"'So, I'm going to shut this show down right now.'" "Unless you have anything else." "I don't believe that Andy Dixon killed Harvey Wratten." "Where's Glickman?" "Not at the house." "It's empty." "Go and see Glickman's family." "He's got a son." "An accountant." "Winchmore Hill way." "He puts things in boxes." "You, me, everything." "Which one are you in?" "I'm in the one marked, "Knows Nothing"." "All right, Joseph." "Bob." "So what do you want to talk about?" "The future." "Yours and mine." "Oh, by the way, how is it with you and that journalist?" "Whoever gets to wring that fucker's neck gets a free pass from me." "Probably best if I handle the press, then." "Au solo." "It was a funny thing, him going to all that trouble to tell us that the case was closed and yet here you are, still struggling with the latches." "Who's that?" "What are you doing here?" "I'm not sure, Jay, aren't you going to tell me?" "Argh!" "Who's your SIO?" "I'll find out." "And when I do, expect a visit." "Be sure to make an appointment." "Hate you to get stopped at the door." "I bet you didn't expect you'd have to knock me out to get me pregnant." "Six times." "And it'll be the last." "It's Daddy!" "This programme contains some strong language and scenes which some viewers may find disturbing." "Argh!" "Nah, nah, nah, nah." "Not yet." "So, where'd you get that accent, son?" "Sleeping my way to the top." "You must've done an awful lot of that then, looking at where you started." "Well, when you've only got yourself to look out for." "Oh, I see." "Bit of a, "rugged individualist", are we?" "I can be anything you want me to be..." "Sergeant." "You're certainly a clever fucker, aren't you?" "When you're not absconding from secure units." "Says here you got an A star in maths." "Where the hell did you learn that?" "Working out the odds." "Yeah?" "Well, work this one out." "You're free to go." "What?" "The charge has been dropped." "Why?" "Seems someone wants you out." "Who?" "Well, not me, that's for sure." "Lucky for you, you're out of my hands." "But I catch you again, I don't care which fucker says you should walk," "I'll be breaking both your legs before you go." "You'd still want to kiss me first, though, wouldn't you?" "Before you did it." "Mr Harris." "How come they picked you up?" "They think I go to bed too late." "How come they let you go?" "Promised to take him with me." "Get in." "I'm afraid the Wratten release files are restricted." "I know, that's why I'm here, to find out why." "Why do you feel you can do that?" "Because you're from Serious Crime?" "I'm investigating a murder." "And we're just the bum feelers from the Border Agency!" "Isn't that what you people think?" "I'd just like to see the files." "I have agents in the field, detective inspector." "I have to protect them." "Or it might be their murder you investigate next." "Are you saying this is an ongoing operation?" "I don't think so." "From what I understand, you got your man." "Congratulations!" "Case closed." "And what if it's the wrong man?" "But I read it in the papers." "So it must be true." "So, what have you got?" "OK, it took me a while, but here it is." "Ross!" "Wife." "Line one." "Thanks." "Hey, darling." "Yes, I know." "Baby, I'll be there." "Seven sharp, I promise." "Me too." "You're the most loved woman in the universe." "Goodbye." "Ah." "Yeah, it's about time I got a home life." "And from the smell of you, you should do the same!" "I'm not about to become City Editor, though, am I?" "I think you'll find he's top of that particular list." "Anyway, what you got?" "It's just trench work, really." "I took the photos you took of your man." "Trawled through the dailies outside court at Wratten's trial, looking for a match." "Which you found?" "Da-da!" "Fantastic!" "Then it's just the witness manifests for that day, and this is what I got." "Well, what do you know?" "Piggies in the trough!" "Shit!" "You and I need to talk." "I'm with Customs." "Investigations." "It was my team busted Harvey Wratten." "We had a shadow on Jay Wratten, then he did us a favour, lost his head and we followed him in." "Congratulations." "Thank you!" "Except it didn't stay that way." "No." "Clearly not." "Two years later, they're out." "Royal Prerogative of Mercy." "And how do you think they got that?" "Not by fencing a couple of rollers for Her Maj. Two reasons." "One, drug stashes." "Big ones." "They gave us the heads up where to find them." "I knew about that." "That's the bit you're supposed to." "The other bit's more sensitive." "Getting a Royal Pardon, it's like a two-part test." "First, you show the authorities you're willing to help, like Wratten did." "Then there's this tricky bit." "You've got to have saved someone's life." "Someone on the other side of the line." "If you're a member of the IRA, it would be soldiers." "Give information to save a soldier's life and you might get yourself a Royal Pardon." "A couple of them did." "Except in the case of Harvey Wratten, it was me." "He saved me." "How?" "Car bomb." "My car." "He gave us the tip off." "Even then, they nearly didn't make it." "I had the keys in my hand and my family in the car." "And for that he was released?" "That and the drugs, yeah." "It didn't occur to you that Wratten could have been the one who had the bomb put there?" "You know, funnily enough, I did get a vague glimmer of that, yes." "I'm sure it would have struck you like a bolt of lightening." "I'm not the one with the burn." "In my job, I'm used to that." "I've had four attempts on my life in 12 years." "It's why I travel armed and with eyes in the back of my head." "So a lot of people could have had reason to put a bomb under your car." "That's how my boss sees it." "But you don't." "I see something." "Just not sure what." "What about you?" "Case is closed." "What are you still looking for?" "A chance to see those files." "It's a beautiful boat." "Thank you." "Can I give you a hand?" "I'm fine, thank you." "That's, er..." "That's very neat." "It comes with practise." "You do this a lot?" "Most days." "Can I help you?" "It's Commander Penney, right?" "Retired." "Yeah, yeah, actually that's, er..." "That's exactly what I wanted to ask you a few questions about." "I have nothing to say." "But you don't know what I'm going to ask yet." "I could be from Saga, wondering if you'd like to be our next poster boy!" "But you're not." "No, you're right." "I'm not." "I hope you don't mind me saying, but you look very good for your age." "Particularly when illness was quoted as the reason for your retirement." "You've clearly made a full recovery." "I guess it must be something to do with the rarefied air round here." "It's, er..." "It's certainly a little rich for my blood." "I have nothing to say." "I am right, aren't I, if I say that it's, what, er, 12 months since you stepped down?" "Just after DS Delaney..." "You must remember DS Delaney?" "Yes." "He's the one who went from, er, what was it?" "A DI to DS for no apparent reason." "It was..." "Anyway, just after he was, er..." "He was shot." "Dead." "And, I don't know." "I was just wondering if, by any chance, those two events were connected." "I mean, you having to retire, not shooting him, obviously." "You see, the thing is, I keep asking DI Gabriel, he keeps losing his memory." "Isn't that unfortunate?" "Maybe..." "Maybe he'll have to retire soon, too, like you, on health grounds." "This is private property." "Is it?" "OK." "I can see why." "It's very..." "It's very nice, very... exclusive." "Did the credit crunch not reach you guys down here?" "Or have you just got one of those pensions guaranteed to see you through whatever, whatever storms may threaten?" "I have nothing to say and you won't get me to say it." "OK." "No, that's OK, I think I get the picture." "I tell you what." "Could you give me a call if you, er... if you ever want to do some colouring in?" "Great." "I really should have dressed up, shouldn't I?" "So what do you see?" "Not much if this is all there is." "But what's there?" "Well... evidence to support what you were saying." "Wratten gave information that led to your people picking up six huge drug drops and to saving you from getting your arse blown off." "Exactly what's needed for a Royal Pardon." "Correct." "So what's not there?" "No arrests." "Not one." "And my bet is there won't be any either." "Because?" "Because the drugs were already his." "And someone, somewhere, already knew that." "Hi!" "Why were there no arrests?" "I think you already know my answer." "Is that because you already knew they were his drugs you were picking up?" "Are you a policeman or a journalist?" "Should I be talking to a journalist?" "That would be very unwise." "Who for?" "I think even you can work that one out." "Do you mind?" "Actually, I..." "I do." "I've just had Customs crawling up my arse." "Why?" "You exceed your cigarette allowance?" "Actually, it was you they were interested in." "Apparently, you've taken to stalking one of their senior officers." "Laing." "And I'm sure it's not just because she's such a handsome woman." "She won't release the files on how Harvey Wratten got his Royal Pardon." "So what did you do?" "I saw them anyway." "How?" "Oh, bravo!" "And what did you see?" "It's more what I didn't." "Why were there no arrests?" "I wouldn't know, I haven't seen the files." "But it's significant, don't you think?" "What?" "You think it was a set up?" "I think, to get himself out of jail, Wratten gave Customs drugs he already owned." "Great." "So what?" "What does it matter why he was doing what he was doing?" "All that matters is that he did it!" "Customs got to lift a huge weight of drugs off the street." "Huge." "More, apparently, in those six consignments than in the previous three years together." "So even if they were his, who cares?" "Means he had to buy them first before he gave them up - that's a double bubble!" "They don't care if he got himself a fucking knighthood." "He did his job and they did theirs." "And that's all that matters to them." "Sir." "I feel that whatever got Wratten out of jail got him killed." ""Feel"!" "I don't give a fuck what you feel!" "It's what you know that counts." "And what do you know?" "You see, I gave you extra time because I thought you might know something, or you might find it out." "But you don't, do you?" "I think I'm getting close." "To what?" "What's happening, Jonah?" "Hmm?" "Where's the real deviation?" "Is it actually out here?" "Or is it in there?" "Inside, with you." "Because if this is all just about you and some sort of identity crisis, then that's just so much piss in the wind!" "And if that's the case, do you know what I'm beginning to "feel"?" "I'm beginning to feel the spray." "That's almost 23 minutes." "Phew!" "It's so hot in here!" "What do you reckon it is?" "It must be about 40 degrees centigrade!" "That's got to clean out your pores!" "Want to cool things down?" "Well, what do you know?" "Seems like something's blocking the air-conditioning." "On such an expensive vehicle." "Yeah, I already know where it is." "It's in the ducting for the air-con." "So, I'm going to arrest you now and when you give me all those, "No comments", to protect your friends, just let this thought play in your mind." "Which one was it..." "that told me where to look?" "I don't talk to coppers." "That's lucky, cos I'm not one." "What about these?" "Exhibit H." "They don't prove anything." "Just says he was driving the car." "Doesn't mean he knew what was in it." "Who's that then, Stephen?" "I mean, that's you on the left but who's that you're walking with?" "No comment." "That's OK, we already know." "That's Bob Harris and we all know who Bob Harris is, don't we?" "You and Bob Harris." "Hmmm." "Wait!" "Here's another." "And another..." "And another." "I mean, that's not just Strangers On A Train, that's Bonnie And Clyde!" "You and Bob Harris, drugs baron." "Is that an accusation?" "And there's you in a car full of drugs." "See the picture?" "Because if you don't, the jury will." "Say nothing!" "You know what?" "Now's the time for you to give that one a serious rethink." "I do wish you wouldn't do that." "Not exactly the most illegal thing I've done today." "But it's murder to a man who's trying to give it up." "What does that make me then?" "Your nicotine substitute?" "Right now, I'd do anything to take my mind off things." "A little birdy told me you've got a line bust open." "Yeah?" "Who told you that, then?" "Want exclusive use?" "You'll have to buy me a flat." "Too late anyway." "By now, every bastard street corner knows I've been turned over." "But they don't know who by." "And that's a name I can give you." "Bob?" "You've probably heard." "I had a line bust open." "Had you heard?" "Lifted one of my best men." "No lucky strike, neither." "Couldn't have been." "They knew exactly where to look." "I'm sorry to hear that." "Yeah." "Me too." "Because I heard it was..." "Jay Wratten gave them the heads up." "Why would he do that?" "You tell me." "We're about to go into business together." "Maybe that's why." "I don't think so." "But you don't know." "I'll look into it." "You've said that to me before." "You having second thoughts?" "Joseph," "I'm on my 50th!" "How could I know that?" "People talk." "Not to me, they don't." "Especially not his lot." "Look at last time!" "You want him out." "Yeah, I do, but not in that way." "Anyway, we've got an arrangement, haven't we?" "I sit this one out and wait for you to leave the stage." "That is, unless you suddenly want an encore?" "No." "I don't talk to coppers." "It's different worlds, ain't it?" "Us and them." "You have to say something." "Or you will?" "Is that it?" "We made a mistake." "That's over." "But we have a child." "You have to tell your wife." "Why?" "What's the alternative?" "For him." "For me." "For you." "For her." "What's the alternative?" "She wants a baby." "So?" "We've lost so many." "But he's already yours!" "You have to tell your wife." "I'm willing to move on, Jonah." "And that means leaving you behind." "But our son deserves to know his past." "And if you don't claim it, I'll have to do it for you." "I won't let him live his life in the shadows." "I'm in hell." "No." "We are in limbo." "And you need to let us out." "Watch it!" "Sorry!" "Where you been?" "Domestic stuff." "Yeah?" "What kind of domestic stuff?" "If I told you my wife and I are trying again for a baby and we have to get the timing of sexual intercourse right, would that be enough information for you?" "You take a shower afterwards?" "You want to do some work?" "Have you got any?" "When we chased Andy Dixon down Bethnal Green tube, where did we pick up the guy with his phone?" "Outside Great Eastern Hotel." "Anyone review the CCTV on the underground?" "For what?" "For Dixon!" "Why?" "Six hours later we found him." "He shot himself dead." "No need to look." "We should have been across this." "You blaming me?" "You call the shots, even if you're firing them elsewhere." "What!" "?" "It's not my fault." "Dixon got on at Bethnal Green." "That guy got out Liverpool Street if he was by the Great Eastern Hotel." "That's one stop with them together." "Andy must've swapped the phones immediately." "So?" "So what kind of kid does that?" "Months ago, he's a teenage asthmatic, barely got his licence." "Suddenly he'd give Mossad a run." "Central Line," "Liverpool Street, west-bound." "We need the CCTV." "That's Dixon." "But watch this." "You all right?" "I told you!" "Spooky." "And this... is the drop." "There he goes." "Do we ever get a clearer image?" "Never." "I've checked all the way out." "This is the best you get." "OK, Stephen." "I just want to go over this one more time." "OK." "So... 18 months ago, Harvey Wratten cut a deal with us to get him out of jail." "And one of the things he did was, he gave us a tip-off on six drug consignments which we went and picked up." "Exhibit J." "One, two, three... four, five, six." "The first two look like they've been cobbled together but the last four look organised." "So, were you working for Bob Harris?" "Yes." "And was he in the market for selling wholesale smack at that time?" "Yeah, we were." "And does what we see there match the level of your sales?" "Yeah, they do." "And who were you selling to?" "Ultimately, Harvey Wratten." "That's a lot of drugs." "Do you know why he was buying them?" "We knew he wanted to get out of jail so it might have something to do with that." "And you wanted to help him out." "We wanted to sell." "What you want to do with what we sell, that's up to you." "You said ultimately Harvey Wratten." "Who actually set up the deal?" "Peter Glickman." "And he made the exchange?" "Leather soled shoes slip easy on greasy streets." "So who did you deal with?" "Some guy." "I'd never seen him before." "What did he look like?" "Old." "What's old?" "50, 60?" "Somewhere there." "Didn't act like it, though." "Why not?" "One of the lads with me thought they'd try and spook him a bit, because he looked like a pensioner." "They asked him what was stopping them from taking the money right off him." "The old man had a wire round his neck before they'd even finished the question." "What colour was he?" "White." "How tall?" "Quite tall." "Weight?" "Medium." "Not big." "Describe his face." "Average." "Average?" "What's average?" "Clean shaven." "Glasses." "Old fashioned." "Bit like an uncle." "Jaguar, gin and tonic, that sort of thing." "Because of the glasses?" "Well, that and the hat." "What kind of hat was it?" "Pork-pie, trilby." "Looked like a bookie." "And he always wore it?" "Always." "Same with the overcoat." "If it wasn't for the piano wire, it felt like selling smack to an undertaker." "That and he was obviously loaded." "What was the price on the deal?" "All told?" "9 million." "Oh, yeah." "This guy was rolling in it." "It was weird though cos he wasn't a player or anything." "After that last drop," "I never saw him again." "It's him." "He looks like a vicar." "Well, if he is, he had Andy Dixon in his flock and a shit load of drugs off Bob Harris." "Is that the best you've got?" "Of these?" "Yes." "That's not going to stand up in court." "You can't even see his face." "I can get the positive ID off the guy who sold him Harris's drugs." "Is this another one of your feelings?" "Whatever got Wratten out of jail got him killed." "That I know." "How?" "Because of him!" "He's the connection between the drugs and the murder." "So what are you going to do about it?" "I'm going to find him." "I certainly look forward to seeing that line-up." "Is Derek Nimmo still alive?" "I've got a man in the cells saying Harvey Wratten bought those drugs." "But he didn't actually sell them to Wratten, I mean physically." "How could he?" "Wratten was in jail." "That's why he was doing all this... the drugs, the bomb under my car." "He had them all laid out for us to find in order to get himself a royal pardon." "So all you've actually got is one man who says he sold those drugs to another man who wasn't Harvey Wratten." "It's not much, is it?" "In fact, it's not anything." "Whereas what I've got is 849 kilos of 70% pure heroin out of kids' veins and into my warehouse." "And that is all I need." "You still here?" "Shit!" "Who are you?" "I was Peter Glickman's girlfriend." "I AM his girlfriend." "Have been for three years." "So, why come here?" "The flowers." "Hm?" "He'd always..." "He used to send me flowers." "Birthday, anniversary." "It was our third anniversary last week." "They didn't come." "Do you know where he's gone?" "Assuming we even know who you're talking about." "I know you know him." "How?" "The flowers were delivered every time from a shop near where he lives..." "lived." "I went there, I asked them for help." "Details of a credit card, anything." "And what did they give you?" "You." "They gave me you." "Why?" "You supply them." "So?" "Peter had them sent for free because of his connection with you." "Classy!" "I've never heard of you." "Well, I hadn't heard of you." "It's the way Peter was." "He liked to keep his worlds..." "Separate." "Yes." "Except ours was special." "Is that what he told you?" "I don't know where else to turn." "I just want to know what's happened." "I've already told you, I don't know anything." "Not a postcard?" "Nothing." "Or a text, or an email?" "As I told you before, my father put us all in boxes and I'm in the one marked "knows nothing"." "Because he wanted to keep you safe." "Well, if we're talking boxes it seems to me he left his business in one marked "free for all"." "And unless someone warns him, there is a man named Joseph Bede... who is about to take him at his word." "I'm sure my father knew exactly what he was leaving behind." "Did he know about her?" "No." "She's only just been born." "Do you want to keep her safe too?" "Of course." "But how can you be sure, if you're sitting in a box marked "knows nothing"?" "Eh?" "Cos if I were you," "I would start crawling out of that one." "No." "Now listen to me." "Just calm down." "I'm telling you there's nothing." "Nothing, OK?" "Darling, are you OK?" "I'm not sure." "'Listen to me." "You have to be." "'Do you understand?" "'There's nothing anyone can find out because there's nothing that you know." "'Whether they call, whether they turn up at the house." "Nothing." "OK?" "'" "'OK.'" "Why don't we just call the police?" "Because Dad doesn't want to be found so I don't want them needing to look." "Trust me." "Trust him." "Do you know where he is?" "Darling, listen to me." "There's nothing to say." "And if there's nothing to say, there's nothing for anyone else to find out." "That way we're safe." "You hear me?" "Yes." "'Darling, if you're worried about anything, call me.'" "'OK." "Bye.'" "Your father-in-law and I go back." "Well, we almost started out together." "We're old friends." "And I think he might be in trouble." "If he is, I think I can help." "I don't know where he is." "No-one does." "I'm sorry." "Could you get a message to him?" "I wish we could, but I can't." "Because you're not allowed?" "Because I don't know." "Please." "I'm sorry." "This must be very distressing for you." "It is." "It absolutely is." "And here I am adding to your troubles." "I do apologise." "It's a difficult time for everyone." "I wonder, do you have a lavatory I may use?" "Um..." "It's the curse of my age." "These days I have to time my visits to Sainsbury's." "Yes, of course." "Thank you." "Wonderful smell." "It's just there." "You're very kind." "Oh, I didn't wake..." "No, that's the monitor." "I'm letting her settle." "So I'll leave you in peace, or as much as you can get with a newborn child." "I'm sorry I can't be of more help." "Mrs Glickman." "I'll see myself out." "Bye." "No, I've never seen him before." "No, I don't think so." "Actually, he was quite sweet." "Sort of old fashioned." "When are you coming home?" "Oh, listen." "The baby's crying." "I'll have to call you back." "Coming, darling." "It's OK, darling." "Mummy's coming." "It's all right, darling." "Analise?" "Analise?" "Analise!" "Analise!" "Analise!" "Analise!" "Analise!" "Analise!" "If I had wanted to kill her, I'd have done so already." "But if I have to I still will." "Call no-one but your husband." "Tell him to contact no-one but his father." "Get him to tell Peter that I'll kill your baby unless he contacts me." "Do you understand?" "Do you understand?" "Analise." "Such a pretty name." "Go." "'Now!" "'Call him now.'" "Hello?" "'Aaaargh!" "'" "No!" "Don't call the police." "Ten minutes." "Ten minutes." "'You've got to do something!" "Please!" "'Please, do something now!" "'" "'The person you are calling is unable to take your call." "'Please leave your message after the tone.'" "'Dad, it's me." "'There's a man called Gatehouse." "'He's threatened to kill the baby, Dad." "'You're a grandfather." "'Her name's Analise, 'and this man is going to kill her unless you contact him." "'Please, Dad, please." "Contact Gatehouse.'" "Hello?" "Don't do this." "I know, but this is not the way to do it." "I do." "I will, but not like this." "Oh!" "I've got to go." "It's good!" "Is it good?" "It's good!" "Yeah!" "Ha-ha!" "It's wonderful." "Ross McGovern." "OK." "Sorry, do I know you?" "Then it would have to be in a public space." "Yes." "Yes, I do, of course." "OK." "No, no, I can find it." "I can be with you in 40 minutes." "Hello?" "Ross." "The very man." "Caroline." "Sir?" "This is THE Ross McGovern." "I'll get the next one." "No, no, step on in." "Doors closing." "So, where you off to, Ross?" "Oh, you know, to bring down the Government." "Good for you." "Can you be back by six?" "Sorry?" "Well, can you?" "Er, yes, sure." "Good." "Be back by six." "Board room." "Top floor." "OK." "Nice to see you, Ross." "Yeah, you too." "Hello." "Hello, is Ross McGovern there?" "Ah." "Well, I have a driver outside his house trying to make a delivery but there doesn't appear to be anyone home." "It says on the form here that someone would be there." "It's a shame, really, because it's a large package, electrical, we couldn't possibly leave it but we're not due to deliver in that area for another... two weeks." "Ah, well, can't be helped." "Oh, I suppose I should just check the address again." "Sometimes they come out wrong from the shop." "Would you?" "Thank you so much." "Ah!" "Well, that will explain it." "Wrong house." "We're out by a digit." "Thank you." "So sorry to trouble." "So how was Deep Throat?" "Didn't show." "Never happened to Robert Redford." "Don't rub it in." "Well, this should cheer you up." "What's that for?" "Ross McGovern, City Editor." "I like it." "And you got it." "You're kidding me?" "I don't do jokes." "This is a serious business." "I don't know what to say." "Thank you." "Although even though I'd love to say it was a bitch of a pitch, so you'd be forever in my debt, in fairness, you were the old man's choice." "Wow." "I didn't think he even knew who I was." "Listen, if he can find his dick, it's a good day." "Congratulations." "When do I start?" "We'll announce it tomorrow." "Wow." "I'm..." "I'm growing a great story." "Yeah, what's that?" "It's police corruption, but..." "Oh, yeah, yeah." "I heard about that." "What?" "How?" "Everyone's got ambitions, Ross." "No such thing as a vacuum, not in a newsroom." "You'd better learn that one." "Er, what do you think of it?" "About what?" "The story." "Um, not for us." "What?" "What?" "I've seen so many people play that role already." "Doesn't mean we should just ignore it." "It does when it means your readership will." "Do you know what the greatest danger to our democracy is right now?" "And it's not your story." "It's public apathy." "They already know your story." "If you just keep supplying them with what they've already heard, they're just going to listen less and less." "So by the time the really big story comes along, they've stopped listening altogether." "OK." "And what if this is the really big story?" "You haven't even got a small one." "From what I hear, the one that got shot, the police had already stripped him a rank." "The other guy, you won't prove anything." "And the third, you've fingered the wrong guy." "He put Wratten down." "So no story." "No, sir." "How do you know all this?" "By doing the job you're about to do for seven years better than anyone else." "I thank you." "Being City Editor is all about judgement, Ross." "Please, show me you have some." "Oh, incidentally, it's also about a hundred grand price hike, a fabulous pension, and you can stop dressing like Darth Vader because from next week, you've got your own driver." "So, you know, be sure to judge all that too." "I'll tell you what you're going to do." "You're going home to that perfect little country cottage of yours and you're going to tell the wife the good news, see that look in her eye, tuck the kids into bed, and screw each other's brains out." "That's what you do with a promotion, Ross." "Which reminds me, time I got another." "Hey, Haydn." "Fuck you very much." "Oh, come on." "It's just a job." "Subtitles by Red Bee Media Ltd" "E-mail subtitling@bbc.co.uk"