You don't wanna believe what you read in the papers.
Year:
2011
Country:
United Kingdom, USA, France
Genres:
Crime, Thriller
A tough cop is dispatched to take down a serial killer who has been targeting police officers.
Imagine you walk down the street... and you bump into three blokes carrying carpeting knives. Nah, they're not carpet fitters. They're after your wallet. Maybe even that gold watch... that you got for the highest arrest rate in the Southeast. One of the rats there even very kindly offered to carve their name in your face. Now, would you be more worried about whether you're gonna have a fight... than how it looks in the papers?
— You know, the chaps had a word... for this type of bare look, didn't they?
— Minimalist.
— Shy is the word I had in mind.
— A double Irish.
— Can't do, buddy. I'm closed.
— Listen up. I'm only gonna say this once. I ain't your buddy. When I ask for a drink, you say, Ice with that, sir? Now let's begin again. A double Irish.
— You want ice with that, sir?
— Don't be ridiculous. Who needs ice?
— That'll be five quid, sir.
— Like you said... you're closed.
— I've had a really nice time.
— Yeah.
— I'll call you.
— When? When are you gonna call me?
— Tomorrow.
— I'll tell you what. How about this summer... we'll do a picnic? Don't you think I know how this goes? Man says, I'll call you... and a woman's waiting and hoping. She's a slave to her mobile... while he's thinking, Well, I'll call her... tomorrow, some day, Monday. Doesn't matter. Well, here's a hint, yeah? It matters. It matters a lot.
— Tomorrow. I'll call you tomorrow.
— No, fuck off.
— So run the description by me again.
— Ain't you gonna take any notes?
— Do I look like I carry a pencil?
— Oh, yeah. The other thing, about you being a good cop. I meant that.
— Thank you.
— For a poofter.
— You know what I want... so spill.
— Well, I need paying first.
— What do you have in mind?
— Serious. Serious money.
— Serious money? What, like the time of benefit?
— Yeah.
— Bony fucker, aren't ya? You don't have the brains of a chicken, do you? I doubt you have any real Irish blood in you, Radnor. Me, I'm a wild streak and a
Celt. Makes me unpredictable. Them Irish. Did you know they invented kneecap? It's a nasty business. They fix you up as best they can... but you'll always have a limp. How does that sound? Radnor the gimp. How does that go down in your retirement package?
— You replaced me.
— You're on compassionate leave.
— I'm back.
— Inspector Roberts, losing a wife is not easy.
— You lost your wife?
— Well, no... How would you feel about early retirement?
— We'd miss you, sir. You know who else would miss you? Olga, the 250-pound call girl you see every Wednesday. Your wife thinks you're playing squash. Well, you are, in a way.
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