You’ve had the robbers now let’s have the cops. A Copper’s Tale begins with DCS Tommy Butler (Jim Broadbent) getting briefed by the stupid Tory whore of a Home Secretary Henry Brooke (James Fox) as he takes over the case. “I’m told you are known as One Day” he says “because that’s how long it takes you to catch criminals”. It’s actually how long it takes to find his dick but Butler keeps quiet and acknowledges the accolade. “This is an attack on the very cornerstone of England what-what” Brooks splutters. He means The Royal Mail because it’s the personal property of Her Majesty the Queen. Well she could certainly do with the cash. Let’s get it back for her eh?
“I’m told you are known as One Day” he says “because that’s how long it takes you to catch criminals”. It’s actually how long it takes to find his dick
Butler puts together a team of six shitbirds including man of a thousand snouts DI Frank Williams (Robert Glenister) and future co-founder of the Flying Squad DS Jack Slipper (Nick Moran). Five days after the heist they get their the first break: a nosy bastard of a farmer tips them off and they unearth Leatherslade Farm which, trained observers will notice, has not been burned to a giant pile of smoking ash because Brian Field fucked that up quite comprehensively.
They unearth Leatherslade Farm which, trained observers will notice, has not been burned to a giant pile of smoking ash
Brilliant forensic scientist DS Maurice Ray (Tim Piggott Smith) needs to bring his A-game and Butler lets him know it. Dabs and hair is what he’s after. He seems a little too fixated on finding the robber’s pubic hair. Charlie Wilson has made Ray’s job easy for him by leaving palm prints all over the joint. He can now focus on the real task in hand – adding to his private pube collection.
He can now focus on the real task in hand – adding to his private pube collection.
Roger the Florist is discovered first, lying low with pal William Blowall in Bournemouth. Boal had feck all to do with the robbery but still got 24 years, dying in prison in 1970. How we are judged by the cunt company we keep.
Boal had feck all to do with the robbery but still got 24 years, dying in prison in 1970. How we are judged by the cunt company we keep.
Roger has a brilliant explanation for the £100,000 in his possession: it’s from a man named Freddie who gave it to him. When Butler points out that this is the least convincing tale since Ian Watkins claimed AutoCorrect did him when he was supporting the Welsh coal industry (“I was saying ‘I love fucking miners'”) Roger cracks and confesses. “It’s from the train robbery!” Well, that didn’t take long.
It is the least convincing tale since Ian Watkins claimed AutoCorrect did him when he was supporting the Welsh coal industry (“I was saying ‘I love fucking miners'”)
It’s about as pathetic a display of endurance as that drama queen fraud Mos Def sticking a straw up his nose. Eventually Roger confides – he’s in huge amount of pain on account of the flat key he shoved up his arse to conceal the whereabouts of the swag. “Don’t worry Roge – you’ll get plenty of opportunities to loosen that sphincter in prison” says Butler and they all laugh at the thought of the pensioner’s late blooming homosexuality.
It’s about as pathetic a display of endurance as that drama queen fraud Mos Def sticking a straw up his nose.
It takes a while but the majority of the villains get caught, get huge disproportionate sentences and Butler gets a tiny twinge of happiness in his miserable soulless workaholic existence before dying 2 years into his retirement.
The Great Train Robbery was a thing of beauty but like most things of beauty comprised multiple moving parts all essential to the function of the whole.
The Great Train Robbery was a thing of beauty but like most things of beauty comprised multiple moving parts all essential to the function of the whole. And when one moving part was a dumb bent solicitor clerk piece of shit the aesthetic grace of its design could not save its architects from damnation. And Chris Chibnall has delivered another fine drama after Broadchurch, rounding off an excellent year for him. I don’t watch any of that Doctor Who shite. People who do are just the worst.
The verdict: I’ve got the key. I’ve got the secret. Trouble is it’s lodged. Four inches up my wrong ‘un.
Marks out of 10: 7.5