Police Constable Nicholas Angel.
Born and schooled in London.
Graduated Canterbury University in 1993
with a double first in politics and sociology.
Attended Hendon College of Police Training.
Displayed great aptitude in field exercises.
Notably, urban pacification and riot control.
Back off!
Academically excelled in theoretical
course work and final year examinations.
Received the Baton of Honor.
Graduated with distinction into
the Metropolitan Police Service.
Quickly established an effectiveness
and popularity within the community.
Use your brain.
Proceeded to improve skill base
with courses in advanced driving
and advanced cycling.
Became heavily involved
in a number of extra vocational activities.
To this day holds the Met record
for the 100 meter dash.
In 2001 began active duty with
the renowned SO 19 armed response unit.
Received a bravery award for efforts
in the resolution of Operation Crackdown.
In the last 12 months
has received nine special commendations.
Achieved the highest arrest record
for any officer in the Met.
And sustained three injuries
in the line of duty.
Most recently in December when wounded
by a man dressed as Father Christmas.
- Hello, Nicholas.
- Hello, Sergeant.
- How's the hand?
- Still a bit stiff.
It can get awfully hairy out there.
I'm surprised you weren't snapped up
sooner for a nice desk job. That's what I did.
I prefer to think my office is
out on the street.
Indeed, you do.
Your arrest record is 400% higher
than any other officer.
Which is why it's high time
that such skills were put to better use.
- We're making you Sergeant.
- I see.
In Sandford, Gloucestershire.
- In where, sorry?
- In Sandford, Gloucestershire.
- That's in the country.
- Yes, lovely.
Isn't there a Sergeant's position
here in London?
No.
- Can I remain here as a PC?
- No.
- Do I have any choice in this?
- No.
Sergeant, I kind of like it here.
Well, you've always wanted
to transfer to the country.
- In 20 years or so, yes.
- Well done, you.
Hang on, I don't remember telling you that.
Yes, you did. You said,
"I'd love to settle down
in the country sometime, Janine."
I'd like to talk to the Inspector.
You can speak to the Inspector,
but I can promise you
he will tell you
exactly the same thing as I have.
- Hello, Nicholas. How's the hand?
- It's still a bit stiff.
- And how are things at home?
- I'm sorry, sir?
How's Janine?
We're no longer together, sir.
- Right. Then where are you living?
- He's staying at the Section House, sir.
- With the recruits?
- Yes, he's living out of cardboard boxes.
Well, then, you're packed already.
Nicholas, we're offering you a smashing
position with a delightful cottage,
in a lovely little place
that I think has won Village of the Year
I don't know how many times.
It'll be good for you.
- I don't really know what to say.
- Yes?
Yes, thank you.
No, I'm sorry. I'm gonna have to...
- You want to take this higher?
- Yes, yes, I do.
You want me to bother
the Chief Inspector with this?
Yes.
You want me to get the Chief Inspector
to come all the way down here?
- Yes, I do.
- Okay.
Kenneth!
- Hello, Nicholas. How's the hand?
- Still a bit stiff.
- Chief Inspector...
- Keep your seat.
Now, I know what you're going to say,
but the fact is,
you've been making us all look bad.
I'm sorry, sir?
Of course we all appreciate your efforts,
but you've been rather
letting the side down.
It's all about being a team player, Nicholas.
You can't be the Sheriff of London.
If we let you carry on running round town,
you'll continue to be exceptional
and we can't have that.
You'll put us all out of a job.
With respect, sir.
- You can't just make people disappear.
- Yes, I can. I'm the Chief Inspector.
Well, however you spin this, there's
one thing you haven't taken into account.
And that's what the "team"
is gonna make of this.
- Hello?
- Janine, it's me.
I know. I'm at work.
I know, I'm outside.
What's the situation?
You know the situation.
We've been over this.
No, I... I meant here.
Two people involved,
distinct signs of a struggle.
Complete mess.
- You are talking about here?
- Nicholas, what do you want?
Well, I have something important to tell you
and I didn't wanna do it over the phone.
Janine, I've been transferred.
I'm moving away for a while.
I'm not Janine.
Janine, I've been transferred.
I'm moving away for a while.
I know. Bob told me.
Hello, there.
Well, I wanted to tell you in person.
And there's no reason
we can't be civil with each other.
It's not that long ago
we were talking about getting married.
Yes, but you were already married
to the force, weren't you?
We're actually supposed to call it
"the service" now.
Official vocab guidelines state
that "force" is too aggressive.
See. It's only ever about the job.
- It's all you care about.
- That's not true.
No, you're right,
you do have that rubber plant.
- It's a Japanese Peace Lily.
- You just can't switch off, Nicholas.
And until you find a person you care
about more than your job, you never will.
Besides, you were the one
who suggested we take a break.
Yes, well,
guilty people often make the first move.
Actually, there's something
I need to tell you.
- You're seeing someone else.
- Yes. How did you...
- Is it Bob?
- No.
Does Bob look like
the kind of person I'd go out with?
It's Dave.
Hello, there.
I see.
Oh, Nicholas.
You do realize that window
was broken from the inside?
Hello there, Nicholas,
Frank Butterman here, your new Inspector.
I'm just calling with details
of your accommodation.
We've got you a lovely little cottage
on Spencer Hill.
Look forward to meeting you anon. Cheerio.
Nicholas, Frank again.
One other thing about your cottage.
It's not ready.
It would appear the heavens have opened.
- I was hoping to check in.
- Check in?
But you've always been here.
- Excuse me?
- Oh, I'm sorry.
I thought you were my husband.
- You must be Sergeant Angel.
- Yes, I am.
I'm Joyce Cooper.
I trust you had a pleasant trip. Fascist.
I beg your pardon?
"System of Government characterized
by extreme dictatorship." Seven across.
- Oh, I see. It's "fascism."
- Fascism. Wonderful.
Now, we've put you in the Castle Suite.
Bernard will escort you up there.
Well, actually,
I could probably make my own way up. Hag.
I beg your pardon?
"Evil old woman considered
frightful or ugly." It's 12 down.
Oh, bless you.
- Pint of lager, please, Mary.
- Right you are, my love.
Yes, sir, what can I get you?
Could I have a glass
of the cranberry juice, please?
Certainly.
Now, you wouldn't, by any chance,
be the new policeman?
Police officer, yes. I'm Nicholas Angel.
- I'm Roy Porter. This is my wife Mary.
- Mary.
Welcome to Sandford.
If there's anything you need,
just let us know.
Thank you. Could I borrow your newspaper?
It's not ours, love.
We're not big fans of the local fish wrapper,
are we, Mare?
- They listed her age as 55.
- When I'm actually 53.
Fifty-three.
- Pint of lager, please, Mary.
- Right you are, my love.
- Excuse me.
- What?
- When's your birthday?
- Twenty-second of February.
- What year?
- Every year.
Get out.
- When's your birthday?
- Eighth of May, 1969.
- You're 37?
- Yeah.
Get out.
When's your birthday?
Out.
- Is there a problem, Officer?
- Yes, there is, Mr. Porter.
It would appear a number
of your patrons are under age.
Well, a few of them may be
a month or two south of proper.
But if they're in here,
it stops them getting into trouble out there.
Yeah, the way we see it,
it's all for the greater good.
The greater good.
Well, that's as may be,
but the law's the law and they'll have to go.
- Another cranberry juice?
- I'm fine, thank you.
I hope you're not planning on driving that.
No.
Right. I'm taking you to the station.
Where is it?
What?
Move.
"Nicholas Angel."
- Oh, when did you start?
- Tomorrow.
Well, I see you've already arrested
the whole village.
Not exactly.
- You in for the night?
- Go on, four's free.
- Hey, now, I need to speak to him.
- He'll be no use till the morning.
I see.
You really want to process all this lot?
- My pen's running out.
- Not a problem.
- Morning, Sergeant.
- Morning.
Morning.
Morning, Sergeant.
Morning, Sergeant.
- Lock me up.
- I'm sorry?
I'm a slasher and I must be stopped.
- You're a what?
- A slasher of prices.
Just kidding. I'm Simon Skinner.
I run the local supermarch.
Drop in and see me sometime.
My discounts are criminal.
Catch me later!
Morning, Sergeant.
Morning, Sergeant.
Could you tell the Inspector
I've arrived, please?
No.
Why?
He's not in yet.
- Well, how's our guest?
- Guest?
- The inebriate in cell four.
- I don't know. Nobody tells me nothing.
Can I get cell four open, please?
Danny, can you open four?
- He's gone.
- Oh, my God. Who's gone?
- Why are you dressed like a police officer?
- Because I am one.
Sergeant Angel, at last. Frank Butterman.
- I see you've already met my boy.
- Yes.
Do forgive me.
I'm something of a Wild West nut.
Speaking of which, that was a fair
few outlaws you rounded up last night.
Thank you, sir.
I admire your enthusiasm
and far be it from me to stifle your flair,
but this isn't London.
Oh, yes, please, Danny.
With respect, sir,
geographical location shouldn't factor
in the application of the law.
No, thanks.
Statistically, Sandford is
the safest village in the country.
But that doesn't mean
it requires anything less
than a careful and considered approach.
There's a reason we accommodate
a few of the younglings at the pub.
- The greater good?
- The greater good. Precisely.
Your predecessor assumed
that rural policing was easy.
Ended up having a nervous breakdown.
And Sergeant Popwell was
an exceptional officer, truly exceptional.
And he had one thing you haven't got.
- What's that, sir?
- A great big bushy beard.
Come on, let's have a mosey around.
Locker room.
Riot room.
Evidence room.
Now, how about a trip to the Andes?
Detective Sergeant Wainwright
and Detective Constable Cartwright.
Don't get up.
I expect you're wondering
why we call them the Andes.
- They're both called Andrew?
- They said you were good.
Also, because talking to them is
an uphill struggle, isn't it, Dad?
- Fuck off!
- Thank you, Danny.
And this is where it all happens.
That is Sergeant Tony Fisher.
PC Bob Walker.
And that is Saxon.
And this is one Doris Thatcher.
- She's our only policewoman.
- She's not a policewoman.
- Yeah, she is. I've seen her bra.
- She's a police officer.
Being a woman has nothing to do with it.
Oh, I don't know.
Comes in handy every so often.
I could've given you the tour.
I've been round the station a few times.
And what's upstairs?
Well, well, well, I see we have visitors.
Nicholas, this is Tom Weaver.
Civilian liaison
with the Neighborhood Watch Alliance.
You'll find that we run
a very tight ship here.
From this command center
I can see what the whole village is up to.
I must say I was rather admiring
your handiwork last night.
It's a pity you didn't do the same
to those bloody hoodies.
Hanging around. Loitering. Sitting.
Actually, I did notice some minor graffiti
on the fountain.
Graffiti? They've gotta be dealt with, Frank.
They're nippers, Tom. They'll come round.
Which reminds me,
our friend, The Living Statue,
was here on Saturday.
If we don't come down hard
on these clowns,
- we are gonna be up to our balls in jugglers.
- We'll get right onto it, Tom.
We like to let them think they run the place.
Well, that's that.
Unless there's anything
you're unclear about?
Yes, sir.
Why is everybody eating chocolate cake?
The Black Forest gateau is on Danny.
As punishment for his little indiscretion.
His...
Sir, I don't think driving under the influence
can be called a "little indiscretion."
No, the gateau is for misplacing
his helmet the other week.
Last night's incident will require
something rather more serious.
- Good.
- Do you like ice-cream?
I'm sorry, sir, I don't follow.
Let's just say that we won't be short
of Chunky Monkey for the next month.
Dad.
Now, since it's your first day
and it's 11:30, I'd say that's lunch.
So, what made you choose Sandford then,
Sergeant Angel?
It wasn't actually my choice.
Oh, right, right, wasn't your choice to come
down here and tell me how to do my job.
Our jobs.
Yeah.
Look, I can assure you it wasn't
my intention to upset the apple cart.
Yeah, 'cause we all sell apples round here,
don't we?
- Your dad sells apples, Andy.
- And raspberries.
I bet you can't wait to jump
into Sergeant Popwell's grave.
I'm not jumping into anyone's grave.
- You got a mustache.
- I know.
- Why have you got your stab vest on?
- It's a requirement.
In the city maybe.
Nobody's gonna stab you in here, Sergeant.
Not a member of the public anyhow.
- Have you been stabbed, Sergeant Fisher?
- No.
Well, I have.
And I can assure you
it is not in the least bit amusing.
Have you seen a lot of action,
Sergeant Angel?
I've experienced my fair share, yes.
- Did you cook any fools?
- Excuse me?
Did you shoot anybody?
He shot a crack head with a Kalashnikov.
- Where did you get that?
- The offender had the Kalashnikov.
Where'd he get that?
You do know there are more guns
in the country than there are in the city?
Everybody and their mums
is packing round here.
- Like who?
- Farmers.
- Who else?
- Farmers's mums.
What's it like being stabbed?
It was the single most painful
experience of my life.
What was the second most painful?
You ever fired two guns
whilst jumping through the air?
No.
You ever fired one gun
whilst jumping through the air?
No.
- Ever been in a high speed pursuit?
- Yes, I have.
You ever fired a gun
whilst in a high speed pursuit?
No.
Annette,
that Sergeant Angel's coming into your shop.
Get a look at his arse.
- What about Lethal Weapon?
- No.
- You've seen Die Hard, though?
- No.
- Bad Boys II?
- No.
You ain't seen Bad Boys II?
- Hell of a day, huh?
- Yeah.
- Same again tomorrow?
- Yeah.
Amanda Paver,
headmistress of Sandford Primary.
How do you do, Sergeant?
- Simon Skinner, I believe you've met.
- Oh, we're already firm friends.
Oh, please, please, come with me, will you?
This is Leslie Tiller,
whose horticultural expertise
has helped put Sandford on the map.
- She's ever so good.
- Oh, go on.
This is James Reaper,
who owns Brannigan Farm.
I hear you're quite the marksman.
Perhaps you might like to join us
for a shoot one day.
Well, I haven't held a firearm
for over two years, Mr. Reaper.
I'd quite like to keep it that way.
You will be popular with the local birds.
Birds.
Nicholas, hello. Reverend Shooter.
I want to ask you,
would you read a homily at Sunday Service?
That might be
a little hypocritical of me, Reverend.
Oh, you're an atheist?
No, I'm... I'm...
I'm open to the concept of religion,
I'm just not entirely convinced by it.
- You're an agnostic?
- I think I have a cream for that.
Robin Hatcher, our resident sawbones.
Hopefully we won't see too much
of each other over the coming months.
Well, all that remains is to welcome you
to the weekly meeting
of the Neighborhood Watch Alliance.
Now, quick announcement before we begin.
Janet Barker has just given birth to twins.
So, congratulations to her.
- Tom?
- Thanks, Joyce.
Now.
I am sure that all of you will have noticed
the return of a blight to our streets.
It's made all the more disturbing as
the Village of the Year contest looms.
I refer, of course,
to the extremely irritating Living Statue.
Police work
is as much about preventing crime
as it is about fighting crime.
Most importantly,
it is about procedural correctness
in the execution
of unquestionable moral authority.
Any questions?
Yes.
Is it true that there is a place
in a man's head
that if you shoot it, it will blow up?
Hi, hi, Tim Messenger.
Can I get a quick shot
for the Sandford Citizen?
Okay.
How about you put the teacher
in handcuffs?
I don't think that gives off the right signals.
Too cheesy-pie. Okay. Gotcha.
- Give the little blonde kid your hat.
- I'd rather not.
- Wave your hitting stick about.
- No.
Righty-ho-ho.
Oh, can I have your autograph, please?
- For the breakfast.
- Oh, sorry.
Hey, that weren't me.
- Morning, Angle.
- Good morning, Angle.
- Morning, Angle.
- Morning, Angle.
- Sergeant Angel.
- Morning. The swan's escaped.
- The swan's escaped?
- Yeah.
Right. And where has the swan
escaped from exactly?
- The castle.
- Oh, yeah? And who might you be?
Mr. Staker. Yeah, Mr. Peter Ian Staker.
P.I. Staker. Right. Piss taker. Come on!
Yes, Mr. Staker. We'll do everything we can.
Can you describe it to me?
It's about two foot tall.
- Long slender neck.
- Yeah.
- Kind of orange and black bill.
- Anything else?
Well, it's a swan.
That's just gonna scare it.
- No luck catching them swans then?
- It's just the one swan, actually.
- Want anything from the shop?
- You've just been to the shop.
I was thinking of a different shop.
Constable Butterman,
this is not the time for personal errands.
- Well, there's nothing going on, is there?
- There is always something going on.
You have to look closer, all right?
What about this guy?
- Mr. Treacher?
- Yeah.
Why has he got that big coat on?
He can't be cold. Why the extra layer?
Maybe he's trying to hide something.
Mr. Treacher?
Okay. What about this guy?
Ask yourself, why has he got his hat
pulled down like that?
- He's fuck ugly.
- Or he doesn't want you to see his face.
Because he's fuck ugly.
Okay, what's his story?
- Oh, that's Lurch.
- Go on.
- He's a trolley boy at the local supermarket.
- Good.
Real name, Michael Armstrong.
- Dad says he's got a child's mind.
- Okay.
And lives up Summer Street
with his mum and his sister.
And are they as big as he is?
- Who?
- The mum and the sister.
Same person.
What shop were you thinking of?
Sergeant Angel to the Manager's office.
Manager's office. Sergeant Angel.
Sergeant Angel. Or is it Angle?
Mr. Skinner, a baby's sicked up in aisle six.
Please excuse me. Michael!
Yarp.
- Child vomit. Aisle six. Mop it up.
- Yarp.
- Mr. Skinner, is there a problem?
- No, no, no, no.
I simply wanted to say how lovely it is
to see you supporting your local store.
Well, that's quite all right.
All too many have defected
to the big Megamart in Buford Abbey.
May their heads be struck
from their shoulders for such disloyalty.
Yes, well, I am on duty,
so if you'll excuse me.
Of course. I simply spied you loitering
in organic produce
and assumed you had time on your hands.
Well, maybe I'm not the one
you should be keeping an eye on.
That's the Fridge Magnate.
His name's George Merchant.
Made a fortune in kitchen goods.
Built that monstrosity on Norris Avenue.
Actually, I wasn't talking about him.
I was talking about him.
Excuse me.
Excuse me.
"Meet the cop that can't be stopped."
Tosser!
Trouble in the high street.
Sergeant Angel's having a spot of bother.
Roger that.
Morning, Sergeant.
You mothers.
- Let's cut through here. Head him off.
- Through the gardens?
What's the matter, Danny?
You never taken a shortcut before.
Hey, give me that!
"You do not have to say anything,
however it may harm your defense
"if you fail to mention when questioned
something you later rely on in court.
"Anything you do say
can be given in evidence."
- Hi, Danny.
- All right, Pete?
Do you know this man?
Yeah, he's Auntie Jackie's
sister's brother's boy.
And it didn't occur to you
to mention this before?
Couldn't see his face, could I?
I'm not made of eyes.
Impressive collar.
Shame Mr. Skinner
doesn't want to press charges.
What do you mean,
he doesn't wanna press charges?
I'm simply suggesting that, you know,
Peter be given a second chance
before he becomes
just another crime statistic.
I'm sure he's going to learn
a valuable lesson.
- Stealing biscuits is wrong?
- Correct.
Thanks.
And yet we respond by not taking
a single punitive measure?
Well, that's the way the cookie crumbles.
Like the biscuits, isn't it?
- Mr. Skinner...
- Is everything all right?
Well, sir, Mr. Skinner feels it would
be better not to prosecute an individual
that has committed a blatant offense.
Leave this with me.
I'll make sure everyone gets
their just deserts.
Oh, no!
Twenty-seven.
- Have you ever seen Point Break?
- No.
Amazing bit in Point Break
where they jump over fences.
Is there now? Twenty-nine.
Patrick Swayze's just robbed this bank
and Keanu Reeves is chasing him
through people's gardens,
and he goes to shoot Swayze but he can't,
'cause he loves him so much,
and he's firing his gun up in the air,
he's like...
Forty.
Have you ever fired your gun up
in the air and gone...
No, I have not ever fired my gun
up in the air and gone...
Thirty.
Sorry, I... I just...
I just feel like I'm missing out sometimes.
- I wanna do what you do.
- You do, do what I do.
What on earth
do you think you're missing out on?
Gun fights. Car chases.
Proper action and shit.
Police work is not about
proper action or shit.
Twenty-nine.
If you had paid attention to me in school,
you'd understand that it's not all about
gun fights and car chases.
Fire up the roof.
That was brilliant.
Was I going a tad fast, Officer?
Yes, you were, Mr. Blower.
Well, now, you see,
we are staging a homage
to William Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet
and I'm a little late for the dress rehearsal.
I'm playing the eponymous hero, you see.
Romeo not Juliet.
- What are you writing?
- Everything you're saying.
I might need to refer to it later.
Now, Officer, I am a respected solicitor
so there's no need to...
Just stop writing, will you?
Look, I'm merely trying to explain
why I might have exceeded the speed limit.
You're playing the male lead
in a homage to William Shakespeare's
Romeo and Juliet
and you're late for the dress rehearsal.
You think this is sufficient reason
to travel at 48 in a 30 zone?
- Well, I...
- To flout speed limits
- specifically put in place to save lives.
- Just, look, this is preposterous.
- "Preposterous."
- Look, just stop writing!
"Stop writing."
Look, you're right, I apologize.
- See what I did there?
- You hypnotized him.
No, I used this.
This is the most important piece
of equipment you will ever own.
This notebook has saved my skin
more times than I care to mention.
You should think
about using yours more often.
- I do use mine.
- Show me.
- That's just extraordinary.
- You should see the one on the other side.
- What are you up to tonight?
- I have to water my Peace Lily.
Thought you might wanna do something.
- What exactly were you thinking?
- Don't know. Pub?
I don't think that's a good idea. Do you?
You two.
A Mr. Blower left you tickets
for Romeo and Juliet tonight.
Said it was by way of an apology.
- Yeah?
- Yeah.
Well, we can't accept gifts from somebody
we've officially rebuked. So...
Yeah.
Nicholas. Glad I caught you.
Wondered if you wouldn't mind
representing us at the am drams tonight.
- Yes, sir, of course.
- And there's a spare for Danny, too.
Yeah! Hey, come on, it might be fun.
A dateless bargain to engrossing death.
Here's to my love.
Now.
Poison? I'll kiss thy lips.
Happily some poison
doth yet hang on them.
Bang!
Sergeant Angel, hi-hi.
Quick word for the Sandford Citizen.
It was very enjoyable.
- "Cop Enjoys Watching Young Lovers"?
- I don't think so.
"Local Bobby Gives Thumbs Up
To Teen Suicide"?
That's just grossly inappropriate.
You will try and spell his name
correctly this time, won't you, Timothy?
Absolute tosh, wasn't it?
And annoyingly, the understudies
are actually professional actors.
Greg over there was an extra in Straw Dogs
and Sheree portrayed a cadaver
in Prime Suspect.
Sergeant Angel, you came?
So thrilled you accepted my invitation.
Well, our Inspector
requested we attend. So...
Yeah, we can't accept gifts from
someone we've officially rebuked so...
Jog on.
Congratulations to you and to Mrs. Blower.
Oh, this is not my wife.
This is Miss Draper. My leading lady.
Eve works in the local council, Sergeant.
Quite the lady in the know.
- I am not.
- Nonsense.
I'm sure if we bashed your head in, all sorts
of secrets would come tumbling out.
Romeo, Romeo, a pint of bitter for Romeo?
Thank you very much for coming, George.
Excuse us.
A pleasure, my liege.
- Eve's nice, ain't she?
- She certainly has a distinctive laugh.
She was in my year at school.
Always had a thing for her.
She clearly has a thing for older men.
What, with Martin Blower? No way!
We just sat through three hours
of so-called acting, Constable,
their kiss was
the only convincing moment in it.
Hey, now you come to mention it,
I too have reason to believe
she favors the older gent.
Really? How so?
Marcus Carter's big brother said
he'd fingered her up the duck pond.
Oh, Officers.
Again let me extend
my sincere apologies for earlier.
That's quite all right, Mr. Blower. Drive safe.
"Drive safe." Oh, my God.
You know that's the bloke
we done for speeding earlier.
Yeah. Hopefully,
that's the last we'll see of him.
Who is it?
We haven't got long.
To us.
Who is it?
Yeah?
- ...decaffeinated?
- Decaffeinated?
Little Brian Libby found them,
out on his paper round.
Oh, he'll be having nightmares for a while.
Must have hit the sign at some speed.
Took the whole top off.
- I've had my top off in this lay-by.
- Tits.
Most likely lost control,
left the road there and then ended up here.
So, what do we reckon?
Sergeant Angel?
Well, we should get a proper cordon off,
screen the remains from public view.
Close down the road
until the ambulance crew arrives,
whereupon we should open
a single lane of traffic and ease congestion.
Very good.
What he said.
- What happened, Danny?
- Car accident.
Nasty way to go.
Constable, official vocab guidelines state
we no longer refer to these incidents
as "accidents," they're now "collisions."
Right.
"For never was there a story of more woe.
Than this of Juliet and her Romeo."
- Excuse me?
- Martin and Eve. Such a tragedy.
Mr. Skinner, do you mind telling me
how you know the identity
of the persons involved?
You know how it is. News travels fast.
A love struck Romeo
sings a streetsus serenade
- What happened, Danny?
- Traffic collision.
Hey, why can't we say "accident" again?
Because "accident" implies
there's nobody to blame.
Put a sock in it, town mouse.
Yeah, you wanna be a big cop in
a small town, fuck off up the model village.
I'm just saying,
things aren't always as simple as they look.
Most times they are.
Let's just wait till Doctor Hatcher
comes back with something,
before you go jumping the Kalashnikov.
All right, in the meantime, why don't you
check out a few of Martin Blower's clients?
Martin Blower represents
damn near most of the village.
Did you want us to go through
the whole phone book?
Yeah, or put a call into Aaron A. Aaronson,
shall we?
Please, don't be childish.
At least consider interviewing the widow.
Martin Blower was clearly having
an affair with Eve Draper.
Oh, and how did you establish that?
'Cause we sat through three hours
of so-called acting last night,
and the kiss was
the only convincing moment in it.
All right, pipe down, big one.
Here, what else you got,
Crockett and Tubby?
- Skid marks.
- Now who's being childish?
There were no skid marks at the scene.
Doesn't it seem a little strange that
Martin Blower would lose control of his car
and not think to apply the brakes?
If there were no skid marks it follows
that for 300 yards both driver and passenger
did nothing to prevent their fate.
You don't have to be a detective
to work that out!
Yeah.
- Are you causing trouble?
- Yes, they are.
Well, a spot of bother up at Ellroy Farm.
Old Arthur Webley's been clipping
hedgerows that don't belong to him.
- Yes, sir?
- That's it.
Yes, sir.
- Why do we need the dog?
- It's not the dog we need.
Right.
What did he say?
- What did he say?
- He said, "An 'edge is an 'edge.
"He only chopped it down
'cause it spoilt his view.
"What's Reaper moaning about?"
Right.
Look, I appreciate your position,
Mr. Webley,
but you can't go around chopping down
other people's hedges without permission.
"Yes, I suppose."
Thank you.
All right.
Mr. Webley,
I trust you have a license for that firearm?
He does for this one.
What do you mean by "this one"?
By the power of Grey Skull.
Where on earth did you get these?
- Found them.
- He found them!
- And what is this?
- Sea mine.
Sea mine.
Well, Mr. Webley,
this is an extremely dangerous collection.
It's a wonder nobody's been hurt before.
No, it's just a lot of junk.
Move, move, move!
- You what?
- No, apparently it's been deactivated. Over.
That's right, deactivated!
- It's not live.
- It looks live.
All right.
That was quite an impressive haul today,
Constable Butterman.
Well, you know, I mean, maybe
we should do something to celebrate.
Unless you gotta water your Peace Lily.
- What exactly did you have in mind?
- I don't know. Pub?
Right you are, my love.
Yes, sirs, what can I get you?
Pint of lager, please, Roy.
And what can I get you
that isn't a cranberry juice?
- I don't really wanna get drunk.
- You can get a little drunk.
- Okay, I'll have one.
- Yeah, that's what I'm talking about.
Mr. Porter, what's your wine selection?
Oh, we got red or white.
- I'll have a pint of lager, please.
- Yeah, Roy.
- Any news from earlier?
- Yeah. CSI found nothing.
Doctor Hatcher reported no misadventure
and Mrs. Blower has four alibis.
Now, come on, Sergeant, it's not your job
to investigate this incident, is it?
Is it?
- No, it isn't.
- No, it isn't.
- You don't switch off, do you?
- You sound like my ex.
- Well, you are always thinking away.
- It's what I do.
- Don't get me wrong. I think it's amazing.
- Really?
I mean,
what made you wanna be a policeman?
Officer.
What made you wanna be
a policeman-officer?
I don't remember a time
when I didn't wanna be a police officer.
Apart from the summer of 1979
when I wanted to be Kermit the Frog.
It all started with my Uncle Derek.
He was a Sergeant in the Met.
He bought me a police pedal car
when I was five.
I rode round in it every second I was awake.
Arresting kids twice my size
for littering and spitting.
I got beaten up a lot when I was young
but it didn't stop me.
I wanted to be like Uncle Derek.
He sounds like a good bloke.
Actually, he was arrested
for selling drugs to students.
What a cunt.
Probably bought the pedal car
with the proceeds.
Needless to say I never went near it again.
I just let it rust.
But I never forgot
the clear sense of right and wrong
that I felt at the wheel of that pedal car.
I had to prove to myself
that the law could be proper
and righteous
and for the good of humankind.
It was from that moment,
I was destined to be a police officer.
- Shame.
- How so?
I think you would've made a great muppet.
What about you? What made you
wanna become a police officer?
I don't know. Dad does it.
I think after my mum died, it's what
he wanted, you know, keep me close by.
- Do you mind if I ask how she died?
- Traffic collision.
I'm sorry.
Never mind. Hey, watch this.
- Jesus Christ!
- Oh, my eye!
Ta-da!
Hey, come on, silly bollocks, get them in.
- 777.
- Mr. Skinner.
- You know George Merchant, don't you?
- Evening, Officer.
Yes, we were just discussing the accident.
I'd come to know Martin
and Eve very well of late.
Such a loss.
What say we drink to their demise?
Shouldn't that be "drink to their memories"?
Of course. Cheers.
I must go to the little boys' room.
- I'm all right!
- "Little" being the operative word.
Oh, he'll be in bits tomorrow.
I think somebody needs to go home.
- I'm... I'm not that drunk, sir.
- Not you. Him.
What?
Hey, we did get a little drunk.
Did you get it?
'Cause he's... He's little and he's drunk.
Oh, good grief.
It's hardly in keeping
with the village's rustic esthetic, is it?
- How much do I owe you?
- Twenty quid.
There you go.
- And there's your change.
- God bless you.
Bye-bye.
I'm all right.
I would not wanna be him in the morning.
Well, this is me.
Well, I shall see you in the morning.
Unless you wanna come in
for a cup of coffee?
- I don't drink coffee.
- Tea?
No caffeine after midday.
How about another beer?
Oh, dear.
- When did you move in?
- About five years ago.
- You should get some house plants.
- Oh, yeah, yeah.
Yeah. I've been tending my Peace Lily
for about three years now.
It oxygenates the room,
helps you think, relieves stress.
Its needs are simple.
Janine used to say I love my Lily
more than I loved her.
- Is that why you split up?
- What?
- 'Cause you did it with a plant?
- No, no, no.
It was more about me being
obsessed with the job.
That's good though, right?
Is it though?
I did miss a few dinners.
You know, parties, a birthday or two.
- Listen, mate, I...
- Her dad's funeral.
- I just wanna be good at what I do.
- You are good at what you do.
You've just gotta learn to switch off
that big old melon of yours.
That's the whole problem, Danny.
I don't think I know how.
I can show you how.
By the power of Grey Skull.
Point Break or Bad Boys II?
Which one do you think I'll prefer?
No, I mean which one
do you wanna watch first?
You are pulling my leg?
What did you think of that?
Well, I won't argue
that it was a no holds barred,
adrenalin fueled thrill ride
but there's no way you could perpetrate
that amount of carnage and mayhem and not
incur a considerable amount of paperwork.
That is nothing, man.
This is about to go off.
This shit just got real.
Nasty way to go.
I think our Mr. Merchant tried to have
a little fry up and left the gas on.
Spends his whole life
devoted to the refrigerator
then gets killed by an oven.
I told him several times,
you shouldn't eat late at night.
Oh, I don't know.
I quite like a little midnight gobble.
Cocks.
So, what do we reckon? Angel?
Help me.
Okay, we get a proper cordon up,
we let the fire crews finish their stuff,
and then we get forensics in
to do a thorough sweep of the house.
Very good. What he said.
Sergeant Angel, hi-hi. A quick word?
Mr. Messenger,
a statement will be issued shortly.
Actually, I just wanted to ask,
"What's your perfect Sunday?"
I'll deal with the press, Sergeant.
Now, my perfect Sunday
is a lovely long lie in...
Fire to destroy all you've done
Like in the films.
Something like,
something out of Backdraft.
- What are you thinking? Foul play?
- Maybe.
We're just hoping to talk to the last people
to see Mr. Merchant alive.
Namely a Sergeant Knickerless Asswipe
and a Constable Fanny Batterbum.
- That's us.
- Why is this such a big joke to you?
Three people have died in a week.
Oh, come on, Doctor Sherlock,
they were accidents.
People have accidents every day.
- The victims knew each other.
- Everyone knows everyone round here.
Yeah. If you didn't see anything suspicious,
then who did?
It's a bit of a blind spot, I'm afraid.
We just catch the very edge
of the explosion.
Nasty way to go.
- There was something took my eye.
- Really? What's that?
Sandford's most wanted.
There you go. It was the swan all along.
- This is not funny, Detective!
- Oh, give over, Miss Marples.
Yeah, you do your job
and we'll do ours, eh?
Yeah. Haven't you got
a church fete to look after?
No, I have not!
Actually.
Testing. Testing.
Someone's in for a surprise at 3:00,
ladies and gentlemen.
It's the raffle with
a very special guest presenter.
Out in the country
Far from all the sorts of noise of the city
There's a village green
It's been a long time since I last set eyes
On the church with a steeple
That's me after a couple of pints.
Splat the rat.
Splat the rat.
Splat the rat.
Shark!
Seen any murderings, Nicholarse?
Come on, boys.
Leave Sergeant Angel alone, he's working.
Sorry, Chief,
won't waste any more police time.
Have a nice time.
Actually, Nicholas,
you might as well take a break.
Hey, great. I've got something to show you.
- This is a rifle range.
- You'll be really good at it.
Feeling lucky, Sergeant?
Three cans wins you the squeaky bunny,
five cans gets you the floppy lion.
Take out all the little people,
you get to waltz off with the cuddly monkey.
I thought I made it clear to you
how I feel about firearms.
It's only an air rifle.
Sergeant.
Dear Lord!
That was amazing.
- Thank you, Danny.
- I can't believe I shot someone.
- He's a doctor, he can deal with it.
- I never shot anyone before.
Danny, believe me,
it's not something you ever get used to.
Yeah. Maybe we should
go on the bouncy castle.
Take our minds off of it.
- Sergeant Angel, hi-hi.
- Mr. Messenger.
I need to talk to you
about George Merchant. Alone.
Churchyard. 3:00.
What do you think he wants?
Would
Sergeant Angel come to the stage, please?
Here to announce the winners is the newest
addition to the Sandford Police Force.
Service.
Sergeant Nicholas Angel.
- Prick.
- Wanker.
Hello. Hello.
The first name is Simon Skinner.
He's in the loo.
Too much of Joyce's lemonade, perhaps.
And the next name is...
Tim, your number's up.
Excuse me. Excuse me.
Hi-hi.
Oh, no!
Stand back, stand back!
There's been a terrible accident.
- Accident?
- Just an accident.
It's all right, it's all right.
There's nothing to see.
Come on, everybody. It's all right.
It's just an accident.
Nicholas, what is it?
Sir, I think all these deaths are linked.
I think Tim Messenger was murdered.
- Who could do something like this?
- Maybe it was the swan.
- Apparently, they can break a man's arm.
- Or blow up a man's house.
- Listen, you pair of...
- Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, Nicholas.
Now, let me get this straight.
- Are you saying that this is a crime scene?
- Yes, sir, I am.
Very well.
- Detectives.
- Sir.
Start interviewing everyone
who was at the fete.
Oh, he's got shorts on.
- Sergeant Fisher?
- What?
- Secure the area.
- What?
- PC Thatcher?
- Yes, love?
Get the CSI down here.
PC Walker?
Patrol the churchyard with Saxon.
Nicholas, Danny, you know what to do.
Do you really think this is murder?
I just don't think we should rule it out,
that's all.
Yeah. I think you're right.
I think you're talking a load of old shit.
He thinks you're talking a load of shit.
Swings and roundabouts, isn't it?
Pain in the arse.
- Did you find anything?
- Yeah.
I was extremely shocked
when I looked at my watch
and discovered that I should be in the pub.
Did you go to his house?
Did you read his articles?
If you wanna wade through every copy of
the Sandford bloody Citizen, be our guest.
It's your job, isn't it? Detect!
This ain't the city, Mr. Angel.
Not everyone's a murdering psychopath.
It's high time you realized that.
You and your monkey.
Did he mean me or that?
Oh, maybe we should go home.
- What do you mean?
- Well, there's nothing going on, is there?
Have you listened to anything that I've said?
What do you mean?
Is anything I've told you
in the last two weeks
- sunk into that thick skull of yours?
- Yeah.
Has it? Like what?
You said I could be
an amazing policeman-officer.
There's always something going on, Danny.
And you won't be an amazing police officer
until you understand that.
Well, I remembered something else
you said and all.
- Oh, did you now?
- Yeah.
You don't know how to switch off!
Well, if you wanna wade through every copy
of the Sandford bloody Citizen,
be our guest.
- Morning, Constable.
- All right?
Thanks for the monkey.
- Yours, isn't it?
- I won it for you.
Danny, I think I'm on to something.
- Are you?
- Yes.
And I think with a little deliberation
we can figure out what links these deaths.
- We?
- Come on, partner. Let's go to work.
Oh, oh, Sergeant Angel?
- Someone from London called for you.
- Tell them I'll call them back.
- Tim Messenger.
- Go.
Editor and journalist
at The Sandford Citizen.
- Fondness for puns.
- Go on.
- Terrible speller.
- Oh, yeah?
Nevertheless had uncovered
important information about...
- George Merchant.
- Self-made millionaire.
Fancied himself as a property developer.
- Said he had big plans for Sandford.
- Pissed on the floor in The Crown.
But more importantly,
was a good friend and client of...
- Martin Blower.
- Respected solicitor.
- Affirmatron.
- Leading light of the local drama society.
- Bad actor.
- Undoubtedly.
- Bad driver.
- Not necessarily.
- Cheated on his missus.
- Most certainly.
- And we both know who with.
- Eve Draper.
- Blower's leading lady. Distinctive laugh.
- True.
- Favored older men.
- Fingered.
- Worked at?
- Council.
- More specifically?
- Department of Planning and Development.
Where George Merchant secured permission
to build his dubious mansion
on Norris Avenue.
So...
Maybe they were all accidents.
People have accidents every day.
- What are you two up to?
- Nothing.
Well, look sharp.
- There's been reports of a fire in the station.
- What?
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday to you
- Danny, why didn't you say something?
- We were working, weren't we?
- Hey, where are you going?
- Personal errand.
Hello, Miss Tiller.
I was wondering,
do you have any Japanese Peace Lilies?
Of course.
I was just about to pop off, actually.
I can never find my scissors.
- Is this for someone special?
- Yes. Yes, it is.
- Are you going somewhere, Miss Tiller?
- Yes. I'm moving away.
And why the move,
if you don't mind me asking?
- Well, just between you and I...
- Yes?
- You know that fella who blew up?
- George Merchant.
Well, George Merchant, God rest him,
wanted to buy this land,
so he sends round his legal fella,
Martin Blower, God rest him,
and I thought I might take them up on it.
I haven't really got that much family
round here, save for Cousin Sissy.
So I thought I might take them up
on the offer and move to Buford Abbey.
Would you like a card with this?
No, sorry, you were talking about the offer?
Well, it turns out that Martin Blower,
God rest him,
knew where the new bypass road is going
because he was knocking off Eve Draper
from the council, God rest her,
and then that reporter, God rest him,
finds out about the route
and tells me this land's very valuable.
Ten times what George Merchant and
Martin Blower, God rest them, offered me.
So, with them having passed on,
I decided to sell it on myself
to some folks from the city
that Martin, George and Eve,
God rest the lot of them,
had been talking to.
Apparently, they want to build
a big shopping center or something.
Of course, Cousin Sissy won't be
too happy about that,
but as far as I'm concerned,
Cousin Sissy can go and fuck...
Would you just excuse me,
for just one second?
Stop!
In the name of the law!
Hang about, hang about.
You're saying this wasn't an accident?
Leslie Tiller was fucking murdered!
- What, just like Tim Messenger?
- Yes!
- And George Merchant?
- Yes!
- And Eve Draper?
- Yes!
- And Martin Blower?
- No, actually.
- Really?
- 'Course he fucking was!
Thank you, Danny.
Oh, murder, murder, murder.
Change the fucking record.
Thank you, Andy.
Come on, Sergeant, you've gotta accept
it was just another nasty accident.
What are you suggesting?
That Leslie Tiller tripped
and fell on her own shears?
Ben Fletcher fell
on his pitchfork the other week.
Yeah, accidents happen all the time.
What makes you think it was murder?
- Because I was there!
- There's a point.
Why were you there?
I was buying Constable Butterman
a Japanese Peace Lily for his birthday.
What absolute horseshit.
I chased a suspect from the scene.
Innocent people don't run!
Here, maybe it was our old friend,
the cactus thief.
Oh, yeah, he was a prickly customer,
weren't he?
Am I going completely mad?
Maybe you are.
Maybe you did it.
Yeah, seeing as how you're such
a big fan of murder.
- What the...
- Sergeant Angel?
Yes! Sir.
Nicholas, Nicholas, Nicholas.
What am I going to do with you?
- Sir, you have to understand...
- No, you have to understand.
The boys here aren't used
to the concepts you're bandying about.
The "M" word, Nicholas.
There hasn't been a recorded murder
in Sandford for 20 years.
But, sir, I'm certain.
And what's more, I know who did it.
Can I see the manager, please?
Mr. Skinner to the Manager's office.
Manager's office. Mr. Skinner.
Sergeant Angel.
And to what do I owe this pleasure?
Simon Skinner, I'm arresting you
on suspicion of the murder of Leslie Tiller.
Leslie Tiller's dead? How?
She tripped and fell on her own shears.
I'm also arresting you on suspicion of
the murder of Tim Messenger on May 1st,
of George Merchant on April 29th
and of Eve Draper
and Martin Blower on April 28th.
- Why on earth would I do that, Sergeant?
- I'm glad you asked.
My suspicions were first aroused
when you appeared
at the scene of the Blower-Draper death,
on the outskirts of Sandford,
despite the fact you live and work
in the center of the village.
I couldn't help but recall your comments
at the theater on the previous evening.
When you not only indicated
an awareness of the couple's affair
but also inferred
that Eve's connections at the council
might make her privy
to important information.
You even spoke of "bashing her head in."
Perhaps hoping you might discover
the route of the proposed Sandford Bypass.
You were already suspicious
that George Merchant was buying up
a large area of land
on the outskirts of Sandford,
after an article Tim Messenger
wrote in the Sandford Citizen.
You see, the land Merchant was buying
had little value in of itself but,
if it became accessible by road,
it would be a prime location for say,
a retail park.
Consumed with concern for your business
and potential disloyalty
from fickle customers,
you yourself expressed a wish to behead.
You killed the competition in cold blood.
Staging the murders as accidents.
You used a vehicle removal truck
to stage the Blower-Draper death
and incinerated an old man
in his own house.
Covering your tracks with the judicial
application of bacon and beans.
However, there was a loose end.
Tim Messenger.
Splattered before he could share with me
what he told Leslie Tiller
that very afternoon.
The true value of her land.
Upon discovering she was about
to sell up to the developers,
you brutally murdered her
with her own shears.
And made good your escape utilizing
your impressive skills as a fun runner.
Very entertaining. But I rather think
you've been watching too many films.
He hasn't.
Why would I kill Leslie?
You clearly aren't aware that we're related.
Oh, but I am, "Cousin Sissy."
I'm afraid my nickname of Sissy
is only a revelation to yourself.
My teenage years studying ballet
are well known.
- Yeah, Sissy Skinner.
- What a Gaylord.
Thank you, Andrews.
Now, despite my comments
about "beheading" customers,
I personally relish the competition
of another store.
Anything to energize my workforce.
And anyway, what makes you think
I could dislodge part of the church roof?
Or for that matter, stage a car crash?
It's a well known fact that
the church roof is in dire need of repair.
And isn't it true
that two of your own employees
operate the vehicle removal service
for the council?
Sergeant, this is the 21st Century.
Many people hold down several jobs.
I myself host a life drawing class
at the Village Hall.
Tina here is a table dancer at Flappers.
Nevertheless, you could have utilized
the vehicle removal truck for your own ends.
These accusations
are quite meaningless, Sergeant,
unless you can back them up
with hard evidence.
Well, you've got me there.
I'd need something conclusive.
Something that placed you
at the scene of the crime.
Perhaps a wound you sustained on
a piece of broken glass this very evening.
This very evening.
Sergeant, this is beginning
to get embarrassing.
How could I possibly be
in several places at once?
I'm sure the store's security footage
will absolve me.
Do feel free to spool through.
I can handle this, Danny.
You might as well go back
and just enjoy the rest of your birthday.
- Did you really get me that plant?
- Yes, I did.
But it's been impounded as evidence.
Well, I mean,
maybe Dad will still let me water it, eh?
Yeah.
Sergeant, I wanted you to know that
if I do indeed now
own the land belonging to...
belonging to Leslie, that I intend to turn it
into a memorial garden, in her honor.
Mr. Skinner, what you do with your land
is of no concern of mine,
so jog on.
Michael, will you escort the Sergeant
off the premises when he's quite finished?
Yarp.
I just can't believe Leslie's dead.
How did it happen?
She tripped and fell on her own shears.
Hey, that weren't me.
Hey, look.
Look, Mr. Treacher's
got his big coat on again.
- You want anything from the shop?
- Cornetto.
- No luck catching them killers, then?
- It's just the one killer, actually.
- No luck catching them killers, then?
- It's just the one killer, actually.
- No luck catching them killers, then?
- It's just the one killer, actually.
- No luck catching them killers, then?
- It's just the one killer, actually.
- What's the matter? You got brain-freeze?
- No, I got brainwave.
Get us back to the station, now!
- It's more than one person.
- Come again?
- It's more than one killer.
- It was Skinner a minute ago.
Yeah, well, maybe it still is.
You know, maybe he's... Maybe he's
not alone. Maybe there are others.
Nicholas, you're an exceptional officer.
But I've seen this before.
- Sir?
- Sergeant Popwell.
It was exactly the same thing.
You've come from a city
where there's danger round every corner,
and it's driven you round the bend.
Yes, sir.
Do yourself a favor. Sleep on it.
And if you still feel the same in the morning,
I give you my word, I'll get right on to it.
Hey. Hey, what's happening?
What's going on?
Nothing, nothing.
I'm just gonna go back to the hotel.
- I mean, do you want a lift?
- No, no, I could do with a walk.
Hey, big one, playtime's over.
Michael?
Michael? Are you there?
Michael? Is everything okay?
Yarp.
Sergeant Angel's been taken care of?
Yarp.
He's not gonna get back up again?
Narp!
Good. Proceed to the castle.
Frank, this shit just got real.
Skinner just sent someone to kill me,
and, now, now he's gone somewhere.
Up to the... To the castle, I think.
I'm gonna... I'm gonna go after him.
Okay? It's Nicholas, by the way.
Oh, my God.
What happened to your Peace Lily?
Danny. Danny, just stay here, okay?
And watch him, and call your dad.
- Tell him I was right.
- What are you gonna do?
- I'm gonna bust this thing wide open.
- Nicholas, wait.
- You might need this.
- Thanks, partner.
How could I possibly be
in several places at once?
How could I possibly be
in several places at once?
How could I possibly be
in several places at once?
I just can't believe Leslie's dead.
How did it happen?
You'll find that we run
a very tight ship here.
Who could do something like this?
Seems like Mr. Merchant tried
to have a little fry up and left the gas on.
Nasty way to go.
What happened, Danny?
No luck catching them killers, then?
No luck catching them killers, then?
No luck catching them...
Now, quick announcement before we begin.
Janet Barker has decided
to call her boys Roger and Martin.
And the christening will be
a week on Saturday and we're all invited.
- Tom.
- Thanks, Joyce.
Now, you'll all be delighted to hear
that the tenacious Sergeant Angel
has been taken care of.
Joyce will discover the Sergeant lying
on the wet floor of his bathroom,
having slipped
and tragically broken his neck.
So, with the dispatch of the Sergeant,
we will now be able to concentrate
on the eradication of our hoodie infestation.
Quite right.
After which, nothing will stand in our way.
Oh, I beg to differ, Mr. Weaver.
Well, well, well, I see we have visitors.
Sergeant Nicholas Angel.
Sandford Police Service.
My, he is tenacious, isn't he?
I'm arresting you under suspicion
of conspiracy to commit murder.
Oh, come, come, Sergeant.
You should be ashamed.
- Calling yourself a community that cares.
- Oh, but we do care, Nicholas.
It's all about the greater good.
The greater good.
How can this be for the greater good?
The greater good.
You see, as much as I enjoyed
your wild theories, Sergeant,
the truth is far less complex.
Blower's fate was simply the result
of his being an appalling actor.
Quite appalling.
You murdered him for that?
- Well, he murdered Bill Shakespeare.
- What?
The Dramatic Society
is an important feather in our cap.
Couldn't let
Blower jeopardize that.
Not when we had two semi-professionals
waiting in the wings.
Let's not forget that Greg
was an extra in Straw Dogs.
And Sheree played a cadaver
in Prime Suspect.
Yes, I know!
Martin was less concerned
with the reputation of the village
than he was with his sordid affair
with Eve Draper.
And so Eve deserved to die too?
Well, she did have a very annoying laugh.
Annoying.
- And, and George Merchant?
- He had an awful house.
Awful.
We begged him in vain
to make his residence
more in keeping
with the village's rustic esthetic.
And what about Tim Messenger?
What was his crime?
Tim Messenger's tenure as editor of
the Sandford Citizen has been unbearable.
Our once great paper had
become riddled with tabloid journalism.
Not to mention persistent errors.
- He listed her age as 55.
- When, actually, I'm 53.
Fifty-three.
What, what about Leslie Tiller?
One of your own?
Her horticultural expertise helped
put Sandford on the map.
Oh, she was ever so good.
Cousin Leslie was a terrible shame.
But it seemed she was set on moving away.
We couldn't have her sharing
her green fingers with anybody else.
Not least those heathens at Buford Abbey.
If we can't have her, no one can.
How can this be for the greater good?
- The greater good.
- Shut it!
These people died for no reason.
No reason whatsoever!
Oh, I wouldn't say that.
Hello, Nicholas.
I was like you once.
I believed in the immutable word of the law.
That is until the night Mrs. Butterman
was taken from me.
You see,
no one loved Sandford more than her.
She was head of the Women's Institute,
chair of the floral committee.
When they started
the Village of the Year contest,
she worked round the clock.
I've never seen such dedication.
On the eve of the adjudicator's arrival,
some travelers moved into Callahan Park.
Before you could say, "Gypsy scum,"
we were knee-deep in dog muck,
thieving kids and crusty jugglers.
Crusty jugglers.
We lost the title and Irene lost her mind.
She drove her Datsun Cherry
into Sandford Gorge.
From that moment on,
I swore that I would do her proud.
And whatever the cost,
we would make Sandford great again.
Sir, this doesn't make any sense.
The adjudicators arrive tomorrow.
We had to get everything ready.
Are you saying this is all about
winning the Best Village Award?
This is the best village, Nicholas.
You've seen the people.
- They're happy, contented.
- They're living in a dream world.
Sergeant Popwell
thought much the same as you.
I'm disappointed
you can't see the bigger picture.
Well, I'm happy to disappoint you, sir.
And I'm afraid
you're gonna have to come with me.
You are all gonna have to come with me.
No, Nicholas, I'm afraid it is you
who is going to have to come with us.
Danny, no.
Back off! Back off!
Or I swear to God,
you'll be explaining how Danny tripped over
and accidentally cut off his own head.
Come on, Nicholas.
You haven't got it in you.
I mean it!
Shit!
Gypsy scum. Travelers.
Thieving kids. Dog muck.
Crusty jugglers.
Crusty jugglers. Crusty jugglers.
Crusty jugglers.
There hasn't been a recorded murder
in Sandford for 20 years.
There's a reason we accommodate
a few of the younglings at the pub.
Spot of bother up at Ellroy Farm.
I'll make sure everyone gets
their just deserts.
If we don't come down hard
on these clowns...
We'll get round to it.
Danny!
Ta-da.
- What are you doing?
- Saving your skin.
- This is murder!
- It's not, it's ketchup.
I'm not talking about that,
I'm talking about the others.
- What others?
- The others the NWA have murdered.
- That's not true.
- It is!
Dad just said it was his special club, he...
I thought it was about
rapping people on the knuckles
- and sending them on their way.
- There are skeletons back there!
I don't know nothing about no skelingtons.
- What did you think was happening?
- Not this!
It's Frank.
He's appointed himself judge,
jury and executioner.
- He's not Judge Judy and executioner.
- He is!
- You've gotta help me take him down.
- I can't.
He's my dad. Take my car.
Go back to London.
There's nothing you can do.
I can come back.
I can come back,
and I can bring the blue fury
of the Metropolitan Police Service with me.
They'll make it disappear.
Who are they gonna believe?
My dad, or a loony London police officer.
But it won't be just me, will it?
We can do it together.
You and me. Partners.
Forget it, Nicholas. It's Sandford.
Is that everything? Sir?
Sir? Sir?
- Is there anything I can do for you?
- No.
This is something I have to do myself.
Another beautiful day in God's country.
Danny?
It's...
Mum!
What you gonna do?
Just walk in and arrest the whole village?
Not exactly.
Oh, Sergeant Angel?
Someone from London called for you.
I'll tell them you'll ring them back.
- Well, that's funny.
- What's that?
I didn't know we had a mounted division.
Nobody tells me nothing.
Wanna do something useful?
Annette, that Sergeant Angel's
back. Check out his horse.
Roger that!
- It's...
- Angel.
Morning.
That's what I'm talking about.
Still feel like you're missing out?
Fascist!
Hag!
Stop! Stop this, please!
Let us stop this mindless violence.
Nicholas, my son.
You may not be a man of God,
but surely you're a man of peace.
I may not be a man of God, Reverend,
but I know right, and I know wrong,
and I have the good grace
to know which is which.
Oh, fuck off, Grasshopper.
No!
Jesus Christ!
Nicholas! Nicholas!
I thought you was a goner.
Drop your weapons!
- Dr. Hatcher, no!
- Shut up, Danny.
I brought you into this world,
I think it's rather fitting
I should be the one to take you out of it.
You and your interfering little friend.
Now...
drop them.
- You're a doctor, deal with it.
- Yeah, motherfucker.
- Danny, let's roll.
- What you thinking?
Pub?
Roy!
Somebody call the police!
Freeze!
Officers, arrest that man.
- Danny, step away from the Sergeant.
- No, Dad.
Danny, you'll do as you're told.
I'm not taking orders from you anymore.
- Officers, arrest these men!
- Wait, wait!
You can arrest us if you like.
You can throw us in prison and go back
to being blind, submissive slaves.
Or you can be real police officers,
and help us bring an end
to this absurd story.
What the fuck is he on about?
Fuck are you on about?
Have you ever wondered
why the crime rate in Sandford is so low?
- And yet the accident rate, it's so high?
- No. Yeah. What?
You've been brainwashed, Tony.
Brainwashed into naivety by an old man
with a murderous obsession.
- This is ridiculous.
- No, it's not, Dad. It's very unridiculous.
And it's only now that I'm starting to realize
how unridiculous it all is.
Silence, Danny!
- Think of your mother.
- Mum is dead, Dad.
For the first time in my life,
you know, I'm glad.
If she could see what you've become,
I think she'd probably kill herself
all over again.
Sorry, I am completely lost.
Sandford is a lie, Doris.
For the last 20 years, the village
has been controlled by Frank and the NWA.
They've lulled everyone
into thinking this is a perfect village
and killed anyone
who's threatened to change that.
I reckon he's got something there.
He says,
"He reckons you got something there."
I know.
You're not seriously gonna
believe this man, are you?
Are you? He isn't even from round here.
Maybe it's time to give it up, sir.
You incompetent flatfoots!
Officer Walker, stay here with Saxon
and hold everything down.
Fair enough.
Officers, let's go.
- What about Dad?
- He'll come round again.
Want anything from the shop?
- What you thinking?
- Well...
We should strike now,
while we've got the element of surprise.
Longer we wait,
more time they've got to mobilize.
I say we go in through the front entrance,
take the place aisle by aisle.
They won't be expecting that.
Very good. What he said.
My, my. Here come the fuzz.
- Maybe they're not here.
- Wait here.
- Don't go in on your own.
- Don't worry, he knows what he's doing.
Okay. They're in.
You deal with the store.
I'll deal with the trolley boy.
No, listen. Wait, wait, wait, Michael,
wait, listen to me. Listen, listen.
Is this what you really, really want?
Yarp.
Suit yourself.
Go, go, go.
Oh, come on.
Andy!
It's all right, Andy. It's just Bolognese!
- How's Lurch?
- He's in the freezer.
- Did you say, "Cool off"?
- No, I didn't say anything, actually.
Shame.
There was a bit earlier on that you missed
when I distracted him
with the cuddly monkey.
And then I said, "Playtime's over,"
and I hit him with the Peace Lily.
You're off the fucking chain!
- What's the situation?
- Two blokes and a fuckload of cutlery.
What do you reckon?
Idea.
Good work, everyone.
- Nice one, Doris.
- Nothing like a bit of girl on girl.
Fruit attack!
Can you handle this, Sergeant Fisher?
We're gonna go after the big boss.
We're on it, Sergeant.
- Danny, let's rock.
- Angel!
Don't go being a twat now.
I wouldn't give you the satisfaction.
- We should get down there.
- How?
Skip.
- Head them off?
- Fuck, yeah.
- I'll drive.
- Shotgun! Punch that shit!
Bang! Bang!
Swan!
Swan!
Stay back! Or the ginger nut gets it!
You little fucker!
Get out of my village!
It's not your village anymore.
- You did good, kid.
- Ta.
- What's your name?
- Aaron A. Aaronson.
Sorry?
Angel!
It's over, Danny.
It's over.
This really hurts.
I'm going to need some ice-cream.
Yeah, well, don't worry.
There's plenty of ice-cream at the station.
Isn't that right, Danny?
Stay back!
- Pack it in, Frank, you silly bastard!
- Now, now.
We don't want any more bloodshed.
Frank, this whole thing started
because you lost somebody you loved.
Don't expect me to believe
you'd let it end the same way.
I'll tell you how this is gonna end!
I feel like I should say something smart.
You don't have to say anything at all.
Satisfactory conclusion
to the whole operation.
Now, my perfect Sunday would begin with...
What do you say, Nicholas?
We... We...
We have been trying to reach you for days.
- Yeah, well, I've been kind of busy.
- We need you back.
The figures have gone a little squiffy
in your absence, it has to be said.
Come back to London.
Sandford's hardly a fitting place
for such an exceptional officer.
Yeah, well, the thing is, sir.
I kind of like it here.
Besides, we have to do
a considerable amount of paperwork.
- Fuck's sake, Nick, this is gonna take ages.
- Yeah, it's gonna take all night.
Well, good job
we've got the manpower, Andy?
Well, official vocab guidelines state
that we say "staffing," not "manpower,"
'cause "manpower's" a bit sexist.
You don't mind a bit
of manpower do you, Doris?
Oh, dirty bastard!
Andy!
You cheeky fucker!
You know what you are?
A bloody busybody!
No!
Oh, God, no!
Danny!
Danny!
Oh, God.
Hold on, Danny, just hold on.
Hold on, it's gonna be fine.
It's gonna be fine.
Just hang on, hang on!
Everything's gonna be fine.
Everything's gonna be fine.
Everything's gonna be fine.
Everything's gonna be just fine.
Hope these are okay.
Yeah. They're lovely.
- Any officers near the church?
- Go ahead, Doris.
Chief, we've had a report
of some hippy types
messing with the recycling bins
at the supermarket.
- Leave it with us.
- Righto.
Sergeant Butterman,
little hand says it's time to rock and roll.
Bring the noise.