MobLand

Historic moment. Eddie Harrigan

and Tommy Stevenson in the same cab.

What would their dads say?

He stabbed up another kid in a club.

- - You're a mad cunt, Eddie.

I'll make it up to you.

If his granddad finds out,

- he's a dead man. - I'm fucking dead.

I'm assuming you've heard of the Harrigans.

This deal takes us to the next level.

How do we fund this expansion?

Fentanyl.

Well, I'm a representative

of said family.

If you do as I say,

I promise you will never see me again.

If you don't, I will find you.

Problem solved.

Your son, Richie. He hasn't come home.

And he lied about who he was with.

Find him.

He was with Eddie Harrigan.

If Richie wants to get unruly,

and you get a chance, you take him.

My boy didn't come home.

If you make things difficult for me,

it won't end well for you, Harry.

For the avoidance of doubt,

let Richie live.

Did you know that Archie's been going

behind your back with The Fire?

Here's what happens when you go behind my back.

Dad!

Sofa, we're burning.

Rug, we're burning.

I don't trust the curtains. Get rid of them as well.

Strip this back, the paint off, and repaint that.

The floorboards have to be replaced 'cause there's, um...

...they've got a fucking hole in them.

Zosia, Kiko,

can you get rid of Archie's car, please?

Thank you.

- Paul? - Yeah?

Can you get me some plastic, please, and a bag?

Plastic bags, got it.

- Uh, I have a question. - Yeah, go on.

They've been mates since the fucking '70s.

Yeah, that's not a question, is it?

No, well, the question is, why?

You know, why'd he do it?

You know what, there are so many variables and occurrences

which happen on a daily basis throughout the universe.

It is not for us to wonder why they happen.

It is only for us to bring me the fucking plastic

and a bag right now, Paul.

- Thank you. - Fair enough.

Um...

What happened?

Harry.

Well, Dad's standing there unfurling his grand plan...

How do we fund this expansion?

...involving Mexicans, the Stevensons, fentanyl.

- Archie interrupts. - We could perhaps

discuss it?

- We? - Dad shifts gears.

- Could discuss it? - Something upsets him.

Anyway, he fucks off, apparently, for a piss.

And that's when the wheels came off.

Archie, you are a much better toady yes-man than a traitor.

Mum called Archie a traitor.

Archie a traitor?

Yeah.

And Dad comes back in,

and he's a different fucking man.

- Sits opposite him. - What, here?

- Oh, Archie. - Yeah.

- Opposite Archie. - Okay.

Then he holds Archie's hands, with seemingly great compassion.

You know, one of them...

And I'm sitting there thinking,

"I don't know where this is going."

That's when I see the Desert Eagle

sticking out of Dad's ass crack.

And what was your mum doing?

She must've known what was coming,

'cause she left her post,

which was that seat there.

Right, and?

Then she called it.

Stick or twist, baby. Stick or twist.

Dad pulls out

the fucking Eagle.

Is this some kind of piss-take?

Yes, Archie.

The piss has been taken.

Wallop.

Straight through Archie's heart.

Well, okay.

- I'll leave you to it. - Yeah, yeah.

All right, let's get it done.

All right, let's have a look at you.

I'm sorry about this, Arch.

I always liked you.

I can't sleep.

I just killed my oldest friend, Maeve.

You look at Archie and you see an old mate.

I saw a liar,

a leech and a liability.

I identified the problem, and you,

you dealt with it.

Huh.

So... fentanyl.

Hmm? Yes or no?

Oh, 100%, all the way.

You have to follow the money.

Who was it?

I didn't see. It was dark.

Rusby's got it in for everyone.

I said it was dark.

I'm Harry.

Kevin.

Is this your first stretch?

Third.

Me and this other lad, we robbed

- a sub-post office. - Oy.

Kevin, you're a bad man, ain't you?

Well, my dad is.

That's why I only got three years.

Who's your dad?

Conrad Harrigan.

Yeah.

Never heard of him.

Yeah, you have.

Armed Police! Armed Police!

- Armed Police! - Harry?

- - What's going on?

- Armed Police! - Everyone out!

Gina, it's all right, baby. Everything is okay.

There is a doorbell, you know.

Don't worry. It's all good.

Ah, Fisk. Morning. How are you?

Yeah, I'm good, peace and goodwill

to all men and all that.

She's got her Maths GCSE

this morning.

Oh, is she? Good luck, love.

I'm not your love, you bad-breath prick.

No, she didn't mean that.

Right, go on, John.

Come on, John. Let's do this.

All right.

Thank you.

Shall we do this? I'll give you a call.

Okay. Right, right.

Good luck with your GCSE, love.

Fuck off, nonce.

No. No.

...more affordable homes across London.

[radio broadcast continues indistinctly]

Kevin.

Driving's a bit reckless, Richie.

Where's my Tommy?

I don't know, I'm not fucking clairvoyant, am I?

Anyway, Harry's been nicked.

Oh, fuck Harry. Where's my boy?

Don't say "fuck Harry."

That's rude, Richie.

I've asked Eddie.

Doesn't know anything about your Tommy.

Well, why don't you get your son

to come and say that to my face?

If you want to start a war, Richie,

then just fucking say.

Now, O'Hara's gonna have Harry out in a couple of hours.

So hold your horses, you jumpy cunt.