The Heavy

...the taxation,

which in turn has led to an investigation of corporate policy.

Our political correspondent Henry Holmes has the latest news from Westminster.

Thank you, Richard.

This shift in public perception has never been more apparent

after the recent issues in the UK.

One of the leading issues under scrutiny of course

is the nationwide rise in violent crime...

...seen the dynamic rise of a number of MPs,

not least Christian Mason.

He is the leading proponent

in the call for a general election.

However, requests for a statement

regarding the possibility of an election within the year

have gone unanswered by Downing Street.

Good morning, Tony.

- Good morning, Boots. - How are you, mate?

A nice morning for it.

Hello.

You all right, son? It's me.

Ooh, you sound out of breath. You should get down to the gym more.

Just saw Frank Marshall coming out of Hyde Park

walking that mutt of his.

I'll keep an eye on him, but get over here quick.

He owes Mr. Anawalt money. And he wants it, all right?

Get the money. Kick the shit out of him-

the fat git. All right? See you later.

Get out of the way.

Boots, please don't do this to me, I beg you.

I'm not a fighter, son.

I'll give it to him tomorrow, I swear.

You should have paid him yesterday, Frank.

Yeah, but you know what I'm like.

Please, I'm begging you, don't be like this.

Oh, you fucker.

Wait a minute!

You know, Frank, I was a fan of yours.

But you've really let yourself go.

It's hard to miss this.

Not exactly low-key, is it?

Nice one, son. Cushty.

Mr. Anawalt is gonna be very happy with you again.

Another gold star in his little red book.

Welcome to the Essential Mix with me, Pete Tong,

where this week we bring you more action.

Boots, you know a few things about clocks and watches and all that.

But do you know anything about shooters?

I know which end can ruin your day. Why?

Why the fuck do you think? Might be a job.

I ain't shooting nobody.

Relax. You ain't got to take no one out.

It's just for protection- you know,

just for waving in front of someone's face if they get-

Ain't my thing.

Look,

no one likes guns unless you're fucking holding one.

- You're talking bollocks. - What?

I've been raised with guns. I've had guns since I'm four years old.

My father used to take us grouse shooting when I was a little boy.

- Yeah? - Yeah.

- Get much? - Yeah, I did.

So you're like a crack shot then, eh?

So about the job...

I've told you- no guns.

Oh for fuck's sake.

Did someone say gun?

Jesus.

What the fuck happened to your face?

Mitchell.

Or do we call you Boots these days?

Here, you two ladies on a date or something?

Who the fuck are you calling a girl?

- All right, sweetheart. - Oh, bollocks.

All right, Dunn, leave it out, will you?

There's nothing going on here that'll interest you.

Unless of course you want to plant something.

You insult my integrity, Boots.

I thought I'd just stop to say hello,

let you know I'm still looking out for you.

Twat.

Didn't get the impression that Prince Charming liked you very much.

- He doesn't. - Did you see his face?

I wouldn't want to meet him in a dark alley.

Actually I would not want to meet the bastard

- who did that to him in a dark alley. - It was me.

What?

I did that to him.

She's just a fucking friend. You're fucking drunk again.

- You're always fucking drunk. - Shut up. Just leave.

Every time I fucking take you out, you're fucking drunk.

What the fuck's the matter with you?

Fuck you.

He's closely followed by Peter O'Dell

a longtime friend of Downing Street.

Hi.

Well, it looks like I've been left.

Nathalie Marcel.

Boots.

Boots?

So is the missus at home?

What do you want to do?

Hold on a second, mate.

- Who the fuck is this? - Oh, Sean.

Is this the reason you're so full of lip tonight?

- It's not like that. - No?

What's it like then?

Oi!

What's your fucking problem, mate?

Are you deaf?

Sean.

Come on then.

- Have a nice night, mate. - Have a fucking what?

It's too late for that, mate. You should have thought about that before

- you started chatting up my bird. - Here we go again.

That's right, I'm talking to you, you fat fucking cunt.

Boots, calm the fuck down.

Come on, don't need any problems here, all right?

You two lovebirds go home.

Come on.

You're a fucking cunt!

Boots my dear,

you don't have much luck with the ladies, do you?

Good night.

Mitchell.

Dad.

I need to talk to you.

Really?

And how'd you find me?

Might just as well sit down.

Would either of you boys want a drink?

No, thank you.

How's Mom?

As good as can be expected.

She misses you.

Did she get my letters?

Yes, she did.

Did she read them?

Yes, she did.

But she never wrote back.

I don't think she could admit to herself

that you were really locked away.

Answering your letters would have seemed

like an acceptance of what you did.

I'm her son.

Not her only son, Mitchell.

It didn't just happen to you, you know.

We all of us suffered.

So what do you want to talk about?

Your brother.

I don't have a brother.

You came all this way to talk about a man

who put me in prison?

Christian did not send you to prison, Mitchell.

You killed a man.

He was only a character witness.

He was the key witness for the prosecution.

And how ironic- the MP so tough on crime,

he testified against his own brother.

What did you expect him to do?

I expect some loyalty.

He went out of his fucking way to testify against me.

You murdered a man.

No.

I got into a drunken brawl

with a man who was sleeping with my wife.

And you killed him.

Yes, I did.

And don't you believe I haven't spent every minute

of the last seven years wishing he didn't die,

wishing that I could go back and change it.

I lost my wife.

I lost my little girl.

I lost my fucking life.

And above all,

I was betrayed by my own family.

Go and see Christian. He needs to talk to you.

It will be a cold day in hell

when I go and see Christian Mason.

Your mother

wants to see you...

right after you've seen your brother.

Yes.

Don't hurt him. Just please don't hurt him.

So you want to talk?

Lot number 68 showing on my right-

a fine and rare late 17th-century

Thomas Tompion ebonized bracket clock.

I have a lot of interest in this item

and I can start the bidding at 100.

110, 120,000, 130, 140,

150, 160,

170, 180...

Fucking hell, bro, You proper outdone yourself on this one.

- $200,000. - I thought it was a write-off.

It ain't even finished yet. What's the reserve?

200 grand.

- 210 on the phones. - So where is Anawalt?

- 220 in the room. - He's upstairs. Wait wait.

$230,000 on the phones.

Could I pass you onto my associate, please?