Filth

People ask me, "Carole, how do you and

Bruce keep the spice in your marriage?"

Well, I tell them

it's really simple.

I'm just the ultimate tease.

Me and Bruce,

we're not that different.

We know what we want

We know how to get it.

Like this promotion he's going for.

We both know he'll win.

And when he does,

the Robertson household

is gonna be one big

happy family again.

I kid you not.

Jimmy!

Whoo-hoo!

What did you just f***ing call me?

Just give us your money, mate.

F***ing hurry up!

F***ing...

Scatter.

Scotland.

This nation brought the world

television, the steam engine, golf,

whisky, penicillin and, of

course, the deep fried Mars bar.

It is great being Scottish. We're

such a uniquely successful race.

And as my wife Carole always says,

"There's no place like home. "

Nice one. All right, pal?

The games are always,

repeat, always, being played

but nobody plays the games like me,

Detective Sergeant Bruce Robertson,

soon to be

Detective Inspector Bruce Robertson.

You just have to be the

best, and I usually am.

Same rules apply.

What the f***?

Morning.

Right.

Our victim is a Japanese male

in his early 20s... Yes, Peter?

Sorry, boss, just a wee point.

Maybe we shouldn't stigmatise the guy

by calling him a victim.

Poor wee chinky bastard's dead.

Doesn't matter what you call him now.

Care to share the

joke with us, Dougie?

Dougie Gillman

is your average Scottish copper.

Sixty years ago in the glorious f***ing

Reich, you'd be turned into handbags!

At 5/1, Gillman poses a serious

challenge to my promotion prospects.

So he, like the others,

will have to be eliminated,

starting with my main rival

for the inspector's job, Peter Inglis.

Inglis is what they

call metrosexual...

but what I call a f***ing bufty.

2/1.

There was no positive ID,

but DS Lennox has been

down at the murder scene.

Ray Lennox, the department's

rookie and resident junkie.

I love the chang!

Even though Lennox is more interested

in trying to bang the office secretary

than any kind of career advancement,

he'll still have to be publicly humiliated.

20/1.

Official policy at the moment is...

Yes, Gus?

What is the party line, boss?

Gus Bain, bit of a long shot because

he's not the sharpest tool in the box.

I've got a new toothbrush, miss!

But then, when did a single-figure IQ

hold anybody back in the police force?

7/1.

In accordance with the description

which Detective Drummond

will presently hand out to you.

- Thanks, Bob.

- "Thanks, Bob. "

That arse-kissing Amanda Drummond

would suck Toal off right now

if he promoted her.

Not that it would do her

any good, of course,

because some sad wanker from uniform

is gonna impregnate the wee slag

and that'll be her stint at playing Cagney

and f***ing Lacey well and truly over.

10/1.

The umbilical cord

that connects the north and south...

Umbilical cord? The last time I looked

it was a tunnel, you f***ing clown.

Edinburgh's worst kept secret is

that Chief Inspector Bob Toal here

has ambitions as a screenwriter.

If that lazy, fat f***er spent

less time dreaming about Hollywood

and more time promoting me, then the

streets would be safer for everybody.

And they left him there,

lying like a pile of rubbish.

- Maybe he was rubbish.

- What?

To the assailants, of course.

Aye, that's it. Your docile

chat might impress the boss,

but it doesn't impress

my f***ing hangover.

I have got news for

this herd of donkeys.

There is only one horse can win this race and

that horse is Bruce the Stallion Robertson.

Right, crack on with it.

- Quick word, Bruce.

- Yes, boss?

Things are pretty stretched around here

until we get the new DI position filled.

I want you to head up the case. I'll be

around, but I'll be tied up with other stuff.

So, you'll effectively be acting inspector,

without the remuneration of course.

All leave, unfortunately,

will be cancelled,

but it'll stand you

in good stead for the promotion

because you'll have

the other contenders under you.

There's really nothing more seductive

to a woman than power.

So, when Bruce gets his promotion,

I won't be able to

keep my hands off him.

Detective Inspector Robertson.

Even the sound of it

makes me want him right now.

Are you not worried

if you bugger off to Hamburg

it'll go against you for

the promotion then?

- Promotion?

- Aye.

What's the alternative, Ray?

I give up my holidays for some murdered Jap,

kamikaze, sushi-eating, karaoke bastard?

No chance.

Well, you do have a very

understanding wife in Carole, Robbo.

Aye. Aye, that I do.

- I wish I had somebody like that.

- I bet you do, Ray. I bet you do.

Tell you what, we'll have to get you

another threesome organised

with that wee skanky dealer's bird,

won't we? Do you remember that?

Lennox hates to be reminded of the

time we went tag team on that thing.

Have you even started yet, baby cock?

Everybody has got an Achilles' heel

and I make a point

in remembering my associates' ones.

You were like an animal, Ray.

Oh, here we go. Here comes

the schemie wee bastard now.

Jesus Christ, look at the face

on that wee lassie.

That's a stoat-the-baw situation

if ever I saw one.

That's a curvy little

arse, though, mind.

Never you mind the curvy

little arse on it, Ray.

- It's a bit f***ing young, no?

- Ah, she's borderline, man. Come on.

- Borderline?

- Aye.

Do you like wee lassies, Ray?

Are you into baldy fanny?

Borderline, is it?

40 sheets at 5/1. Come on. 5/1?

Ah, no, maybe you're right.

You're right enough, man.

You have got

absolutely no bottle, Ray.

That is exactly why the Lennoxes of this

world will never oust the Robertsons.

I kid you not, my sweet, sweet friend.

Come on!

- Right then, what's the script?

- The Beast routine.

- It's a bit full-on, Robbo, no?

- You steam right in.

It's the only language these

schemies understand, OK? Come here.

I want you to show this bastard who the

hardest firm in this city really is, OK?

Nobody... Nobody steams in

like the Edinburgh polis.

- Go.

- Right.

Wait two seconds. He'll be firing into

her and we'll catch the stoat in action.

- Another toot for good luck?

- I'm on duty.

Aye.

For God's sake, I'm coming!

- Who the f*** are you two?

- Jehovah's f***ing Witnesses.

Keep your f***ing mouth shut.

You hear me?

You speak when you're

f***ing spoken to. You get it?

- I said, do you f***ing get it?

- Aye, aye, aye!

- Get the f*** out!

- Oh, a lady.

How old are you then, madam?

My father's a very well

respected lawyer, you know.

What does that make me then?

Very good. How old are we?

- Sixteen.

- ID?

No, you don't.

Please note, female is below

the legal age of consent.

Stephanie Donaldson.

No relation to Conrad Donaldson QC

by any chance, are we?

Bingo.

Imagine what your daddy would say.

Please don't say anything.

What's it worth, Stephanie? A gam?

Can you imagine what his

posh pals would say

if they found out that his wee princess

Rate this script:4.0 / 1 vote