Ripper's Revenge

You shouldn't smoke in bed.

Oi! Not when you're gonna fall asleep.

You'll burn the whole place down one of these days.

That'd be no loss.

Where's the matches?

Must have used the last one last night.

That's typical of you, that is.

And if you don't like my place, find your own.

We've been over this, Iris, so many times. Money's tight.

You're bleeding tight!

We were supposed to be married this time last year.

Bloody bells!

Look, don't start, I've gotta headache.

When you got those bonuses from those Ripper stories.

Yeah, those were the good times.

You said you were gonna take me somewhere nice

and make an honest woman out of me.

The Good Lord God himself

couldn't make an honest woman out of you, Iris.

It was either that or we

spend the money on having that basin fitted.

And I think we made the right decision.

I mean, at least now you can wash yourself off

when you get in in the morning.

I wouldn't have to if you brought in a decent wage,

Sebastian.

Do you think I like going out every night?

How much do you make?

- Not a lot. - Give us a penny.

What for?

Matches.

- It's a crime, that is. - What is?

Living off immoral earnings.

Make an honest living from the newspaper, Iris.

Your wages don't even cover the rent no more.

Told you, Iris, money's tight, even at the newspaper.

I mean, everyone's so bleeding poor and miserable.

And no one wants to read all about it

because they're all bleeding living it.

You used to do all right.

Yeah, that was back when we had stories like the Ripper murders.

They were horrible.

I used to be scared for my life every night I went out.

Yeah, I bet.

I did sell a lot of newspapers.

Speaking of which, I've gotta get going.

You got time for a quick one before work?

I'm sure you've had enough for one night.

It ain't the same, doing it for them as

doing it for me, Sebastian.

No, I've gotta go, I'm gonna be late.

Those were the good times.

Mr Stubb is it?

Your Iris tells me you're responsible for

- the rent these days. - Does she?

Well, it's due.

Right.

- Three shillings and six pence. - As much as that, is it?

- You must be doing very well. - Well...

I would be if any of you buggers paid me on time.

See, missus, the thing is, is if I'm late for work,

I don't get paid.

And if I don't get paid, I can't pay the rent.

But you have my word that I'll square up with you

by the end of the day, all right?

Bollocks.

Nice of you to join us, Mr Stubb.

It's hardly like there's a lot going on, Mr Stimpson, is there?

Oh, young Mr Cartwright here is managing to keep himself busy.

I am writing my first story.

I saw a robbery on the way to work.

Mr Stimpson says I might get the frontpage.

You promised me the frontpage.

The frontpage and its associated bonus

goes to whoever most deserves it.

These are your stories of the day?

Make what you can of them.

What the bleeding hell's this? A missing dog?

What am I supposed to do with this?

It's a valuable hunting dog.

It's a dog. No one gives a damn about a bleeding dog.

This ain't gonna make frontpage and you know that.

The missing dog is the best one of the lot.

I made this paper.

My Ripper stories made this paper.

That was a year ago.

What have you brought us since, hmm?

Missing dog, what am I supposed to do with that?

You always say a reporter can make a story out of anything.

What was it you said once? "Heroes into villains."

A good reporter can turn heroes into villains

and villains into heroes.

Take this robbery you saw earlier.

Well, it was outside the bank

near Adelina Grove and they were bringing in

these briefcases full of cash.

Now this bloke walks up,

snatches the briefcase and makes a run for it.

And the guards, they fire after him, but with everyone

screaming and panicking in the crowd.

Well, he just disappeared.

And that's your story, yeah?

Ain't bad at all.

But answer me this, Lenny.

Who's the villain?

Well... the robber, of course.

Why's that?

Well, he's a criminal, a thief.

Who'd he steal from?

The... the bank.

And who cares about banks?

Nobody, Lenny, nobody cares about banks.

I mean, you take a majority of our readers,

probably haven't got two pennies to rub together,

won't give a damn about some rich banker

that's lost a few quid.

So...

well, you'd like to make the bank the villain.

Right.

Then who's our hero?

This fella, why did he do it?

Needed money, I suppose.

Hmm. And who couldn't do with a bit of extra cash these days?

I mean, what's to say he ain't got a family to support?

Starving kids to feed, wife too sick to work.

His wife's too sick to work? Who said that?

You did, Lenny, just then.

What, What?

Our exclusive source,

who personally witnessed

the robbery commented that the suspect

may have acted out of desperation

due to having a sick wife.

I can't be a source, I'm writing the story.

Not anymore, Lenny. How does this sound?

Dodging bullets, the suspect made his escape. No.

The plucky young man.

Well, he wasn't young, he had grey hair.

The distinguished-looking man

made his escape into the crowd,

who cheered him on.

Well, they weren't cheering, they were screaming.

I don't even think you're cut out for this, Lenny.

Maybe you should stick to doing your drawings.

You're the one who gets to be more creative

when you're writing the stories.

Are you implying that I just make stuff up?

Never.

Lenny, I've never printed a single word of a lie.

It's all about choosing the right angle.

Bollocks!

Forgot to get matches.

What's that?

Letter with my name on.

Where's it from?

Don't know, I just found it in the bag.

Well, did you bump into anyone in the street?

Perhaps they slipped it in when you weren't looking.

Not that I know of.

Why are you so scared by this?

It's written in red ink.

Look at that, signed Jack The Ripper.

Someone having a laugh, mate, gotta be.

I mean, even the writing is the same as the ones that I wrote.

The ones you wrote?

Yeah, just over a year ago now, before you worked here.

You remember the big Jack Ripper scare?

That was me, I came up with that.

So you made it up.

I don't make stuff up, do I?

I just came up with the angle.

See, it was the letters that he supposedly wrote

confessing to the murders, I did them.

That still sounds rather dishonest.

See, I never said the letters were written by Jack the Ripper,

just they were signed Jack the Ripper, which they were.

And they looked just like this.

Well, what does it say?

"Dear boss, I warrant you'll be most surprised

in receiving this letter from me, your old friend Jack.

I've been enjoying a leave of absence these past 12 months.

But presently I've had a yearning to once again

feel the touch of warm flesh and blood.

She told me her name was Mavis.

I found her on Mulberry Street.

Which is where I slit her throat before concealing the body

in a nearby workshop whose door was helpfully unlocked."

That's quite specific, Mulberry Street.

Yeah.

Well, what are you gonna do?

Nothing.

It's someone having a laugh.

Well, where are you going then?

To get matches.

So not down to Mulberry Street?

No.

See, that would be a waste of my time, wouldn't it?

This'll give Lenny something to work with.

Oi.

What are you doing there?