Inside No. 9

This programme contains strong language and some violent scenes

Hello?

Hello?! - Hello?!

Oh.

There's an echo.

HIGH HEELS TAP

I've just arrived.

I've just arrived. Hold on.

How did my echo get here before me?

Arlo, turn around.

Oh, Collie! It's you!

I got them things you wanted for the sandwiches.

Do you mind if I make one now? I'm absolutely Hank Marvin.

- No! You can wait until the others get here.

What did you buy?

- Pulled pork, pressed tongue, and a hot and spicy whip.

That sounds disgusting!

- You said you wanted an S&M selection.

I said an M&S select...!

Never mind.

What are you doing? We're not in slow motion any more.

Oh. Sorry.

- The boss is here. He wants help bringing the hardware in

from the car. - Oh...

But I've just made meself a tea! - Arlokino.

So, if you haven't already guessed,

it's a sort of cross between commedia dell'arte

and a heist movie. I guess because they both use masks.

Which is quite clever, in a way,

but still sounds like something a drama teacher'd have a wank to.

But, hey, it's series six,

you've got to allow for a certain artistic exhaustion.

Columbina.

Oh, God, here comes the subplot.

Just stick with me on these bits and we'll get through them

as quickly as possible. - Columbina, you've got to help me.

My daddy wants me to marry his friend, the Captain,

who I've never even met.

But I have my heart set on another.

It's so unfair! - Surely, Miss, your father has other things

on his mind today. Like, 12 million other things.

- Because the diamonds we're stealing are worth £12 million?

Yes. That's...

Yes.

So, he's not going to have time

to be thinking about marriage proposals.

No, that's exactly why he is!

If everything goes according to plan,

then the Captain'll be rich beyond his wildest dreams.

Then my father will have no need to provide a dowry for me.

He can keep all his own earnings to himself.

- It's nearly finished. - He's being driven by greed

and not by my own wishes of who I want to marry.

But, Madam, what can I do?

I am just a lowly housemaid in this organisation.

- I've written a letter to my true beloved, explaining my plight.

Please see that he gets it before the end of the job today.

- You want me to give this letter to the Doctor's...

- Yes! Yes, please. And not a word to my father.

- I guess we're just pretending that WhatsApps and emails don't exist.

Still, I'll give her letter to the Doctor's son, Mario.

He's thick as shit, but fit as fuck!

- Columbina, stop Fleabaggin' and make me a cup of splosh.

Yes, Master. Right away.

And I wasn't Fleabagging, I was Miranda-ing.

Such fun. Ooh!

- Careful with that, you clumsy cumwad!

There's enough TNT in 'ere to blow both your tiny

fucking brain cells out.

Now, did you bring the Glock like I asked ya?

No.

But I did wind my watch up this morning, even though it's digital.

No, your Glock, your pistol!

Oh! You mean this?

Don't point it at me.

It's all right, safety's on.

GUN FIRES, HE STARTS

My bad.

HE SNIFFS

My nose tells me this is the place.

Allow me to introduce myself.

I am Il Capitano.

- I'm sorry that you're ill, but my name's not Capitano, it's Hortensia.

Ah, yes.

The Hor-tensia, daughter of my esteemed friend Senor Pantalone.

But I'm sure you've heard of me by reputation.

I am Scaramouche.

- Scaramouche? - Will you do the... - BLEEP

- What happened there? - We couldn't afford the copyright.

Oh. That's a shame.

- You're the man that my father wants me to marry?!

- Un-a-til a-now I had been a-deaf to your beauty

and blind to-a your voice, dumb to your scent

and mute to-a your caress.

I hope to wrong that a-right over the course of this segment.

- So, what's your role in this job, Captain? Surveillance? Security?

- I am international authority on booming.

- Booming? - Si, si.

Because of my booming skills, I can a-smash my way in anywhere.

- Will you excuse me? I just need the bathroom.

SHE VOMITS

Ah, she is sick with love.

Hortensia, Hortensia, don't a-leave me on the fence-ia!

My feelings don't a-make sense-ia.

I hope it's not dementia.

- Oi, Scaramouche. - Ah, Senor Pantalone.

- Some gelignite here for you to take a look at.

- I have already eaten, but I thank you.

No, it's fucking dynamite!

Maybe a small bowl, then.

- Right, the Doctor's going to be here any minute. - How do you know?

- Because I accidentally turned over two pages of the script at once.

Look, if you do me a favour, I'll let you have a sandwich.

- What flavour? - What flavour favour?

- What flavour sandwich? - Whatever you want.

- Oh... I'd like a lovely slice of ham.

Lean?

I'd like a lovely slice of ham.

- I bet you're loving this on the Cook'd and Bomb'd forum, aren't you?

Look, just give this love letter to the Doctor's son, Mario.

He'll know who it's from. Understand?

- The scholar says, "Plethora," and the widow says,

"Thanks, that means a lot."

- And now he's just turned over two pages at once.

- It would appear this is the place, Mario.

Somewhat insalubrious, yet suitably clandestine.

The very sine qua non of a gangster's hideaway, n'est-ce pas?

It's a shithole.

Indeed.

And, yet, its crepuscular corners will allow us

to dupe the old man and his cronies with our pseudo sparklers.

You have them still?

- Oh, you mean the fake diamonds? - Yes, yes! Lower your voice!

- You mean the fake diamonds? - Mario!

- Yes, I've shoved them down the front of my trousers. - Good.

It's important to have a little circumspection.

- I think I might if I bend over too quickly.

- When the time is right, we will switch the bona fide jewels

with the paste ones and no-one will be any the wiser. Capiche?

- Whatever you say, Pops. As long as no-one gets hurt.

You know you can't stand the sight of blood. - Ah, yes. Well ceded.

Arlokino! You made me a ham sandwich. How kind.

Ah...

Mm! Do we have a quorum?

I speak a little Latin, you know.

- Oh, that reminds me - a scholar goes to a funeral

and asks the widow... - No, no, no, no.

You've done this bit already. Excuse me.

Oh...

I have something for you, too, Master Mario.

It's from the subplot, so it might not be that important.

Oh, cool.

- It's an epistle from a secret admirer.

Apparently you'll know who it's from.

I think I do.

Thanks, Arlo.

- All right. Gentlemen, ladies, gather round.

Grab yourselves a seat. We need to get on with the briefing.

HE CHUCKLES

LOUD CRASH, GLASS SMASHES

LEATHER CREAKS

Please.

Continue.

- Right. Now, you all know your roles, but, for the benefit of them

who are watching on BBC Two, I'm going to go through it again.

- And iPlayer. - What?

- Some people could be watching on iPlayer.

- All right. For them what are watching on any BBC platform...

- Or in other countries, doesn't have to be BBC.

They have it in Spain, don't they? - Oh, yeah. Spain, Australia.

It's very big in China, apparently. - All right, for fuck's sake!

Wherever people are watching it, we need to do a recap!

Now, the van with the diamonds leaves Hatton Garden roundabout

at 3pm precisely...

..and heads down Greville Street towards Farringdon.

Mario, Scaramouche, you pull the barrier across

just west of Saffron Hill.

Er, you're aware of the CCTV...

Si, si. TV.

- Now, you understand where it extends to.

- It extends into the kitchen, but the reception is not-a so good.

- Oh Jesus! Mario, you know about the CCTV, don't ya?

- Sure. - Good.

- It's like CBeebies, but slightly more complicated programmes.

- What? - I'm not sure the Chinese are going to get that reference.

You need to say something like...

THEY ALL TALK OVER EACH OTHER

- It's pretty universal... - Shut the fuck up the lot of ya!

I will not stand here and be made to look like a prick!

ARLO LAUGHS

You think I'm joking?

Boss!

Can I suggest we do a montage?

Yes.

Yes. Thank you, Columbina.

Finally, someone talking sense.

You can do the voiceover.

- At 3:02, the van, driven by a single security guard,

parks up outside Mugshots Coffee shop.

The guard gets out as usual to order a flat white.