ARTHUR: In New York City, at 6am,
the Wall Street Stock Exchange crashed.
THOMAS: I told Michael on Friday this was going to happen.
We were most definitely on board.
But you have to listen to the voices that you hear.
- (GUNSHOT) - (HORSE NEIGHS)
My name is Mosley. Oswald Mosley.
THOMAS: Yeah, I know who you are.
You have come to my attention.
Mr Shelby? Mr Levitt from the London Times.
Ten years ago, I was a journalist on the Birmingham Evening Mail.
Course, working in that city,
it was impossible not to know your name.
And your...reputation.
What is your Tory newspaper more afraid of?
Is it evolution or revolution?
(SIGHS)
(GLASS RATTLES)
(POURS LIQUID)
(PHONE RINGS)
(CROW CAWS)
(WIND HOWLS)
(TICKING)
(MUD SLOSHES)
(SIGHS)
(GROANS)
DISTORTED CHILD'S VOICE: Dad! There's a phone call for you!
THOMAS: Charlie!
Charlie! Wait!
Charlie!
Giddy-up, horsey, giddy-up!
- Dad, there's a phone call for you. - Good boy.
Good boy.
Will you go back to the house?
And, er, whoever's calling,
the operator will have their number,
and I'll call them back, eh?
(CAR APPROACHES)
Oh, look, Charlie.
You must have violin practice.
It's Mrs Milligan.
Go on.
And, Charlie!
Charlie, you play loudly.
You might hear some bangs.
Go on.
(SIGHS)
(VIOLIN PRACTICE IN DISTANCE)
OPERATOR: Mr Shelby?
Maggie, yeah, it's me.
- Yes, Mr Shelby. - I just missed a call.
Where was it from?
Belfast.
Belfast. Where in Belfast?
Um, I'm not sure.
Do you have the number?
Yeah.
Yeah, can you put me through?
(STATIC)
(STATIC STOPS)
MICHAEL: Tommy, don't believe...
Mr Shelby.
My name is Captain Swing,
calling from the occupied Six Counties.
And there are some people from the other side
of our neat little city that want you dead.
You should also know that this boy, this Michael, your kin,
was in his cabin aboard the SS Monroe in Belfast dock,
making deals with the very men who want you dead.
Tommy, they're lying!
Now, if you want, we can put a bullet in his head here and now...
...or we can send him home, and you can deal with him.
Send him home.
Very well, Mr Shelby.
But be informed that this kin of yours was talking to representatives
from the County Tyrone and Glasgow UVF
about how they'd divide up the English racetracks
- after they'd blown away your legs. - Tommy, they're lying!
And may I ask...
...why you are doing me this favour?
Because, Mr Shelby,
we've been informed by people at the very highest level
that, since your conversion to socialism,
you are now on the side of the angels.
And angels can be useful to us.
(LINE DISCONNECTS)
(FOOTSTEPS APPROACH)
(KNOCK ON DOOR)
Come.
Mr Shelby, the violin teacher wants to know what all those bangs were.
Fireworks.
Was trying them out for Saturday.
You promised the doctor not until after dark.
Oh, it's pretty dark, Frances.
Also,
will Mrs Shelby and Ruby be home for dinner tonight?
I don't know.
CHARLES: Dad?
I've learned something this morning.
Have you?
So have I.
And what have you learned, my boy?
(SCRATCHY TUNE ON VIOLIN)
Let's get this over with. I've got a train to catch.
Go get your train, Tom. I can deal with this.
Oi.
- (COINS CLINK) - Get it!
Go home.
Come here, you.
Put this on.
There you go. Look at that, it looks great on you.
Wrap up warm.
Ah!
Wake up.
Rise and shine.
What are you doing here?
Wasting our fucking time on you.
Sit down, Finn.
Sit down.
What do I have to do...
...to make you fucking listen to me?
You took a bullet.
You've been running around the streets with a fucking gun in your hand.
Somebody has to.
Finn, we've got people for that kind of work.
Soldiers. Captains and corporals.
Well, then, what am I?
"What am I?" Jesus Christ.
Yeah, what am I, Tom, huh?
I'm the brother you never got round to.
You're a general, Finn.
You understand?
You're a fucking Shelby, so you're a general.
When did you last see a general anywhere near the blood and the puke, eh?
He's fucking right.
That's what you are.
So on your feet, soldier.
Come on, on your feet.
I thought you just said I was a general.
I did just say you were.
So get on your fucking feet!
Arthur...
(SIGHS) Finn. Finn.
Look at this.
This is the bullet that Aberama Gold cut from you.
First and last.
Don't lose it.
Go and clean up, put some clothes on.
A nice suit.
I've got some trouble that'll keep you out of trouble.
- Oh, and, erm, Tom... - Yeah?
...while you're here,
erm, I've met this girl
- and I'd like to get married. - Fuck off. Go, get dressed.
Go on, move.
Go!
Finn, this girl you're trying to impress,
tell me about her.
She likes the life.
She likes the life, eh?
Well, find one that hates it.
Look at him, that's what he did. Now he's chairman of the board.
Go on. Hurry up.
Arthur?
Lizzie and Ruby, are they still at yours?
Yes, Tom, they're still there.
She's coming home today, she said, so...
...she'll be home later.
Hm. Has she been talking about me?
I mean, they talk a lot, you know what women are like.
The kitchen and, you know, kids running around.
I...I don't pay 'em no mind, Tom.
- I don't listen to 'em 'alf the time. - Yeah.
Well, everything she says is true.
Well...
...you like the life, Tommy.
I don't like the fucking life.
I don't like the fucking life,
I don't like that Michael is coming back today.
Train arrives from Liverpool at three.
Polly will be there.
Take a weapon.
Tell Moss to clear the station of coppers.
You hear me?
Yes, sir.
Hey, Tommy.
I heard 'em say one thing, though.
Just talking, you know, they were saying that, er,
you...you don't sleep or something.
You can't sleep.
When I do sleep, I dream.
And in my dream, someone wants my crown.
I think it might be Michael.
Call me at three.
Arthur, I'm gonna put that bullet on a necklace
and wear it as a reminder.
Arthur?
- I heard you. - You got trouble for me, then?
- Yeah. - Yeah?
(GRUNTS)
Mr Shelby, the...the police are here to see you.
Police aren't allowed in here.
Er, he's not in uniform and said it's very unofficial.
(DOOR CLOSES)
Afternoon. Someone get you some tea?
No, I'm fine, Mr Shelby.
- This won't take long. - Good.
You've got five minutes.
Mr Shelby, there was a shooting two days ago.
A man died.
It was a murder.
In Maida Vale.
Of all places.
- His name was Levitt. - Uh-huh.
He was a journalist.
The night before he was shot, he came here to see you.
We found a Commons pass and your name in his diary.
I was wondering what his business here was.
And I'm wondering...
...what your business here is.
According to his diary, you knew him from Birmingham.
What's your name?
Stacker.
Stacker. OK.
Mr Shelby, Mr Levitt was a queer.
Some may think it was one of his queer friends...
Mr Stacker,
I get the feeling that, with a little provocation,
you could be very persistent.
Only within my remit.
Well, your Chief Constable Wyatt,
he has clear views about persistence, which he has shared with me.
Mr Shelby...
He likes persistence, as do I. And thoroughness.
But not frivolity.
A man who walks in the park with other men dies in Maida Vale.
And you come to me?
As well as his diary, we have his notebook.
(CLOCK CHIMES)
Your time's up, Mr Stacker.
Thank you.
(DOOR CLOSES)
Hello, Mum.
This is Gina.
Gina Gray.
The captain married us on board.
She's my wife, Mum. At least look at her.
Tommy said to ask you to tell me the truth.
We've been travelling for 15 days, Mrs Gray.
Maybe we could talk about this at another time.
Yes.
Let's go home and we can talk.
You have no home until you tell me the truth.
Here?
Yeah.
ARTHUR: Michael!
Hello, love.
Welcome to Birmingham, eh?
Michael?
OK.
Our ship docked at Belfast.
I was then taken off the ship by two men.
At gunpoint.
I'm speaking to my son.
Fuck you.
Fuck you too, Arthur.
This is my fucking wife. I bring her home... To this?
Come on, Gina.
Well, where are you going now, eh? Hmm?
Introduce me at least.
- Excuse me. - Look at this.
Look at this.
This is it, Gina.
This is my fucking people.
Do you want to know the truth, Arthur?
Do you want to know the truth, Mum?
I did not betray my fucking family!
Now, Mum...
...I want to go home.
POLLY: I've booked you a suite at the Midland Hotel.
MICHAEL: Was that Tommy's orders, then, was it?
See, the Midland Hotel is Tommy's little kingdom.
Where all the porters keep an eye,
where all the telephone exchange girls are reporting on my calls.
Yeah, well, why don't you think of it like, er, quarantine, Michael, eh?
We'll treat you like a fucking dog, hmm?
Smelly one.
Stinking one.
Until we know you're clean, hmm?
Fuck you, Arthur.
Stand aside, Arthur.
No, Poll.
Come on, baby.
Forget about 'em.
Go and phone Tommy, tell him.
Polly says Michael's telling the truth.
GINA: It's all right. Forget about 'em.
All right, Poll.
Nice coat.
What are you like? Camel, right?
Oh.
Welcome to the family, Gina Gray.
THOMAS: I applaud the attempt by Mr Rowley in the Education Bill
to raise the school leaving age to 15.
I also support...
...as regards means-testing of any kind,
- we are the people... - MEMBERS: Yeah!
- ...we've had enough. - MEMBERS: Yeah!
"We are the people, and we've had enough."
I move in favour of the amendment.
Mr Shelby.
I must say, you sing like a songbird in the House.
And who is this pretty finch?
My sister.
Who's pregnant.
And dangerous.
- (CLEARS HIS THROAT) - Oh, we adore dangerous.
Who's we?
It's a collective noun,
in this case describing a group of people who are impatient and young and,
as I have said, adore dangerous.
Mr Shelby, you had a horse of that name.
Whiskey. Irish.
Give him one from my bottle.
And one for myself. In fact, bring the bottle.
And the lady?
Isn't thirsty.
How do you know about the horse?
We have a mutual acquaintance.
May Carleton.
When I asked about you, she said, "Oh, my goodness, where do I begin?"
And why were you asking after me?
Because, as I have said,
I adore dangerous.
And where did she begin?
You know, I was rather hoping we might have this meeting alone.
My sister is my political adviser.
And my advice just now was, "Don't meet Mr Mosley."
Because I am dangerous?
No.
What is it you are impatient for, Mr Mosley?
I'm impatient for my fucking whiskey.
Bennett!
May Carleton spoke about you
the way I imagine one might about a party they barely remember,
where you crash the car into the dovecote
and live on champagne and cocaine for three whole days.
You know, that kind of party.
Only three days?
Hmm.
My sister advised against meeting you
because it appears you are moving away from the party...
...in a different direction.
And which direction is that?
Towards fascism.
"We are the people, and we have had enough."
I thought that was excellent.
In which direction are you heading, Mr Shelby?
I am my own revolution.
And you prefer Irish to Scotch.
As do I.
Like all things regarding Ireland, it is...complex.
Yes?
Oh!
Where do you stand on the Irish question, Mr Shelby?
Never been asked it.
Then perhaps it's time you were.
Tommy, I am the people, and I have had enough.
We are looking for someone to begin a dialogue...
...with certain elements in Belfast
with whom we don't officially have any dealings.
I'll be too busy singing in the House.
It would involve a promotion.
Junior Minister to the Duchy of Lancaster.
Birmingham is my concern.
Ireland bores me. Thanks for the whiskey, Mr Mosley.
(CLEARS HIS THROAT)
Hmm.
What the fuck was that about?
Ireland. It's been Ireland's day all fucking day long.
What do you mean?
Ada, go home and start calling anyone who had dealings
with Shelby Company Limited while you were in Boston.
Ask them about Michael.
Ask them what about him?
Who he's been seeing, who he's been meeting,
- what deals he's made. - Why?
Ask 'em especially about people he's met from Glasgow or Belfast.
Tommy, why don't you come back with me, eh?
You can play chess with Karl.
I'll make some calls, you can listen in.
Drive home tomorrow.
That bastard starts talking about Irish whiskey.
The fuck does he know? Eh?
More than me, Tommy. What are you talking about?
I'm talking about an empty chair, Ada.
My chair. My throne.
People thinking I'm gonna fall,
they start behaving in a different way around you.
Who thinks that?
They start to circle.
Who's going to take the throne, eh?
Linda, she wants some for Arthur,
Aberama Gold, people in the north, Michael...
(CLEARS HIS THROAT)
Just go home, make some calls.
Protestants are coming, I think.
I need to get back to Birmingham.
(SIGHS)
Polly.
Are you armed?
Yeah.
Would you please consider putting your weapons behind the bar
in case feelings begin to run high?
Behind the bar, Poll, eh?
Behind my own bar, yeah?
I prefer it there.
Thomas?
I had a dream...
...about a black cat last night, Poll.
A black cat dream means there is a traitor close by.
It was you who taught me that.
Black cat can mean lots of things.
Can mean you're hurting yourself.
Betraying yourself.
Are you seeing things, Thomas?
Yes, I am.
(CAR APPROACHES)
Yes, I am. Very clearly.
Coming from every fucking direction.
(CAR ENGINE STOPS)
(CAR DOOR CLOSES)
(BAR DOOR CREAKS OPEN)
Tommy.
I'd like to introduce you to my wife.
I would also like to, er, say something.
- Sit down, Michael. - I betrayed you.
- Michael. - But only in my heart.
There was a time,
in America,
and there was a lot of money in that bank.
And I wondered if I could...I could leave,
move to California.
Someone said I should invest in pictures.
Hollywood.
But Gina stopped me.
- Gina said... - I told you to sit down, Michael.
Now, tell me...
...what happened on that ship
in Belfast harbour.
On the journey back from New York, we got married.
But we needed to find a witness.
A purser.
He was from Belfast.
We got friendly.
What happened when the ship docked?
This purser had friends who ran a whiskey distillery in County Tyrone.
They wanted a way of getting their stuff into America.
So I said, "OK, invite them aboard."
When they came in, I realised that they didn't make whiskey.
They were Scottish. From Glasgow.
Couldn't understood a fucking word they were saying.
They started swearing,
so I asked Gina to leave.
That was when they started talking about you, Tom.
They said that Tommy Shelby was a spent force,
that politics had got to him...
...that he was spent in the head,
that now was a good time to move in
and did I want to be part of it.
They knew about the money we lost in America.
They said that you were going to blame me.
That you had a bullet with my name on it.
What did you say, Michael?
I didn't have time to say anything.
Coppers came on board.
Well, I thought they were coppers.
They, er...
They were IRA.
Exactly.
And the first men from Glasgow?
The IRA commander said the men from Glasgow were called Billy Boys.
Fucking Billy Boys.
I don't know who the fuck Billy Boys are.
They run every man in every coalmine, on every shipyard east of Glasgow.
Ties with Belfast, UVF.
Protestant razor gang.
They also dabble in politics.
You know, muscle for fascist rallies.
But you did no deal, Michael?
You didn't even know who they were?
I was too busy looking forward to giving you the good news.
The reason Gina and I got married on the ship was because Gina is pregnant.
You're going to be a grandmother.
OK, Michael.
I believe you.
Welcome home.
Congratulations.
Just remember...
Your unborn child has witnessed what you said.
- Thomas! - And it will be born according to...
You fuck!
Where the fuck are you going, hmm?
Are you fucking mad, hmm?
- You are free to fucking leave, Michael. - You fucking bastard.
But you're not free, Michael, are you?
You lost this company a lot of money.
I told you to sell...
...but you held on,
and now I want you to pay me back what you owe me.
There is work you can do, there are risks you can take.
We were close before.
Now I want you closer still.
Michael, honey.
Look at your cousin.
He's in trouble, huh?
He needs you.
Come on, baby, let's go.
Fucking cheek of her, eh?
Mad Dog Jimmy.
Coming south.
Not so mad any more.
He's got friends in high places these days.
Black cat dream is never wrong, brother.
(HORSE NEIGHS)
(GUNSHOT)
(GROANS)
# Hello, hello, we are the Billy Boys
# We're up to our knees in Fenian blood Surrender or you'll die
# We are the Brigton Derry Billy Boys. #
Drop the peashooter, son.
A broken broom stops all Gypsy curses, Mr Gold.
Ah! (GROANS)
(COUGHS)
Who the fuck are you?
Did you not hear my song?
These gentlemen are the Billy Boys.
And me?
I'm Jimmy.
Ah, fuck, fuck.
Good.
Mouth broke, so you can't talk.
But you don't need to.
Your body will be the lesson.
You work in a particular capacity for Mr Thomas Shelby, OBE.
Am I right?
I heard you're a fighter.
The best.
But your fighting days are over.
(GROANS)
Because I need Mr Shelby to understand...
...that his best...
...is not...good enough.
(MUFFLED SCREAMS)
(GROANS)
Bonnie!
Farewell, fighter boy. You died well.
(HORSE NEIGHS)
(LABOURED BREATHING)
(WHEEZES)
(SOBS) Bonnie...
Bonnie!
Tell Tommy Shelby it's time to fucking share.
We'll take all the tracks out as far as Nottingham.
We'll take Cheltenham as well.
Otherwise, it will be Thomas Shelby who's crucified,
and there will be no resurrection.
(GROANS)
(COUGHS)
Come on, boys.
(WHEEZES)
(SOBS)
(SINGING INSIDE PUB)
# But when you're crying
# You bring out the rain So stop your crying... #
(MUSIC STOPS)
Ladies and gentlemen, I'm just going to take a short break. Thank you.
Yeah. Good man.
Beautiful, Billy, beautiful. Really nice. Really nice.
Really meaningful, you know? A heartfelt song.
I like it. I really do.
Boys, this here is Billy Grade.
Man I was telling you about, son.
- Billy, this here's my kid brother, Finn. - Hey.
Have a drink, Billy.
I can't, my voice is...
Drink, Bill.
Yeah.
You boys won't remember...
...but I remember when Billy here made a living on the football pitch.
(LAUGHS)
Oh, yeah, that was a long time ago, Mr Shelby.
- Yeah, what a left foot, eh? - Yeah.
(BOTH LAUGH)
And then what? Manager, right? Hmm?
Well, yeah, and now I'm a singer.
Are you?
Every football team in England knows Billy Grade.
And he knows a few people, too. Don't you, Bill, eh? Hmm?
- One or two. - Useful.
Very useful.
But what do you do, Bill, eh?
Hmm?
You're in here, singing - or whatever the fuck you call it -
in shit-hole pubs in Birmingham.
(TUTS)
It's no way to make a living, boys.
- Degrading. - I love it.
I really do, I love it.
And thank you, by the way, for inviting me here tonight.
I really appreciate it, so thank you very much.
Don't thank me.
I didn't invite you here to sing.
If I wanted to listen to music, I'd buy an Al Jolson record. Hmm?
That's what I'd do.
Real singer, you know?
Melody.
Tune.
So what is it that you want...exactly?
Finn will explain the nature of my proposition.
You'll listen to him, won't you, Bill, eh?
- You'll be attentive, won't you? - Yeah, of course, course.
Because Isiah here,
he'll show you the fucking consequences if you don't.
All right?
I'll leave you with the bottle, hmm?
What proposition?
Right, what I want from you, Billy,
is for you to write down a name and a number
next to every one of those football teams, yeah?
- Why? - Why?
People like to bet on those kind of things these days.
- We are a gambling enterprise. - I know who you are.
To fix a horse race, you give the outsider a bit of cocaine.
- Jesus! - To fix a football match,
you give the goalkeeper £20.
You're a Peaky Blinder now, Billy.
Hmm?
What have you got there?
I've written a letter.
Oh.
Who for?
For you.
And Lizzie's written one to Tommy.
Well...
...can I read it?
It's not finished yet.
I'm getting rid of the parts I wrote when I was drunk.
By the way, I've stopped drinking.
And your bottles of snow I poured down the lavatory.
When I was drunk, I was too hard on you.
It's...it's not your fault.
So...
That letter's about me, is it?
Yeah.
- Hmm. - And about me.
About the future. About the company.
Lizzie and I...
Sat here and made things worse the last few hours, hmm?
Yeah, and we've come up with a plan.
Oh, you've come up with a plan, eh?
Lizzie says Tommy won't live two more years if he carries on like this.
He's gone too far.
Is that what Lizzie says, hmm?
Really now?
Well, how far has he gone, hmm, Linda? How far?
He's lost all the legitimate money in America.
No. No, that was Michael.
He's fixing races. He's fixing football.
Following the financial crisis, the Shelby Company Limited
has to find other sources of cash income.
Tommy went into Chinatown.
He's selling out the Communists to the British intelligence.
And all the time, every day, he gets more and more famous.
But that's OK.
Because if anyone puts two and two together...
That wasn't us.
- (CHUCKLES) - It's not fucking us!
It's going to blow up, Arthur! It can't sustain.
- You know it. - Oh, yeah? And what do you know, eh?
You've worked it all out.
You and fucking Lizzie, eh?
Got it all planned out, is that right?
And I tell you,
all you're gonna do is you're gonna be the good fucking wife.
Yeah, like the perfect couple.
We'll go upstairs, hmm?
We'll go upstairs.
Yeah, make love, hmm?
I spent my day writing two letters and deciding which one to give.
Looks like I'll have to give the other one.
What other one?
What fucking other one?!
What did you do with my letter?
I burnt it.
So did Arthur.
- Did you read it first? - Yes.
That's more than Arthur did.
(GROANS)
Didn't help that you can't fucking spell.
I left school too early.
Did you read the bit about the lawyers?
Do you want to fuck?
Didn't think so.
- You don't want to eat? - No.
- You've got calls? - Yeah.
It's Ruby's birthday today, Tommy.
Do you know why I took her to Arthur's?
Because she said she's scared of you.
When she knows you're not coming home, she's a different kid.
But I've bought a cake.
And I want you there.
We're in the drawing room.
(FOOTSTEPS RECEDE)
Lizzie...
(FOOTSTEPS STOP)
I'm in a room...
...and they're coming at me.
It's OK. I want 'em to.
Last thing I want is silence.
Standing up there, in silence,
and someone says...
..."Sorry about all that noise.
"Sorry about all that...dust.
"Sorry about all that mud.
"And all that fucking blood."
And you say, "Don't be sorry.
"Don't be sorry. It's all I can do now."
You want me to write this down?
Do you want me to write you a fucking letter?
Me and Arthur can't write it down...
...cos they haven't invented the fucking words.
We don't have the fucking words.
And the worst thing is...
...could've stayed at school.
But we volunteered.
Still don't have the fucking words.
Should you choose to depart, Tommy,
either by your own hand or someone else's,
the person who would take your place is me.
Legally.
Financially.
Everything.
I need to know there'll be something left.
Well, you know, Lizzie, in my head, I still pay you for it, so...
...good luck with me.
(PHONE RINGS)
I have business.
(DOOR CLOSES)
# Happy birthday to you
# Happy birthday to you... #
Yeah, I wanna ask you some questions...
...about the night you met Michael Gray.
Make a wish.
Yeah!
(DISTORTED HEAVY BREATHING)
(CAR ENGINE REVS)
(REVVING CONTINUES)
OK, kids, come on, let's go to bed. Quickly.
- Why? - Who's coming?
That's the thing, Charles, we don't know. We never know.
(GROANS)
JOHNNY: Tommy!
- Get out of the fucking car. - Don't!
Get out of the fucking car now, or I'll open fire!
ABERAMA: If you're looking for traitors,
there's one...with his ribs mashed up.
The man's gone fucking mad, Tom!
You did this?
With one arm and a hammer.
And a mighty pain...and a mighty fury!
They killed him.
My son!
They shot him and they put him up on a fucking cross,
and he's fucking dead!
Who did?
Only Johnny Dogs and his kin knew where we were camped.
No, Tom. No. I swear to God, I never told a soul.
- Get the fuck away! - I never told a fucking soul.
How could you fucking do this?! My fucking son!
(YELLING)
They fucking took him from me!
- My only...son! - (COUGHS)
Johnny!
Tommy!
Your shoulder is shattered.
If you don't get it fixed, you'll lose your arm.
He's gone! Fucking killed him!
Fucking son! My own fucking kin!
THOMAS: Listen to me!
How can a one-armed man avenge the death of his son, eh?
They crucified my son...
...for you.
(GUNSHOTS)
Get away from my house! All of you!
Get away from my child!
This is my house.
And I don't want you back.
I don't want you back!
If you want to take on the Billy Boys,
you need me alive.
Everyone fucking needs me.
Call an ambulance,
or a man will lose his arm.
(SOBS)
Come on, Johnny.
Come on.
Tom...
I'm no black cat, Tom.
I know, Johnny. I know.
In all the world, of all of the people,
you alone I know I can trust.