Layer Cake

When I was born,

the world was a far simpler place.

It was all just cops and robbers.

F***ing get down! Get down now!

And you! Stay down! Stay down!

But it wasn't for me.

Then came the Summer of Love.

Hashish and LSD

arrived on the scene.

There were villains

locked away for 12 years...

... for robbing a bank of 10 grand...

... doing time with drippy hippies

doing 12 months...

... for smuggling two million quid's

worth of puff.

I mean, work it out, mate.

We're in the wrong f***ing game.

Drugs changed everything.

Always remember that one day this

drug monkey-business will be legal.

They won't leave it to people like me

when they figure out...

... how much money there is to be

made:
Not millions, f***ing billions.

Recreational Drugs plc.

Giving people what they want.

Good times today, stupor tomorrow.

But this is now.

So, until prohibition ends,

make hay while the sun shines.

I'm not a gangster.

I'm a businessman whose commodity

happens to be cocaine.

Ten years ago, charlie was for pop

stars or a celebrity's birthday bash.

It was demonized by Daily Mail

readers getting drunk in wine bars.

Now they're my biggest clients.

This is Clarkie. Double first

at Cambridge in Industrial Chemistry.

Well, he's gotta pay off

his student loan somehow.

Today, I only deal in kilos.

Depending which tariff you use...

... that'll cost you either 28 grand

or 15 years in prison...

... which is more time than a rapist.

C'est la vie.

It is vital that we work

to a few golden rules.

Always work in a small team.

Keep a very low profile. Only deal

with people who come recommended.

It's like selling anything:

Washing machines,

handmade shoes, blowj*bs.

As long as you don't take the piss,

people will come back for more.

That's not to say we don't weave that

magic that makes two kilos three...

... but never be too greedy.

Know and respect your enemy.

It is only very, very stupid people

who think the law is stupid.

And avoid like the f***ing plague...

... loud, attention-seeking

wannabe gangsters...

... in it for the glory, to be a face,

to be a name.

Hello, Slavo. Yeah, it's the Duke.

Everything's sweet.

When can we meet?

They don't mean to f*** up.

They just do.

Forgive me for stating the obvious,

but stay away from the end-user.

They are guaranteed

to bring you trouble.

As do guns.

I hate guns. And violence.

But as some Roman general

once said:

"If you seek peace, plan for war."

Morty and his assistant Terry,

they watch my back.

Morty learnt caution the hard way.

He did 10 years inside.

He's my bridge

to the criminal world...

... and he ensures that

the traffic is one-way.

Look, there's Amsterdam,

and there's Oofdorfe... dorfe.

Not a f***ing clue.

None of them speak English.

- Get in the car. I'm sure it's that way.

- Move up.

- I bet you it's that way.

- We've already been that way.

Yeah, but we're gonna go

that way again. Give us the map.

Oh, don't start, the pair of you.

It's like being out with a pair of kids.

- All day you've been moaning.

- It can't be that difficult.

How many f***ing greenhouses

can there be?

Morty.

Terence.

Clarkie.

Very, very important:

Pay your supplier prompt.

In our case, that's Mr. Jimmy Price.

He's the top of the pyramid.

Pay him. In full, on time, without fail,

no short counts.

You get no second chances.

Jimmy calls the shots.

Where the f*** is Gene?

- I don't know. Ask me one on sport.

- What time does your watch tell?

- The same as yours.

- He's never late.

Shut the f*** up.

Patience.

Gene here is Jimmy's right-hand man.

Been with him since way back.

All the drugs and cash

go through Gene.

Jimmy trusts him with his life.

By the way, Jimmy would like to see

you tomorrow for a spot of lunch.

Wait a minute. Is there a problem?

Why does everybody assume there's

a problem because he wants a word?

Maybe he's grateful.

He f***ing should be.

See you at Stoke Park at one.

This is just so beautiful.

We need to get in and out

of here sharpish.

Paul and the tide ain't gonna wait.

Everyone likes to walk

through a door marked "Private."

Therefore, have a good reason

to be affluent.

I own a share in a very successful

letting agency.

It gives me an honest income.

Looks good on the self-assessment.

Whereas years ago scallywags were

trying to get money out of banks...

... now your problem is

how to get your ill-gotten gains in.

That's a job for Mr. Singh.

He does my laundry.

And in a week,

it will be ready for collection...

... in the form of a nice clean check

for a round million.

The business is on the up and up.

But I've always said,

have a plan and stick to it.

Quit while you're ahead.

So barring any f***-ups,

I'm leaving it all behind.

No, we got the parcel.

Yeah, better than expected, actually.

It's just that things have gone

a little bit slightly turbo this end.

Come on, boys, lively, lively.

If we miss this tide, we're

not going anywhere till daylight.

Paul, you ain't being paid to moan.

You're being paid to get

my cargo home.

Come on, babe. You all right?

Careful here, it's a bit wobbly.

Life is so f***ing good,

I can taste it in my spit.

I'll treat tomorrow's lunch like the Last

Supper, feign interest in his tales.

And then leave quietly forever.

This is pure class.

Please, follow me, gentlemen.

Mr. Price is in the Oval Room.

- Your guests, Mr. Price.

- Thanks, Angelo. Welcome. Sit down.

How is it with that

Paki accountant I put your way?

- He still doing the business?

- Raj is doing a very good job.

Good. Paying your bit

of straight-goer's tax, eh?

We all have to do our bit.

Say hello from me

next time you see him.

You hungry? The grub here

will make your bollocks tingle.

Let's eat.

Right.

We've gotta test the "snap, crackle

and pop" factor on these.

Don't ask me.

I ain't f***ing touching them.

You are a miserable bastard,

you really are.

- Brian.

- What?

Sit down, mate.

Got a little treat for you.

Help yourself.

A little privacy, please, Angelo.

What do you want, son?

- Excuse me?

- In life. What are you after?

A shot at the title?

A seat by the band?

Well, I don't know, Mr. Price.

That's a very expansive question.

Right, expansive. Good answer.

Years ago, people would've

thought you were a homosexual...

...using a word like "expansive."

- You're not a homosexual, are you?

- No.

- Not behind with the rent?

- No.

No, I didn't think you were.

No harm in it, I suppose.

Times change.

You know why people like you

can't leave this business?

Because you make too much money

for people like me.

Anyway, I'll get to the point.

I need a favor.

I need someone who's a bit cute,

a smooth operator.

Not a two-a-penny loudmouth.

Too many grasses around.

- It would be a pleasure, Mr. Price.

- Jimmy. You can call me Jimmy.

Now, this favor. It's not for me, truth

be told. It's for a good friend of mine.

Like a blood brother.

We were at school together.

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