Underbelly s06e03 Episode Script

There really is more to you than just a pickpocket, isn't there? - Call me Henry.
- You should have seen it.
- I had him eating from me hand.
- There's someone to see you.
- Mate.
Why? - Sorry, Les.
Why would I do a job with you? Well, we ain't ever worked together, Harry.
Why haven't the Narrows Gang and the Bourke Street Rats come together? If I see any of youse north of Victoria Street, I will kill ya.
If you saw him, bought him a beer, everything would sort out.
Nip it in the bud before someone really gets hurt.
- Let me read your leaves first.
- Ma, come on.
A lady.
Oh, she's a special one, alright.
She's brave too.
What do you want, Doll? A whisky would be nice.
- Who would do this? - Will you get 'em? Will you get 'em good? - Count.
- One! Two! Three! - Where's Long Harry? - He's not here.
- Where is he? - Dunno! - The jacks! The jacks! - Shoot the bastard, Les! - Let's go! - Shoot him! Snowy! Come on, let's go! Hey! Next time, don't send your sloppy old moll to do your dirty work! Did Ted Whiting really say that? He said it.
I had him around the throat.
- He was And I said - Really? He was just going, "Mr Taylor, please, please.
Don't you fucking" He was pissing himself all over the floor.
Don't send your sloppy old moll to do your dirty work! - What? - Nothing.
You know I was only trying to help.
- Yeah, I know you were, darling.
- No.
What? - What's that? - What's going on? - What are they saying? - The war's over, darl.
We won the war.
Oh.
Oh, thank God.
- Long live the King! - Long live the King.
How many blokes you reckon Long Harry's got? Dunno.
Couple of dozen.
- Stokes? - Stokes? About the same, give or take.
What about us? You know how many blokes we got.
So we're outnumbered about three or four to one by each of them.
Yeah, something like that.
What are we doing here, anyway? Hobnobbing with the rich and famous, my friend.
Well, this place ain't so special.
You kidding? I'd sell me soul to have a place like this.
When are we gonna take another shot at Long Harry and his boys? We've smashed a few heads.
That's payback enough for Doll.
You're pulling me fucking leg.
You are, you're pulling me fucking leg.
We're gonna start a war between Long Harry and Stokes.
I'll drink to that.
And then we'll take over this town.
Diggers had been returning from Europe for some time, damaged men for whom the war had ended early.
Among them, men who had seen and done terrible things in the fields and trenches of the Western Front.
Men who would now do anything for a price.
Henry Stokes sends his regards.
So this cove shoots Daly in the chest three times and you in the shoulder at point-blank range and you didn't see him? He saw him.
He didn't recognise him.
I'm asking your brother.
Bunny doesn't talk to jacks, and I'm telling ya, we don't know who he was.
Give me a name, testify in court, and I promise you, he will swing.
Haven't you heard the expression "hanging's too good for him"? This is a police matter now, Whiting.
So you coppers are gonna put in for Matt's missus and kids, are ya? Leave no stone unturned? Give me a fucking break.
If you or Long Harry take the law in your own hands, I am gonna come down on you like a ton of shit.
We always knew you was a ton of shit, Brophy.
Nice to hear you admit it.
Get off! You fuckers have been warned.
In the weeks that followed, the streets of Fitzroy were splattered with blood, teeth and singed hair as the tit-for-tat war between Henry Stokes and Long Harry Slater's men escalated.
A war generated and orchestrated by Leslie 'Squizzy' Taylor.
The watch-house cells, not to mention St Vincent's Hospital, were stretched to the limit.
Honest crooks weren't safe in their beds.
And if things ever looked like settling down, Squizzy would give the pot a good stir.
You missed the bloody dog, Snowy.
- Get out.
Sounds like more bad news for Henry.
- What? What? What? - Just delivered your order.
- You checking it? - What, you don't trust me? No, I don't trust anyone.
Hey, I heard more of your boys ended up at St Vincent's last night, eh? This Fitzroy Vendetta.
Yeah, that prick Whiting thinks someone's tried to shoot his dog.
Now, I never sent anyone to shoot the mangy mutt, or his fucking dog.
It must be one of your boys trying to show initiative.
When I find out who did it, I will have his balls.
He's not gonna put up his hand, is he, Henry? How many of your boys are in the slammer, or laid up at St Vincent's, Les? Oh, we've been pretty lucky.
Yeah, too bloody lucky, some might say.
- Come on, Henry, you know me.
- Yeah, I do know you, Les.
That's why I think you're up to something, you slimy little turd.
If I find out you've done a deal, you will regret the day you were born.
Henry, I've done no deals, right? Why would I do anything to mess this up? You know how much I love this place.
I say we stop fart-arsing about and make our move.
Take out Long Harry and Stokes.
- No.
- I'll do it.
I'm not frightened of either of those pricks.
- No.
- Why not? - 'Cause it's not the plan.
- Well, fuck the plan! The plan's taking too long.
Alright, I'll think about it.
That's your problem, Les.
You do way too much thinking.
Way too much.
Whoever takes them out is gonna be a fucking legend, and that's me.
- Oi! - What? Long Harry sends his regards.
When I get outta here, Long Harry's a dead man.
I am gonna kill that fucker with my bare hands.
- And the shooter? - I've never seen him before.
But I'll never forget his face.
Looked like something out of a freak show.
Mm, yeah, well, Long Harry's been recruiting diggers fresh off the boat.
- So has Stokes.
Hey, you'll be staying with your mum then, Snowy? Yeah.
You tell her I'll send her something each week.
You know, just to help make ends meet.
Thanks, mate.
I really appreciate that.
Come on, we better let him get some rest.
You get well now, Snowy, you hear? I will.
Mate, as far as I'm concerned, you already are a legend.
What's wrong? Nothing.
I'm just tired.
We haven't done it since you know when.
Yeah, I know.
Are you worried about Snowy? Yeah.
Sometimes you let yourself feel things too deeply, Les.
Maybe Monsieur Cock needs a little French lesson.
Hello! Anyone home? That's Tank.
Les? Les! You home? Dolly? Tank! Mate! How are you? You are a sight for sore eyes.
Come here, hey? You OK? You all in one piece? You look good.
- Mate, I'm good.
- Good, good, good.
- Bert! - Dolly.
It's wonderful to have you home.
- It's good to be home.
What happened to you? Hey, was it the big adventure you were hoping for, hey? How many Huns you kill? - I dunno.
- You dunno? What do you mean? How can you not know how many of those miserable clams you sent to the devil? Guess you had to be there.
- What, you having a dig, mate? - Nah, I'm not.
It's just it was a shit fight and a lot of good blokes ain't coming home because of it.
- It's true.
- Oh, well, we won.
- That's the main thing, hey? - I'll make up a bed.
- I don't wanna be any trouble.
- You're not.
The victorious diggers brought home with them a range of afflictions.
Hey, stop.
Stop, thief! Stop! Stop! But the one that would have the most devastating effect was a contagion that would quickly become known as the Spanish Flu.
Over 12,000 Australians would succumb to the disease.
On a global scale, it claimed up to a hundred million lives.
No-one was safe.
Not rich or poor, not saint or sinner.
But not all the returning diggers' ailments were physical.
Rob me, filthy Hun! Bert? What's wrong? Bert, wake up.
- What's wrong? - I gotcha! I gotcha! - Tank! - Les! Tank! Tank! I'll bloody kill ya, ya filthy Hun! I'll bloody kill ya! I'll bloody kill ya, ya Hun! Oh! Les! It's OK.
It's OK.
It's OK.
What is wrong with him? Poor bugger.
Tank.
Bert.
Oh, poor Bert.
What were you doing down there, anyway? What do you think? I wouldn't do you, so you thought you'd get some from Tank, is that it? How can you say that? I don't know.
I'm just asking the question.
You really think I'd just nip down there for a quick root while you're up here having a sleep? - I don't know.
- Jeez, Les! Sometimes you're the biggest fuckwit in Melbourne.
The trouble with Dolly, she don't understand the kind of pressure a man's under.
While she's snoring her head off, I'm lying awake all night dreaming up ways to destroy our enemies.
How's your brekkie? Oh, you should sit down and have a bite.
Sorry, against the rules.
Oh, rules are made to be broken.
Top up your cuppa? Please.
- What's your name? - Lorna Kelly.
What's yours? You don't know? Should I? Oh, one day you will.
Sounds like someone's got tickets on themselves.
Alcohol is a curse.
A poison to the moral health.
It destroys families.
It drags good, decent, god-fearing men and women into the occasion of sin and into the gutter of depravity, perversity and bestiality.
So the Fitzroy Vendetta.
What's this important information you've got for me? How would you like to have Long Harry's head on a stick, Mr Brophy? - How many men out back? - Six, boss.
I reckon Taylor might have sold us a pup here, cobber.
We'll give it another couple of minutes, then fuck 'em.
Sir.
Well, shall we move in? Let 'em commit the crime first, lad.
How many kids you got now? I got seven, and another one on the way.
I love my wife.
I love me smokes too, son, but I take 'em out of me mouth occasionally.
Alright, let's move.
Police! Stop and put your hands up! Put your hands up! Jesus, Arch.
Don't die on me.
Six months.
Did you enjoy it? - Yes.
- Yeah? Oh, that's good.
There was a shooting in Fitzroy.
Please tell me Long Harry's in the morgue.
Nah, no such luck.
Cop took one in the chest.
- Is he married? - Long Harry? - No, the copper.
- I don't know.
- Has he got a family? - I don't know! Well, if he does, sling him 10 quid.
- Les.
Les.
- What? She's young enough to be your daughter.
And Long Harry's mob is still walking around scot-free.
- After what he did to Dolly? - Alright, well, go and do it.
- What? - Go and do it.
- I will! - Good.
Good! Hello.
It's getting chilly out there.
- Yeah.
- Les with you? - No, he's not.
- Oh.
Did you see that copper Long Harry shot? I didn't see nothing, Doll.
There's something you should know.
Paper reckons Long Harry's gonna get off.
There's no justice in the world, is there? No, there's not.
Les must be working late.
He must.
- Know what? - What? Just you said there was something.
What? I can't join you for tea.
Righto.
I'll just set a place for meself then.
Squizzy's infidelity weighed heavily on Tankbuster.
He knew there was nothing he could do to make it right.
But there was one injustice he could do something about.
What happened to you? The still unavenged gang rape of Dolly Grey.
If he got the chance, Tank would punish each and every one of Long Harry's men, starting with Ted Whiting.
Yes? Is Ted here? Ted! Visitor for you.
- Yeah, who is it? - This is for Dolly, you fucker! Ted Whiting was shot multiple times, including once in the head.
Miraculously, none of the shots proved life-threatening.
Tankbuster's one-man vendetta, however, proved to be disappointingly short-lived.
So I have the steak for you, sir, and the mixed grill for you, Lorna.
Thanks, Lizzie.
Why did you want to come here? I wanted my friends to see me out on the town with my dashing fella.
Can we go dancing after? Lorna, we can do whatever your lovely heart desires.
I gotta go spend a penny.
- Back in a tick.
- Yeah.
I've been looking for you everywhere.
What the fuck are you doing here? - Bert's been shot by the jacks.
- Is he dead? No, he's at St Vincent's.
They just winged him.
So come on, we gotta get him out of there.
- I can't I can't go.
- He's your best mate.
Alright.
Alright.
Let's go, let's go.
Alright.
Hey, can you tell Lorna that I've had a family emergency.
- Now! - Alright, I'm coming.
Excuse me! I'm here to read verses from the good book to the patients.
Sorry, lady, but Uh, doctors and nurses only for this patient.
- Isn't that right, Constable? - That's right, Doctor.
Great.
Thank you.
Tank.
Tank.
Come on, mate.
Let's get you out of here.
- Yeah, rightio, Doc.
- I'm so sorry.
I've forgotten my way out.
- Get up.
- Bugger me, you're a doctor? Yes, and I need to get you out of here.
So you gotta follow doctor's orders.
Come on.
- Where did you get it from? - Oh, shit.
Shut up.
Shh.
Shhh.
Shhh.
- Come on.
In the car.
- Bird.
- No, no, no, no.
- Bird.
Tank, come on, you heavy bugger.
- Get in the car.
- Birdie.
Go away! - I said go away, Les! - Lorna.
- You did a bunk.
- I didn't.
A friend of mine was in an accident.
I told Lizzie to tell you.
She said you left with an older woman.
She's just a friend of my friend who got hurt.
Please, Lorna.
Open up.
- Is your friend alright? - Yeah, he will be.
But you know I would I would never have left if it wasn't a life-or-death emergency.
You know that, OK? He's my best mate.
What happened to him? He had a motor car accident.
Darling, you've been crying.
Of course I've been crying.
What did you expect? I am I am so sorry, right? And I will make it up to you, alright? I will take you out for a hundred fancy dinners to a hundred beautiful restaurants.
I'm not like other girls, Les.
- You're not taking advantage.
- I would never do that.
I love you.
I love you too.
What? - I'm scared.
- Don't be.
I've never been with a man.
Neither have I.
You are so beautiful.
You should try and get some sleep.
Nah, it's a pity Les didn't grab some morphine on the way out.
Have a brandy? Wouldn't say no.
Where is he? He had to go and check on a delivery to Stokes.
Doll, there is no delivery set for tonight.
- I know.
- Les, he's seeing No, not another word.
This bloody flu.
Business is down over 50%.
Everybody's hurting.
I hear Long Harry's out on bail.
He wants a truce.
He sent word he wants to parley.
Well, that sounds like the perfect solution.
I'd take a shooter if I were you, though.
No, I'm not going, Les.
But I'm glad you like the idea, because you are.
Now, Henry Your bloke botched the job on Whiting.
Well, how many lives does that fucker have? I don't give a fuck.
Just made things 10 times worse.
They're not expecting us for another half-hour, so we should have the drop on them.
And then we put a bullet between Long Harry's eyes.
Yes, and the Whitings, and anyone else they're with.
But we gotta do it clean this time.
No witnesses.
Agreed? - Agreed.
- Good.
Alright, Frank, go scout it out.
- Me, Les? - Yes, you.
Here, wear this.
Put your hat down.
- Oh, shit.
- Get behind the car.
Frank! Frank! Frank, are you hit? Frank, get here.
Shit, he's dead.
- Tank, can you drive this thing? - What? No, I can't drive! - You? - I can't, I can't! We gotta go! Run, run, run! You set me up, you clam! Well, you must have let your guard down, Les.
- I ought to rip your head off.
- You ought to what? You smug f You wanna go a few rounds with me, do you, little man? Well, come on, then! You're too ambitious for your own good, Les.
Know your place.
You're small fry.
You always will be small fry.
Now waddle off.
Get your fucking hands off my suit.
I'll fucking walk.
You're small fry.
You always will be You do way too much thinking.
Sometimes you're the biggest fuckwit in Melbourne.
Lorna Kelly.
She's young enough to be your daughter.
Next time, don't send your sloppy moll to do your dirty work! Looks like someone's got tickets on themselves.
You're too ambitious for your own good, Les.
Know your place.
You were home late last night.
Where were ya? - Working.
- Working? - Yeah.
- Doing what? Just the usual boring stuff.
Delivering grog.
- Really? - Yes.
'Cause I thought you might have been out fucking that little slut you been seeing.
What, you think I don't know? Say something to me.
Me eggs are getting cold.
I'm going to work.
What the fuck? You had me shot.
You fucking bastard.
- Bullshit.
- It's not bullshit.
What, did you think I wouldn't work it out? Same bloke who shot Bunny Whiting.
Same bloke you used to start your hopeless bloody war No, no.
Who sent money to your mum every week? Shut up, little man.
Now I'm gonna blow your brains out and then I'm gonna take a shit on your dead corpse.
- Snowy, mate - You Would your girlfriend do that for ya? Hello.
I'm Dolly.
I Look, I know Les hasn't mentioned me, but, come on, we need to have a talk.
I'm just on my way to my temperance meeting right now Your temperance meeting? Well you're in for a surprise, aren't you? You silly witch! Les is my fella.
- My Les? - No, MY Les.
He could charm the whiskers off your kitten and I'm sure he has, but he's also a pickpocket, a sly grogger and my pimp.
No, I don't believe you.
Well, I thought you might say that.
He loves me and I love him.
You poor, sweet, stupid little girl.
I'm not a girl.
I'm not.
And I don't care what you say.
We love each other and we're getting married.
And I'm having his baby.
Well, take a look at that! Enjoy.
Oh, you fucker.
You ain't such a tough man now, are you, Snowy? I ought to shit on your corpse, you miserable, ungrateful prick, but I wouldn't wanna waste a good shit now, would I? Which leg did I have you shot in again, huh? It was this one.
Take him out and get rid of him.
Kill him.
Kill him! You're leaving town, Snowy.
Do you understand me? Get out.
Get out! You ain't ever coming back.
If I see you, I'll kill you myself, mate or no mate.
Get out.
Go! John 'Snowy' Cutmore headed north to Sydney, where he joined Norman Bruhn's notorious Razor Gang.
But Melbourne hadn't seen the last of him, and Squizzy Taylor hadn't heard the last of him.
- How did you go? - It's done.
- How did he take it? - How do you reckon? Pissed himself.
- In me car? - No! Right.
Now that's done.
Long Harry and Henry Stokes, those fuckers are dead.
Now listen closely.
My brilliant idea is to get Henry Stokes and Long Harry together in the same place at the same time with guns loaded.
Don't shoot.
Don't shoot.
What do you want, Jenkins? Step one - get my trusty number three man, Ed Jenkins, to plant a horrible thought in Long Harry's suspicious little brain about My mum? Step two - lure Henry himself out of his den with the promise of a juicy deal.
Invite him for a drink at, say Railway Hotel.
Henry Stokes and Long Harry.
Three - warn the nearest policeman there's gonna be a bloodbath.
And, last, keep your fingers crossed and hope for the best.
Oh, yes, I see many wonderful years ahead.
Stokes wants to hit hard, where it hurts the most, without risking any more casualties.
When I heard what he planned to do to her, well, sweet mother of God.
- So I've got your blessing? - Oh, a million times over.
You two are a match made in heaven.
There's an American bloke, Ponzi.
He's making a bloody fortune.
So we buy up international postal reply coupons.
You brought me here to talk about stamps? I brought you here to discuss a sure-fire money-making proposition.
- Not interested.
- Henry, why so hasty? Don't look a gift horse in the mouth.
- The missus is waiting.
- Henry! Henry! Come on, two minutes of your valuable time.
Two minutes.
Stokes, you piece of shit! Henry Stokes? You're under arrest.
You too, Slater.
Get him.
Get him! - Get off.
Get off.
- Nobody move.
- Don't touch me! - Stay where you are! Bloody hell, I've done it.
I got rid of the buggers.
The whole town's mine.
I'm top dog.
King of the hill.
Ha! Long live the King.