Ashes to Ashes

DCI Gene Hunt:
Blimey, if that skirt was hitched any higher I could see what you had for breakfast.

DCI Gene Hunt:
[has just saved a dazed Alex from getting run over by a police car] Are you crazy? Do you have any idea how much paperwork there is for suicides?

DI Alex Drake:
[Gene has just solved the case] Oh, I could kiss you!

DCI Gene Hunt:
Don't hold back.

DI Alex Drake:
You're taller than I imagined.

DCI Gene Hunt:
I'm bigger in every department.

DCI Gene Hunt:
You're pissed.

DI Alex Drake:
[slurring] And you are a figment.

DCI Gene Hunt:
You're very pissed.

DI Alex Drake:
Sam never told me how... I mean, look at you. [she touches Gene's chest then slips her hand inside his jacket to feel his heart] It's beating.

DI Alex Drake:
[shortly after waking up in 1981] I can feel the wind.

DCI Gene Hunt:
Streuth. She's gonna break into song.

DCI Gene Hunt:
[to Alex] Are you going to kiss me or punch me?

DI Alex Drake:
[looks at Chris] DC Chris Skelton. [looks at Ray] DS Ray Carling. [looks at Gene, after a pause, whispers] Gene Hunt. [faints]

DCI Gene Hunt:
My reputation precedes me.

DCI Gene Hunt:
Today my friend, you diary entry will read "Took a prozzie hostage and was shot by three armed bastards".

DCI Gene Hunt:
Fire up the Quattro.

DI Alex Drake:
What's so special about you, Gene? When good coppers go under why do you appear?

DCI Gene Hunt:
It's my aftershave and stop wiggling your bloody fingers everytime you say my name!

DI Alex Drake:
You know, I invented this world.

DCI Gene Hunt:
I invented something once - the bruise free groin slap.

DCI Gene Hunt:
My reputation precedes me.

DCI Gene Hunt:
Do you have any idea what the paperwork on suicides is like?

DI Alex Drake:
There's nothing on this harddrive but the time and date.

DCI Gene Hunt:
Pong, I've got Pong.

DI Alex Drake:
[Gene has just helped a very drunk Alex upstairs and onto the sofa; he sits down beside her] Let me do this on my own.

DCI Gene Hunt:
It's always more fun with two.

DCI Gene Hunt:
Today, your diary entry will read - "Took a prozzie hostage, and then got shot by three armed bastards!"

DCI Gene Hunt:
Personally I have no desire whatsoever to see your boney, privately educated bottoms but it's good for morale.

DCI Gene Hunt:
Special Branch are as nervous as a virgin in a brothel.

DCI Gene Hunt:
When I need advice from a lobotomized Essex girl I'll ask for it, okay?

DI Alex Drake:
Will you please just stamp my arse?

DI Alex Drake:
Please?

DCI Gene Hunt:
No.

DI Alex Drake:
I'll let you stamp my bum.

DCI Gene Hunt:
I'll get me coat.

DCI Gene Hunt:
D.I. Bollyknickers, you appear to be drunk in charge of a handbag and dressed like a tart again.

DI Alex Drake:
Oh piss off you lardy fascist.

DCI Gene Hunt:
We'll make a copper of you yet.

DI Alex Drake:
Will everyone just shut up! This is my bloody fantasy and I will be listened to.

DCI Gene Hunt:
Bit of admin - we need to stamp your arse.

DI Alex Drake:
I beg your pardon?

George Bonds:
We are all prostitutes!

[Alex Drake claimed, untruthfully, that she used to work as a prostitute before joining the police force, just to see what Gene's reaction would be]

DI Alex Drake:
I'm not a hooker. But if I was, d'you know something, Gene? You could never, ever afford me.

DCI Gene Hunt:
You might talk with a plum in your gob, love, but I would rather go with one of those whores than waste my money on some bitter, twisted, messed-up, clenched-arse toffee-nosed b*tch like you.

[Alex slaps Gene very hard across the face, sending him sprawling]

DCI Gene Hunt:
You feel better now?

DI Alex Drake:
No.

[she hits him again]

DI Alex Drake:
Better now!

[cautioning a rape and murder suspect]

DCI Gene Hunt:
Anything you say will be taken down, ripped up and shoved down your scrawny little throat until you choke to death.

DI Alex Drake:
[to Gene] What do you want? Me to morph into a nun? It's not like I've shagged an entire rugby team, is it?

DS Ray Carling:
[quietly to Chris] Bet she has.

DCI Gene Hunt:
What is that?

Chris Skelton:
It's a kebab.

DCI Gene Hunt:
It looks like a bloody pasty with its arse hanging out.

DCI Gene Hunt:
Oh dear Lord, if this is a test I fear I may fail. And I thought it'd be the booze or the fags but oh no, I'm going to die in an underground vault in the company of a posh mouthy tart with a head full of brains and the common sense of a grain weevil.

DI Alex Drake:
You're not going to die. I can't die. Can I. [pause, then almost imploringly] Can I?

DCI Gene Hunt:
[looks at her for a long moment] Come here. [he puts his arm around Alex and she rests her head against his chest]

DI Alex Drake:
Well, we've established the cover: Marcus and I used to work the streets.

DCI Gene Hunt:
Did you?

DI Alex Drake:
No, that's the cover.

DCI Gene Hunt:
Shame. Might've fancied a punt.

DI Alex Drake:
Hang on, hang on. Now this is worth getting straight; I'm imagining you, imagining paying for sex with me, in my imaginary role as an imaginary street whore?

DCI Gene Hunt:
You must have a filthy mind.

DI Alex Drake:
Absolute sewer, apparently.

DCI Gene Hunt:
What do you mean, 'left, left'?

DI Alex Drake:
I mean he turned left.

DCI Gene Hunt:
You don't need to tell me twice!

DI Alex Drake:
What am I doing here really? What is the point of all this?

DCI Gene Hunt:
To dress like a tart, wiggle your arse in my direction, and fill my days with glimpses of the depths of your depraved mind? It's good enough for me, Bolly.

DI Alex Drake:
Can we concentrate please on the crimes he commits and not whose cock he sucks.

DI Alex Drake:
Pedestrian!

DCI Gene Hunt:
Stop moaning - I didn't hit him. What is up with you this morning? You haven't got the decorators in again, have we?

DI Alex Drake:
God, is my brain so small...

DCI Gene Hunt:
You are a bossy cow.

DI Alex Drake:
And you are a Bonapartist.

DCI Gene Hunt:
What's that then? Like double-jointed?

Luigi:
What are you doing drinking by your own? Where are your men? And why is the lovely signorina up in her flat, also by her own?

DCI Gene Hunt:
The lads'll be here soon, as for the lovely signorina - well she can take a swan dive from the window as far as I'm concerned.

Luigi:
Ah, I see. Who will catch her?

DCI Gene Hunt:
No-one hopefully.

Chas Cale:
Gene Hunt, my lovely wife Joan.

Joan Cale:
You must have made an impression, Mr Hunt. He never usually remembers names.

Chas Cale:
Well it's easy. In fact it rhymes with my favourite word. We used to call him Hunt the...

Chas Cale:
Yes thankyou Chas.

DI Alex Drake:
[to Gil Hollis] Well, the mind's an amazing organ.

DCI Gene Hunt:
I've got an amazing organ.

DI Alex Drake:
[still to Gil Hollis] It's capable of far more than you'd imagine.

DCI Gene Hunt:
Right again.

DI Alex Drake:
I propose, that given your reaction to the gender balance of the gang, that this is their first job.

DCI Gene Hunt:
What, New Kids On The Block?

DI Alex Drake:
Now that's a good name for a boy band!

WPC Sharon 'Shaz' Granger:
Gov.

DCI Gene Hunt:
Chris, Take That! It's the dodgy second hand car dealers. East 17!

DC Chris Skelton:
Alright, Backstreet Boys.

DS Ray Carling:
Yeah, let's get 'em Busted!

DI Alex Drake:
Ooh God! I'm gonna scream!

DI Alex Drake:
You do know that Lord Scarman is coming to see if you're a racist, corrupt institution and not to check whether you polish your paperclips, don't you?

DCI Gene Hunt:
Is it just me or are you talking in another dimension?

DI Alex Drake:
I want Ray.

DCI Gene Hunt:
Well, I could grow a moustache but I draw a line at a perm.

DI Alex Drake:
Timothy and Caroline Price, I'm arresting you on suspicion of the uh... Sod it, you're nicked!

DCI Gene Hunt:
Where's his twatship?

DI Alex Drake:
How come you were there? Taking the little girl's hand? That couldn't have happened - you weren't there. You're not real.

DCI Gene Hunt:
I'm everywhere, Bolly. I was needed and I was there.

Alex Drake:
My name is Alex Drake. I've been shot and that bullet's taken me back in time. Now I'm lost in 1982, and all I can do is fight, and search, and stay alive. Because, somehow, I will find a way back home.

DI Alex Drake:
You're playing with them

DCI Gene Hunt:
No, it's just the way I'm standing

DCI Gene Hunt:
Looking very chirpy, Bolls, you've been sitting on the washing machine again?

Gene Hunt:
You just entered Gene Hunt country. Head of state, Gene Hunt. Chief of Justice, Gene Hunt. Executioner, Gene Hunt. Sh*t at football, would never win Eurovision but can spot a terrorist gobshite from a hundred yard away.

Gene Hunt:
[about to raid a suspect's house] A quick word about police brutality... plenty of it!

Mickey Dillon:
I'm telling you it wasn't me!

Gene Hunt:
[Hunt pushes Mickey against the wall] Raymondo...

DS Ray Carling:
Right. [Carling punches Mickey in the stomach]

Gene Hunt:
Are you ill?

DS Ray Carling:
No, why?

Gene Hunt:
You only hit him once.

DCI Gene Hunt:
Well Bolly, people don't hide things from me. They just forget to mention it till my boot meets their arse.

DCI Gene Hunt:
If a man isn't going to squeal when he's about to have his bum conkers crushed by a big machine, the chances are he's telling the truth.

DCI Gene Hunt:
Donna Mitchell you're under arrest for the murder of Colin Mitchell AKA the poor bugger who had the misfortune of being your husband.

Molly Drake:
Mum? Mum? Mummy? Mummy? Mum? The doctor got the bullet out. You're going to be okay. He said if you get plenty of rest, and if there are no complications, you're going to wake up. You're going to be fine. Mum? Mummy? Mum?...

Chris Skelton:
...Ma'am? Do you want a biscuit, ma'am? Do you want a biscuit?

Alex Drake:
No, I, erm, must have dozed off.

Gene Hunt:
This is supposed to be a stakeout not a midnight feast at Malory Towers.

DS Ray Carling:
Pillow fights and gym knickers, eh? [All laugh]

Gene Hunt:
Shake a leg, boys. Informant has it something big is going off, and I'm not referring to Ray's unsavoury teenage fantasies.

Chris Skelton:
Here you are, guv, Shaz made it.

Gene Hunt:
Not enough sugar. Or milk. Or tea.

Alex Drake:
I'm going to wake up.

Gene Hunt:
It's about bloody time.

Alex Drake:
Yep, if there are no complications.

Gene Hunt:
You're staying here.

Alex Drake:
No, I'm fine, I just dozed off.

Gene Hunt:
You don't look it, I'm not carrying a dead weight. You can man the radio. Or woman it. Whichever you prefer.

Alex Drake:
Fine. Absolutely fine. All I'm saying to you is that you're going to miss me more than you know.

Gene Hunt:
Well, I think we'll manage.

Gene Hunt:
Daddy Bear in position.

DS Ray Carling:
Big Bear set.

Chris Skelton:
Baby Bear ready.

Alex Drake:
[Sneaks up behind baddie and hits him with a piece of wood] Say hello to Mummy Bear!

DS Ray Carling:
[He uses a pneumatic/jackhammer drill to break away the concrete surrounding the dead body]

Gene Hunt:
Oi! Oi! What do you think you're doing?

DS Ray Carling:
Digging him out.

Gene Hunt:
We want a body on a mortuary slab not a plate of dog food, use a ruddy chisel.

DS Ray Carling:
Guv, that'll take ages.

Gene Hunt:
Well you better get started then.

Chris Skelton:
I haven't had my turn yet.

Alex Drake:
The site manager's here, Michael Lafferty.

Gene Hunt:
What?

Alex Drake:
What?

Gene Hunt:
Either you've got a meaningful bowel movement on the way or you're about to say "it's probably nothing, but..."

Alex Drake:
Don't be ridiculous. Well... it probably is nothing, but doesn't it seem a bit of a coincidence to you that we get a tip off, drugs *and* a body?

Lafferty:
Delays are very expensive.

Gene Hunt:
Well, forgive me if our little investigation costs Sir Henrington Arse-Twat a year's subscription to his private members' club.

Alex Drake:
Come on! The bullet's out. It's bloody out! It's time to go home.

Young Summers:
Look, I know I might be putting my job on the line, but word is you're straight, totally kosher.

Gene Hunt:
Well apart from not being Jewish and the fact that, in my case, Sgt Rock is 100% intact, [looks at Alex] in case you were wondering...

Alex Drake:
No.

Gene Hunt:
...I'm as kosher as a rabbi at a matzo party, you can talk here.

Alex Drake:
Shaz, were there any calls?

Shaz Granger:
One or two, Ma'am. [Reads from her notebook] Several people were looking for Mr Hugh Jarse. And it turned out that Mike Rotch was quite popular too. Five or six had chronic asthma and one man had some very imaginative suggestions. You did want them word for word [shows Alex the notebook]

Alex Drake:
[reads notebook] Oh God, sorry Shaz. What are people like?

Alex Drake:
You! You set this whole thing up then, the drug drop, the body, everything. Everything. You knew that it would be here.

Martin Summers:
Very good! I knew you were the right woman for the job.

Young Summers:
Is this the guy you're looking for?

Martin Summers:
I think I probably am.

Alex Drake:
You can't do this, you can't change history.

Gene Hunt:
Someone forged it. Someone with easy access to the evidence room.

Alex Drake:
Whoever took it, why would they want a poem?

Gene Hunt:
Who says it was a poem? Maybe Tomascz was too scared to tell us what it really said.

Martin Summers:
Surely you don't believe that you are going to wake up just because they managed to get the bullet out.

Alex Drake:
How do you know, how could you possibly know? This is my world, this is my life. Who are you?

Martin Summers:
The only man who really understands, Alex.

Alex Drake:
You're there, aren't you? You're in the hospital.

Martin Summers:
I'm here... and I'm there.

Gene Hunt:
No sign of Summers. Both of them put one man in the frame.

Alex Drake:
Lafferty. But how could he know that we'd brought Tomascz in?

Gene Hunt:
Someone in our station told him. Probably the same bastard that stole the note. Someone in CID. Someone on my team.

Alex Drake:
You thinking about Mac?

Gene Hunt:
I'm thinking about Mac, about Kevin Hales, about every investigation that's gone tits up for as far back as I can remember.

DS Ray Carling:
Now that sounds more like it. What's she like?

Shaz Granger:
Karen? She's great.

DS Ray Carling:
She's great?

Chris Skelton:
Yeah, she's great, Karen. Dead funny. Really nice [mimes big b*obs] personality.

DS Ray Carling:
I like that in my woman, a good [mimes big b*obs] personality!

Gene Hunt:
[speaking to everyone] As most of you know, a key witness in the investigation into the murder of Dawid Czarnecki has been seriously injured in what appears to be a hit and run incident. It has also come to my attention that someone on my watch, very possibly somebody in this room misappropriated a vital piece of evidence, jeopardising the entire case. That won't do. That will not do at all. And when I found out who is responsible, I will be very, very angry.

DS Ray Carling:
Guv. You know I wouldn't go behind your back, don't you?

Gene Hunt:
It's all right, Raymondo, I know I can trust you. That hit and run was attempted murder, the lad knew what was on the missing note. Something else. I've got a file, physical evidence that could nail Lafferty, but I can't keep it here, not at the moment. It's in a safety deposit box on Talbot Street. Box number one sixteen.

DS Ray Carling:
One sixteen.

Gene Hunt:
Just in case I end up on the wrong end of a car accident.

DS Ray Carling:
Right, Guv.

Gene Hunt:
[Jackanory theme tune plays on TV, programme starts with Gene Hunt reading the story] Alex And The 'Orrible Awful 'Eadache. You'd better be sitting comfortably or there'll be tears. Alex Drake loved brains. She loved the way they controlled your arms and legs. Made you hungry and thirsty. She loved that these balls of wrinkly sponge could be filled with all our dreams, hopes and fears.

Alex Drake:
[Walks over to the TV] This is fantastic. Bloody brilliant. Thank you, Guv. Another childhood memory ruined.

Gene Hunt:
[Looks off camera] Is there going to be some flaming action in this? [Continues the story] Ever since she was a kid Alex had wanted to study brains...

Alex Drake:
Willie Rushton. Kenneth Williams... I loved Kenneth Williams, could have been anyone.

Gene Hunt:
[Looks directly into the camera] Shut your gob! Or I'll come round your houses and stamp on all your toys.

Gene Hunt:
[Continues the story] When Alex grew up she became a policewoman...

Alex Drake:
Police *Officer*.

Gene Hunt:
...or Plonk, as her friends cheerfully called her...

Gene Hunt:
[Continues the story] And then one day, Alex met Pete. Alex and Pete fell in love, and they had a daughter, Molly... [Looks off camera] You know, I'm going to chuck if this lot carries on. [Continues the story] And Alex was, of course, a brilliant mum...

Alex Drake:
Was I, though?

Gene Hunt:
Until the 'eadache. The 'orrible awful 'eadache.

Doctor:
[Picture of surgeon on TV] Alex, this is Samuel Gerard, I'm your surgeon.

Alex Drake:
Surgeon? That's good, that's very good.

Doctor:
We've managed to stop the bleeding in your brain, but there's an infection. A rather nasty infection. Now, I need you to listen, Alex, because I know your periphery senses are returning. We're administering these super-antibiotics. And they're very strong. Fifty ml is the limit, ok? So you've got to fight this infection. Show us how strong you are.

Alex Drake:
Then what?

Doctor:
It's kill or cure time, Alex. Fifty ml and it's over.

Martin Summers:
I'm in the next room to you. We share nurses. I hear them talking. You've only said one word since you came to the hospital. Just the one. "Gene"

Alex Drake:
No great surprise, is it?

Alex Drake:
Chris?

Chris Skelton:
I can't go back.

Alex Drake:
Yes, you can, walk in with me. Come on.

Alex Drake:
[Walks in and sees her desk covered with rose petals] What's this?

Shaz Granger:
It was like that when we got in, Ma'am.

Chris Skelton:
Maybe we should have some lunch today?

Shaz Granger:
Yeah, if I'm not too busy.

Chris Skelton:
Of course, yeah. Only if you're not too busy.

Shaz Granger:
Because I need to phone my mum, about the flowers.

Chris Skelton:
Flowers? [pauses] Is there much point now?

Shaz Granger:
You okay? You look drawn.

Alex Drake:
Yeah, I've got a bit of a headache, Shaz.

Shaz Granger:
I'll get you something.

Alex Drake:
Thanks. 1981. I came back to 1981 for a specific reason, to see my parents, right?

Shaz Granger:
Okay.

Alex Drake:
And he came back to '82 because this year is important to him. Why?

Gene Hunt:
Right, shake a leg, you lot. It appears that every snout and grass in town has gone to ground. Something big is about to happen and I want my team ahead of the game.

Gene Hunt:
In my office, Lady Bols. [Shuts the door] This is DCI John Carnegie, Fenchurch West.

DCI Carnegie:
You all right? You look sick.

Alex Drake:
Yeah, I'm fine.

Gene Hunt:
She's just seen a man's tackle turned into a fish supper.

Alex Drake:
It's an infection.

Gene Hunt:
Small dose of the clap? Or the full round of applause?

Alex Drake:
Yeah, it's third stage VD, Guv. I'm an aggressively promiscuous nymphomaniac, you know that.

DCI Carnegie:
Good for you.

Alex Drake:
I have to stop this infection. Time's running out for me, Guv.

Gene Hunt:
Yeah, and time's running out for moi.

Alex Drake:
That's French.

Gene Hunt:
Sorry. I'm under pressure.

Gene Hunt:
You talk to me, Alex. If I mean anything to you at all...

Alex Drake:
I'm from the future. I was shot. And I woke up here, with you. Just like Sam Tyler, only this is *my* reality. And I'm fighting not to die, because if I die I will never get home. And it's insane, but there it is. And I trust you, which is why I'm telling you the truth. Guv?

Gene Hunt:
I ask for the truth and you piss in my face?

DS Ray Carling:
Sulk over then?

Chris Skelton:
As long as this sh*t stops now.

DS Ray Carling:
Fair enough.

Alex Drake:
Chris made a real breakthrough today on Operation Rose. Quite frankly, he was brilliant.

Gene Hunt:
[Talking to Alex] First Sam Tyler, now you. Why do I always attract the liars and the weirdoes?

Gene Hunt:
I really thought you and me... I thought we were the ones, we had a connection.

Alex Drake:
We do.

Gene Hunt:
You can't tell me the truth.

Alex Drake:
I did. I know you can't possibly comprehend it, but I did.

Gene Hunt:
You know, it's just struck me how truly cold you are, Drake. You told me once, you had a daughter. But you don't phone her. You never talk about her. Never try and see her...

Alex Drake:
[Slaps his face, storms out the room]

Gene Hunt:
I'm doing this without you. And you dare to get in my way, I swear to God I will kill you!

Gene Hunt:
What are the bricks doing? Somebody talk to me, what are the bloody bricks doing?

DS Ray Carling:
Hang on, Guv, they're getting redirected. Bullion van's on its way. They're taking the van on the back streets. Drake was right. It's King Douglas Lane.

Martin Summers:
I messed up. I'm sorry.

Gene Hunt:
Are you?

Martin Summers:
Yeah, I'm scared.

Gene Hunt:
Do you remember a young copper ready to put the world to rights? Spick and span, very proud. Do you remember?

Martin Summers:
Yes.

Gene Hunt:
Hold onto that thought, it's a good'un.

Gene Hunt:
[Carnegie pulls a gun, Gene knocks him down with the Quattro] Carnegie, you've just been Quattroed!

DS Ray Carling:
Guv, we got this name from Tiny Tim's place.

Gene Hunt:
King Dong Job?

DS Ray Carling:
Yeah, King Dong. You know? Coloured porn star with a big massive... Black porn star with the massive... Oh, he's a chocolate lad with a great whopping knob.

Alex Drake:
Could this be code?

Gene Hunt:
Either that or our bent coppers are making a bluey starring Daley Thompson.

DS Ray Carling:
I would pay good money to see that.

Alex Drake:
You know what, so would I.

Gene Hunt:
You couple of pervs.

Gene Hunt:
I'm formally suspending you.

Alex Drake:
You can't do that.

Gene Hunt:
Me organ grinder, you monkey. Now give!

Gene Hunt:
And Ray if you come in here again dressed like a maths teacher I will paint your balls the color of hazelnuts and inform a pack of squirrels that winter's coming.

Gene Hunt:
Wakey wakey, Drakey. Come on, you weren't that shot.

Ray Carling:
[Drake is trying to fix a damaged VHS tape] Should get one of the techno-twats from Scottie Yard to sort that out.

Alex Drake:
I've salvaged enough party cassettes in my time. Stand down the techno-twats, I think I've got it.

Gene Hunt:
So we're looking for a bloke who's done time. That narrows it down to most of Planet Earth and the whole of Sunderland.

Alex Drake:
[Hunt is beating a suspect] Is this strictly necessary?

Gene Hunt:
No, but it's bloody good fun!

Alex Drake:
You are certifiable!

Gene Hunt:
Thank you. I've always wanted a certificate for something.

Gene Hunt:
No tea and no fags until you start talking, shitstick!

Barney Wright:
What's your bra size?

Alex Drake:
Out of your league.

Shaz Granger:
Guv, that was the hospital about that journalist.

Gene Hunt:
Is he up for answering questions?

Shaz Granger:
Might be tricky. He's dead.

Gene Hunt:
Excellent! What else have you got for me? Burning down orphanage? Couple of char grilled kittens? You know, if the Queen Mother self combusted on my watch I'd be blamed for that and all!

Gene Hunt:
Listen to me, you sh*t stick. This is DCI Gene Hunt. I am now taking charge of D Wing at Her Majesty's pleasure. If you so much as lay a finger on my colleague I swear to God I will come in there and rip your heart out. Do you understand me?

Alex Drake:
That kind of talk is just going to agitate and encourage them.

Gene Hunt:
I am negotiating!

Alex Drake:
What, you mean like Hiroshima was negotiated?

Gene Hunt:
My real name is Nigel Perkins.

[Alex looks at him]

Gene Hunt:
Nah, I'm just kidding, it's Gene Hunt.

Chris Skelton:
Coming, Ray?

Ray Carling:
You are and always will be... the Guv

Gene Hunt:
Danger of getting poofy, Raymondo.