Life on Mars

This is BBC1, in colour.

And now, back in the nick of time,

Life On Mars.

Sam?

Come back to us.

-How's he doing? -He's doing just fine.

-Who are you? -I'm your worst nightmare.

What're you doing?

I'm gonna kill you, Tyler.

Are you on strike? Come on, hands off your ding-a-ling.

We've had another shout.

Seeing as how you broke my door down,

I take it it's big.

As Shelley Winters' arse.

Tyler!

My name is Sam Tyler.

I had an accident and I woke up in 1973.

Am i mad? In a coma? Or back in time?

Whatever's happened, it's like I've landed on a different planet.

Now maybe if I can work out a reason, I can get home.

Series Two Episode One

This is the third violent attack in two days.

Bloody press will be all over us.

Moving, you bastards!

Ray, any of this slime put a toe on the the bus, break it.

Step out of this, Gladys, job to do!

DCI Hunt, do you have any comm...

D'you keep a journalist chained in your basement,

for a random beating, guv?

Don't have a basement.

That lot should stay off me back.

Well, they're asking for results and we're not obliging.

Looks like the attack was vicious.

A couple of blows, at least.

First one struck the window,

the second one hit him square in the jaw.

Obviously, a blowing object was used: crowbar, hammer...

That's weird.

He takes his money...

but leaves his gold rings?

DCI Hunt! We know you can hear us up there!

Look at 'em. Bloody parasites.

Murder on the street for the second night, Mr Hunt.

With a shortage of results on serious crime, what's going on?

I am trying to do my job!

And you limp-wristed sallies, you're getting in me way!

Chris, Ray!

This is just the beginning, Sam.

Hurts, doesn't it?

I'm enjoying it.

You're all skin and bone...

Rag-and-bone!

Rag-and-bone?

DCI Hunt!

Your sarge is about to give me a good kicking.

He's a DC these days, We find it suits him better.

Alright, listen up.

These violent attacks are totally unacceptable.

And this department is dedicated to bringing the culprits to justice.

Swiftly and fairly.

What exactly are you doing to curb this crime spree, Mr Hunt?

Well, we're...

Yeah, we're doing all we can.

They found it, Guv. The arches.

Ray, what do we say when we see a piece of evidence on the ground?

"Wait for forensics"...

What sort of man steps up behind a bloke on a bus,

and puts that down on his head?

I want you to nail this fast.

So, we preserve the scene, we dust for prints...

You've seen it out there, Sam. People are scared.

Pull in someone from the "We don't like you" list,

put their dabs on the hammer, charge 'em, whip it past the beak.

There's lot of scum out there that deserve another spell inside.

-Buy us more time. -Look.

You wanna wear the sheriff's badge, Guv?

Well, it comes with responsability.

-By. The. Book. -Cobblers!

The world's getting tougher a place, you have to match it.

The people want the job done, they don't wanna know how.

Too right. You don't want a mirror at the dentist, do you?

Inspector!

Harry.

Hello, Gene.

Bastard ol' week, eh?

Not for me, thank you, sir.

He only likes the ones you buy from a sweet shop.

Are you not missing tea with the mayor?

Less of that, Chief Inspector.

Though I'm probably missing tea with some bugger.

So, you're the boy wonder.

Inspector Tyler, sir.

Chief Superintendent Harry Woolf.

You're a lucky man, Tyler, you've got the best here.

I weep with happiness every morning, sir.

He's not so different from you when you were my DI, Gene.

Minus the looks, of course.

So, you've got problems?

I'm saying it to all divisions: the city needs to feel safe, Gene.

Point is, this is under the glare. So let's make it clean,

make it count. Yes?

That would be... by the book then, sir?

Yes, that's it.

By the jolly old book.

Let's get this party started.

I wanna match all those dabs inside of two days!

Oh, my Lord, take a look at this.

Fingertips search.

Off you go, lads, like I showed you.

In a line, slowly.

In a line!

Now hands that do dishes can feel soft as your face,

with mild green Fairy Liquid

Ray, bring in Andy Eddows.

Nah, he's a mugger, Guv, but he's never used a weapon.

He might have got wind of who's behind this one.

Oh, you're gonna bang heads!

Let joy be unconfined.

I am searching for evidence.

Running prints past Scotty Yard.

Interviewing informants.

Thorough.

And by. The. Book.

Who cordoned off the scene?

I told 'em it was on your say so.

Come on.

We have a bus to catch.

Alright, go slow, Annie. Take your time.

Are you alright?

Yeah, I'm fine.

What was all that about?

You're as white as a sheet, you are.

I didn't sleep very well last night.

Nightmares. I was dreaming about...

You know, where I come from.

You mean, whoo, Hyde.

-There was someone... -What's that?

Don't touch it.

I saw this on Man in a Suitcase.

Except Richard Bradford wasn't using a pair of eyebrow tweezers.

This is not the Magna Carta, just put an X!

-Come on, Askey! -What's going on, Phyllis?

Trying to sign him into the funny farm.

Just sign. Come on!

Chris, where's the guv?

You don't understand, I've been seeing things.

Get off me!

No one believes me. But it's true.

I see things. I have visions.

Just calm down.

It's horrible.

'Cause I know the truth and no one else does.

Just chill out, okay?

World isn't what they think.

How do you think that makes me feel?

So alone.

I'm so alone!

It don't half make it easier when they're space rangers.

No briefs, no statements, no dull stuff.

Call the quack, end of story.

He sees things.

Yeah, poor messed-up sod.

Oh, we got an ID on the bloke on the bus.

George Reals, 51, no record.

I need to see Hunt.

He's having a little chat with that mugger he pulled in.

Black suits you, Eddows. D'you want an eye in the same colour?

I was at me father's funeral!

It could be yours next, pal.

Who's mugging folk with a claw hammer?

Dunno.

-No! Dad. -Tell the truth.

Or I'm gonna kick the crap out of your old fella.

D'you wanna tell the press how we started this inquiry

by comitting GBH on a pot of human remains?

We need solid leads.

-How about the casino? -Not now, I'm working.

Boss, list of belongings found on the victim.

Right, listen up, you lot.

Reals and the others were probably mugged

because they had a big night at a casino.

If this was a straight mugging,

why not take his jewellery?

Reals' son says he was wearing a gold fob watch

with his initials etched on the back. He took that.

Maybe he couldn't get the rings off his fingers.

Or the bells off his toes!

Morgue report, guv.

"George Reals died of a heart attack induced by stress."

It's funny what a hammer to the skull can do, innit?

Plod found Reals's bus ticket.

Now I've checked the fare-stage, Cedar Road.

300 yards from the Wild Card casino.

Right, we'll swing down there.

I know the owner. Good work, Raymondo.

I'm popping you back up to DS.

But this time, make it stand for Detective Sergent and not Dog Shit.

The press are already calling us "incompetent".

This is not the time to start dishing out promotions.

I need a new sarge.