Peaky Blinders, Season 2

Alfred Solomons:
Fuckin' Hell, lads, take it easy. Put him down Ollie, put him down, mate, he's only little. You on your own?

Thomas Shelby:
Seems so.

Alfred Solomons:
Well, you're a brave lad, ain't ya? You wanna take a look at my bakery? [they walk through the distillery] We bake all sorts here, mate, yeah. Did you know we bake over 10,000 "loaves" a week, can you believe it? We bake the white bread, we bake the brown bread... bake all sorts. You like to try some? Bread? [Tommy nods] Yeah?

Thomas Shelby:
All right.

Alfred Solomons:
So what would you like, brown or white?

Thomas Shelby:
Try the brown.

Alfred Solomons:
Brown? All right. [Alfie's distiller pours them both glasses of dark rum; Tommy tries his]

Thomas Shelby:
Not bad.

Alfred Solomons:
Not bad, eh? Not bad? It's fucking awful, that stuff. Fuckin' brown stuff is horrible, it's for the workers. Yeah. The white stuff, now that is for the bosses. Come look. [Tommy follows Alfie into his office] Well, I've heard very bad, bad, bad things 'bout you Birmingham people. [tsks] Eh? You're Gypsies, right? So what d'you live in, a fucking tent, or a caravan?

Thomas Shelby:
I came here to discuss business with you, Mr. Solomons.

Alfred Solomons:
Well! [claps and leans forward] Rum's for fun and fucking, innit. So...Whiskey, now that, that is for business. [pulls out a whiskey bottle]

Thomas Shelby:
Let's talk first, eh?

Alfred Solomons:
Suit yourself. [puts the whiskey away] They say you had your life saved by a policeman.

Thomas Shelby:
[nods] I have policemen on my payroll-

Alfred Solomons:
Well, I don't have policemen. Because policemen, they can't be trusted.

Thomas Shelby:
Mr. Sabini uses policemen all the time; that's why he's winning the war in London, and you're losing it.

Alfred Solomons:
War ain't over 'til it's over, mate. You were in the war. [pause] I once carried out my own personal form of stigmata on an Italian. I pushed his face up against a trench, shoved a six-inch nail up his fucking nose, and I hammered it home with a duckboard; it was fucking Biblical, mate. [chuckles, fiddles with the handle of his desk drawer] So don't come in here, sit there in my chair, and tell me that I'm losing my war to a fucking wop.

Thomas Shelby:
That war was a long time ago. You need to be... more realistic-

Alfred Solomons:
Realistic, yeah? Realistic?

Thomas Shelby:
Well, if you weren't losing the war, then you wouldn't have sent me the telegram-

Alfred Solomons:
Really? You forget your fucking telegram, your telegram just said, "'Ello." Very simple. You want to sell me something. What?

Thomas Shelby:
We join forces-

Alfred Solomons:
Fuck off! No, categorical. Fucking ridiculous.

Thomas Shelby':
Mr. Solomons, your distillery provides one-tenth of your income. Protection is another 10%, and the rest you make from the racetracks. I know you keep a gun in the drawer, I know you keep it beside the whiskey. I know you offer a deal, or death. [pause] I know what I'm saying, makes you angry. But I'm offering you a solution. You see, Mr. Sabini is running all your bookies off your courses. And he's closing down the premises that take your rum. And people don't trust your protection anymore.

Alfred Solomons:
You're the bloke who shot Billy Kimber, right? You did, you fucking shot him. That's you. You fucking betrayed him, mate. So it'd be entirely appropriate to do what I'm thinking in my head to you, right now. [puts his hand in the drawer]

Thomas Shelby:
I can offer you 100 good men, all with weapons, and a new relationship with the police.

Alfred Solomons:
Intelligence. Intelligence is a very valuable thing, innit, my friend? But usually, it comes far too fucking late. [pulls a gun on Tommy] Let's say I shot you already, right in the fucking face. And the bullet goes bone, mash, bone, cabinet over there. Which is a shame, innit, 'cause that cabinet's fucked now and I got to get shot of it. So, what I do is this. It's fucking simple, mate. [puts the gun down] I cut that cabinet in half, don't I? I do, literally I just cut the cabinet, I cut- [notices Tommy's nosebleed and tosses him a cloth] I cut the cabinet literally in half, mate. And I take one half of the cabinet, all right, and I put it into a barrel. And I take the other half of the cabinet and all it's pieces and I put that into another barrel, right? And I send this barrel off to Mandalay, and the other barrel off to somewhere like... I dunno, Timbuktu. Have you ever been?

Thomas Shelby:
No.

Alfred Solomons:
No? Would you like to go?

Thomas Shelby:
...No.

Alfred Solomons:
Y'know, I always thought you'd have a great big fucking gold ring in your nose. [grins, pause] I'm sorry, go on. Tell us your plan.

Esme:
Imagine riding away, Thomas. Living the real life, you know? Your Gypsy half is the stronger. You just want to ride away. France is a new place for us, they say. Lot of metal lying around still. Guns and trucks and spent shells and things. Then you go south. Saintes-Maries, where the Black Madonna is. My brothers go sometimes for the fair. It's like a home for us. They still let you get lost there.

Thomas:
I've been to France, Esme. So has John. Now get your coat and go with your husband. [takes her face in his hand] If you ever talk about getting lost again, I'll cut you... from this family.

Esme:
[looks around] What family?

Arthur:
I've been a fucking idiot. I haven't appreciated nothing, John.

John:
Are you fucking repenting or something?

Arthur:
Drawing. I used to be good at drawing.

John:
Arthur, please. For God's sake, I don't need this-

Arthur:
I should've listened more in class.

John:
What fucking class? You were never there.

Arthur:
I used to draw horses.

John:
Arthur-

Arthur:
Stallions. Great, big ones.

John:
Arthur.

Arthur:
They looked real-

John:
Not stallions, not now.

Curly:
What are you doing, Tommy?

Tommy:
Shoveling shit, Curly. Just like you.

Curly:
Why are you doing that?

Tommy:
To remind myself of what I’d be if I wasn’t who I am.

Johnny Dogs: Well, the Lees will be there, captain. Tommy: Captain? Johnny Dogs: I’ve promoted you. Well, the boys say that you’re no longer like a sergeant major. Fucking those rich women and using those fancy words. I’d say you’re more like captain these days.

Tommy Shelby:
So fucking close. Ohhhh, and there’s a woman too. Yeah. A woman... who I love. And I got close. Nearly got FUCKING EVERYTHING!