the bloke who did it, and you're in her bed.
Get out, and let the woman mourn for fuck's sake!
Should I tell?
It might ease your conscience, But it'd kill her stone dead.
Nothing surer.
Don't look at me.
We can't be seen together.
How goes it?
It's a nightmare.
Haven't a clue what I'm looking for.
Tell me about it. The story of me life.
I think the gaffer suspects something.
She's always got her eye on me.
It's fucking spreadsheets, database, and online this.
It's dehumanizing.
It's a whole new level of cattle market.
Still talking about the brothel?
Yes!
Just look dumb and clueless.
I'll try.
Um, I'm looking for Danny McKenzie.
I think he drinks in here.
We need more of a clue.
You're not CID, are you?
You talk funny.
MIMI: What do you want this fella for?
I think he's fucking my mum, and I'd like him to stop.
No Danny McKenzie I know of in here, son.
Can I use your toilet?
Yeah, they're through there.
What a strange little boy.
Pardon?
What a strange--
[chuckling]
I'm not open for another 45 minutes.
This way, I'll know what it's like to be an object.
Of ridicule.
Whatever.
You know, I think it's working.
I'm starting to feel pretty horny.
Fuck off, really?
Yeah, but not for you, with that fucking weird staring
thing you're doing.
Thanks for your help.
No offense.
OK.
MIMI: See you, love.
Oh, he's still got some of that liquid soap on his hands.
There's no liquid soap in the gents'.
Oh, the dirty little fucker!
[laughter]
Off out?
Yeah, won't be late.
Nice jacket.
Thanks.
There was a lad in the bar today,
looking for a Danny McKenzie.
Troubled lad.
Gave Ruby something to remember him by.
You know we're here for you, don't you?
Always.
Ugh.
Come on, you bastard.
[knocking on door]
Hiya, governor.
How's it hanging?
What are you doing?
Praying.
Then having a shower.
It's this whole cleansing thing.
Saying thank you to the Lord for my good fortune.
How would you assess me?
Decade on the game, historic class A habit,
and a bad marriage behind you, contemplating
batting for the other side.
I mean Employee or Sole Trader.
For tax.
We need the room.
I dry quick.
[moaning]
[laughter]
You're my hero.
If you could let the boy think he's earned it,
I'd be much obliged.
Make some memories for him.
No problem.
LOUISE: What the fuck?
No.
What's the biggest problem of living in the digital age?
There's no such thing as privacy.
Named it in one, Sparky.
What the fuck have you done?
Credit card details, postcodes, mobile numbers--
online and vulnerable, and recently
e-mailed to spouses and employees
from this very computer.
Four days business admin, you said.
I'm a woman.
I shop.
What more do you need to know?
We're protected.
I doubt that very much, once Mrs. Deputy
Commissioner opens her email.
Wouldn't you say so, Dep?
Argh!
May I?
What's that for?
Because we're not animals.
Use it to go and see the wizard.
Ask him for a brain.
I don't understand.
That's my point.
What, so the rest of us are out of work?
You live to exploit another day.
Just not around here.
I won't go.
I waited two years for this house.
Here you are.
Consider it compensation, love.
I'm sure the Dep can put a word in for another house
in another borough.
Now, if you'll excuse us, we have a business to run.
GHOST: You have to end it.
It's the kindest thing.
Shut up.
GHOST: It's called closure, mate.
She can't start mourning me until you're
out of the picture.
She loved me.
I know.
Maybe she loves you.
Hello.
Smell smoke.
GHOST: You have to end this. - Do you mind?
GHOST: It's the only way.
Didn't expect to see you tonight.
Yeah, I just came around to drop this off.
Not really me to be honest, love.
It's a bit fucking gay, isn't it?
Sean, could you just give us a minute?
- Is everything all right? - Mhm.
GHOST: Now's your chance.
Everything's sweet.
What are you doing?
Come on, don't be coy.
Stop it.
Oh, you're one of them, are you?
Give it, hold it back, give it.
Fuck off!
Don't fucking play games with me, love.
Because I've had better. - You fucking haven't!
You need to go.
GHOST: Go on, finish it.
You are damaged goods.
You need me.
I barely know you!
And that's how fucking desperate and weak you are.
Get out!
[keys jingle]
Be seeing you, then.
I certainly fucking hope not.
SHANE (VOICEOVER): Guilt seduces.
Like a stolen glimpse of flesh, a sliver of thigh,
the shadow of a breast.
Biscuit?
It It takes strength to resist.
But the pain remains, a reminder.
I try not to do navel gazing.
It hurts too much.
[theme music]
- You're full of shit. - Shut up.
I'm concentrated!
What, like orange juice?
Fucking yes, fucking did it!
[laughter]
Yes!