A New Breed of Criminal

All I ask is a tall ship and a star to sail her by.

All I ask is a tall ship and a star to sail her by.

All I ask is a tall ship and a star to sail her by.

Is that enough?

Yeah.

Can I keep this, 'cause this is written by Richard.

I can frame this, can't I?

Yeah, that's how it'll all begin.

Hello, Princess.

Billy pass that one.

Shouldn't we do corners?

- Shouldn't we do one corner? - Billy, Billy!

- Do a corner! - Billy, Billy!

- Yes. - Here he is.

Oh God.

Here, give me ball, here, give me a nice one.

Billy, give us that one there.

Layton, Layton!

Harry.

- Yes, sir. - Getting my team sorted out.

We're getting the team sorted.

The small ones are playing.

Billy, Billy!

Come in the box, lads.

Get that side of him, Billy, Billy take your hat off.

You wouldn't have your hat on, son.

Go on, he's in!

Oh, man, what are you doing?

Tim, get that ball, play a nice ball.

- Get in! - Celebrate!

- Celebrate! - Celebrate!

Defence, step out again,

so he's got a bit on the edge.

Squish on him.

Go ahead, kick!

Yeah!

Who's the striker?

Lad up front, it's Stephen Sayers.

Where do you think you're going?

Away home for my tea.

Don't be smart with me, son.

You been pinching car radios again, haven't you?

- Say summat then. - Nee comment.

Fucking Sayers.

This is a story, a true one,

but a story nonetheless, the story of one Stephen Sayers.

Stephen lived with his family in York Street, Elswick,

it was the beating heart of Newcastle

and he had an elder brother, John

and a younger brother, Michael.

Their mother, Yvonne was a civil servant

and a member of Mensa.

Their dad, John Brian had a haulage company,

that delivered beer to the local pubs.

He also owned a scrapyard on the quayside.

But perhaps most importantly,

I should mention, he was a very, very good villain.

- What's going on? - In here, Sarge!

You are not getting in here without a WPC.

We've a warrant to search these premises

for John Brian Sayers.

She's right though, as usual.

Someone get me a WPC up here now!

Hello, son, where's your dad?

No comment.

What do you think you're doing?

He's just a bairn, man!

Look, he's not here.

He can't hide forever, Yvonne.

He's not here.

And when that bastard shows his face,

I'll be there to nick him.

Just get out of my house.

You're all right, son, come here.

Okay, okay, all right.

They fascinate a lot of people.

I heard them last night, what a racket to make.

It's like this all the time.

Really?

Aye, I'm gonna have to make another complaint.

Yeah, you should.

I mean your stress levels must be through the roof.

Nash, Stephen, move.

Imagine how many sweets we could get with that.

How much do you think there is?

About three million, we could even buy Newcastle United!

The boys' mother only ever wanted them

to have a proper education.

Be gentle with them, John, they're only bairns.

But their father wanted them to be streetwise.

Gentle, you think the bizzies

are gonna be gentle with them?

Hello, lads.

Got my bag?

Have you had a look in it?

Aye, we did.

Where's our cut?

Your cut, experience is your cut.

All right?

You two, you've got chores to do around the house.

- And? What about Michael? - He's doing his homework.

Oh, that's not fair, he always gets off.

Come on.

Every day, there would be a new test.

Pass that test, well, they'd get the back of his hand.

They'd call that a result. Why, you might ask?

What the fuck's going on here?

Your dinner's in the oven, kids are doing their homework.

Homework?

Homework?

It's not fucking homework these needs, man,

it's street experience.

It's got to be in for tomorrow.

Well, if you failed one of his tests

well, it just didn't bear thinking about.

Good lads, never put your fingerprints on anything

the bizzies can get a hold of.

What do you say if a bizzy stops you?

No comment.

That's enough, John.

No!

No!

Don't fucking hit me!

Does it make it you feel like a fucking man?

They spent many a night in that kennel

as they watched their father

take out his drink-fueled temper on their mother.

That kind of thing traumatises you,

it stays with you for life.

But seeing those beatings hardened those boys,

they formed a stronger bond.

Nobody would ever hurt the Sayers boys again.

Looking back, of course, they never stood a chance.

Get the kettle on, Yvonne, I'm parched.

They were only ever going to take one path.

Where's your dad, is he not up yet?

- Sleeping it off. - Morning, boys.

And ah, how did you get that?

Walked into a door?

Something like that.

Look, seriously, do you want me to say something to him?

- No, there's no point. - Who's coming with me?

Stephen loved those days

working with his Uncle Albert, early to rise

and after a quick breakfast,

it would be down into the town to set up their pitch.

He loved the smells, the noise

and the hustle of the city life.

And once the store was set up,

Stephen would keep watch for the Old Bill.

This is perfect, are you this man's wife?

Try that and see what you think of that.

One Old Bill in particular,

affectionately known as the Lanky Streak of Piss

delighted in nicking some of the old boys,

who thought because of time served,

they didn't need a permit.

Aye, I bet they're worth they're weight in gold.

How fucking rude.

Sorry, madam, look, you can have that for a fiver,

he's a cheeky bugger.

Let out on the street, I'll tell you, thank you very much.

And Sayers was the only name.

- Heads up! - He was determined to have

- in his little notebook. - Your cash, Uncle.

- Christmas box, aye. - Stop!

What do you think you're doing?

Can I be of assistance, Officer?

Licence please, Mr. Sayers?

Licence, Officer?

Your street trading licence, Mr. Sayers.

I think you're mistaken, Officer.

I've got no money with me and these are not for sale.

What are these?

Well, they're gifts for my family, the Sayers,

you might've heard of us, you know, we're a big family.

I wasn't born yesterday, Mr. Sayers

and I know a wrong'un when I see one, go on, on your way.

He might not have been

the top of his class at school,

but Stephen was getting a great education on the street.

He started with car radios, a very good place to start,

then he moved on to the cars themselves.

Well, makes for a quicker getaway, doesn't it?

Stephen started to spend a lot more time

down at the scrapyard, his mother and father split up,

he'd moved in with another woman

with a ready made family and that hurt.

Spending time at that scrapyard

was the only way he would see his dad.

You should be at school.

- What you took on that car? - Sold the battery

from the Escort and I sold the Cortina too.

We haven't got a Cortina.

Have you been choring cars again?

And where's the Jag gone?

Sold that too.

That was my car, you stupid, little bastard!

With money in his pockets,

it wasn't long before the bright lights