Green Wing (2004–2007): Season 1, Episode 6 - Tests - full transcript

Whilst Caroline tries to remember what happened at her party Mac fails an interview for promotion and Martin has to sit his exams for the hundredth time. After having sex with Alan Joanna worries that she is pregnant and goes for a test but her results are confused with those of Harriet from Human Resources,who is pregnant - again. Alan is relieved when the truth is explained but Joanna dumps him anyway,causing him to steal a milk float in his anger.

I reckon I'd be ready.
I could take him... Oh, shit!

Forgot the blower thing.

- (boy ) Are you married?
- She's still looking for '"the one'".

(girl) She could be your one.

- Aaagh!
- What?

That's the girl dying horribly in the fire.
You took too long. Burnt to a crisp.

They don't ask questions like that.

- Funky.
- Funkay.

- Funkaaay!
- Funky!

I know exactly how...
slightly older you are.

- Oh, happy birthday, Mum.
- Yep.



- Oh, you're lovely.
- No, I'm not.

Oh, sorry, sorry.
Oh, sorry.

GREEN WING
Episode 6: Tests

Just me?

We can only do one at a time.

Er, can I have a chair?

We can have one brought in,
but most people don't need one.

Won't bother, then.
Won't bother.

When did you realise
you were in the wrong exam room?

When did you realise
you were in the wrong exam room?

Well, quite early on, but then I thought
I was in a dream I once had,

and that if I kept dancing, one of you would
turn into Michaela Strachan and kiss me.

Has this ever happened before?

Actually... (voice slows ) surprisingly often.



(alarm beeping)

(alarm off)

Yes!

- I like your trousers. They new?
- Yeah.

I shouldn't have worn them in the rain.
They're heavy now.

- Makes your thighs look really tiny.
- Do they?

Yeah.

Ah, morning, morning, my sweet.
You're looking as glorious as ever.

Do shut it, Alan.
I'm feeling queasy as it is.

Morning, ladies.

Do you know how long it is
since I've eaten carbohydrate?

Yeah, all right, Lord of the Dance,
what's the... Which midget are you playing?

- Look, I'm nervous, OK?
- What are you scared about, Marty?

Oh, failing my exams again and everyone I
know realising I'm a loser and always will be,

and losing any self-esteem I ever had
and beating myself for the rest of my life!

- Oh, fair enough.
- Still, everyone feels like that about exams.

- Er, no, not me.
- Why not?

Ooh, let me think. Is it because
exams are easy-peasy, lemon squeezy?

Or is it because I'm brilliant?

It's both!

The Secretans have never been at home to
self-doubt. I've no idea what you're feeling.

Well, it's bloody horrible.

Erm, Martin...

- What?
- Nothing.

Examinations!

Examinat-ah-ha-ha-ions!

Examinations,
that's what you need

If you wanna fail the test,
if you wanna be depressed

Wo-ho!
Examinations are what you need

If you wanna be a record failure
Ye-aaah!

Stop flirting with me.

A-ha. It's the brave explorer returning
from the uncharted regions of drunkenness.

No, no, stop saying words.

OK. We could try Morse,
but I don't know any.

- Interesting new walk you've got.
- Invisible hangover hat.

- Do what now?
- Above my head is an invisible hangover hat.

You can't see it.

So if I straighten up, I will be wearing the
invisible hangover hat and then I will be sick.

- I assume you've taken painkillers.
- I want something stronger.

- I assume you've taken painkillers.
- I want something stronger.

- I want the stuff you use... to kill people.
- I'm saving all that for Guy.

Why are you all right?
How can you be all right?

- Because I am the chosen one.
- No, why really?

Because I didn't drink
Guy's ethanol punch.

- OK, let's have a look at this hat.
- Wait, no. Too much movement.

Whoa! OK, I'm swapping your hangover hat

for my '"I knew when I'd had enough'" hat.

There we go. Now...

Thank you.

Again.

Mac, look, erm, about last night,

I just wanted to say,
look, I need to clear up...

Exam boy! When's kickoff?

Two o'clock. I just need a place
to do some last-minute cramming.

- Right. Good plan.
- See you later, loud people.

Martin, I like your tail.

Well! Caroline likes my arse.

- Yeah. Yeah, that'll help.
- Wow.

- How you feeling?
- Oh, Jesus, I forgot for a minute.

Only exams. Lighten up.

Oh, no!

- Oh, I'm pregnant!
- What?

- I'm pregnant.
- What, again? Have you done a test?

- No, I just know.
- How can you just know?

I can sense it. It's in there
and it's another boy.

I don't think it's possible for someone
to just know they're pregnant. Rach?

- No way.
- Oh, it is. There's a low-level nausea,

accompanied strangely by this
overwhelming desire to eat fatty foods.

Total lethargy, like you've had 15 Mogadon
or been involved in a road-traffic accident.

On the plus side, your boobs swell,
but they're too tender for anyone to touch,

and you're snappy -
bit like a Jack Russell, but bigger!

I trust you're all focused on
the day's workload, everyone.

Or are you just tossing your one brain cell
around the room as usual, hm? Thickos.

(barks )

D'you know what I like about you?

Fuck all.

- So, weren't you using anything?
- Oh, yes, we're just unlucky with condoms.

They always come off and we never find them.
Unless the cat's there, then he finds them.

One night last week Ian was on
the home brew and it disappeared,

and I keep hoping it's going to pop out
any day, but it hasn't.

If a man's had too much to drink,
the spermatozoa isn't strong.

What do you know about sperm?

I had some on my skirt once, on the Tube.
It was a pencil skirt, too.

- Done a test?
- You can't get pregnant from it on a skirt.

- Not you!
- No, I just know. It'd be a waste of money.

Here.

I'll take it to the Path Lab.
I'm a regular, so you won't have to pay.

- Just fill that.
- I've just been.

23, 24, 25, 26...

Fuck, shit!

Fucking shit!

Oh, shit, fuck, bollocks!

- Caroline, excuse me, can I have a word?
- Yeah, of course.

Erm, in private, if that's OK?

Er, yep.

Maybe I should have waited.

It's just that it's been bugging me
and getting me annoyed,

and I don't want to get all stressed out
and angry cos it makes me look ugly.

What is it? Have I upset you?

What is it? Have I upset you?

- Are you wearing my pants?
- What?

My white tanga briefs. They're plain cotton,
not sexies, but they're my cute sportsies.

- No, I haven't got them.
- Ah, because I think you have.

I put them in the drier, but they were
gone today when I came to iron them.

- You iron your pants?
- Of course.

So if you could return them,
I'll say no more about it.

But I haven't taken them.

You're wearing them now, aren't you?

Caroline, you let your dirty washing stack up,
you were desperate for a fresh pair.

I understand, but it's the principle, you see.
It's theft.

I will not wear them after your vagina
has been in them - I'll burn them -

but I want what is legally mine.

- Shut up!
- What?

I haven't taken your pants,
I wouldn't want to. Stop being so anal.

Give me back my pants.
Don't make me get cross.

You see, you've obviously got something
to hide. Give me back my pants.

Yes, I have died and gone to heaven.
Females fighting over their pants.

- They'll rip each other's clothes off.
- I've got a semi.

What's wrong with you?
I'm like a flagpole.

Come on, ladies. Come on, come on.
Whoa, whoa, whoa!

She's wearing my pants.
She wants to be me!

- I'm not. You wear children's clothes!
- Mac, set them free, let them fight!

- Gently, gently, gently.
- You are mad. Look!

Ooh!

Why don't you try asking your boyfriend?
He looks the type to wear girls' pants.

Oh, I'm sorry, Caro.

I'll make it up to you.
I'll-I'll-I'll buy you lunch!

I'm late. I'm fucking late!

That's your prerogative.
You're the boss.

No, idiot!
Feel my breasts.

Oh, my beautiful, demanding Aphrodite.
You are so exciting when you want me.

- Well?
- Well, what?

Do they feel different?

Well, Mimi's slightly weightier
than Charlotte, but I...

Dear God, I'm late!
I may need you to get me something.

What, a taxi?

You must be a reasonably intelligent man
or they wouldn't let you work in a hospital.

Thank you.
Nice to know somebody's on my side.

But there are times
when you can appear remarkably thick.

- I don't understand.
- There! How can you not understand that?

I understand you think I'm thick,
but I don't understand why.

I have an IQ of 139, I'm a member of Mensa,
I can sing '"Baa Baa Black Sheep'" in Latin.

- I'm just not sure you should have children.
- I haven't got any children.

- That's what you think.
- No, I have no children.

Well, there's a grave danger
of you having one soon, all right?

(yelps )

OK, thank you, Claudette.

To what are the French referring
when they speak of a woman's cassoulet?

- Erm, her make-up bags.
- Wrong.

- Sacks. Erm, very large baskets.
- Utterly, utterly wrong.

The sortilege of odours
emanating from a woman

- is known as her cassoulet.
- What?

The smell of her perfume mingling with
her skin, her bodily fluids, her shampoo,

- which all come together to make...
- A dirty, minging woman.

- Trust the French to make it sound romantic!
- Eight to one! Thank you.

- Bow down to the master.
- Shush.

OK, I'll give you an easy one.

- Who wrote Paradise Lost?
- We said no book questions. Am I a girl?

- Yes, but I'll tell you anyway...
- It's irrelevant to the quiz and mankind.

- John Milton.
- Thank you. Next contestant, please.

Well, what an absolute tragedy there.

By posing an illegal question,
he loses ten points.

So another handsome victory for the young
anaesthetist, by one point to minus two.

Get in!

I love your cassoulet.

(sniffs )

- What is it?
- Ooh, straw-coloured liquid in a sample pot.

- We work in a hospital.
- Oh, is it wee?

- Oh, come on, come on.
- I need a name.

Big, geeky, nerdy twat face.

I need a name for the sample.

It's for a friend,
who wishes to remain anonymous.

Is that going to cause problems
in your weird techno brain?

No, but usually
we go on the roof and shout,

'"Pregnancy test results for the lanky bitch
who's not taken precautions

in her 40-odd years on this planet!'"

Assuming that your friend is quite lanky.

Er, Harriet Schulenburg.

- Sure?
- Yes, quite sure.

- How you spelling Schulenburg?
- Any way you like.

You've got to sign.

Don't leave, I think I love you!

- Yes?
- I just wanted to say,

I'm sorry about what happened at my party -
you know, the thing.

- Thing? What thing exactly?
- Yeah, the thing.

The, erm, the incident between you and me.

- We had an incident?
- Yeah, a sort of lip-on-lip incident.

Yeah, accident possibly.

- Oh, that. Yeah, yeah, no.
- I'm sorry.

- That's all right.
- No, it isn't. The thing is I don't like you.

- I was wondering why you'd done it.
- We were close together, I lost my balance

and we ended up quite close together
with our mouths open. It was an error.

- No.
- It was.

No, I mean, that's not, er, how we ended up
together. That's not... It wasn't me.

No, I mean, that's not, er, how we ended up
together. That's not... It wasn't me.

- It was, it was.
- No, that's how you ended up kissing Guy.

I kissed Guy?

Yes, in the hall.

- We kissed in the loo.
- No, no, that was Sue White.

- I kissed Sue White?
- No, I kissed Sue White.

- You kissed Sue White?!
- Possibly.

Blimey! You kissed Sue White
and you don't remember us in the toilet?

No. Well, no, but hang on. First you say
you don't remember any kissing at all,

and now you're saying there was
kissing in the toilet. Which one is it?

Kissing in the toilet?

Yes, er, who sang
'"Kissing in the Toilet'" in 1978?

- Er, was it a young George Michael?
- Yes.

Fucking hell!
That was a guess!

Kissing in the toilet

Don't flush, it's lush

Any internal mail for Harriet,
give it to me first, OK?

Yeah, OK. Why?

- Because, erm, hate mail.
- What?

She's been getting hate mail, death threats,
so I need to intercept her mail first.

- Why does she get death threats?
- Isn't it obvious?

No.

I can't think of a single reason
why anyone wouldn't want to kill her.

There you are. There you are.

- Something wrong, Dr Statham?
- No, just overseeing.

- Hello, how are you?
- Not so...

Good. Good. Alan Statham, consultant,
radiology and imaging.

Just keeping an eye on my flock.
Let's have a look.

Could be a little bit sharper.
Back off a bit.

Yes, yes, a baby is there.

A tiny little... tiny baby.

You are there, aren't you?
Yes, you are. Yes, you are.

What are you going to be when you grow up?
A radiologist like your Uncle Alan, are you?

Is it a tickly moustache?

You shall have a fishy on a little dishy,
you shall have a fishy when the boat comes in

Here comes the fog horn.
(blows a raspberry )

You are a lovely little boy. You are a lovely
little boy. Yes, you are. Oh, yes, you are.

Oh, you are, you are,
you are, you are, you are.

It's a very... That's good, well done.
And, you, well done.

Where's he gone?
In you go, on with your work.

Right...

What would happen
if I didn't pass my exams this time?

- If?
- What would happen to my position?

- Look, this isn't a good time, Martin.
- That's so unfair.

Yeah, life's unfair. Go and run along
and pretend to do some doctory stuff, eh?

- Oh, come on, Mum.
- Don't you ever say that word.

Sorry.

Nothing will ensure you are turfed out of this
hospital quicker than saying that out loud.

Is that what you want, hm?

It's up to you. You just have to say the word.
We had a deal, remember?

Sorry, but it's just...
it's really hard cos I love you.

Shush, shush, shush.

- And I know deep down you love me, too.
- Oh, be quiet.

- I know you pretend to be ashamed of me.
- No, it's quite genuine.

Well, underneath I know you've got some
mother's pride. And I don't mean the bread.

Get out!

I love you, I always will,
and you can't change that.

Shall I come back later?

Yeah. Dr Dear was just telling me
what a patient had said to him earlier today.

A psychiatric patient, obviously.

Pick it up! Go on!

Come on, come on, come on!

Get out, Mummy, go on.

(knock at door)

Hang on a minute.

Come.

- Just tugging the squirrel.
- What?

- Just tugging the squirrel.
- What?

Now, what can I do for you, Dr Trodd?

Although I suspect I know you
well enough now to call you Caroline.

Yes, well, that's what I've come about -
the incident at my party.

- The, the, erm, the...
- The?

- The...
- The what, dear?

Well, the...

You know when you left and we were
in the doorway and you... and you... and we...

- Is that what you mean?
- Yes.

Yes, well, the thing is, I...
Oh, God!

The thing is, I didn't want there to be
any awkwardness or misunderstandings.

There's none.
I've no problem with it. Do you?

- No.
- Good.

Good. Glad we cleared that up, then.

- Fine. Well, I'll be off then.
- Yeah, bye then.

- All right, fucker?
- Not bad, bitch!

What's with the leg shit?
Looking for a sympathy shag?

Might be, might've been shot.
Good party at the weekend.

- Oh, were you there?
- Oh, yeah.

- Get hold of anyone?
- Just some treacle with top tits.

You know what you need? You need a system.
I used mnemonics when I was revising.

Me too.
Take the bones of the head, right?

Frontal, parietal, occipital,
zygomatic, sphenoid,

- temporal, maxilla, mandible, vomer, nasal.
- How did you remember that?

I just took a simple phrase where the words
begin with the same letters as the bones.

- OK.
- Go on then, what is it?

Foreign Politicians Often Zing

Stereotypical Tunes,

Mayday, Mayday, Venezuela, Neck.

(moaning)

- You've said that.
- Have I? Sorry.

Did I tell you I'm never, ever
going to drink again?

What did you do before alcohol
became the centre of your universe?

Homework.

You know what you really need to do?
Go for a walk.

- Where to?
- I don't really care, just stop whining.

Relax, relax, yeah.
Breathe. Try it again.

Erm, French Poli...

- Foreign Politicians!
- Foreign Politicians Often Zing...

No, it's gone.
Erm, I know it begins with an S and a T.

Hang on. How do you know
it began with an S and then a T?

Because it begins with the same letters
as the bones -

sphenoid, erm, maxilla,
mandible, vomer, nasal.

- Er, Stereotypical, Stereotypical!
- Yes, yes, yes!

You see, just think of the bones
and the phrase'll come back.

Brilliant! Erm, yes.

The bones will...

- Sorry, Mac.
- All right?

Yeah, I've got it. It's fine.

It'll be fine.

- We'll do the leg later.
- OK.

- That's how I remembered your name.
- What?

- Massively Annoying Chap.
- Massively Annoying Chap?

- Yeah, Mac.
- Hmm, hmm.

I was going to say Massively Annoying...

- That was it though, wasn't it?
- Hello.

I didn't realise I'd just turned into Uri Geller.
I'll adjust my mind-reading psychic antennae.

The full list of those I had lip contact with.
You, possibly. Guy. And Sue White, possibly.

Yeah, that's it,
if you don't count Martin.

I kissed Martin? Oh, no...

- Oh, yes, I did. Oh, God! Am I a slut?
- Yes.

- Oh, God!
- No, it's fine, it's absolutely fine.

How can it be fine?

Because you were a pissed slut.

Ah!

Thanks.

Whereas in radionuclide scanning,

the radioactive substance injected into
the body emits what kind of rays, anyone?

- Er, gamma.
- Precisely.

Gamma rays, which produce images of -
I'm having a baby -

and can be expressed in numerical form.

Tiny, pink, little baby.

Moving on to diagnostic preferences
in, let's say soft-tissue trauma...

Who's the daddy?

I think you'll find that I am the daddy.

Ooh!

Adios.

You wanted internal mail for Harriet?

Yeah, yeah, yeah, thanks, Kimmy.
Yeah, that's all, thanks.

Hm, you haven't got many e-mails,
have you?

Ooh!

- Coconut macaroons?
- Eczema.

Ah...

- Another internal mail for Harriet.
- She can have it.

- I thought it might be a death threat.
- What? No, shouldn't think so.

Oh, well, no, there was a death threat, but
then they rang up and said they were sorry

and they weren't going to do it any more.
So that's good, isn't it? Yeah, yeah, yeah.

I need a hand.
I've got a squealer in cubicle four.

Yep.

Seriously!

Yes! It's negative!
I'm not. Yeah!

Booze.

(screaming)

(crashing)

(glass smashing)

- Not gone to the gallows yet, then?
- No!

I'm trying to think of a mascot to take.

Erm... Right, I've decided on Mr Ratty.

Oh, my God, you're a child.

- Plague carrier.
- Shit! I didn't think of that.

- Yeah, well, lucky Uncle Guy is here. Next?
- Erm, Lord Chisel-tooth.

- Jesus!
- A hard-working, industrious, social animal.

No, builds dams, yeah,
blocks off the flow of inspiration.

You'll be in the exam room
trying to think of the proper word for leg

and you'll dry up -
all because of your poor mascot choices.

What, you can't... you just...
What is the proper word for leg?

- Can't tell you that.
- Thank Christ I've got B.

What's he called, Emperor Bumble Wank?
Buzzy Buzzy Penis?

No, he's called B, right?
And this is the clever bit: just the letter B.

Hive worker, doesn't stand out from
the crowd, short life span and sterile.

Oh, Christ, I need a mascot!

Da-dah. Clean, orderly, a blank sheet.

- It doesn't even have a name.
- Yes, it does.

Captain Wipey.

Don't fold your mascot!
That's really bad luck.

Leave them!

Where have you been? Shouldn't you be
in theatre? I've been looking for you.

Here, no, and you've found me.
It's your turn to hide.

Erm, I don't think
we've quite finished our chat.

If you're looking for more names for your
roll call of conquests, actually I am quite busy.

Oh, are you in trouble or something?

Not yet, no, but if you must know,
I'm here for an interview.

Oh? Interview for what?

Consultancy vacancy. Preliminary only,
internal post, so nothing major.

Wow! I had no idea. Nobody said.

Nobody knows.

Sorry. Right, well,
I guess now is not the moment.

- No.
- Is casual all right?

Casual's good cos it's really about how good
you are at the job, not about how you dress.

And I think wearing suits
displays a certain lack of imagination.

- Right.
- Yeah.

- Well, good luck.
- Thank you.

- You going in with your hair like that?
- Like what?

- Nothing. Good luck.
- Yeah.

- Dr Macartney.
- Sue White, can I ask you a quick question?

Yes, of course.

Erm, my hair, does it look OK?

Yeah. A lion's mane
has never looked so free.

- Thank you.
- You're welcome.

- Could I borrow that hair thingy?
- My whaty?

Clippy thing you put in your hair.
It's an emergency.

Well, OK then, but I want you to know,
I don't let the squirrel out for just anybody.

- Thank you.
- Knock yourself out.

- What do you think?
- Yeah, lovely. Just give it a bit of a tidy.

- There we are, just stick that in.
- Thank you.

- Right. Thank God for the dead box.
- Yes.

- There.
- How do I look?

Excellent.
Yes, d'Artagnan, the big musketeer.

Great. You are a life-saver.
Thank you very much.

- OK.
- Dr Macartney?

- That's me, thank you. Great. Wish me luck.
-Good luck, good luck.

- Just try not to turn side on.
- OK.

Hello, there. Hi.

Would it be OK to x-ray my penis?
I think I might have dislocated it.

- Get out!
- No, really.

Get out!

I'm sorry, everyone. It seems that Harriet's
mistaken this office for a children's party.

Shall I call the medics,
or would someone stab her for me?

Shall I call the medics,
or would someone stab her for me?

It's OK, she's just had a bit of good news.

She thought she was pregnant. She just got
the lab results back and it's negative.

- She had a pregnancy test done today?
- Yeah.

- A real one?
- What do you mean?

I mean, here, today?

Yes.

That's not how you spell Schulenburg.

Fan-bloody-tastic!

Oh, Harriet, erm, the lab just sent this
up for you. It's marked '"Urgent'".

I'm afraid I opened it by mistake,
and, er, congratulations!

Right, ladies and gentlemen,
you may turn over your papers and begin.

- Yes?
- I haven't asked the question yet.

- Yes.
- Is the answer?

- What?
- Is yes the answer?

- Is the question?
- But is yes the answer? Take a gamble.

- I don't know, is it?
- Take a gamble.

- No.
- No is the answer?

No is the answer.
Yes is never the answer.

- So no is the answer?
- No is the answer.

So if I were to say are you going to ever
have sex with any other man apart from me,

then your answer is no?

Do you want to have sex with me?
I mean, do you want to just fuck me now?

Do you want to do that? Do you want to
just get your cock out and fuck me now?

How about that, yeah?

Shall we?
Here, on the table?

Yeah, how about whopping it up my arse?
What about that, Mr Secretan?

Yeah, how about whopping it up my arse?
What about that, Mr Secretan?

Doctor. Mister. Yeah?

One above, Doctor.
How about that, yeah?

Mr Secretan whopping it up
Staff Liaison's arse.

So wipe yourself down and come back
and tell me what you think about that. OK?

- I'm not sure I can stand up.
- No. Well, I'll leave for a few moments.

OK.

- Could you shut the door?
- Yeah.

No, thank you, thank you very much.

- Fuck!
- What?

- You look like a doll.
- What you talking about? This is regulation.

- Where at, St Augustine's Girls' School?
- No, here. Did you not get... No.

No. How was the, erm, interview?

Not sure. I might have used the words '"job'",
'"stick'", '"up'" and '"arse'" all in one sentence.

Is that a bad thing?

Well, I think tone of voice is very important.

Is it, is it? Damn. Shit. If you'll excuse me,
I have some patients to see.

Yeah.

Hi.

What's this, in the bar
in the middle of the day?

- Yeah, celebrating.
- Yeah, lots to celebrate.

- Yeah, vodka, double.
- Er, no, Mummy, I think not.

- Stick to the mineral water.
- Why?

- We want to do what's best.
- Yeah, double vodka, pronto. I'm gagging.

No, come on, let's look after
the unborn Statham minor. Give it to me.

- What?
- No, give it, give it...

- Never mind, no, never mind.
- Oh, sweet Jesus! Didn't you get my text?

It's not me who's pregnant.
It's Harriet Schulenburg.

What? Har...
Harriet is having my baby?

Oh, please! She's upset enough.
That'd be enough to tip her over the edge.

- We're not?
- No, no, false alarm.

I was a bit windy this morning,
got my knockers in a twist over nothing.

What's all this bollocks, then?
Has somebody died?

(bursts into laughter)

God!

God!

No, no, never mind, never mind.
We'll just have to, we'll just have to try again.

- Is that one of your jokes?
- No, it'll be good for our relationship to...

Hang on a minute. Hang on a minute.
You and me are not an item.

Never have been, never will be.
What you got to say about that then, eh?

I.

- What?
- You and I are not an item, not you and me.

Listen to I.
I not in a relationship with you no more.

- Ah, at least you admit it's a relationship.
- Yeah, was.

Well, all right, I see, OK.

And remember, if you ever
want to talk about this, you know,

pick over the good times and the bad
so you can learn from it,

please, please, please don't come to me.

Oh, dear.

- Oh, here she comes.
- Forgot my fags.

- Right.
- Get your dumped mitts off my tits!

- I don't want to...
- Stop it.

- I'm not going to...
- Get off!

- No one can see.
- Get off!

- I'm not going to. Please...
- Alan!

No one can see. Please...

Sorry.

Please! Please stay.

(mouths )

So now that I might remember our kiss
that did or did not take place,

but say that it did, what was it like?
Don't hold back, just tell me what it was like.

It was... average, yeah.

Oh.

I remember we were
both standing on the scales

and you were looking down a lot saying,
'"Oh, my God, I think I've put on 12 stone!'"

That was a little bit off-putting.

But the kiss,
how did that happen, for God's sake?

Kiss, the kiss...
Yeah, I remember that.

Er, you had your head
over the loo like this,

and then you came up like this
and then you turned round and I was there.

I was on the floor next to you,
stroking your hair.

A time-honoured means of
preventing sickness.

I remember you had your hand on my cheek
like this, and then...

- Then I looked into your eyes?
- Yeah, and then I looked into your eyes.

There was a lot of looking going on.

Yes. And then I kissed you,
clearly not on purpose.

- Clearly.
- And then you kissed me back.

And then I kissed you back,
erm, equally accidentally.

- And then?
- And then...

And then I left.

Well, I was totally wasted,
otherwise why would I have kissed you?

- Yeah, exactly.
- I must have been totally wankered.

Totally, totally.
I guess, I guess.

Hello.

Hello. Can I help you?

Well, Joanna says you're to stop ringing her
and she meant what she said.

Oh, about what?

About how she doesn't want
to go out with you any more.

Hmm?

It's not a joke,
Joanna told me to tell you.

What were her reasons?

She said you'd ask.
She said to say boredom.

She said the only reason she went out
with you was because she was bored,

and, well, she's still bored.

You're boring.

Right. You may leave.

- I'm very sorry.
- No, don't be nice.

OK.

Bye then.

- Perhaps you should call it a day.
- Aday? Is that for a boy or a girl?

No, you should go home,
stop thinking about it.

Oh, sorry, my brain's a bit squidgy.

- I was up five times in the night.
- Kids?

No, I was just really hungry.

- See you.
- Bye.

So if you're using a handgun, you do not
want to aim here - no guarantee of death.

Bullet in the auditory cortex, forget your Dolby
and NICAM stereo, prefrontal cortex wrecked.

It's porridge, rubber pants and
an exploitative documentary on Channel 4.

- So you would use a...?
- Magnum.

Ice cream. Could be a bit messy.

No, tosspot, a Magnum gun. Probably
the most powerful handgun in the world.

Imagine. That baby's got a kick on it
like a fat girl in heels.

But it's easy to miss,
so where would you aim?

I would aim obviously for the brain,
which in your case would be here.

- Womankind would applaud me.
- They wouldn't. They'd kill you with hoovers.

What about up the nose?

The bullet has gone in further,
but it's survivable - you're a veg.

No, what you need to take out
the cerebral cortex is...

No, what you need to take out
the cerebral cortex is...

- A hair cut.
- No, a shotgun,

held under the throat.
And slash!

Bang! Or have you now
swapped the shotgun for a sword?

Yeah, bang, slash, blam, whatever.

Listen, Martin, you can either do it my way
or you can be wrong.

- (mutters )
- What?

- Crisp?
- No.

Sod off, you Jezebel whores!

Go on, you slutty tarts!

Go on with your
slitty, slutty, slitty, slutty slots!

Go on, sod off!
You're all the bloody same!

- Put the gun down.
- The midget'll get it.

- I said put the gun down.
- Is this a ginger/dwarf alliance?

I'm not a dwarf.

There's a dirty Jezebel!
Right, you two dirty-whore bitches!

Right, I can see you, you dirty sluts!

Come here. I'll get you!

What in God's...
Off to a nunnery!

You slutty tarts! Go on.

I'll blow his brains out when I find them.

You're all the same, with your filthy bras
and your pants and your peepholes.

..slutty panties.
And you haven't even got a cock!

You haven't even got a cock!

You whores! You dirty...
Ow! Bloody bumpy bastards!

Visiontext Subtitles:
Natasha Cohn