Episode 5 Witless

This programme contains strong language

-My wife'd go fucking nuts for that. Serious?

-Yeah, little present.

My friend's funeral is on Thursday, and the wake is at Whelan's pub.

Do you think you could pull off being Patrick's date?

Yes.

I'll create a distraction for you to hide the gun.

One of them's got a boyfriend.

He doesn't go by the name of Charlie Littlepockets, does he?

I'll give you the name...

For a grand.

Shit.

You're not pregnant.

Since when have you known this?

The night before last.

-What?

-I'm sorry!

Leanne.

Leanne!

Right.

Well, this is it.

The big day.

T minus zero.

Is that all you're having?

Come on, let me make you something, you need a good breakfast.

-I'm good, thanks.

-But you should go out on a full stomach.

This is no time to avoid trans fats.

Let's go mad and have a sausage sandwich.

I said I'm good, thank you.

You are going to be able to do this today, aren't you?

You know, do it...properly?

I know this isn't nice.

None of us wanted this, but the best thing we can do now,

for all of our sakes, including Patrick,

is to go ahead today and...give it our all.

I know.

Good.

Nice one, mate.

Do you know what? When this is over, you and me,

I think we should go to...fucking Cornwall!

I'm going upstairs to get into character.

What's that?

It's a silencer, you prick.

Yeah, cool.

-BROADCAST:

-The mayor's office declined to comment.

There's been a significant development into the investigation

into the death of local schoolboy Gareth Pugh.

The 68-year-old suspect, arrested on Monday, has been released,

with all charges against him dropped.

Police are now understood to be following an entirely new line of inquiry.

Traffic now, and it looks like it's not a lot of fun on the M32.

So are you doing the arrest today?

Gareth Pugh suspect?

Yeah.

Good, good.

What about you?

Oh, busy.

Busy, yeah.

Yeah, I've got a Renault Scenic being parked illegally

for the last three weeks.

The alarm's started going off now, to add insult to injury.

Got to slap a court order on that mother.

So where are you doing the arrest, then, just...

Just at his house?

-School.

-Oh, are you?

Good. Jolly good.

Great, well...

Good luck with that.

Yeah, thanks.

And good luck with the, um, Renault Scenic.

Yep.

-Colin?

-Hmm?

You want to come with us?

What, on the arrest?

Yeah.

No, I'd just be in the way.

-You'd be more than welcome, but...

-Yeah, OK! Great.

I'm going to get a Crunchie from the vending, do you want anything?

See you later.

MUSIC: Sour Times by Portishead

HE SIGHS

INDISTINCT CHATTER

-Is that?

-Yeah.

Shh.

Shh!

SILENCE FALLS

Dearly beloved.

We are gathered here today to say farewell to Ian Francis Bullard.

And you'll notice I say "farewell", and not "goodbye".

DOORS RATTLE

DRAMATIC ENTRANCE MUSIC

MURMURING

You'll notice I say "farewell", and not "goodbye".

Because today is not an ending.

Death is a door through which we each must...

SHE SIGHS

Good times.

Ready?

Mm-hmm.

Patrick.

How's your head, son?

Willie. Willie!

Patrick!

Oh, come here.

-HE GRUNTS

-Hey!

Really appreciate you making it down here today, mate.

That means a lot.

Hey, you're not with this ugly bastard, are you?

How much is he paying you?

HE CHUCKLES

I'm joking.

Heart of a fucking lion, this one.

Willie, this is Claire.

Claire?

God bless you both.

God bless the both of you.

How long has this been going on?

BOTH: About three months.

On our first date, we went ten pin bowling.

-Bowling?

-Mmm.

Hey, Shirl.

Shirley!

-Look here.

-Oh, long time no see!

Hey, thank you for that bear.

I'm serious, that was fucking beautiful, actually.

Nah, no worries.

Hey, hold on to him.

I like a man who can sew, I do.

I won't have him cook,

but I think a man should be able to sew a button.

It's ten past, you're late.

Have you got it, then?

BED MECHANISM WHIRS

No, no, no, no, no.

Meat. A dog must have meat, raw meat.

Anything else is going to dull them, isn't it?

Willie? What's up, mate?

Who the fuck's that?

Well, she was at the service.

Probably some bird he was shagging.

Keep an eye on her. Keep her away from 'Manda.

-He'd have done the same for us, wouldn't he?

-Yeah.

All right, mate.

Right. Now, I only know the boy's first name.

-Fuck sake!

-It's Patrick.

-Patrick?

-That's the one.

And they were shagging.

Patrick, and he lives in Swindon?

At it like two dogs in a ditch, they were.

Fuck me, this is going to ruffle a few feathers, isn't it?

Morning, noon and night, like sailors on a bunk bed.

Right.

Me, I absolutely love

anything to do with the Tudors.

Seriously. Films, telly...

books, even. I love it.

-One pack.

-All right, Amanda, love?

-I'm not being funny, right?

But who the fuck is that?

-Who?

-That.

What does she think she fucking looks like?

Did you see her at the service?

I think she's a cousin of Ian's.

What fucking cousin? I've never met her.

PHONE RINGS

-One pack.

-Yeah.

-Yeah, I'll call you back, mate.

-What cousin?

-'Listen, I've got a name.'

-One pack?

-I'll call you back in five.

Well, he Irish, isn't he? Cousins coming out of his arsehole.

Right, well, nice doing business with you, love.

If you don't mind fucking off, I need to have a piss

-in a cardboard bowl.

-No can do, I'm afraid.

See, I'm going to need that grand back.

-What?

-The money.

Give us it back.

Now, hang on, we had a deal.

No, the people that I work for - they don't really do deals.

Well, you can tell the people you work for

to suck my arse.

Big mistake.

Nice one, sis. I said he'd try it on, didn't I?

Cheeky twat.

-EASTERN EUROPEAN ACCENT:

-Get me drinks menu!

Is she fucking looking at me?

What?

I want to see drinks menu.

Uh... I don't think there is a drinks menu.

There's Fosters, probably wine.

SHE SIGHS

Make me appletini.

-What?

-I want appletini.

Make.

Pick-up, you twat.

Uh...

She wants an appletini.

Fine.

How do you make an appletini?

Just put some shit in a glass.

SIREN BLARES

Last lap.

Come on, ladies. It's not a sponsored walk.

Did you fucking see that?

What is this? It's disgusting.

-An appletini...?

-This is joke.

You think I'm whore?

GLASS SMASHES

Again.

All right, love, I think it's taxi time for someone, don't you?

I'm sorry, but who the fuck actually are you?

I am friend of Ian's.

-What is to you?

-What's it to me?

I'm his fucking fiance, love.

I think you should leave.

I have right to be here.

Ian and I were very close.

Are you fucking Sandra?

Yes.

Yes, I am Sandra.

He told me it was over with Sandra.

Darling.

With Sandra...

it is never over.

GASPS

So, you can get passionate?

That's not what Ian told me.

Hello?

Is that you, Willie?

DEEP VOICE: Mh-hm.

OK, love.

All the late-night text messages, that was you, wasn't it?

Every one.

And when he kept saying overnight in Kidderminster, for work?

I am based just outside kiddie minster.

-ALL:

-Ooof.

And when he said he was doing a beekeeping course,

and we were still getting our honey from Aldi,

he was with you, wasn't he?

My darling, he couldn't keep away.

-ALL:

-Oooh!

-You bitch!

-Whoa, whoa, whoa, ladies! All right, time out.

All right, mate, mate. Let them sort it, yeah?

Go on, love, fucking have her!

SHE SCREAMS

CHEERING

Shit.

William!

I'm watching my programme!

THEY SHOUT AND CHEER

-Fucking whore!

-Ow!

-Argh!

Yeah, Ian said making love to you was like fucking an otter.

SHE SCREAMS

Fuck!

Right, that's it, fucking show over.

Fucking silk, that.

-No!

-Arrgh!

- Fucking chuck her out. - Get your hands off me.

-Are you OK?

-No! No!

-Come on, out here, now.

-No! Ian...

-I know, I've heard it before.

Ian loved me. He loved me like...

-Argh!

-There's a bag of Hula Hoops for the bus home, now fuck off.

Oh, my God, right, we need to get you to hospital.

-OWN ACCENT:

-I'm fine.

-Patrick, what are you doing?

-People are looking.

-I don't care - the baby.

-Shh.

-Patrick, leave her alone, mate, you'll catch something.

-Come on.

Come on.

-WHISPERS:

-I'm not pregnant.

-What?

-Fucking forgotten what he's like,

he's like the dog with two fucking dicks, isn't he?

I'm not pregnant.

I never was.

I'm sorry. Just...

-go in.

-That's it, mate. Come on.

Come on and have a beer, eh?

Come on and have a beer. Come on.

You don't want a dead man's sloppy seconds anyway, do you?

Eh?

Sorry, Amanda.

It's not always worth it, son. You'll be scratching your bollocks for a week.

Willie, is that you?

-Yes, Mum.

-What are you doing coming in and out?

You're playing hell with my nerves.

All right, calm down,

I'm only going to change my bloody shirt.

Mate, you look like shite.

What are you drinking?

Um...

-I'll have a whisky.

-Fuck me, good lad. He's on the whiskies.

Good lad.

SHE SOBS

Charlie Littlepockets.

It's Patrick.

Fuck sake!

I'm sorry, mate. What the fuck's going on there, then?

You're going to take him for a drive.

Get the knuckles, the cable cutters...

..and the glock.

Meet me at the place.

Give us ten minutes' head start.

Fucking breaks my heart.

You're a good man, Willie.

Oh, fuck.

You look like you're carrying the weight of the whole fucking world

-on your shoulders, mate.

-Oh, Willie. Um...

-I was just about to get off, actually.

-No, no, no, you've been drinking, I'll give you a lift.

-Oh, no, no, it's all right.

-I insist.

No. No, no, no, no, no.

Patrick!

Shit.

Patrick! Shit!

Shit! PATRICK!

Ahh!

'It's only me, Mrs Whelan. What's that, EastEnders?'

'Oh, it's rubbish, no. I don't watch it.'

-Ohh!

-Oh, shit!

-Oh, fuck's sake!

-I'm sorry.

I'm so sorry!

I've just got to pick a few things up for Willie, then I'll be out your hair.

You?

It's fucking you.

DOOR UNLOCKS