White Gold (2017) s02e03 Episode Script

1 Whom do we have here, brother? Messrs Swan, Lavender and Fitzpatrick, Worshipful Master.
All recommended in open lodge, come of their own free will to be admitted to the mysteries of Freemasonry.
Do you feel anything? Steady on.
Sorry.
Sorry, I've got sensitive nipples.
It's a medical condition.
Er, actually, do you think we could do the other leg? - What are they laughing at? - Nothing.
Silence! As decreed by our founding brothers, any man transgressing the vows you are about to partake will have his throat cut, his tongue removed and his bowels fed to the birds.
Welcome to the crazy, fun world of Freemasonry.
In case you didn't know, the Masons is a secret club for local businessmen, a bit like the Boy Scouts, only much, much creepier.
Exclusively male, fiercely secretive and murderously loyal, its members swear to help their brothers whenever in need, which is handy, because I have a pressing need to sell my brothers shitloads of new windows.
Now, in case you were wondering how the Cachet boys came to join the Moonies A few weeks back, I took Ronnie out for a quick lunch to soften him up.
Now, maybe it's not a great idea to be driven around by a drunken psycho who's trying to open his car door with a flick knife.
But then you might not need an actual cash bonus as much as I do.
So, what is it you want, Vincent? I'm old enough and ugly enough to know when I'm being buttered up.
I need to talk to you about bonuses.
Jesus! You're on the wrong side of the road, mate.
I gave you boys a bonus last month.
Yeah, a lovely glass chess set it was, as well, Ronnie, but it isn't going to put my number-one son through private school after he fails his 11-plus.
Look, I know sales haven't been spectacular - What the fuck do you call that? - Terrible timing.
You assured me you had this under control, Vincent.
- I'm working on it.
- Well, evidently not hard enough.
And while we're at it, since you sacked Brendan, we've been leaking casual repair work like rainwater through one of Barry's bodge-job conservatories.
I've a good mind to take that glass chess set back.
- Red light! - Nah, I'll make it.
CAR HORN BLASTS Fuck's sake.
Bollocks.
Now look what you made me do.
Is it all right if I borrow your Bentley while you're banned from driving, boss? Sir, are you aware that you just jumped a red light? Cor blimey, how much have you had to drink? Out of the car, now.
Blessings of the holy order upon you.
May brotherly love prevail.
What the fuck just happened? Ah, he's on the square.
He is a fellow member of the Essex illuminati.
He a fucking Freemason, you nugget.
Like me.
The Masons.
An ancient all-male brotherhood devoted to spirituality, good works and breaking the law to benefit your mates.
Perfect for me, apart from the good works.
And the spirituality.
This is disappointing.
- Why? - I don't know.
I thought these lodges were a cover for respectable men to get up to all sorts, you know? Getting shit-faced and cavorting with strippers and prozzies.
No, that's the double-glazing industry.
I must admit, though, I had hoped it would be a bit more Satanic.
Well, maybe they lull you into a false sense of security by making it seem like a boring version of the Chamber of Commerce, and then, wham!, they sacrifice a goat and fire up a pagan orgy.
We're not here for the shits and giggles, gentlemen, this is a business opportunity.
Speaking of which An honour to be admitted to your order, Worshipful Master.
Now, can I interest you in a conservatory? Are you kidding me? They've let George fucking Worst into the Masons before us.
Christ.
What sort of exclusive society is this? A fucking shit one, that's the answer.
Apart from the opportunities to drink and drive.
Yeah, obviously, the drink-driving is a massive perk.
Here you go, Worshipful Master.
Thank you very much.
Don't mind if I do.
Brother Ronnie said you're a cheeky bugger.
Didn't think this would be your scene.
Why is that? Well, Freemasonry is built on moral rectitude, helping good men become better men through personal growth.
It just doesn't sound very you, that's all.
Not very brotherly, is he? Brother Andrew, is that a fitting way to welcome a novice brother? Jog on.
Brother Vincent's flogging me a conservatory.
With a very healthy discount, I imagine.
A very fucking healthy discount indeed, your Highness.
As boring as it was, and trust me, it was fucking boring, the Masons was at least a distraction from Brian's depressing shed-dwelling home life.
Mind you, it wasn't his only distraction.
MUSIC: Wishing (If I Had A Photograph Of You) by A Flock Of Seagulls We can see you perving over us, pervert! I'm not perving.
We want a word.
Get in here.
All right.
Just a minute.
- Brian! - I'm coming.
Just a minute.
Jesus.
That porch Vincent sold Stacey's mum, it's still bloody leaking.
I've told you, it's not leaking, it's just settling in.
It's a porch, not a foster child, it shouldn't need time to settle in.
Stace! Humour, that's what was missing from our marriage, Brian.
Settling in is an industry term.
Give it a week or two, it will be right as rain.
Industry term, my arse.
I'd love to, my dear! Sorry, are you still here? You can fuck off to your shed now, you pervert.
And stop wanking yourself to death, and sort out Stacey's mum's porch.
Wench.
The worshipful fuck-master is ready to commit a depraved pagan sex ritual on you.
Looks more like the worshipful fuck-master's ready to do the washing up.
Does the bowler hat help? Maybe you need a penis to get really turned on by all this gear.
Well, if it's a penis you're after How many Freemasons are there in Essex? I love it when you talk dirty.
Literally hundreds.
Vincent fucking Swan.
No, Martin fucking Lavender, actually, pleased to meet you.
And even more pleased to be unbuttoning Yeah, sorry, Martin.
Can I just check I've got something straight? Simply by virtue of having a dick to swing around, Vincent and the rest of you cocks at Cachet now have exclusive access to an untapped market of first-class leads at your secret bumming club.
If I say yes, does that mean we're not having sex? Morning, Worshipful Master.
It's just plain old "Bruce" here on the outside, Vincent.
Gotcha.
Well, here I am as promised, along with our top fitter.
Barry, get your arse over here.
Hello, Derek.
Or is it Barry these days? Long time, no see.
Which is usually a good thing in my line of work.
Hello, Detective Neil.
You know each other? He nicked me once for handling stolen goods.
It must have been those two A-levels you stuck on your CV, Barry.
I keep telling him it's Derek.
So, you still on the force, Bruce? CID these days, Detective Sergeant.
It's not a problem, is it? Have you been up to anything illegal, you cheeky bugger? No, wouldn't dream of it.
No, at Cachet we run an outreach programme for ex-cons, try to give them a leg up when they get out.
That's really charitable of you, Vincent.
By the way, hope you don't mind, I mentioned the deal you gave me on the conservatory to a couple of the brothers, and they expressed an interest.
Would you mind if they got in touch? - Be an honour to help my brothers out, Bruce.
- Great.
I'll introduce you at the next lodge meeting.
We've got special guests at dinner.
It's going to be a lot of fun, if you catch my drift.
Right N-fucking-O spells no.
Believe me, Tony, if I had a penis, I'd join this cult for cocks myself.
Now, all you've got to do is push new leads in my direction.
Brendan will use his influence to get you in.
Hang on a wee second.
I've no idea what you're on about.
Oh, come off it, you were seen in the meeting.
Tell that boyfriend of yours he should watch his tongue.
His tongue's the best bit about him.
It's nice and loose.
Now, are you going to help us or not? Look, hypothetically speaking, there is no fucking chance.
The second Tony's application is processed, it will get voted on by the lodge members and then blackballed by at least three of his former employees.
Hypothetically.
There's also the more-pressing issue that I don't want to join the fucking wanky handshake brigade.
Sometimes, Tony, the road to success is a rocky one, and we have to tread on some stones.
We're not in one of your poxy seminars now, Professor Plum.
You are my employee.
I'm not having my arse pumped by some ceremonial goat just to boost your bonus.
We don't pump anyone's arses with goats.
Oh, so you do know what we're talking about? Listen, Miss Hotshot, you're the one I'm paying top dollar.
It's down to you to bring in sales.
Now, sort the slump, or sayonara.
That's French for "fuck off".
It now remains to be seen whether the Egyptian authorities will, as promised, open the door in the Great Pyramid and reveal what is behind it.
The eyes of the world are watching.
Any questions? Here at the lodge, my dullard brothers continue to do all-male secret society meetings completely fucking wrong.
Brother Swan.
Wonderful talk, Brother Kemp.
I was wondering if we could employ the principle of a pyramid structure in the construction of a double-glazed conservatory, would anyone here be interested? Count me in.
At least it was driving my northern nemesis batshit crazy, and I wasn't the only one deriving pleasure from Jo's fury.
Drop 'em, pretty boy, it's expresso fuck time.
- Sorry, I - Yeah, can we maybe not have a chat? I've had an arsehole of a day and I haven't really got long.
If you can just get your cock out and let mamma climb on board.
Oh, come on, it's every man's fantasy, a zipless fuck.
Yeah, look, I know I'm letting all men everywhere down by saying this, it's just, zipless fucks are all we ever have.
I mean, what kind of a relationship is this? One that started out as industrial espionage, now it's more a sex on tap thing.
I can always turn the tap off if you can't handle it, Martin.
No, all I'm saying is, sometimes I wouldn't mind a zip ful fuck.
I'm bored of all this mindless shagging.
It's like you only want me for my body.
I mean, can't you at least buy me dinner first? - What do you mean, like a date? - Yeah.
Nice meal, maybe a movie.
You're so fucking weird.
Lovely.
Thanks to my new best pal, Bruce, every Mason and half the Essex Police force were queuing up for one of my conservatory deals.
All right? I don't suppose there's any chance of you sharing about all this new masonic business in a brotherly fashion? That masonic bollocks doesn't wash with me.
We're salesmen, Brian, you know the rules, it's every man for himself.
I need to get the money together so I can move out the fucking shed.
Look, once I can earn back Ronnie's trust, I'll start spreading the lovea little more.
And everyone benefits.
Can we at least talk about Maureen's lesbie friend's leaking porch? They're giving me right earache.
Sorry, mate, you're going to have to clean up your own mess.
Ronnie's put a hold on all repair jobs.
It's your fucking mess! - Morning, all.
- Watch out, mein Führer's on the prowl.
Good morning, Ronald.
Let me guess, you've come to check out all the roaring business I'm doing with our brothers from many mothers.
Ah, you really are an unbearable prick when your tail's up, which can only mean one thing Another record week under our belt.
That's great work, Vinnie, great work.
I think it's time you and I revisited the little bonus discussion, yeah? Come on, let's have a little dickie bird out the back.
Ronnie, it's not another Persian rug, is it? No, don't be daft, I think you'll find what I've got in the back of the car will make Sam and your backwards little boy very happy.
Ronnie, please tell me there's a briefcase full of cash underneath that wolf you have got in the back of your car.
Meet Nigel.
One previous owner, a schizophrenic publican from Romford.
Mistreated the poor mutt, which is why he's so quiet.
Even better.
A depressed wolf.
Come on, misery guts, look at him.
Nigel is a thoroughbred.
You can put him out to stud and you will earn a fucking fortune, son.
Obviously after he's recovered from years of abuse by a psychopath.
Nah, sorry, I'm not 'aving it, you can keep your dog.
What the fuck? Oh! Look, he likes you, look.
You know, studies show that owning a pet can be very therapeutic to divvy kids.
Your missus will be over the moon.
I suppose the kids have always wanted a dog.
Yeah.
Kids, guess what your incredible pops has got ya? DOG BARKS - What? - Dad, you're the best! - I am, aren't I? - DOG SNARLS - Jesus! - Nigel! Hello, baby.
How was your day? DOG BARKS AND GROWLS What the fuck is that thing, Vincent? Nigel was going to need a few days to get over his trust issues.
Take him back! I can't put Nigel through any more rejection.
It will break him.
Let's just give it a few days for us all to get used to each other, at least.
Until then, the rest of the family could always live upstairs.
Good boy.
Hello, Mr Doggy.
Shoo, you dirty dog! Shoo! - Vincent, for Christ's sake.
- Nigel! - Oh, no! - Sorry, Pat.
Just so you know, if that dog mucks up our chances of getting Robbie into the grammar school, I'm having him put to sleep.
I don't decide where he shits, sweetheart, it's in his nature.
Just like it was in your nature to sell a bloody leaking conservatory.
How many times do I have to tell you, it's not leaking, it's fucking settling? Talk to me like that again, Vincent, and I'll see if I can get a two-for-one deal on exterminations.
You're right, I'm sorry, I'm just a bit grouchy at the moment.
It's all these late nights at the lodge.
Speaking of which, do you fancy a boys' night out? - Boys? - Well, one boy.
I hear he's a right looker and a demon between the sheets.
Huh? DOG BARKS Mummy! And Nigel wasn't the only one having settling issues.
Thank you, my love.
Brother Bruce, what brings you to my place of work? My conservatory is fucking leaking.
That's spooky, the conservatory you sold your neighbour, that's leaking as well.
Nothing is leaking, Carol, thank you.
As they are both new installations, they are what we call in the trade settling.
- Fuck me, what's Thyroid doing here? - I told you, Stacey's mum's porch.
I want a word with you, Vincent, yes? Stacey's mum is beside herself.
Everything in the hallway stinks of damp.
I appreciate table manners aren't your strong suit, Maureen, but you're going to have to wait as I'm currently dealing with a customer.
We are customers too.
We have the same rights to be heard as men.
Yes, you have, when it's your turn, sweetheart.
Now, Bruce, as I was saying, all new conservatories leak.
Stop ignoring me and my girlfriend, it's pathetic.
And very sexist.
As I explained, I'm more than happy to discuss the snagging issues with the porch in good time.
If you want to make an appointment with Carol, she will get an engineer out to examine Stacey's mum's smelly damp entrance.
Now, if you'll excuse me Right, that's it.
I really hope I haven't put myself out to recommend Cachet to my brother Masons, only for them to find that they have been let down by shoddy workmanship.
- Vincent - Not now, Carol.
Bruce, I take offence to people calling our workmanship shoddy.
Vincent Don't be fucking ridiculous.
Take the cuffs off and clear off! No way.
Fix Stacey's mum's porch or I'll stay here until you do, - no matter how long it takes.
- You don't have to do that, Maureen.
No, Stace, it's like you said, yeah? Deeds, not words.
I'm prepared to stay here until our voice is heard.
That is so romantic.
Although I am teaching an aerobics class at three so I'll have to leave you to it.
She's hilarious.
No, really, I do have to go.
Just hurry up and shift your arse before my friend the policeman here shifts it for ya.
I'm not shifting anyone's arse, not until you fix my conservatory as well.
And I advise you to do it double quick before me and my friends at CID take some interest in all of the dodgy crap that you and Ronnie Farrell are undoubtedly up to.
Excuse me, madam.
You need to grow up, Maureen.
Worshipful Master, or should I just call you Bruce? No, you shouldn't.
No, of course, forget I suggested it.
Listen, could I have a word? Meanwhile, it was date night for double glazing's most duplicitous couple.
So how do they work, then? These dates of which you speak? You know, you tell me about some terrible past relationship, I tell you about one of mine, and then if we're really, really lucky, we start a terrible relationship of our own.
They can't all have been terrible.
No, pretty much.
So you've never been in love? Well, maybe once.
Was that the married one? Come on, you can tell me, Martin.
Trust me, I really, really can't.
OK, what do you fancy? You know, spring rolls, crispy duck, and my favourite, cream of some young sales guy.
- Bollocks.
- I do like them too.
There is a table at the back there.
Isn't that Martin? Oh, so that must be Jo Scott.
Blimey, she's gorgeous.
Remarkably gorgeous.
If you like that sort of thing.
Yeah, well, you do like that sort of thing.
- Gotta say hello.
- We really don't.
Sam, Vincent.
What a surprise.
Fraternising with the enemy, Lavender? Busted, dammit.
We better put it through expenses now.
Sorry, if I have to wait for an introduction we will be here all night.
I'm Sam, Vincent's wife.
Hello, Sam, I'm Jo.
I heard you were beautiful but wow, you're punching above your weight with this stunner, Vincent.
Anyway, we don't want to disturb your evening.
Something we can all fucking agree on for once.
- Vincent.
- Sit with us.
- Yeah.
- Yeah.
Yeah.
Lovely.
Thanks, babe.
While we were on the double date from hell, Fitzpatrick was throwing the kitchen sink at the Masons in an attempt to drum up some business.
HE CLINKS GLASS I would like to thank Brother Fitzpatrick for supplying us with such excellent steak.
And for arranging the after-dinner entertainment that we are about to enjoy.
There's no need, Reverend, there's no need, really.
No, it's the least I could do.
Before we crack on with tonight's presentation, can I just say how deeply touched I've been with the respectful welcome you've all given me this past month? If anything, too respectful, but now that we all know and trust each other I'd like to show my appreciation, so please raise your glasses to what I am sure your members are going to want to make a regular occurrence, Brother Brian's steak and sauce night.
ALL: Steak and sauce! This week's theme is the historical ties between the Freemasons and the Vatican.
MUSIC: Hot Stuff by Donna Summer DANCERS WHOOP AND CHEER Here we go, eh? Phwoar! Eh? Look at that! What do you reckon? Go on.
- Woo! - Steady on.
Phwoar! Hello, boys, who wants to play with my rosary beads? Well, I fucking do! Wahey! Look, Jo, don't worry about Vincent, he's just stressed.
He's got problems with his biggest customer.
Ouch.
Well, I know what that feels like.
Local, is he? Mm.
Big cheese in the bloody Masons.
Really? Sounds complicated.
It is, especially because Bruce is a policeman.
Right.
Listen, Jo, I know you've got your issues with Vincent and I know he can be an arsehole, but he's my arsehole, - and your Martin is a good man.
- My Martin? I don't know if you'd call him that.
Just treat him right, Jo, promise me that, he's been through enough.
MUSIC: Romance Revisited by Culture Club The victims we know so well They shine in your eyes When they kiss and tell Strange places we never see But you're always there Like a ghost in my dream Thank you.
- OK? - Yeah.
Totally.
You bring strippers and prostitutes into the Masonic Lodge, who draped themselves over our brothers and offer them casual sex? You make that sound like it's a bad thing.
I'm left with no alternative but to enact a law of our sacred brotherhood that has not been used in this lodge for 150 years! Please don't hurt us.
I'm expelling you all from the Masons.
- Thank God.
- Bloody hell! We are out for holding an orgy at a Satanic sex club? I mean, that is literally like getting the sack for organising - a piss-up at a brewery! - We are not a Satanic anything.
- Well - You only ever saw our fraternity as a business opportunity.
You have violated several of our most sacred vows, not least the code of secrecy.
Brother Brendan was most distressed to have his brotherhood revealed.
That wasn't us.
Just be honest, Bruce, this is all some power play because of a little settling in your conservatory.
No.
To put it frankly, if this were 1785 and not 1985, the three of you would have had your throats slit and your tongues ripped out! Besides, as of this morning, my conservatory is not leaking any more.
Because it settled.
Thank you.
No.
Because someone has offered to fix it free of charge and undercut Cachet's prices on any home improvements our members might want in the future.
You might even know the young lady.
She said to send her love.
Ms Jo Scott of W-Windows? W Windows.
How the fuck did Jo hear about Bruce? How do you fucking think? Old supergrass over here.
She didn't hear it from me, if that's what you're implying.
Your girlfriend is really starting to get on my tits.
Hang on, you're the one who insisted I went out with her.
So that's it, I'm finishing with that untrustworthy, devious, unbelievably sexy arsehole.
See, this is what you get when you send in a soppy little boy to do a man's job.
Now, if you want, I'll go in and seduce the fucking shit - out of her, just say the word.
- Yeah, I think I'll pass.
No, it may be time we get Ronnie to deal with our little Jo problem.
I mean, it seems a bit over the top.
As does getting our bowels fed to the birds just so she can sell - some fucking conservatories.
- Fair enough.
You might want to come and see this, Vincent.
No! Nigel, you stupid fucking prick.
While I could overlook most of Nigel's character flaws, eating the dashboard of my Mercedes was tantamount to checking himself into Battersea Dogs Home.
And he wasn't even the craziest beast I had to deal with that morning.
Really? Who let Little and Large in again? Well, I tried to tell them, but Stacey reminded me that peaceful protest is a democratic right.
It would be in a democracy, Carol, but this is a dictatorship, not Greenham fucking Common.
If those twats aren't out of my showroom by the time I get back from lunch, you're sacked.
Hang on, listen, this is my fuck-up here, Carol's done nothing wrong, so if anyone should be sacked, - it should be me.
- Absolutely fine.
Nigel! Run, Brian.
Run.
Lock it now.
Brian, lock it.
I hope this is one of your jokes, Stace.
Sorry, Maureen, I'm not as strong as you.
Nigel.
Oh.
He doesn't normally take to strangers.
Maybe we could come to some sort of an arrangement here, ladies.
Even though Ronnie would go ballistic about the refitting costs, I figured life's too short to be lumbered with a psycho dog from hell, and Nigel.
Hello, gorgeous.
No, Stace, see you later.
Stacey's showroom cowardice was such a turn-off for Maureen, she decided to invest in a relationship with someone she considered more her savage equal.
I can see it now, grandkids running through, sunshine coming in.
It's done.
Vinnie, I've dealt with our attractive little W-Windows problem.
Sorry.
Excuse me one moment.
That's the boss.
All right, let's try and keep it down a bit, Ronnie, it's probably better if we never had this conversation, if you know what I mean.
You bloody pillock.
What sort of man do you think I am? If someone is selling more windows than you, you don't kill them, you offer 'em a fucking job, son.
I'd like you to meet your new co-showroom manager, Miss Joanne Scott.
Ta-dah! What? No, I'm the fucking showroom manager.
And so is she.
Look forward to job sharing with you, Vincent.
It looked like life at Cachet was about to become dog eat dog.
Although for Fitzpatrick - Nigel - life was very much now dog eat him.
MUSIC: Loverboy by Billy Ocean And I want you really, but the thing is there's nothing I can say To stop you, darling, from running, running away Won't you stay, stay, stay - I want to be your - Lover, lover Yeah - I want to be your - Lover, lover I want to be your love