Barney Thomson (2015) Script

I've got two styles...

Short back and sides, and back and sides.

I start at the crown, and work outwards methodically.

I like a calm working environment.

Every barber has his quirk...

Well, except me.

I've not got any. Don't see the point, really.

Head down...

Get on with it.

That's me.

I prefer it when they don't speak.

I cannae be bothered speaking to them either.

I like the quiet.

So what makes a legend, do you think?

Heroism?

Well, that rules me out.

Self-sacrifice?

Not your man.

Nobility of purpose?

Can't help you there, either.

My life's always been boring.

I don't mind that.

There's a place for being boring.

Cuttin' hair is boring.

Sittin' at home is boring.

That was all right.

I was a boring kind of guy.

If you'd asked me back then, I'd have said I was content.

Smilin' in the corner, the rain runnin' down my neck.

Then fate decided to leap on my back, and I turned round and saw that I'd been nothing all these years but a howling ghost.

From nowhere, I was alive.

I'd never had to deal with the law before.

Only had to look at a police and I shatted.

But circumstances changed and, suddenly, I had my very own one-to-one copper breathing down my neck.

Everywhere I turned, there he was...

This big slab of bastard staring right back.

Yeah, I was alive, all right, but for how long?

I'm Barney Thomson, and this is the story of what happens when you move chairs.

I'm telling ye.

: He's not in the lynch league yet.

77 wins, and I'm talkin' the pre-nutrition years.

14 knockouts on a diet of irn-bru and dog food.

Comics by the door, Charlie.

Thanks, Barney.

: Hang on, sweetheart. Can we talk a bit?

Don't believe that.

She's a fuckin' liar. I wasn't at Karen's.

I had to go the hospital.

A shadow on my lung.

Nah, nah. It's fine. They gave me tablets.

What are we doin' tonight?

Maybe you can come by again, and I could gie ye another "Maryhill Moothfae"...

Oh! That's fuckin' disgusting.

All right, darling. See you in a bit. Bye.

Right, pal, up you come.

Doesn't even make sense.

Barney... can I have a wee chat?

Aye.

All this chatter must be bothering ye, eh?

What? Well, the boxing chat.

Is it bothering ye?

Och.

I think you might be, uh...

Might be happier up here.

What, there? Aye.

Let me get this straight.

I was in the windae for eight years, then I was in the second chair, then the third.

Now you want me oot by the bins?

I mean, that...

That's not even a fuckin' barber's chair! Eh?

Fuck!

You have nae patter, Barney.

Nae sparkle.

You hang over the customers like a shitty cloud. standing there like a big streak of piss.

It's like you've had a charisma bypass.

You look like a haunted tree. That's all I'm saying.

Well, your dad brought me into this shop 20 years ago.

I'd like to hear what he has to say about this.

Eh?

Right. Let's get my da on the phone.

I'm a fuckin'...

Haunted tree?

You're like a fucking shitty cloud.

Customers take one look at you and think you're a big streak of piss.

You're standing there like a haunted tree.

You need patter.

All right, who's next?

I'm gonna wait for Chris, thanks.

Yourself? What about you?

I'm just waitin' for Wullie, if that's all right.

That's, uh... That's fine.

It isnae bloody all right. No.

Not one of you want to get your hair cut by me?

Am i... Am I that bad?

What you want to wait for these two for?

It's half-past three already.

You'll no all get seen!

Are you mental?

Come on, Barney. That's out of order.

What is this? Some kind of conspiracy?

First, you bump me intae the back of beyond, then you tell this bunch of...

To... to refuse my services?

Is that it?

Ye cannae have a go at the customers.

Ah! Fuck this, Wullie.

Fuck this!

What's the point of me even fucking being here?

Fuckin' fuck it!

Fuck!

Fuck!

Never a dull moment, eh?

The lab results came back, sir.

They're negative. -Brilliant.

What are you gonna tell the public?

The public can fuck off.

To date, there have been five victims from the Glasgow area and you haven't been able to make a connection between any of them.

: You don't even know where the bodies are, except the bits the killer sent to the next of kin.

: This case should be given to someone with more local knowledge.

: What exactly are you doing all day?

Late last night...

Officers from this station came into possession of a valuable piece of evidence...

The exact nature of which I am not at Liberty to divulge.

Oh, come on!

So what's this new piece of evidence, sir?

Nothing. I lied, which is why I'm in the shape of a frog.

Well, the superintendent wants to see you.

Of course he does.

What are you playing at, 127?

If you walk into a room backwards, with your trousers round your ankles, don't be surprised if you get bummed rotten.

And never, never drag the force in with you.

I'll not have my team mass-bummed on your say-so!

Is that clear?

Don't interrupt me. thinking we've just about got this thing wrapped up when, as far as I can see, in the two months...

Two fucking months...

You've been on this case, you've managed to narrow your list of suspects down to

"people in the Glasgow area who've been to the seaside in the last 12 weeks."

The killer will think we're onto 'im, and might make a mistake, sir.

He'd fucking well better.

Fucking Mcmanaman.

He's got to fill his day up somehow.

I mean, his in-tray consists of staring out the window whilst having a gentle wank over the "daily star."

What's the big breakthrough?

Fuck off! It's my case.

Is it an actual breakthrough, or is it just a we-made-it-up breakthrough?

What the fuck is that?

Inspiration!

Oh, I been meaning to ask ya, how's "operation: Touchy little boy" coming along?

Do you want to do this right now?

'Cause I'm fucking well up for that!

Get your tits out of my face.


Come on, six. Come on. Come on, number six.

Come on, number six!

Come on, get a move-on, get a fucking move-on!

Get a move-on, ye wee shite!

Come on, come on! Yes!

Oh, fuck this shite!

You wee fucking shite! You're a fucking wee shite!

So fucking shite. Fucking dog.

Oh, Christ. Here you go, mum.

What kept you?

Celebrity booking?

Oh.

Cannae beat a fish supper.

Get off!

Busy today? Aye.

Tips?

Plenty.

Tell ye what...

Hand 'em over to me and I'll put them on the next race.

Nah, you're all right.

Bathgate leopard...

Three to one.

No, no thanks.

Oh, come on!

No.

A fiver gets you 15 quid.

I've not got any money!

Nah.

Who'd ever tip you?

Not me.

You not put any vinegar on it?

You didn't put any on.

: Crap.

They talk crap all day.

Boxing.

That's their sole currency.

You know, I was in that windae for eight years.

That meant something.

I'm 50, Charlie.

What the fuck happened there?

I mean, it's every man's right to reach his full potential. Right?

But it passed me by.

Aye.

What am I gonna do?

Nothing.

I've got a mother that's digging her claws in like an auld buzzard, I live in a shitey, wee flat...

And the last time with a bird, "shakin' Stevens" was number one.

I've not had my kick at the ball.

All I've got is that job.

The bastards are trying to take it away from me.

You want them to like you.

Like me?

I want to fuckin' kill them.

Pew!

: He's fucking laughing at us, 127.

Yes, sir.

The public are gonna string us up for this, you realize.

Yes, sir.

Right. I'm replacing you as lead.

What?

And you, 529.

No, sir, it's 20 past 10, sir.

529's your fucking number!

You're off the case as well.

You'll be taking orders from 119 from now on.

Thank you, sir.

Just take me...

Uh, take me through your plans, uh, 119. so we'll find out who's recently disappeared, who last saw them.

I'll put holdall here out in the field, investigating the missing person files.

Don't you think we should be looking for the rest of him?

119's in charge now, 127.

Is that plate from the canteen?

Ah, fuck me.

Tell forensics to get their own fucking plates!

I'm not eating off a plate that's served up a human arse.

Right. Off you go.

Oh, ho, ho! Listen to this.

"Angelina Jolie seeks Brad Pitt for weekday dog track evenings."

Give me that.

"Sleek hatchback, low mileage, "big headlights, "needing a right good service.

Hamilton area."

Now, they're not shy, are they?

You want a pen? Fuck off.

"Mature woman seeks adventurous man for nights of unbridled passion."

Nah, nah. That's what we call a "gilf."

What's that?

It's a "granny I'd like to..." fuck's sake, Chris. Come on.

Right, McAllister this weekend at bellahouston...

What's his chances?

Good boy, but...

I always loved westerns.

I wanted to be "the man with no name," you know, the guy who rides into town, saves the townsfolk, and disappears in the dead of night, shrouded in mystery.

They'd talk about this legend for years to come...

But no...

I was one of the pissy, wee townsfolk, where every fucker knows your name.

I wanted to grind 'em into the Lane under my heel.

Well, careful what you wish for.

Barney.

Barney!

A wee word?

I'm not really sure how to say this.

A pal of my dad's has moved into the area.

He wants to give him a job.

Eh?

Cannae have ye falling asleep in the shop, Barney.

And we can't have any more outbursts like ye had yesterday.

Oh, no, that was a one-off.

That was not a one-off.

You have regular outbursts.

You cannot talk to customers like that.

It's not my fault you look like a fucking cartoon bear, is it? Up. Oot.

You can work for another month, if you like.

We'll understand if you want to leave now, of course, and we'll keep pay your wage for the rest of the month.

You don't need to make a decision now, but...

I'll stay for the month.

But we would be paying your wage for the month, whether you're here or no.

Well, I'll be here.

Great.

I'll let my da know.

Jesus Christ.

I'll get a mop.

No, I'll get a mop. I'll get...

Wullie, wullie... Look, please.

Don't do this.

It's not my decision.

Ah, but you see, this place, it's all I know.

Come on, Wullie.

Be a pal.

I've got nothing else on.

Aw, Barney.

Still, it's not my decision. It's up to my da.

No, no. That's rubbish! It is your decision.

You and Chris. You want me out the door.

Think I'm a fucking idiot?

I'll get the mop.

Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean that.

I-I-I'll get the mop. J-j-j-just... listen.

I-I'll be so quiet.

You'll no hear another peep out of me.

You're embarrassing yourself now, Barney.

Have a bit of self-respect.

I'll be so quiet... Let me get the mop!

No, please. I'll be a model barber!

: Oh...

Fucking hell!


Shite...

Hello. Henderson's.

: Is that lazy bastard husband of mine there?

Uh, no. No, he's not.

Where is he?

Well, he said that he... He was leavin' early to...

Go do a bit of... shopping.

Well, he's never been to the shops in his life.

That's what he said.

If he's late back, I'll kill him.

That won't be necessary.

Well, cheerio.

Goodbye.

Fuck!


Shit.


Fucking hell!

What's that you've got there?

Eh? What's that?

How ye doing, Charlie?

Nothing. What's that?

Nothing!

I'm getting chips.

Good! Cheerio.

Ye cannae touch it!

It's full of hair chemicals and stuff like that.

Ye need gloves to touch it.

Okay?

Cheerio, then.

Get ye fucked, Charlie!

I'm only trying to help ye, Barney.

All right, all right, look. Just...

You can help, but just... Be quick, will ye?

I tell you what...

I really appreciate it, Charlie. Just, uh...

You swing by the shop sometime, and I'll give ye a haircut on the house, eh?

Okay. Okay?

Uh-huh.

Away and enjoy your chips.

Right, then. Okay.

Cheerio.


Where is it, where is it, where is it?

Where is it, where is it?

: W-what was the name of that loch you, me, and my da went to?

The forest on one side, and r-really hard to get to.

What loch?

That one, the one with all the wee boats.

Loch Lubnaig.

Loch Lubnaig! That's it.

Lubnaig, Lubnaig.

Why the commotion?

Uh, n-nothin'.

Just, uh...

I saw a painting in a...

In a charity shop at the Barras the other day, and I just wondered if it was... It was that.

How do you manage to pack so much excitement into one life?

Hmm?

Seeing as you're here, you can give me a lift to the Barras.

It's my bingo night.

No, I'm sorry, mother, I can't.

I'm... I'm actually quite busy.

You maybe didn't hear me.

It's my bingo night at the Barras!

Right. I'll see you later.

I'll be needing a lift home.

How long are ye gonnae be?

Couple of hours.

Oh!

I cannae sit out here for that length of time.


Mum, what're you doing?

I told Lizzie and Theresa you'd give 'em a lift home.

I've got something on!

Our carriage awaits!

Oh, this is awfully good of you, son.

On you go!


Okay, night-night. Bye.

Thanks very much, Barney. Watch yourselves.

Don't do anything I wouldn't do.

See ya, Cemolina.

It's Wullie.

I've killed Wullie.

I saw that.

Mum...

It was an accident.

I had a pair of scissors in my hand, and-and he slipped and fell.

Then you phone the police.

You don't wrap him up like a stair carpet!

No, I couldnae phone the police.

He just sacked me.

It's... They'd say I had a motive.

What'd he sack you for?

'Cause I've no got any chat.

Aye, well.

Mum...

What am I going to do?

For Christ's sake, shut up.

Leave him at mine.

Eh?

Any better ideas?


Ahh.

What now, mum?

I'm gonna have to fish it out with my spoon.

No, what're we gonnae do now?

How should I know?

Well, don't you be bringing anybody up here now.

Do you think I'm fucking stupid or something?

Eh?

For fuck's sake.

: So, the first one's Mrs. Stuart, and, uh, then we'll go to Mrs. McQueen.

When did you last see Stuart, Sheena?

Tuesday. 8:00.

Now, I wasn't sure about whether I declare him missing at first, you know, he's not been away that long, then I thought, well, you lot, you've got nothing better to do, eh?

Definitely Monday?

Tuesday!

He went missing on a Tuesday morning.

Definitely.

No, it was Wednesday. Thursday?

Wednesday? Or Thursday?

Friday.

Definitely Friday.

Wednesday, Thursday, or Friday?

Monday.

: I moved up here at my wife's insistence of being near her dying mother.

That was 20 years ago, and I'm still here.

And so is her fucking mother.

Oh... god.

How I loathe this...

Vomit-lashed shit-hole!

Hey, you, you poncey bastard!

Ahem. All right, gents.

Oh... poncey...

You're something special, eh?

Late again, Porter.

Fuck off.

Wullie didn't get in last night.

What?

Moira called. He didnae make it home.

Maybe he's been got by that killer.

Maybe his baws are being posted from arbroath as we speak.

You all right, lads?

You might want to come back later.

We're a man down.

I know.

I'm detective inspector holdall.

This is detective sergeant MacPherson.

We'd like to have a word about your missing colleague.

For fuck's sake! Oh, I'm sorry.

We won't keep you.

Oh, ho, ho, ho, ho, ho.

Benny lynch... mm?

Champion of the world!

Yeah. You know what his mistake was?

He stayed here...

Eh? With the dregs and the hangers-on.

Bleeding him dry... Sucking out his soul.

Can you imagine what he would've achieved, eh?

Longer career...

The women of the world at his feet...

If only he'd have had the courage to get out of this shit-hole.

Can we sit down?

Yes.

Chris, could you finish the customer?

Sit down?

I'm fine.

I-I'm fine standing.

This is purely a missing persons investigation, Mr. Thomson.

A Mrs. Henderson reported her husband missing yesterday afternoon.

Mrs. Henderson says you were the last person to talk with Mr. Henderson.

Is that correct?

Yes.

Now, there's no need to be so nervous, Mr. Thomson, this is...

I quite understand. Routine.

I quite understand.

Did Mr. Henderson tell you where he was going?

He... he said something about, uh...

Going to the shops.

Uh, he asked me to lock up, and then he... left.

Was it normal for Mr. Henderson to go to the shops after work?

You know, I-I-I don't really know wh-what Mr. Henderson did outside of work, because we weren't really friends.

Wasn't really friends.

Mm-hmm.

Um, did you suspect that something might have happened to Mr. Henderson?

I quite understand.

Sorry?

Slip of the tongue, you know how it is.

What?

Speaking to the police.

You know, this?

You know... heh... You... you feel guilty, even though you... You've never done nothing wrong.

I mean, it's not as if I've stabbed Wullie with a pair of scissors or anything like that, you know?

Would... would you like a glass of water?

No, I'm fine.

Where was your colleague, Mr. Porter, when you wasn't stabbing Mr. Henderson with your scissors?

Oh, he-he-he left early, because we were nae very busy that day.

That bit about the stabbing? That was just a joke.

You think this is funny, Mr. Thomson?

Not at all.

I'm only joking.

You have no idea how nervous you look!

Did Mr. Henderson tell you that he was not gonna have you in the shop anymore?

I have no knowledge of that.

See, Mr. Henderson's father says that Mr. Henderson was gonna tell you about it yesterday.

Did he say anything to you?

No.

Oh, well!

That's us.

Would you send Mr. Porter in, please?

Yes.

Oh.

I used to sometimes hide in toilet cubicles, you know, convinced I was about to die, and I went to see this man.

Do you know what he said to me?

He said the biggest instigator of a panic attack is...?

Guilty conscience.

Yeah.


Mum? Mum!

Can I have a word?

What? Carry on, girls! Regardless!

What are you thinking?

Mr. Johnstone in the bowling club has a brain tumour... Out like a light.

Nobody thought to arrange anything after the funeral, so I brung the girls back here for a wee Hooley.

Have you seen Mrs. Gaffney?

Last week, she wandered into the laundrette in her nightie!

Where the fuck's Wullie?

Cemolina, have you got a carpet sweeper?

Eh? Barbara's couped the ashtray.

Just down the hall, next to the toilet.

Mum, mum...

Where did you put the body?

Wait two minutes.

Barbara, what the fuck have you done?


Is that you making soup for yer mammy, son?

Uh-huh...

Oh, fuck!

I like soup!

Mrs. Gaffney!

The laundrette's shut.

Cheerio, then.

Soup, you say. Soup!

Cheerio. Oh!

Oh!

Ahh!


Thanks very much.

We all enjoyed ourselves.

Uh-huh. You watch yourself.

Fine, fine.

All right. Okay.

Night-night.

God almighty.

I'm checkered!

I'm no even packed for my "route to the isles" discovery tour in the morning.

Two days, all-in, including breakfast and your evening meal...

42 pounds!

You believe that?

How did you manage that?

You chopped him up!

You've even fucking labeled him!

I label everything.


James?

Barney.

On the button.

Appreciate that.

I'll be here until that son of mine decides to show his face again.

Right.

Wife's convinced that killer's got him.

Could be posting his baws from arbroath as we speak.

Aye. to what he'll get when I get my hands on him.

You look hellish.

You found yourself a woman yet?

Nah.

That's a fucking empty existence you've got there, is it not?

Sometimes.

Minute late, Porter.

Sorry, Mr. Henderson, I was, eh...

I was crawling the green there and I was threatened by a bunch of, um... wasps.

Get that shite off.

Did, uh...

Wullie have a chat with you the other day?

Well, did he say anything about anything?

Not that I can think of.

Ahh.

Glad to hear it.

: Up, down, up, down!

Are we a team?

: Yes!

Let me hear ya! Are we a team? Yes!

For fuck's sakes.

Two, three, four...

Five, six, seven...

: Everybody's looking.

This is the heart attack capital of Europe.

Look at the state of you!

You look like a depressed milkmaid.

What is this?

The "river dance" branch?

Update me.

The barber, Thomson, he was a bit weird.

I think we should have another shot at him.

What's his connection Mm. I just think he's holding something back.

Spare me your woman's intuition.

Go and check on missing persons.

One, two, three!

Fuck off.

Show me what you've got!

Face the front!

Tits and teeth! Teeth and tits!

One, two, three...

Hiya, Barney.

Hey, Charlie.

I'm doing my summer job tonight.

They need two folk on it.

Aye?

Funny, ain't it?

Wullie wanting you out the window, you saying you wanted to kill him, and him disappearing.

What are you saying?

It's funny. What's funny?

You'll come tonight.

The fair's in town.

: Roll up, roll up. All the fun of the fair.

Step right up. Tighten your seatbelts.

It's gonna be a bumpy ride.

Try and look as if you're having a great time.

We're trying to attract punters here.

See, the thing is, I need to be chummed-up, otherwise, I look like one of the pedophiles.

Do we no just look like two pedophiles?

Ahh. Right enough.

Remember, we went to the circus last year?

I like fairgrounds. I hate circuses.

Clowns should be tortured.

And as for mimes...

I'd strangle the bastards.

Uh, two big hotdogs, with onions.

Barney's paying.

Listen, Charlie, come here.

I was thinking. Um...

You see, all that talk the other day, it was just talk.

I know. I know. I know!

I helped you put that bag in your car.

What?

That was the last night Wullie was seen, was it no?

Fuck off. W...

I didn't kill Wullie!

No. No, I know that.

I'm just saying.

And a big coke!

Barney's paying.

Aren't you, Barney?

Fuck off!

I don't even know why I fucking bother hanging about with you.

Look at the state of you.

Mental bastard.

Shouldnae have said that.

: Aye. That's me away for the day, boys.

Moira's frantic about Wullie.

I'm taking her to the doctor's, see if he can give her something to knock her out.

I'm gonnae kick his arse from here to fuckin' doomsday.

Maybe a wee online gambling habit that got out of hand?

You think?

Och, I don't know.

You could be onto something there.

Right enough.

Wullie's mad keen on the boxing.

Enjoys the odd flutter.

Maybe somebody's after him...

Maybe he's taken to the hills.

You know...

You may have hit on something...

Gah.

What's this about a free haircut?

Mind. Ye said.

We're about to close up.

Just do it and get rid of him.

Free haircut, eh?

Aye, well, uh...

Just said to him, last week, I thought he could maybe do with a wee trim.

Eh, Charlie?

That's unusually generous of you, Barney.

I'll tell you what.

Uh, you head off. I'll lock up.

Away and see your girlfriend, eh?

What the hell am I gonna do with this?

Where's Wullie? On his holidays?

Could be, Charlie, could be.

Is that why you needed my help with that stuff on Wednesday?

Cannot think what you're on about.

Away ye go, Chris.

I thought my hands might get burnt by they chemicals, but they're fine!

What chemicals?

Well...

Wullie and I did the tidy-up, and I took the rubbish out. but there... There was chemicals.

I thought you were leaving.

You couldnae lift it on yer own, eh, Barney!

It was massive. Massive!

Just shut up, Charlie! Look, just let me do your hair.

That's him done.

No, no, look...

He's done!

Another time, Charlie, eh?

Thanks very much.

You mind the roads now.

So what was in this "massive bag" that took two of you's to lift?

Cut a lot of heavy hair on Wednesday?

Well, it seemed like it.

Did you kill Wullie?

What?

You killed Wullie.

Didn't you?

It was an accident.

You are so fucked.

No, no, no, no.

I'm not bloody well taking this off the likes of you anyway.

You're come swanning in here every morning, half an hour late, then you spend the rest of the day on that phone with some stupid wee Lassie.

Have ye ever thought who pays for these phone calls?

Have ye? Eh?

You make me bloody sick.

And it was an accident.

Bastard!

Now, there was a couple of ways Talking Chris out of smashing my head in at this point seemed unlikely.

But fate stepped in once more and booted me right in the balls.

And there's the bell!

But no one hears it.

He turns away. He seems doubtful, muddled...

It's all over...

Chris?

Oh, fuck, not again.


Mum!

Oh.

Mum, wh-where are you going?

I told you, my trip with the girls!

They'll pick you up from anywhere if you give them advance warning.

Och, two days of indulgent bliss.

I cannot wait.

I need your help.

Och...

Talk to me through the door.

Okay.

Well...

There's been another... Wee accident.

What? Hey?

Speak up! I cannae hear you!

What are you saying?

I cannae hear you!

Is this the queue?

It's the ladies.

All right, Mr. Thomson?

H-how did you...

We followed you.

Just as well we turned up when we did.

Aye?

Yeah, well, you was driving away when we was coming round the corner.

Oh, really?

I need to ask you a few more questions about Mr. Henderson.

Now, what can you tell me about associates he might have?

He was a gambler.

He-he was a gambler.

That's right, yeah.

You know, he was always going tae boxing matches, casinos...

And that-that kind of thing.

You know, he actually owed quite a lot of money.

Come tae think of it, he was in a bit of trouble.

Are you going on your holidays?

Oh, no, no, that's my mum's.

There's a coach trip.

I'm just here to make sure she gets off safely.

Mum?

Anyway, you got to look out for your mum, eh?

She'd do anything for me.

Oh...

Anything at all.

Hi, mum.

I'd give it a couple of minutes.

Thanks very much.

Ooh, ooh, pull back there, Neddy.

Now, do you know if Mr. Henderson had any dealings with a Stephen Murphy, John Murter, Richard Colquhoun, or a Robert Dodds?

Wait a minute, that's they murdered folk.

I had absolutely fuck all to do with that.

This is harassment!

I had absolutely nothing to do with that, and there's nothing you can say to prove otherwise.

Mum! Mum!

Mum!

Mum, you okay?

You all right?

Come and have a seat.

Have a seat.

Come here.

There we are.

Are you okay?

Mum...

We can help you take her up to the hospital if you like.

No, she's fine.

Best leave us to it, eh?

She don't look fine.

Well, it happens all the time! Just...

I'm better on my own.

You come down to the station and make a list of all Mr. Henderson's known associates over the past six months.

And I want an account of your whereabouts for the last week.

Uh-huh.

Okay.

Mum, you okay?

Christ.

Mum, do you want an ambulance?

Just get my fucking keys.

But, mum, see, these others, it wasnae me.

It had nothing to do with me.

You need to believe me.

Oh, god. God.

Ooh!

Ha!

Oh! I'm here.

Oh, god.

Here, guess who's coming?

Aye, just for a wee bit of discovery, eh?

I didn't win a fucking thing that night.

Mum! Mummy!

Mum!

It wasn't me.

The others they were talking about, I had nothing to do with that.

Fuck off.

Mum, it wasnae me!

Mum!


Mrs. Gaffney!

Is it?

Have you been here since the party?

Come on, I'll take you back.

I'll just go to the toilet first, son.

No, no, no, no!

Oh! Whoa, whoa, whoa, no...

I-I I'll see you.

I think your pal's ready for his bed.

That's right, there you are.

Fuck me.

Ah.


Sorry, Chris.

Ah, fuck it.


What the fuck?

Oh...

Oh...

Oh, fucking hell.

Oh, mummy.

Montrose.

Pitlochry.

Arbroath.

Fuck.


What do you want?

"Mature woman looking for unbridled passion?"

Do you mind saying that again in English, sir?

I can't understand a word you're saying.

Yeah, I realize you're Scottish.

I know I'm up here.

Why are you here?

Thomson told us Henderson had a gambling problem, and he was in a lot of debt.

Now, I've just spoken to six bookies from the local area, and not one of them has said that Henderson bothered him.

So, that means Thomson's lying, right?

He's turning shitting himself into an art form.

Yeah, well, I'd shit myself if every time I turned round, I saw your fucking big cockney face staring back at me.

Just... forget Barney Thomson!

This is not a barber-based crime!

And give me the phone.

Get out there and check on the missing persons like I ordered you to!

Give me my phone back.

I need it.

You've got your own phone.

I need two.

Sir!

We've just had a report in, another missing person.

Fuck 'em.

Sir, it's one of the other barbers.

From that same barbershop.

That guy called Porter.

Well.

Have you mentioned this to strap-one-on Robertson?

I was just about to tell her, sir.

Good.

Right, son, let's go and interview the demon barber of Bridgeton.


The next train to depart from the rear of platform 5 will be the 1712 first rail service to Girvan calling at Barrhead, Dunlop, Stewarton, Kilmaurs, Kilmarnock, Troon, Prestwick international airport...

No. No sign.

Well, he's probably up in arbroath, posting Porter's balls to his auntie.

Let's check out Porter's flat.

Come on.


Right.

Right.

I had no idea, officer.

I'm absolutely stunned.

Mind you, the...

The dark side of Chris was never too far away.

He was always, um, flipping his razor out, rubbing his self up and down against the back of the barber's chair, you know, that kind of... That kind of thing.

You know, if you ask me, I think his childhood had a part in all of this.

You know that his mother used to, uh, lock him in the bunker, throw in a boiled egg now and again.

Get him out, dress him up in one of her nighties, and get him to dance for his uncle Gerald.

Now...

Does that sound normal to you?

Ah.

I have no idea where he could be.

I mean, there was a friend in Lewisham, but, uh, why would he go there?

Right.

The freezer.

What the fuck?

You're that copper off the telly!

You're Taggart.

You're off the bill?

You're a loser.

Oi, Taggart!

Has there been a murder?

My ma thinks you're shite, Taggart.

Fuck off!

He killed them, then he put them in the bin.

He put them in the bin, because...

He was...

Awfully tidy.

Ah, fuck.

Fucking little sweaty socks.

He fuckin' boiled them.

He cut them up and he fuckin' boiled them.


You don't think we should check with Robertson about a warrant, sir?

Radio reception round here is shocking.

What are you doing in there, ya dirty wee bastard?

Yer at it, aren't ye?

With one of yer dirty wee lassies.

Ya dirty, dirty wee bastard.

What the fuck?

Ya dirty, dirty wee bastard.

Are ya doin' it right now?

Show me, show me.

Do ye want to watch?

'Cause we're doin' it right now.

Come, come closer and see.

Oh aye?

Sir?

The fuck?

What is that?

Fuck me.

Oh, I think we've hit the jackpot, kid.

That's handy.

You dirty, dirty bastard.

Fuck you, Robertson.

I will have your arse for disobeying orders!

We couldn't reach you.

We thought maybe you'd gone deep cover.

In a boys' school's shower.

Don't you fucking start...

Look!

There's a piece of each victims, some represented more than others.

There's also a receipt for a train ticket...

Glasgow to London.

Filed a report yet?

Hey? Hey?

Well, I'll take it from here.

As of now, off you fuck.

Nae Wullie.

Now nae Chris.

Well, Chris likes a Friday night.

Probably lying in his own piss somewhere.

It's the middle of the week.

Barney Thomson?

We need to contact him very urgently, so, you know, if you could... up against the back of the barber chair.

Oh...

And he had a cousin in Lewisham, in London.

So, what was your last contact with him?

Just normal, you know.

He left.

Uh...

I tidied up, and everything was just...

Perfectly normal.

Yeah.

Okay.

That's fine, Mr. Thomson.

So if you could, uh, send in Mr. Henderson, please.

Okay.

Hey. Hey...

Shoo. Shoo! Shoo, shoo, shoo!

Go! Well, don't.

Just, fuck off!

Fuck off, dog!

Don't... get fucked.

Just beat it.

Fuckin'...

Well...

So, that's that, then.

My laddie's deid.

I'm afraid so, Mr. Henderson.

If you'd like to accompany us to the station, we can fill you in on the details that we have up to this point.

Nah, you're all right.

I've got a couple of regulars coming in an hour.

Life must go on, eh?

Bye, girls!

See you's at the bingo!

Don't do anything I wouldn't do.

I know what you've fucking done!

Less of the language.

Know what?

I've been in your flat.

What the hell were you doing There's been another accident.

Oh, god.

Who is it this time?

Chris.

Chris? Chris who?

The other fucking barber!

Ooh, well done.

I've been in your freezer.

You're that body parts killer.

I know.

What have you got in there?

Your pals.

Get in the fucking car.

What the hell are you playing at?

Eh?

Have you been driving around with...

You cannae keep them in the car!

Are you mental?

Look, I wanted to plant them in Chris's flat and make it look like he was the killer, but he's got a wee freezer.

What?

His freezer's too wee!

His freezer's too fuckin' wee!

Would you just listen to yourself?

I never saw the fuckin' point of you.

Chris Porter, last seen by Barney Thomson on Monday evening when he left Henderson's barbershop.

His girlfriend reported him missing the following afternoon.

Under my instruction, di holdall and ds MacPherson were sent on a routine check to the individual's flat, where they found several body parts, which I believe to be connected to the serial killer's victims.

We're just waiting on pathology for confirmation.

We also discovered a receipt for a train ticket to London the previous day.

Anything to add, 127?

It's too clean, sir.

It's like the evidence was laid on for us.

Now, there are follow-ups I'd like to instigate before we go public.

Barney Thomson?

You're obsessed.

I talked to the man yesterday.

You know where he was when Henderson went missing?

The bingo.

Does that sound like a crazed serial killer to you?

Ah, Jenkins.

I've just completed the pathology report, sir.

You have the floor.

It couldn't have been Porter who chopped up those bodies.

It's normal for there to be skin cells present on anything we touch, but with the vigorous chop-chop-chopping, those would have been enhanced.

These skin cells determine the age of the assailant.

I'd state in a court of law that this was done by someone in their late 60s, early 70s.

Well, I'll be fucked.

So Porter's got an accomplice.

Exactly so, 119.

And it isn't Thomson, 127.

Right, you will now interview every old lag in Glasgow.

Every last one.

You go near Thomson again, I'll put you on traffic.

Get out there and find Porter's accomplice.

Why did you do it?

I don't know.

You do it once, you sort of get the bug for it.

I can't explain, it's like...

You know you shouldn't, and that's part of the kick, you know?

Going on dates, you never knew what you were going to get.

Fuckin' hell.

Well, what do you want me to say?

"Sorry?"

It's Noe as if I'm entirely without compassion.

I sent the relatives something to remember them by.

What, an arse?

Get off my back.

Did you kill dad?

Oh... he fucked off to Australia.

I kept asking you why, and you couldnae give me a straight answer.

You couldnae because you fucking killed him.

Shite.

I never told you because I knew you couldnae handle the truth.

So, what's the truth?

He moved to Harthill and opened a tobacconists.

Harthill's only five fucking miles away!

See? I knew you'd be like this.

Well, why didn't he keep in touch?

Maybe he was just like everybody else.

Maybe he couldn't be fucking bothered with you either.

Know why?

'Cause he wasn't your dad.

What do you mean he wasnae my dad?

Him.

That wee prick.

He wasnae your dad.

What's the matter with you?

Well, who-who was my dad?

"Who was my dad?"

I don't bloody know. How no?

"How no?" How fucking no?

I was a very busy lady back then!

I didn't know any of the punters' names!

I didn't want to know!

Punters?

As long as they paid up front, I didn't care.

I just pointed them round the back, that way you don't have to look at their fucking ugly faces.

I had the women's realm spread out on the chest of drawers, I'd be flicking through that all day.

That's what got you through.

Vermin, the lot of them.

Don't you look at me like that.

You do anything to get by.

Your granny, she had a place above the butcher shop on London road.

It's one the nail salons now.

Granny Beattie?

Aye.

Think what she had to do to keep you in fucking Dolly mixture.

Aw, Christ...

What? That's life.

Is it fuck!

Oh, you would know, would you?

You, what, all the living you've been doing.

Look at you.

I thought I'd been careful.

And one day, of course, the inevitable happens, and here we are.

Total fucking disaster.

I kept meaning to tell you.

You kept fucking meaning to tell me, did you?

You kept meaning to tell me?

This is shite!

Absolute fucking shite!

You don't give a fuck about anything, dae you?

It's all a fucking laugh to you.

This is my fucking life here!

This is shite.

This is fuckin' shite.

Get up.

Get up.

Will ya get up!

Look at you, a big bubbly bairn!

You make me sick.

Be a man for once, will ya!

"Oh... mummy!"

"Oh, mummy, me want pudding!"

"Mummy!"

"What 'bout me!"

"Me want Beezer! Me want dandy!"

"Me want cuddles!"

"Me want cuddles, mummy!"

"Mummy, where's daddy?"

"Mummy! Mummy!"

"Mummy, I shat myself, mummy!

Mummy, I shat myself, mummy!"

"It's sticky, mummy!"

"Me sticky!"

"I love you, mummy, I love you, mummy!

I love you, mummy."

"I love you, mummy!"

"I love you, mummy!"

"I love you, mummy, I love you!"

Mum?

Oh, mummy...

Mum...


Where the fuck's the boats?

Fuck it.


Fuck!

Oh, fuck.

Oh, fuck.

Oh, fuck it.

: Is that you taking your wee boy to school?

See he's out of the shops, then.

: You watch yourself, MacPherson.

She's spent the last 40 years cutting up balls as Glasgow's biggest killer.

Friggin' idiot.

Where's Dodie?

Deid.

"Deed?"

Did what?

Deid.

My Dodie.

Oh. Dodie died.

Fuck.

Forget that, MacPherson.

Chris Porter, wanted for at least six murders in the greater Glasgow area.

He had an accomplice, somebody a bit... older.

You think my Dodie had something to do with this?

Well. Fuck off.

Dodie never did a favour for anybody in his life.

The only murdering he did was for himself and the family.

He'd do anything for his family.

: You've got to look out for your mum, eh?

She'd do anything for me.

Anything at all.

Listen, sir, are you sure about this?

Look, the pathologist didn't say the gender, just the age. she takes the body parts on her coach trips.

Pitlochry, Fraserburgh, Montrose, arbroath.

All the prize bingo, and fuck-me-quick places these old biddies flock to.

Now, that's where she posts them from, you know, giving the perfect alibi to her beloved son.

Tell you what, let's pump this old bag full of biscuits and make her fucking squeal.


God bless.

Thanks for coming.

God bless, darling.

Thanks for coming.

I hear they found Wullie all chopped up.

What?

Are you coming to the fair tonight?

I'm burying my mother.

I don't have time tae mess about I'm run off my feet at work with the two of them dead, so why don't you just fuck off!

"Two of them dead"?

I thought it was just Wullie.

Shite.

I didnae do it, Charlie.

I thought it was just Wullie.

It was Chris.

The police are looking for Chris.

It said on the radio.

Well, that's fine.

It was nothing to do with me, do you hear me?

I didnae kill Wullie, I didnae kill Chris, and don't you go telling the fucking police any different, you hear me?

Okay, Barney, okay.

I won't go to the police.

Fucking dare you.

You fucking bastard!

What?

I'm sitting here begging you, and that's all you can say to me?

I didn't! You bastard.

Don't you fucking dare!

Don't fucking dare, you hear me?

You're a fucking mental bastard.

Mental fucking bastard!

Mental bastard!

Jesus Christ.

Jesus Christ.


Yeah, well, business is picking up now you're a celebrity, Barney, huh?

: Says here that Chris might have went to the Netherlands.

They'll never catch him.

Not a chance.

I'm away for the barbers' college tomorrow.

Should have a couple more staff by Monday.

That'll make you head barber.

Oh, right.

Well, thanks, James.

Thanks very much.

Bloody reporters.

No, I'll get it.

Henderson's.

Barney Thomson?

Aye.

Maybe you'd better check on that body you've dumped.

Who is this?

Who... who is this?

: Here we go.

Tell me the mother's name again.

: Cemolina.

That's the most ridiculous name I've ever heard.

She'd been running a lonely hearts ad.

I checked the p.O. Box, right?

Several replies.

So that's how the fucker picked his victims.

Yeah, you were right, sir.

She was the one posting the limbs out on the coach tours.

All the dates, they all match.

What mothers will do for their sons.

Yeah.

Come on.

Don't lose him.

Yeah.


Barney Thomson.

I'm arresting you for the murder of your colleagues, Chris Porter and Wullie Henderson.

And six other men from the Glasgow area.

Well, it's a wee bit more complicated than that.

Is this where you dumped the body of Chris Porter?

What did you come back here for?

The phone call.

The phone call?

We phoned him.

Holdall.

Great, you're just in time to watch me make the arrest.

The fuck are you doing here?

I could ask you the same question.

We were tipped off by Thomson's pal, Charlie Taylor.

Great wee pal you've got there, by the way.

Fucker.

Just kept tabs on him, and here we are.

You know, it just confirmed my belief that Thomson was our man all along.

Yeah, bollocks. I solved this case.

Where the fuck were you?

Playing with your Fanny?

It was a double bluff.

I just wanted to let Thomson off the hook so he'd make a mistake, relax a wee bit, you know, fuck up?

'Course you came along and nearly screwed the whole thing up.

Di Fuckwit and ds Debbie McGee.

The only reason he's here is 'cause we tricked him into checking on the body.

Hey, I'll remember you when they promote me to chief superintendent.

Maybe we'll let you and your monkey at some third division football matches.

Be my guest.

What do you want, monkey?

Fuck's sake.

Whoa!

Guns. Well, I'm impressed.

Ain't you, MacPherson?

Oh, absolutely, sir.

Arrest this pair of bastards.

Oh, fuck...

The fuck are you doing with guns?

What are you doing with guns?

Of course we've got fucking guns.

Where did you get yours from?

Oh, not without my authorization.

Excuse me, can I just...

Okay.

Okay...

What form did you sign?

Uh, blue d 14.

Ha! You should have used the new pink d 13!

Well, nobody said anything to me about a pink d 13.

Oh, well, you obviously didn't see the red c 24.

Red?

Add "incorrect form filling" to the list of charges.

This is fucking ridiculous.

We're all supposed to be on the same side here.

All right, give us the guns, and I'll forget about the assault charge.

Yeah? Well, what about the arrest report?

No. I just signed the guns out for personal protection.

Didn't want Mcmanaman telling you our plan.

All right, we'll forget about the arrest report. you're not going to fucking jail!

Thankful? I gave you the fucking suspect, you tosser!

Do you know what?

I've fucking changed my mind.

You're so fucking shafted, holdall!

Just give us the gun!

I'll give you the fucking gun!

Oh, big man, is it?

You havenae the fucking balls!

I'll fucking blow your fucking head off.

Oh!

MacPherson!

This is all your fault.

You're a fucking maniac!

Ah...

Shit!

I didn't mean it!

Fuck you.


You thought all your birthdays had come at once?

Well, forget it.

You are so fucked.

See, I'm out of this.

You did it.

You know what I am?

I'm a fucking hero.

I solved the crime.

I brought down the master criminal.

No. No, no, no.

See, it wasnae me.

I only killed Wullie and Chris.

And they were accidents.

And that's when I went to my mum, and that's when I found out the truth.

You know, she...

These men, they answered her ads in the paper.

Then she shagged them, then killed them, and fucking chopped them up, and I'm the spawn of a monster.

According to the coroner, the bodies had lain there approximately one week, and again, I stress, the parties concerned were not on police business.

Do you believe this incident has anything to do with the body parts killer?

: The two cases are completely unrelated.

Completely.

Chris Porter, he's our body parts killer.

Just a matter of time before we track him down.

Is there any truth that the officers were meeting for some kind of "menage-a-trois"?

: Well...

I mean, we can't be sure at this juncture, but it's-it's beginning to look that way.

All right, who's next?

"Menage-a-trois"?

But there was four of them.

Aye, aye.

: Busy today. Filled to the gunnels.

Cut it yourself, buddy.

It's true what they say, there's no such thing as bad publicity.

Thank you.

It's amazing what a serial killer does for business.

Good to be alive.

How the fuck did that happen, eh?

Look at 'em, looking at me.

They're saying, "there's that guy who got lucky.

Just missed being offed by that other barber."

Celebrity for a day before I get back to being one of them, waiting for the bus, staring at a pigeon...

Hiya, Barney.

: No chance.

Barney?

Hi, Charlie.

A fresh start, eh?

Fresh start.

Thanks, Barney.

I'll tell you who I am.

That top chair is mine now.

I'm in the window, looking back at all of you.

If you're passing, drop in.

We're busy, mind.

Everybody wants to spend a bit of time with Barney Thomson, legend.

What about that?


For fuck's sake.

We're off.

Oh, fuck it.

What now?

I'm going to have to fish it out with a spoon.

No, the fucking...

I'm so sorry.

You stupid bitch.

Evil bitch.

Your fucking face.