Tin Star

_

_

Where are we going?

Calgary.

Oh, fuck.

Stay in the car...

_

I need a wee wee.

Can you hold it?

- I'm gonna pee my pants! - Dad, Petey needs the loo.

Not now love, all right?

I need a wee wee.

Not now pal, I'm sorry.

He's 5 years old. 30 seconds for a piss behind the car.

- I need a wee wee. - I said no!

- Dad! - I'm going to pee in my pants!

Hang on, hang on. 30 seconds.

Dad!

All right, then.

If you're up there.

Keep me sober today. I dare you.

_

- Amen. - Uh-uh.

Fuck off.

Mornin'.

Morning, Dad.

Do you want pancakes?

All right. What do you want on them?

- Bacon and chocolate. - All right.

I'll put some cabbage on 'em and all.

- That was exhausting. - I know. I won!

You did win. Most definitely.

Pete? Pete...

Pete... you want chocolate or lemon and sugar?

Bacon and chocolate?

Dad?

- What... - Dad?

What...

Dad! Daaaad!

What?

Why can't you answer me?

Why can't you exercise the common courtesy

of entering the same vague arrondissement...

- as the person you're shouting at? - What are you on about?

- What are you wearing? - It's just my pyjamas.

- Are you wearing those to school? - Of course not, of course not.

- You don't drink coffee... - Shut up, go away. Go away!

I hate it here.

For God's sake don't tell your father.

- He thinks he's Pat Garrett. - This isn't his fault.

- It's not anybody's fault. - Coming here was your idea.

Hello, little man.

Come here to me, come here to me, come here to me...

- Have a bit of that. - How many pancakes did you eat!

- Happy birthday. - Thank you.

- Dad's birthday's in December. - His sober birthday.

- I'm two. - Oh.

- I'm proud of you. - Come on, let's go, Petey.

- You're not that man anymore. - Hey, where's your stuff?

- I don't know. - I'll found this, let's go.

Get out of here.

Where's my gun?

In your pocket!

Peew! Peew!

Fuck me?

Shall I honk the horn?

- These things charge though, right? - It's not a moose, Dad.

Oi, oi, oi!

Shouldn't you have a proper car?

This is a properly green community, it's one of the things I love about here.

I'm growing up in the arse-end of nowhere.

- You said "arse". - She did but she shouldn't have.

- Why can't we go back to London? - Cause London's shit.

We'd probably be living in some suburb. Like Hainault.

Is that what you want? You want to live in Rayner's

fucking Lane, do you?

- You said "fuck". - I know I did but I shouldn't have.

In case you haven't noticed, I'm not a snowboarder...

- Oh, yeah? - I cannot think

of anything more pointless than hiking.

And I'm not a middle-aged man who likes

midge-infested rivers and fly-fishing.

I don't want to squander my youth here!

- Aww. - Marry a fucking lumberjack!

Have kids and sell jam at the county fair!

I want to be like a...

a photojournalist. Or an archeologist.

Or an agent for change.

Fuckin' hell.

It seems like just last week that all you wanted was a tutu

- and pair of pink jeggings. - Humour is an avoiding stretegy.

- Drive slowly. - Yep.

And it may handle like a golf cart

but it is a cop car and you shouldn't be driving it.

Do you know how many police... move here from home?

- No. - Loads.

So?

So, look around you. It's paradise, right?

It's the most boring place on earth.

- Well, it's good boring, isn't it? - I miss my friends.

- You don't have any friends. Right. - I had friends. In London.

- I was happy there. - Well, give it a chance, love.

All right, let's go.

Bye. Let's go.

- Morning, Chief. - Chief.

Get a job!

Morning, Chief.

- Chief? - Hi.

How you doin'? Are you all right?

Hey there, Chief.

Anything to report?

Tourist sprained her ankle on the trail by Forty Mile Creek.

- Is that it? - Yep.

See, that's what I love about this place.

She was running from a grizzly.

- Fuck me. She all right? - Yeah, Mum and cub.

Lady must have missed the signs. But no one was attacked.

- Wel, shouldn't we do something? - We put signs up.

No, I mean like shoot it?

We don't just shoot bears, Chief...

not unless they make an unprovoked attack.

- Feet. - Mm?

Sorry.

I'll let you know if anything else happens.

- All right. - You can always go fishing.

- Fishing? - That's what the last police chief did.

He left his fishing stuff over there

before he passed. You can help yourself.

- He wasn't killed by a bear, was he? - No, no, he was dead from exposure...

...by the time the bears got to him.

That's a joke, right? He's joking, right?

Yeah, he's joking.

Council couldn't afford him.

Well, I'm not going anywhere.

- Chief? - Yep?

Be careful out there, okay?

Top left.

Oh, no...

Oh, no, no, no, no... Bugger!

_

Hello... I'm Angela Worth. I'm the new police chief's wife.

How do you do? Do you fancy some burned fudge?

Or would you prefer a fist fuck?

Jim. Alcoholic. Addict.

Hi, Jim.

Two years sober today.

Fuck knows how.

Um...

I know I'm supposed to say something to a Higher Power

but bollocks to all that.

But thank Father Greg for the cake.

Suzy.

So, I don't normally talk at the meetings...

I'm usually hiding at the back but here goes...

What can I tell you about being a drunk?

I was born frightened, I think.

I grew up frightened.

And...

...drinking took the fear away.

But also it took everything else away.

I didn't care about you.

I didn't care about me.

I didn't care about my family.

Didn't care about anything, expect getting what I wanted.

And if you got in the way of that...

I'd kill you.

_

Woo!

Thanks for trying.

May I?

Be my guest.

This is good.

- It's not. It's horrible. - Butterscotch?

- Fudge. Buggered fudge. - English?

Irish. My husband's English.

Mm, come to check up on the colonies?

We live here.

Oh.

For God's sake don't attempt to chew.

- Stop. - How many have you sold?

None.

How much for the whole lot?

- The whole lot? - It's for a good cause, isn't it?

Ah that's... no, no, that's awfully kind of you but...

I just bought ten jars of apple sauce

from the last stall. Fudge'll make a nice gift.

You're the new police chief's wife, aren't you?

If I were you, I'd want to be a sellout success

at the church fete.

Sorry. Who are you?

Truth is, I'm here for work...

and my children are across the country

with their father, who's an asshole, which makes it worse.

So, I thought maybe that whole entire tray

of homemade "buggered" fudge might make that horrendous hotel

seem less like The Shining .

Why didn't you say so? Here.

Knock yourself out and your teeth.

Welcome to Little Big Bear.

- Elizabeth Bradshaw. - Angela.