Episode 3 Witless

This programme contains some violent scenes and some strong language

This is me bra.

You dirty little bastard.

-Dad, no!

-You'll be married on Sunday.

-Dad, we didn't...

-You'll be married.

What if somebody else killed Whelan?

But who?

Think about it, Leanne, there's another gang.

GUNSHOT

Ah.

SHE BELCHES

-Found anything?

-Yeah, look at this.

This guy, Farooq Erdem, the guy we saw get shot, I think

this is his dad, and listen to this,

"Charges against Mr Erdem include cultivating cannabis, handling

"stolen goods, illegally importing meat..."

-I think it's a family outfit.

-Like the Mafia.

Yeah, exactly. What have you got?

Watch the budgie and look at the kitten's face.

Leanne.

All right, sorry for sharing probably the best gif

I've seen all year.

OK, here we go, "Farooq Erdem, owner, proprietor,

"Top Class Kebabish, Longwell Street, Bristol."

-We need to check this place out.

-Deffo.

SHE CRUNCHES

Oh.

See anything?

Leanne, can you stop being so noisy?

What? Snacks is a big part of any decent stakeout, fact.

Oh, I can see him, that's him.

Let me see.

Oh, that's our guy.

Then tomorrow we begin phase two. Are you ready for this?

Oh, yeah.

Yo.

Hey, you were supposed to come back at 12 for your dinner.

Where were ya? Are you drunk?

I'm just... I was just doing this, sorry.

Well, I brought it to you, anyway.

Make sure you're not late for your tea, mind.

If you're not there by dark, it'll go in the bin.

HE LAUGHS

Ah, you're her bitch-boy now.

Ah, Mr Slick's getting married and you're her bitch-boy, so.

Sweet, innit?

And that's been lowered,

that's been lowered,

springs out, cylinders in,

big bad boy subwoofer at the back, that'll get the bass pumping...

Sorry to bother you, but my son, Benny, I know he knows you lads.

I've not heard from him and I just wondered if you'd seen him

or if you know where he is.

Sorry, love, no.

I'm just a bit worried.

I just fucking told you, didn't I?

PHONE CHIMES

Hey, Rosemary, you there?

Yes, you OK?

Having a bit of a tough time at the moment, to be honest.

Work stuff.

Oh, you poor poppet, nurses are so undervalued.

How did you know I was a nurse?

I googled you.

That's OK.

I was training to be a nurse but I got kicked out of college,

I've gone back to an old line of work.

I'm doing things that aren't strictly legal.

I understand if you don't want to talk to me.

Of course I still want to talk to you, I'm your friend.

Thanks, Rosemary, that means a lot. Speak soon.

MUSIC PLAYS

Woohoo! A-ha.

GUNSHOT

Now, this is it.

This'll be your marital home where you'll live, raise your babies.

Needs a lick of paint and some tarp for the roof.

That's something you can take care of.

HE SPITS

You'll do the work yourself, mind, you're not my boy.

I won't be a father to you.

Coffee, please, darling. Black, three sugars.

Farooq Erdem...

You don't know me yet,

but you will do, my son.

Name's Slater, DCI Slater,

Bristol Police.

Thanks, love.

Just transferred in from the Met.

I've been looking at your file, Farooq.

You've been a very busy boy, ain't ya?

I think I might get a few of my old pals at the Met to cast

an eye over your file.

We'll find something, Far...

Ah...

Top hit.

This month in bears.

Mm.

Age gap relationships weird?

Mm.

TV PLAYS

Evening, Farooq.

Well, well, well.

Nice place you have here.

What do you want?

I want a kebab, Farooq.

It's not a problem, is it?

All right, Slater, stand down.

Shit.

Shit indeed, Detective Constable.

What are you doing down here?

Slumming it a bit, ain't ya?

My unit are working on something.

I have business to discuss with Mr Erdem.

Kimberley Goodwood.

Mr Erdem, I work for a government unit concerned with

domestic security and organised crime.

What, like MI5?

Something like that.

So? What do you want with me?

Mr Erdem, this conversation is not happening and I am not here.

What I'm about to put to you is absolutely not police

or government policy.

We need Willy Whelan...

..dead.

If you and your gang would be willing to, um...

..kill him,

not only would you not be actively investigated or prosecuted,

but you would also be granted

a further three years' criminal immunity.

What?! You're willing to do a deal with scum like that?

Ah...

You're fucking lucky she's got my bollocks in a vice.

Well?

I can't help you. I am no longer involved in criminal activities.

Come on, Farooq, you can be honest with us, this is all off the record.

I am being honest.

We sold cigarettes from Turkey,

Whelan says stop, we said no,

Whelan killed my son, so we stop.

It broke my heart.

It broke my heart.

OK.

Oh, come on, Farooq, be positive,

you can't give up after just one knock.

Yeah.

You are seriously telling me to go back to crime?

If you haven't got a dream, Farooq...

..how are you going to have a dream come true?

Leave my shop now. Please.

Now!

Shit.

So, Whelan killing his son, that was really quite effective.

-Yeah, I didn't figure on that.

-No.

What the fuck was all that?

What the fuck do you want with my dad? What do you want with my dad?

Yeah, I know you're not police. Who the fuck are you?

OK, OK, OK. No, you're right, just...

Just please put the weird scary knife down and...and I'll explain.

OK. Yeah.

We're the witnesses to your brother's murder.

We testified at the trial.

Yeah...

Well, what was all that black ops shit in there, then?

We're now on the witness protection programme

and we can never go home as long as Whelan's alive.

Yeah, and we were hoping that we might be able to

persuade your dad to take care of that. Sorry.

-Sorry.

-Sorry.

That was really you? In the trial?

Picture number two is the offender, Your Honour.

Well, first up...

..thank you.

You're welcome. Oh, God. Do you know what?

That is the first time anyone's said that to us, including the judge.

Yeah, well, you don't need to persuade me to kill Willy Whelan,

I've thought about it every day since my brother's murder.

But if I could do it, don't you think I would've done?

Whelan's not an idiot, you can't get near him.

But what...what if we worked together as a team,

and we could come up with something?

Right, yeah, and in terms of our planning a gangland murder,

what would you two be bringing to the table?

Well, I've got a degree.

Yeah, and I'm really good at remembering birthdays.

Sorry.

Thanks again for...you know.

If you ever want a free kebab.

So that's that, I guess. We tried.

No, no, this can work. That guy's up for it

and we've seen from his little knife-waving act

that he's got the skill set.

We just need to figure out a way to get him a shot at Whelan.

You!

I know your face.

You knew him. Where is he?

Where is my son?

-Sorry, I don't know.

-I know he's dead.

I know he's dead, so just tell me where you put him

so I've got somewhere to go!

He's my boy.

I'm sorry, I really don't know.

-Please.

-I don't know.

-Please!

-I don't know.

SHE SOBS

PHONE BUZZES

Hello, Patrick, it's been a while, you OK?

Things aren't great right now.

Mm, want to talk about it?

No.

You don't sound like yourself, Patrick.

You don't know me, I'm not a good guy.

You are a good guy.

I don't want to do this any more. Sorry.

OK, problem - it's hard to get to Whelan.

Whelan...hard.

-He's always in the Badger, surrounded by his goons.

-Yeah.

But what if we could somehow bring Whelan to our guy...?

Yes, yeah. How?

Well, let's think about Whelan, let's get inside his head.

Criminal.

Beard.

Likes crime.

Dislikes...

..shaving.

Well, you've been inside his flat, what's he into?

Well, he seemed to like, um...boxing.

Right.

Chinese ornaments...

Chinese boxing match.

Oh, hang on, hang on, I spoke to his wife.

Well, what do you remember about her?

Me, I love anything to do with the Tudors...

..to do with the Tudors...

OK, I think I might have something.

-Hello?

-We're not open yet.

It's us, remember?

Look, if you want your free kebabs, come back at lunchtime.

Any of the ones under four quid.

-Is your dad in?

-Nah, he's at boxercise.

OK, good, we need to talk to you.

Tudor banquet.

What?

OK, just trust us on this, we know...

-For a fact...

-That Mrs Whelan is a fan...

-Big fan.

-Yes! Of all things Tudor.

So we pretend we're staging a Tudor banquet.

A romantic Tudor-themed evening of food, song and raffles.

We lure Mrs Whelan into booking two tickets for her

and her husband, but when they get there, there is no event.

Just you...

Primed and ready to... Yeah.

Tudor banquet?

Just sounds a bit...gay.

Sorry, you're objecting to the plan for aesthetic reasons?

But that's why it's so good.

Who's ever suspected there's something

underhand about a Tudor banquet?

OK, it's a bit of a long shot

but if she doesn't go for it then what have we lost?

Nothing.

HE SUCKS HIS LIPS

So he thinks he's going to this fucking banquet,

we'd have to dress the place up, make it look busy.

Absolutely, totes.

Then, when he steps inside, you shoot him.

No, no, you shoot a man,

Whelan's less than that.

I'll kill him with hammers.

Yeah.

Whatever you feel comfortable with.

So, er, you're in?

I'm in.

BOYS CHUCKLE

Come on, hurry up.

-Where are we going?

-You'll see, just follow me.

Oh, mate, I've got shit all over my Nikes.

Look, you are going to love this, I promise.

Check it out.

-Wow.

-Shh.

Wow.

We should go, we shouldn't stay too long.

-Why not?

-Because we might scare the mother off. Come on.

Wait, I just want one final look.

All right.

Hey, come on, race you to the park.

You wish, small legs.

THEY LAUGH

DRILLING

Mr Slick.

You're to be married in the morning.

You and me need to have a little talk...

..as men, before you start breeding my daughter.

Are you cut?

What?

Are you circumcised, lad?

In this house, we follow Scripture.

You must be cut before you wed, you must be cut like Jacob.

Well, go on, then.

Are you going to do it now here, like a man,

or do I have to get Granny?

Argh!

Pa, what's going on?

Gurvin!

Woo!

Gurvin, the bastard's away.

Ah!

GUNSHOT

You all right there, son?

-What are you doing standing in the middle of the road?

-Shit.

Where are you going? Oi! Stop!

Oi!

HE WHIMPERS

I have got a fucking stiffy right now.

You've seen them on TV, now eat your dinner dressed as them...

the Tudors.

That ginger lad, yeah?

Did you give his mum some money?

Argh!