Peaky Blinders

What happened to the pub is Irish business.

Shut your gypsy mouth and listen to your instructions.

Eamonn Duggan?

My son and my daughter were taken from me when they were very small.

We're planning an expansion. I'm taking premises in London.

The Italian gangs and the Jewish gangs have been at war in London.

The Jews have had the worst of it. They need allies.

We take the opportunity to show our hand.

That arrived an hour ago.

There's no name on it, but it comes from Camden Town.

Well done, Tommy. Now you're at war with Sabini.

~ Ada Shelby? ~ No. ~ Your brother broke the rules.

Sabini.

My face is the last thing you'll ever see on earth.

See if the bastard's still alive.

It's all right, Miss Shelby. We work with Tommy.

We're Peaky Blinders.

My name is not Shelby!

Ready for a visitor, Mr Shelby?

No.

I'm here on the King's orders.

I'm afraid I must insist.

Ah, you paid extra for daylight.

The racketeering business must be booming.

Are you not going to thank me for saving your life?

Pass my cigarettes?

Three nights ago,

at the co-operative stables in Montague Street,

there was a murder.

A man named Duggan.

The Oxfordshire constabulary found his body in a shallow grave.

I need to piss.

Nurse?

I know that it was you who carried out the murder of Mr Duggan.

Oh, by the way...

Grace, she went to New York.

A place called, er...

Poughkeepsie.

She's married now.

To a banker. He's rich.

I am sure she is very happy.

You have been under my microscope for some weeks now.

I have been observing every move you make.

That is why I was on hand to save your life.

I imagine being shot by a woman

hurts the same as being shot by a man.

Just a bit more shameful.

You know, Mr Campbell, when I got shot they gave me a medal.

Yeah.

Mr Shelby...

our reunion...

..is part of a very carefully worked out plan,

which has been in place for some time now.

Every time you lean on that stick I bet you see her face.

As a result of the information in my possession,

I can charge you with murder at any time

and provide two impeccable crown witnesses

whose testimony will lead you directly to the gallows.

You are on my hook, Mr Shelby.

And from this moment forward...

..you belong to me.

So, get well quickly.

I'll be in touch the moment I hear you can piss standing up.

Then I will send you your instructions.

Curly, you left the gate open?

No, I locked it. I pinched myself when I did it.

Get this stuff under cover.

Hey!

Who goes there?

Tommy?

Curly, get that oil you put on the legs when they go lame.

Are you fucking mad, Doyle?

The yellow stuff. Go on.

They said you'd be in for another three weeks.

I need to get on a boat to London.

Tonight.

You discharged yourself?

I'm a fucking sitting duck in there, Charlie.

Sabini could send a man at any time.

I need to get some things done.

You're burning up.

~ Here. ~ Oh, Tommy! That stuff's for rubbing into fucking horses.

Ha! I am a horse.

If you were a horse, they'd shoot you with this many broken bones.

Get the black powder, Curly. Go. The black powder.

You pay for a bloody hospital and you're using witchcraft?

I need to sleep in the open air and feel the boat under me, Charlie.

Oh, Tommy. You're just like your mother.

Do you have a boat here?

Only the January. She's heavy.

London will take four days.

That'll do. Can you spare Curly?

He'll be my doctor.

Then God help you.

You have tobacco, Curly?

And tea and whisky. We'll have you running around like a colt.

Get him aboard. I'll fill her up.

If I sleep all the way, it's Camden Town we're heading for.

What business do you have in Camden Town, Tommy?

Tell Polly she's in charge while I'm away.

If I don't come back, tell her she's in charge for good.

You hungry yet, Tommy?

You know what, Curly?

I think I am.

Where are we?

Heathrow. One more day and we'll be there.

I'll put something in the pan. Can you steer?

Give it a go.

You're almost there, too, Tommy.

Fucking hell, lads. Calm down.

Put him down, Ollie. Put him down, mate.

He's only little.

You on your own?

Seems so.

You're a brave lad, ain't you? You want to take a look at my bakery?

We bake all sorts here mate, yeah.

Did you know we bake over 10,000 loaves a week?

Can you believe it?

We bake the white bread, we bake the brown bread.

We bake all sorts. Would you like to try some?

Bread? Yeah?

All right.

What would you like, brown or white?

Try the brown.

Brown, right.

Not bad...

"Not bad," eh? "Not bad."

It's fucking awful, that stuff.

The fucking brown stuff is for the workers.

The white stuff, now that IS for the bosses. Come look.

I've heard very bad, bad, bad things

about you Birmingham people.

You're Gypsies, right?

So what, do you live in a fucking tent or a caravan?

I came here to discuss business with you, Mr Solomons.

Well rum's for fun and fucking, innit?

So, whisky, now that...

That is for business.

Let's talk first, eh?

Suit yourself.

They say you had your life saved by a policeman.

I have policemen on my payroll.

I don't like policemen because policemen, they can't be trusted.

Mr Sabini uses policeman all the time.

That's why he's winning the war in London and you are losing it.

A war ain't over until it's over, mate.

You were in the war?

I once carried out my own personal form of stigmata on an Italian.

I pushed his face up against the trench and shoved a six-inch

nail up his fucking nose and I hammered it home with a duck board.

It was fucking biblical, mate.

So don't come in here and sit there in my chair and tell me

that I'm losing my war to a fucking wop.

That war was a long time ago.

You need to be more realistic.

"Realistic", yeah?

Realistic?

Well, if you weren't losing the war, then you wouldn't have sent me

the telegram.

Really? You forget your fucking telegram.

The telegram just said, "Hello."

Very simple, you want to sell me something.

What?

~ We join forces. ~ Fuck off.

No!

Categorical.

Fucking ridiculous.

Mr Solomons.

Your distillery provides one-tenth of your income.

Protection is another 10%.

And the rest you make from the race tracks.

I know you keep a gun in the drawer.

I know you keep it beside the whiskey.

I know you offer a deal or death.

I know what I'm saying makes you angry.

But I am offering you a solution. You see, Mr Sabini is running

all your bookies off your courses.

And he is closing down the premises that take your rum.

And people don't trust your protection anymore.

You're the bloke who shot Billy Kimber, right?

You did, you fucking shot him. That's you.

You fucking betrayed him, mate.

So it'd be entirely appropriate to do what

I am thinking in my head to you right now.

I can offer you 100 good men. All with weapons.

And a new relationship with the police.

Intelligence. Intelligence is a very valuable thing, innit, my friend?

And usually it comes far too fucking late.

Let's say I shot you already, right, in the fucking face.

And the bullet goes bone, mush, bone, cabinet over there.

Which is a shame, innit,