Anyone watching thinking we know fuck all about knowing
fuck all about owt, needs to watch their backs.
So you've had your labor, reclassifying skunk, sending
prices sky-high, literally.
Literally taking the grass from it's own roots.
Now, you've got your condemnation--
liberals noshing Tories like altar boys picking dimps up.
Haven't 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 a hibernating 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.
Green and pleasant land in ancient times.
Fucking--
Yak, yak, yak, yak, yak, yak, yak.
It's not theirs anymore.
This is our England now.
Party!
[music playing]
[alarm beeping]
KAREN MAGUIRE (VOICEOVER): My husband has killed men.
I don't know how many, I don't know the circumstances.
I do know better than to ask.
There's a dark side to my husband.
He has secrets.
Defends what is his, it's in his blood, generation
after generation.
Do not cross my husband lightly, because if he finds you,
he will exact a terrible revenge.
[phone ringing]
I'll get it. - Oh, it's all right.
I've got it.
Go back to sleep.
[phone ringing]
Hello?
This has to stop.
You better stay in your hole, you little fucking prick,
because I'll cut your throat from ear to fucking ear.
[dial tone]
Everything all right?
Yeah, wrong number.
Just go back to bed.
[music playing]
Cheers.
Cheers now.
South African?
Yes.
You are a white South African?
Buttons and Soweto and Steve Biko?
Desmond Mandela and the rest.
My father went out there after the war
to be a policeman for a party,
Apartheid.
Then he wanted to trade the place out there.
They've got maids, gardeners, servants, the lot.
And a proper respect for the law.
You must of had a passport before now.
Didn't need one.
I've never been north of Bury or south of Stockport.
These are for the citizenship test, Lillian.
Why do you need a citizen?
You're not a British citizen?
There were a lot of forms to fill in,
and I couldn't be bothered.
Whew!
Yeah. - Hey, come on.
Pace yourself, son.
It's a Snickers, not a sprint. - Come on, Frank.
I'm just getting warmed up.
Hey, senorita.
Come on, drinks all around.
Oh, you beauty.
Click your fingers at me again and you will be tickling
your prostate with them.
I don't apologize.
Oh what, was the nursery full?
I heard the slap, didn't I?
Do it again, please.
When we ask for a drink, we ask
with some fucking good grace.
Some fucking good grace.
Well, we would be most grateful if we
could have a top-up, please.
Better.
Oh, you know what?
That might be one of the most erotic moments of my life.
I think you're confusing sex with corporal punishment
at schoolboy error.
You know that I'm good with the ladies, better than most.
Oh you think so, do you?
Watch and learn, son.
Could I interest you--
Not unless you had a full head and body transplant.
Haha, crash and burn.
Mock if you must, but I have spread my seed plenty wide.
Flying solo doesn't count, Frank.
Solo.
Dominoes?
Anything?
Just bills and stuff.
Don't worry.
Just got to--
[music playing]
Yeah, come on then, you fucking coward!
Shadow boxing again, eh?
What are you sneaking around for?
Fuck, I'm not sneaking around.
I've got four pound of fucking weed here.
Do you think I'm going to go in through the front door?
That was out of order.
Pressure.
Oh, apology accepted.
I didn't fucking apologize.
Yeah, one of these days, I'm going to hit back.
A little alcohol, but definitely no weed,
or her larynx will swell like a baboon's ass.
Then she'll be smoking through a hole in her neck.
It's for my time.
It's taking up more and more of my day.
I've noticed.
Meaning?
Don't pick a fight just 'cause you've got a guilty conscience.
Her mother's not got a pot to piss in.
That lot would have cost her 60 quid over the counter.
So you're the great provider.
I hear you.
Yak, yak, fucking yak.
Swear and wear a micro-mini.
That'll get you ahead in life.
Start smoking while you're at it.
I already do.
I'm helping people.
So what are you going to spend your earnings on?
Is that what your big book tells you?
How to be a smart ass?
You've convinced yourself what you're
doing is right, haven't you?
It is.
But you've got to ask yourself this,
when was the last time you got your end away?
Twice, this morning.
And a blowie.
Ah, fuck.
I have recently, frequently.
Thought not.
Well don't try and out-sex me.
How many woman have you poked?
- I haven't got a clue. - Ha.
Look, the point is him, he's starting out.
Me, I guess I'm at my prime.
You, you're a spent force.
I mean, pretty soon, your sex life will be consigned
to history, like Spangles.
Oh, I'm out.
Got to start my shift.
32.
And an half.
How many I've shagged.
I'll be back in a couple of hours, yeah?
Everything all right?
Why wouldn't it be?
Yeah, 20 minutes.
See you then?
Where are you off?
Lock up in Gorton.
There's been a fire. - Have we lost--
The lot.
We've lost the lot.
Well who the fuck knew about Gordon?
No one.
I had to give the lads a postcode
so they could Sat-Nav it.
You need company?
No, I'll be back as soon as.
[laughter]
What are they laughing at?
Pair of dinosaurs.
Take their bras off and their tits will hit their knees.
Wouldn't be a teenager again for all the money in the world.
Oh, I fucking would.
The damage I could cause knowing what I know now.
Sandy Alexander dropped this off.
Urine sample.
Any chance of the results by Tuesday, he says?
From Patty Croker, in case you've forgotten the last set.
Patty's been warned off every GP's
practice in North Manchester.
And Sandy, I think he's diabetic.
You're diagnosing people?
I'm putting tests into the system.
They send off hundreds to the lab every day.
What's the point of having knowledge
if you don't apply it?
Think of them as a couple?
She'd have him for breakfast.
He's a big lad, your dad.
Yeah, but she's a right dirty scrubber.
You can tell.
True.
Totally clear?
Absolutely.
Jamie?
It was nailed to the door.
Whose is it?
My wife's.
16,421 souls.
That's how many I've boffed.
Before or after lunch?
Lifetime, smart ass.
Well, it's a very precise number.
Not 16,00, 16,421.
Total population of the Chatsworth
according to the census of 2011, as reported on "Mancapedia."
You've fucked everyone on the Chatsworth?
That's one a day since you were eight.
365 times 53.
Your age minus 16
Stop Fuck off and count matchsticks
or lines on the road, you gimp.
By association.
Six degrees of separation.
Not a single individual on the Chatsworth that I have not
fucked once or twice removed.
That's bollocks.
Yeah?
I've had him.
I think I would have remembered.
I fucked her.
Oi.
She regularly humps her hubby, presumably.
More fool him.
I get it, oi.
Hubby slithered out of the scally muff of his mother,
where young William frequently deposits his juvenile jizz.
Therefore by association, I have jizzed where he has jizzed.
Though I jizzed there first, so to speak.
How long has this been going on?
A couple of weeks.
At first, I thought it was just some nobody
fancying his chances, but it's got to be a team.
They're all over us.
Where we are, who we're with, when we're in or out.
I had to shred my bank cards this morning,
someone's been having a go at my accounts.
This is the real deal, Mum.
Could be coming from any direction.
Have you told Karen?
She'd fucking freak.
I think you'd better, forewarned and all that.
You're going to have to smoke them out.
Find out who, and then you'll know why.
My little swimmers course through the bloodstreams
of all, female or male.
I am omnigender.
I'll put that on your tab.
See, anyone can do that.
Oh yeah?
Well, have a go, Rob Roy McGregor.
You'll soon hit a hurdle.
I have, for example, deposited my stuff in your little McMuff.
Bullshit. And let's try and keep it clean.
I rode Angie, who fucked Colin G, who shagged Tricia
Patterson, who's the wife of young Danny,
who's been dipping his wick in you
recently, if I'm not much mistaken.
Though not enough people aware of the fact.
Fucking married.
I'm not.
So six degrees of separation.
I like it.
The beauty of it is every time one of these rides someone new,
my tally expands.
So how's that history?
Pint.
See you.
See you, sexy.
Seems unfair.
I've paid taxes all my life. - No you haven't.
Not a farthing, ever.
You're the one the "Daily Mail" warns us about.
Chocolate?
Party at yours then, is it?
Got a lot of revising to do.
Lillian wants a passport.
In order to get one, she has to take a citizenship test.
Eh?
She was born abroad, never bothered to get naturalized.
Ay.
And now, she's tossed her right into the passport ring.
If she fails the test, she'll be deported
for being an illegal immigrant.
[laughter]
Come on, Trigger.
Something to say?
No.
[laughter]
Fuck.
Middle name's Finola?
That's not the issue.
Are you totally sure?
White blood cell count is off the scale.
Red blood cell count is in her boots.
It's not a good combination, Jackson.
It's not her real name, is it?
Finola.
It sounds more like a pet's name.
You'll have to tell her.
Get her to a doctor.
A, you're not going to get Patty anywhere near a doctor.
And B, no way am I telling her she's dying.
Patty's dying?
No!
Maybe.
We don't know.
Got to tell Aidan.
You want to live till you're 17?
You'll say nothing.
- Where you going? - Town.
While she's all grown up and out trying to bag a footballer
and you're playing Doctor Doolittle, I've got a life.
With great knowledge comes great responsibility.
You have to tell her.
Just to get warmed up.
How many parliamentary constituencies are there?
Seven.
Close, 650.
But they'll probably give multiple choice in the test,
so stick in.
What is the difference in the average hourly wage
for men and women?
5, 10, or 20% lower for women?
Higher.
No sweetness, lower.
Higher.
It's not a fucking game.
I didn't get the question.
Simple one.
How old was the Queen Mother when she passed away?
What?
How old was the Queen Mother--
The Queen Mother's not dead.
Come again?
She stole the show when William married Kate,
with her gin and her horses and all the old men
oiled and sent up to her room.
[buzzer buzzes]
Except Barney.
What?
I've shagged everyone in the Chatsworth except Barney.
There's no connections, nothing.
Oh, come on, Frank.
Not that he matters.
There, there, there.
You can't win them all.
Take them to the usual place and I'll
be there as soon as I can.
And Benny, tell absolutely no one.
Understand?
Just nipping to the park.
Have fun.
See you in a bit, love.
We're on.
Be careful.
Donnelly, McCann, Turk.
One of you cunts has been in my house,
rifling through my wife's knicker drawer, taking pictures
of my son, my family.
So I want to know who sent you and why?
Fuck you, Maguire.
Three, two, one.
[yells] Strike one.
Look at him, taunting me.
He's a big cocktease right enough.
And you know the worst of it?
He fucking loves our deep fried, double bacon burgers.
Can't get enough of it.
He's at my work every fucking day,
reminding me of my one failure.
Failing to fuck him by association
is your biggest failing in life?
My one and only.
[baby crying]
Jesus Christ.
Put them somewhere public, send out a statement.
No problems, boss.
Mum, what's up?
They hit Karen.
I'll be right there.
[buzzer buzzes]
Fuck.
Ready for some questions, chump?
I was born ready.
What do you want for Christmas, lovely?
Michael Jackson tickets.
Special guest appearance by?
Whitney.
If money were no object, where would you go on your holidays?
New York.
Dine at that restaurant on top of them
twin towers, 380 degrees view across Manhattan.
What happened?
She was grabbed in the park.
Slapped her about the face in front of Connor, then
he stuffed this down the front of her shirt.
What's going on?
What the fuck is going on?
This isn't the first threat that's been made.
Well, how many?
Eight, maybe.
Who is it?
A I'm out of ideas.
Have you done something to put us at risk?
No.
I am properly scared, Jamie.
How many were there?
I saw one.
Tell him what he said.
That Connor is a legitimate target.
They will do a second test, have a consultant examine you.
Things they can do these days.
How many drinks did you have before you could tell me this?
A few.
I'm probably wrong.
Have no idea what I'm doing.
No, you'll not be wrong.
There's no mistake.
The leukemia took my mother and her sister,
and my grandfather before them.
I knew it would come at some point.
We'll get you to a doctor first thing.
You'll do no such thing.
If I have it, I'll not been spending my last days having
radio waves shot through me.
How far gone do you think I am?
I can't possibly know that.
Yesterday, you thought you were Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman.
You saw the results, you must have an idea.
Thank you.
If you'll excuse me, I have things to do.
How is he?
He's fine.
Don't even think he knows.
I couldn't bear it if something happened to him.
It won't.
Maybe you should leave.
It might be safer.
I'm not going anywhere.
Besides, what would we do without each other, eh?
[glass breaking]
What the fuck?
Whoa, whoa, whoa.
Stop it!
This country is brought to its knees by immigrants.
I'm second generation Bradford.
I'm an immigrant.
You're an immigrant.
I'm Irish, God's chosen tribe.
You don't even believe in God.
I believe in Ireland.
Piss off.
[irish music playing]
How cute!
Oh. Boy or girl?
Girl.
That's the ugliest fucking baby I ever saw.
Looks like the Michelin man at an Angel Delight
and took a dump.
[irish music playing]
You.
It is time you embarked on the rest of your life
and stopped dressing and behaving like a Jack
Russell in lipstick and heels.
I beg your pardon?
Another couple of years, folk will
start thinking you actually are a transvestite,
rather than merely resembling on.
Who spiked your sherry?
Ah, from Middle Earth comes the dulcet tones
of a Scouse skank unleashed.
Who the fuck do you think you are?
No.
Get back in your box.
You have the face that sank a thousand ships.
No wonder your husband ran off to be with the ladyboys.
As for you--
Wheelchair or not, I will kick you in the minge.
That's all one needs to know about you.
It's a tremendous sense of freedom.
All right, Barney.
All right.
Prick tease.
Hey, Barney, wait.
Hold up.
Love the old deep-fried bacon burgers, eh?
Heaven sent.
You know after the breakfast rush,
we toss a whole bunch of them.
You know, they don't want them reheated.
Very big on hygiene and that.
No, I know.
Why don't you come by tomorrow and I'll
put some in your direction?
Save you forking out 3.50 for a pile of old lovely meal.
[mumbling]
What's going on?
Emergency review.
Wrong patient's been getting the wrong results.
How many?
I mean, have they found anything?
Don't know.
It's not just those, it's all over the Northwest.
Every hospital, every department.
Oh.
Well, that's good.
Russian roulette with blood test results,
proper spectator sport.
You sure you should be doing that?
My secrets are going with me.
You little gobshite.
Don't need to be so nasty.
Why on earth not, slutty little whore that you are?
[laughter]
AVRIL POWELL (ON PHONE): Blood tests all over the North
will need to be double and triple checked.
Some lab in Durham cutting costs off staff or whatever.
And that's good why?
Every test in Patty's sample, the results were compromised.
She's outside the house now burning stuff.
You have to tell her there's been a mistake.
Yeah, right.
She needs to know.
Please.
Shovel your own shit.
Oi, Reese Witherspoon.
If you're finished with your nails.
Is he gone?
Sally will have him till the weekend.
Are you going to be OK?
Couple
A couple more possibilities.
I'll have the lads with me.
There's a couple guys downstairs, inside and out.
Everything will be fine.
Out, now.
Is this you?
What is it?
Oh!
Are you threatening my family?
No, I'm not.
Don't be stupid.
Who have you told about us?
No one.
Dominic knew!
That was to save your fucking life.
Would Dominic have told anyone?
He keeps secrets for a living.
What is going on?
[phone rings]
KAREN (ON PHONE): Jamie.
Jamie, I'm sorry.
Karen?
I'll call you at 6:00 PM this evening where
you know if she's still alive.
Jamie?
I'm sorry.
How the fuck?
We didn't know she'd gone out.
But you should have told us.
I might have been able to help.
And don't give me the stare, because I
won't take it off you.
This isn't the time.
What's the plan?
We've nothing to do till 6:00.
We really don't know anything about these fucks?
All the usual suspects, none of them.
That's what we know.
So first of all, I was dying.
And now, I'm not dying.
I don't know.
They're going to retest your sample.
Chances are, you've just got a virus or something.
I destroyed my possessions and allowed
a bank transfer of all my savings to my idiot daughter.
How is Libby?
She's an idiot, like she always was.
And don't try to distract by feigning
concern what you have done.
There's nothing noble in telling a lie to protect a liar.
I burned my bridges left and right.
Told everyone my true opinion, that they're assholes.
And now, we'll be completely isolated.
We could say I gave you the wrong pills
and that you were confused.
Oh, because doolally and old folk
are natural bedfellows, of course.
I think we've heard enough stories from you,
don't you think?
You OK?
Getting there.
It's a recognized condition.
Historophobia.
The American Medical Association classifies it
as a proper phobia.
So it's just totally random?
No, no, no.
It's historical fact she can't cope with.
That would upset her, so she just blanks it out.
And pretends that they never happened?
Yeah, pretty much.
Well, then she'd have to rewrite the whole history.
Well, that's what's fascinating, see?
She's created this whole complex narrative in own head.
She lives in a parallel universe.
Well, that would explain a great fucking deal.
Jamie.
Everything all right?
Mind your own business.
[phone ringing]
I want to fucking--
KAREN (ON PHONE): Jamie, I'm all right.
Tell him to fuck right off.
Karen.
ABDUCTOR (ON PHONE): Still here?
Take it your wife's disposable.
Anything but.
She's done nothing.
Take me.
I'll go anywhere, anytime.
Are you still there?
ABDUCTOR (ON PHONE): Tomorrow morning, be in your shitty Merc
on Findhorn Road, 9:00 AM.
No vest, no mates, no pals watching your ass.
Ay.
ABDUCTOR (ON PHONE): And you put me in a lot of trouble,
so make sure you bring 200 Grand with you.
I don't have that kind of money.
ABDUCTOR (ON PHONE): Then I'll kill your wife.
[dial tone]
OK, we'll get a couple of motors, plain but sharp,
you know? Keep a distance.
Too risky.
We'll never collect 200 grand across one night, love.
We could borrow it, but we might as well
paint targets on our backs.
Besides, if it's a choice between you and he--
Will it stop there?
What if it's you next time, or Cilla?
I've got the money.
You what?
I've got it.
A going away fund, in case of a moonlight flip.
If something happens, take Karen and Connor
and help them start somewhere else, away from here.
Who was Britain's first woman prime minister?
Don't be silly.
You can't have a woman prime minister.
Who is the England football manager?
The Italian.
You know, the one that looks like Mrs. Brown.
Look, you fucking mad Afrikaner.
Even if you don't believe it, learn it.
Pass the test or there'll be no passport and no fucking
holiday to Benidorm.
But I love them documentaries.
Just learn it, parrot fashion.
Try not to think.
I'll try.
She's got no chance.
They'll deport her.
Couldn't someone go with her?
KELLY: What, you think they let mates in.
No, but take the test alongside her.
Less intimidating if she had a pal there.
Keys.
Put these on, your own clothes inside.
Fuck you.
Wait.
This how you get your kicks, is it?
Stripping men?
Follow the Sat-Nav.
When you get there, leave the money in the car.
GPS NAVIGATOR: Turn right.
Be right with you, two minutes.
Here we go.
It's the one that got away.
Yeah, complete the set.
[moaning]
Frank?
It's not what it looks like.
Oh!
OK, maybe it is.
[ominous music playing]
Hello?
I'm unarmed!
Oh, you fuck!
I'm here.
You've got my money.
If I don't get my wife back safe and smiling, you will be found,
you fuck.
Thank fuck, I thought they bluffed me.
You all right, Karen?
I will be.
All right, come on, babe.
We need to get out of here, it's not safe.
Nobody's coming, Jamie.
Nobody's coming.
What are you talking about?
Just me.
KAREN'S VOICE ON RECORDING: Still here?
I take it your wife is disposable.
ABDUCTOR'S VOICE ON RECORDING: You're still here?
I take it your wife's disposable.
It's an app.
Any kid can get it for a couple of quid.
You lied to me.
[phone buzzing]
[phone ringing]
- I'll get it. - No, it's all right.
I've got it. Go back to sleep.
JAMIE (ON PHONE): You'd better stay in your hole,
you little fucking prick, because I'll cut your throat
from ear to fucking ear.
The phone calls, the text messages, the pictures.
All me.
JAMIE: The guy in the park?
Me.
There was no guy.
Hi.
I went to great length, because this matters.
Ugh!
This is family.
The kidnapping?
A night in the Marriott, it wasn't too shabby.
Are you off your meds?
No, you cunt.
You fucked Gloria.
You know what?
You could have fucked all of Manchester
and I'd of never known.
But you didn't.
It was a mistake.
Yeah, too fucking right.
What if I'd left?
Then I'd have known that we don't matter to you.
But we do.
I do.
You stood up for your family.
Good for you.
I'm impressed.
Things will be different.
Now, I'm in charge.
Though only you and I need to know that.
How is that going to work?
Every bit of money comes through me,
income and expenditure.
You probably think you can hide some,
like you did with the 200k, but I will know.
And by the way, your going away fund is now my going away fund.
What if it doesn't work?
It will.
You love me.
And despite all your weaknesses, I love you.
Now, should anything ever happen to me, my friend in the Ford
has a lot of information on your past and your present.
Who is he?
Every marriage has its secrets.
I know, and I'm sorry--
I'll be right with you.
Everything all right?
These fucking retests.
They want the drug history of the ICU going back a month.
These the false results?
No, the originals, all triple-checked.
They're accurate.
Are you sure?
It's a good job you're pretty.
This is my final word on it, and I won't keep going on.
But there are reasons governments and corporations
don't pay ransoms.
Now everyone of us is a target, because they
know we'll pay out.
Thanks, Mum.
Glad you're not going to keep going on about it.
I won't.
Ay, love.
Now, come on Frankie, it's over.
Leave the man alone now.
Yeah, you're probably right.
Things are better than perfect, you know?
They're not finished.
But will you still get your dole money
now that you've been fired?
I wasn't fired.
Technically, my position fell victim
to internal restructuring.
Oh.
So they didn't want bad publicity?
You know, worker spunks in burger.
For an alcoholic, you're a very astute man.
I'll cheers to that.
Someone's got the love balls in.
I'm official.
Passed her citizenship test.
Stood in the queue, she's all passported up.
Good for you.
What's up with sour puss?
Fucking failed the test.
Seven out of 24.
Come on, Karen.
Save these while I go and see to Cilla.
Tell her.
I can't.
You're dying, you're not dying, you're dying.
It's cruel.
Let this be the end of all that Doctor Dolittle stuff.
Doctor Dolittle talked to the animals, you fucking asshole.
You absolutely loathe me, don't you?
[music playing] It's now or never.
And I try to remember who I used to be.
I got one last chance to get myself together.
My husband has killed a man.
He's a strong man, a violent man.
if need be.
I love my husband, but he lied to me too often, too harshly.
And now, things have altered.
Permanently.
He'd do well to remember, revenge
is a dish best served female.
[music playing]
Oh yeah, I've had her.
And her.
Well, I've had her and her.
I've had her and her sister.
Well I've had the mother a night I'd rather forget.
Oh, I've had her when she was married to Terry B.
I had Terry B's second wife with Ollie on top.
Which means--
I've had--
BOTH: You!