Hustle

So, if we're ready for signature...?

You can absolutely guarantee it'll be the final leg?

No question.

Anything else would be in breach of contract.

Who's giving it to me?

- Excellent question, Phoebe! - Who's giving it to her?

Er... Anthony?

Erm...

Dame Kelly Holmes.

Ooh...

I don't know who she is.

- She's an olympic athlete. - I don't care.

I can have who I want, can't I, mummy? Daddy said!

Well, darling...

Why can't I ever have anything I want?

Well, it's...

Do we have any other choices?

Erm... Lord Coe.

- No. - Sir Ian Botham? - No.

- Sir Ian Mckellen? - No.

- Justin Bieber. - Yes?

He'll be fine. Marvellous.

We've brought along a replica so that

Phoebe has plenty of time to prepare.

So, you pick up from Justin, then it's up the steps

and Bob's your Uncle. You're a very lucky girl.

Actually, it has nothing to do with luck.

My daddy is very, very, very rich.

She's v proud of her father.

And he says I can have whatever I want, because I'm his princess.

Yes, you are.

So, all we need now is your sponsorship cheque.

Of course.

Good. Well, it's been an absolute pleasure.

How exciting!

Lucinda will be completely sick. All she's doing is a stupid dance.

She'll be one of hundreds, but I'll be special.

Yes, you will, poppet.

So what happens now?

All the paperwork will come through in about a week

or so - rehearsal dates, vip passes, details, etc.

Just make sure you've marked July 27th on your calendar.

Abso-bloody-lutely!

Say thank you, Phoebe.

She's highly strung. V creative.

Oh, bless her.

How'd it go?

- Like taking candy from a baby. - Ah-ha.

It's funny how you enjoy some jobs more than others.

Because some people are more deserving than others.

- Makes it all the sweeter. - Yes, it does. Mind you...

A hundred grand ain't to be sniffed at.

No. It's a lot of clothes.

To tell you the truth, they had way too much money anyway.

I mean, when you think about it, we're a bit like Robin Hood.

Yeah, well, we do take from the rich...

Only instead of giving it to the poor... we buy clothes.

Which isn't quite as catchy. No - but we look great.

You've gotta love the Olympics.

Apart from the fact they're turning

the east end into a chinless wonder's paradise.

So far, we've sold 12 non-existent executive boxes

and three olympic torch runs.

She was such a brat.

Yeah, no wonder the country is in the state it's in.

The way some people bring up their children.

All I had at her age was a sherbet dib dab and a hula hoop.

I used to beat you hands down every time. You bragging?

Snake hips Kennedy, they used to call me.

Actually, he called himself that.

Only cos I used to beat you.

Yes, because I couldn't get it off you, that's why.

All right, children - we've made 100 grand, you can all have hoops.

Sure that's wise at Albert's age? He might do himself a mischief. Oh?

Well, I could teach you youngsters a thing or two.

Yes, you could, Albert.

I've worked something out about you lot. You're like big kids. Yeah?

I realised when you said you had a 100

grand so everyone could have hoops.

Who in their right mind, if they had a £100,000,

would even think about spending it on hoops?

What have you got against hoops, Eddie?

He's hoopist.

Could've had a bad experience as a child.

- Yeah, he got all tangled up... - Couldn't quite get the rhythm...

See? You're like big kids, messing about...

Are you making a point here, Ed, or just having a northern rant?

There is a point, actually.

One of you did this to Rushie!

Hang on. How do you know it was one of us?

Cos it happened last night, and you were the only ones in here.

Right. Right? So? Who was it?

Well, whoever it was can't draw, cos his moustache is rubbish.

That's his real one.

You've defiled him! Look at him!

It's not right, this! This man was poetry in shorts.

Summat funny, Michael?

No. Sorry.

Right, well - until one of you owns up, you're barred. Eh? Barred?

That's a bit strong, innit Ed?

Especially as we're your partners.

I don't mind all the banter and the general abuse,

but this is going too far!

All right, I think someone better own up.

- What you looking at me for? - Well, you're the football nut.

- Oi, oi, we're not all hooligans. - Well, it wasn't me.

Right, well - you're barred, all of you, till I find out who done it.

I mean it!

Let's go. Well, go on. Come on.

- Barred? - Barred!

I'm serious, guys. It's taken me years

to teach Eddie how to make a proper breakfast.

Yes - not to mention losing our office.

Yeah, well, he's got that scouse resolve.

He won't give up till one of us admits it.

So go on. Who was it?

- I'm Spartacus. - You?!

- I did the ears. - I er...I did the glasses.

And the beard?

Ready for this? Watch.

See...?

Well, that wasn't very grown-up, was it?

Albert started it.

- Hey, come on you snitch. - Oh, come on, don't even start.

All right, that's enough, that's enough.

- We can worry about Eddie later. Albert's got a new mark. - Oh, who?

It's er.. Kind of personal.

Ash, would you... Help me out?

This is Dexter Gold. That's not his real name,

he changed it by deed poll four years ago.

- What's his real name? - Dexter Pratt.

Started up a "gold hard cash" website

when the economy went into turmoil

and he made a small fortune.

Classy guy.

Basically people who needed a few extra pounds

saw his ads in the newspapers, sent their jewellery in,

and he conned them by paying out a fraction of what it was worth.

That is how I found him.

Excuse me for just for just a moment. Sorry.

Madam?

'Vivienne marchant hit hard times

'when her husband died three years ago.'

the worst thing is, I feel so stupid.

Oh, no, no.

There was a time, when if it was in a newspaper

written in black and white, it was true!

- Better days. - My George would be furious.

He'd have gone round there, given him what for.

I'm sure he would.

Well, I tried! He just laughed at me.

Said the conditions were written down.

In small print, no doubt.

It's really good of you to help me, Albert.

You can't be too careful who you trust these days, my dear.

The world isn't what it was. After all, you only met me, what,

three days ago? I could be a con-man too.

Oh, don't be so daft!

She sent this piece of filth - listen to this -

two 24 carat gold rings, a diamond brooch.

60 years of memories.

He sent her back £28.50.

- Bastard. - If we don't take this bloke for every penny he's got,

I'll smack him in the mouth just for fun.

Don't worry, Ash, he'll receive our full attention.

Ah, yes, there is a bit of a problem.

Isn't there always?

Michael?

We checked him out and his gold hard cash business, it seems,

is just a sideline.

He was connected to the gold bullion robbery at Gatwick in 2008

and the Tottenham warehouse gold heist last year.

He's a fence?

He's a middle man for stolen gold bullion.

He uses his Gold Hard Cash business

as a cover to melt it down and sell it on.

What difference does it make if he's a crook?

Well, he's not just a crook, he's one of the chaps.

So, because of the circles

he mixes in, we don't want him coming after us.

Or worse, telling one of his gangster friends

he's been conned and offering them

a better deal if they take care of us.

So, if we do this, we need to close it off when we're done.

- Agreed? - Yeah. Yeah.

Good. Then let's find a way in.

Bish bosh, job's a good 'un.

Write the cheque, send it to number one,

Winners Street, daddy's bringing home the bacon.

When I said this deal was 24 carat, was I right or was I wrong? Hang on.

Talk on your own time.

You touch that bleedin' phone again and I'll shove it up your jacksy.

So was I right or wrong?

No, don't just laugh and say "yeah," Peter, actually say the words...

Was I right or wrong?

Exactly, you get your deal sorted out before you spend your money.

Capiche?

We're middle men, not investors,

when we get the deal, they get the deal, ok?

Now sod off and next time listen to me instead of