Peep Show (2003–2015): Season 7, Episode 5 - Seasonal Beatings - full transcript

# I'm not sick, but I'm not well
# And I'm so hot
# Cos I'm in hell. #
Hello. Happy Christmas.
Can I come in yet, Mark?
Yes, you can come in yet.
There, um...there wasn't anything at the end of my bed when I woke up.
It's in here.
Oh, brilliant. And you saw?
Yes, yes, you woke me at 5.30 when you came in.
I've been trying to get to sleep since 6.00
by reading about Wilson's trade union reforms, but...
Marr is so damn readable.
Shit. Sorry, dude. Ooh!
Slim but promising, Mark! Slim but promising!
Jez, what are you...?
We're going to open them in bed, aren't we?
What if our feet touch?
What if our feet touch? If our feet touch, we fuck, obviously.
Come on! Dive in! Let the festivities begin!
Wow! Jez, this is lovely.
Cognac. Wow. That's my favourite.
I know. Ooh, smells interesting!
It looks like fire-lighters, but what is it?
Fire-lighters.
In case we get a barbecue?
Outside, on the...bit.
Oh...
Right.
Roy Adkins on Trafalgar?
I heard you talking about it!
That's just tremendously thoughtful, Jeremy.
What are these?
Kitchen tongs. We need them.
You bought yourself some kitchen tongs?
Oh, and yes, I remember you getting this ScotRail sleeping mask
when you went on ScotRail overnight to Aberdeen.
Yeah. Yeah. That's right.
You know, in my family we do sort of jokey stockings.
Right. In mine we sort of try quite hard.
'He's trying to strangle my Christmas with Sellotape.'
I might save the rest.
'It's not fair. That's just aggressive generosity
'designed to make me feel bad.'
Sorry, it's just this is my first Christmas without Mum...
Cos she's sailing round the Med with Mr Potato Head. Yes, I know, Jez.
Oh, wow, so you got it in, in the end?
It's quite a specimen.
Mmm-hmm. Quite a specimen.
I thought about trimming the top off but it felt like I was
castrating Christmas, you know? Chopping Santa's bollocks off.
Sure.
You're not going to cry, are you?
I'm fine, it's just even though I'm looking at the tree,
I'm just not... I'm not getting it yet.
Horny?
Horny? Christmassy, Mark.
I'm not getting the Christmassy feeling.
Let's crank up Classic FM. Let's get our Christmas on!
Now, Sarah, if I scrape together the shortbread from Aberdeen '09
and this unread SuperFreakonomics
we can pretend I thought she'd like, even though I'm pretty sure
she'll hate it, then that's an acceptable bundle, isn't it?
Nice to have your family here for Christmas.
Well, not really. But the point is, I'm in charge!
I've launched the Christmas putsch.
I carve the turkey, I decide what veg we have. No cauliflower.
No-one else has it, it's not a tradition.
Christmas is coming home! Ding Dong Merrily on Mark!
Exactly. Right, we need to get the oven on for lunch at one.
Yeah, right! Lunch is at three.
You do presents first and then...
No, Jez. Presents after.
Then charades. Then the lull, the Low Countries, then the row,
the cold cuts, then, bang! Into a blockbuster to see you home!
But that's not my Christmas, because...
Well, that's what we're doing.
'Don't let him spoil it. Don't let him rile me.
'Not today. Not on Christmas!'
Where's the turkey, Jeremy?
What?The turkey. Where's the turkey?
I thought you were getting the turkey.
You what?
No turkey?! You fucking idiot, Jeremy!
You total fucking idiot!
That was your job, you fucking moron! You cretin!
You're a fuckhead! That's what you are! A fucking shithead!
It was a joke, Mark.
I was joking.
It was a Christmas joke.
Oh, I see. Oh.
Of course I've got a turkey. It's an organic turkey.
I took ages researching it online. It's going to be delicious.
That looks like a lovely turkey.
I'm sorry. I... flew off the handle a bit.
That wasn't very Christmassy.
No, it wasn't. I apologise.
'Wow, she's really sweaty. A lovely, sweaty Christmas gift.'
I shouldn't hang around too long. I've got to get ready
for a day out with the folks. Stomach pump for Mum.
Taser to demobilise Dad. Families!
God, yeah! The year Dad's British Aerospace shares went kaput,
he said we couldn't afford an M&S Christmas pudding,
but Mum bought a secret one and steamed it in the garage.
We would've got away with it, but he smelt it on Sarah's breath
and wouldn't talk to us till Boxing Day.
God. Dads!
Huh! Yeah. Right.
So... Happy Christmas!
Oh, wow...
Thanks.
Happy Christmas.
It's just a little thing. I did get you another thing
but the stupid thing didn't arrive in time.
Oh. Right.
It is gold.
Oh! Well, that sounds nice.
Can't go wrong with precious metals,
cos when civilisation collapses, I can use it to barter
my way out of sexual assaults!
Ha! Exactly!
'Probably take the gold, then shoot her.'
Oh, right, yeah.
FlashForward box set.
It's meant to be amazing. Shall we do it this week?
Sure, it's just...
we watched all the Losts and they were... somewhat OK.
And Heroes had some interesting themes,
but also quite a lot of not so interesting themes.
And Prison Break - by the end I very much felt I wanted to break
out of the prison that Prison Break had become for us...
and it's just... don't you think, maybe we should...go out?
Where to?
To...not the theatre, obviously.
But...the National Army Museum?
You'd rather go to the National Army Museum than stay in bed
and watch FlashForward and drink brandy? Are you bonkers?
Dobby, where do you see yourself in five years?
I mean, for example, would you want to learn sailing at all? Or golf?
I wouldn't mind getting a strap-on and you and me spit-roasting
Cameron for the Boden catalogue.
Is that the sort of thing you have in mind?
She is great. But where does it end?
PHONE RINGS
With us sailing the Caribbean, checking our pension pot online?
Or much more likely, trying to scrape a living on pub quiz machines
from our vast knowledge of popular culture and bar snacks?
Oh, man!
What?
My sister's car's broken down.
She got to my Mum and Dad in Lancaster but they're stuck at Charnock Richard.
Oh, shit.
I'm not going to the Dorchester to eat Christmas lunch on my own
like a millionaire madwoman.
Hmm.
'Should invite her to stay here...
'And I've missed the moment.
'Right there. Missed it.'
'I'm already going to have a nervous breakdown with my family
'and "Tiny Tim" Jeremy and the turkey.
'Why add a dangerous unstable chemical into the mix?
Kitchen tongs?
Oh, yeah! Two for one.
Right, well...
Listen, I guess I should saddle up and ride back to my place.
'If I can just get through the next seconds ignoring
'the mounting social pressure.'
I'll see if Mr Patel has any turkeys,
which obviously, he definitely won't.
'Pressure...building... to intolerable levels!'
Dobby.
Yeah?
I assume you're staying for lunch?
Right...you didn't say.
Because I thought it was assumed.
All right, well, thanks.
I'll just jump in the shower.
Jump away!
'Could lock her in the bathroom...
'Shit, no lock on the outside.'
You are putting the little crosses in the bottoms, aren't you, Jeremy?
Yeah, course.
'Don't think I'll be bothering with that! Happy Christmas to me.'
Now, obviously this is a fucking disaster,
but Dobby's staying. For Christmas.
Right. Lovely. The more the merrier.
Exactly. The more the merrier, as they said
as another poor soul was crammed into the Black Hole of Calcutta.
Jeremy, where are the potatoes?
No idea, dude. Not my area.
But you were on turkey and veg.
Potatoes aren't veg.
Er...yes, they are.
N... Are they? I mean, they kind of are, but not really.
Well, what else are they?
Are you sure potatoes are veg?
Aren't they...not earth, but... like salt?
I mean, tomatoes are fruit and potatoes are...bread? No.
I mean, they're wheaty.
They don't go in the drawer in the fridge, so...yeah?
Jeremy, obviously, potatoes are vegetables.
Well, now you're going on about it, maybe you're right,
but they're not exactly cabbage, are they? I mean, they're brown. They're nice.
Oh, for fuck's sake!
Oh, for fuck's sake! Look, there must be potatoes. There's always potatoes.
Yes. We do have potatoes. Two potatoes.
Two? Oh, that's not enough.
I love potatoes. They're the best bit!
Everything's the best bit according to you - croissants, cava,
smoked salmon, pineapple rings, having the heating on incredibly high.
Everything all right?
Yes, everything's absolutely perfect,
apart from the fact that Jeremy has forgotten to buy any potatoes.
Well, I've got potatoes at mine.
Plus, really, for your mum and dad, I should get changed.
Oh, no need.
Yes. A nice, standard issue British woman's dress.
Welcome back. You look great.
Thanks.
Jeans. For Christmas.
At least it's not hot pants and her ironic iPood T-shirt.
That's mad, Mum! Christmas in Malta? 30 degrees! >
What do you mean, you're not having turkey?
Well, you could make it on the boat if you...
Oh, OK. Yeah.
All right. Bye. Happy Christmas!
They're having salade nicoise for Christmas.
Salade nicoise. That's not turkey.
It's not even chicken.
I'm going to have a massive drink.
'Don't break down on Christmas! Break down on Boxing Day,
'once the washing-up's done.'
I'm excited to meet your parents, Mark.
After everything you've told me, it's like they're famous.
It's like I'm gonna meet the head of IBM and... Catwoman or something.
Uh-huh.
'Incredibly wasteful peeling technique, but now is not the time.'
So, listen, Dobby. There's something I wanted to tell you.
I haven't actually happened to mention to my parents
or my sister that I'm engaged...
in a relationship.
But it's been, like, over a month.
Yeah, but it's not like I tell them every tiny detail of my life.
And I was just wondering whether today, with all the madness...
What madness?
Everything. The carrots.
Uh-huh.
..I just wonder whether we shouldn't...
Wouldn't it be simpler just to not tell them that we're going out?
Right...
I mean, we're still early days...
Uh-huh.
Not like that,
but it's been such a headache getting them here in the first place
and I don't want to feed them another shit sandwich.
Anothershitsandwich?
Not you! The whole...situation.
So I'm going to be your female friend? Your fan?
Oh, God, what am I going to do next? Set fire to the tree?
Maybe we should have salade nicoise.
Why the fuck not? Who even cares?
DOORBELL RINGS
OK. Enemy contact. This is it. Action stations, everyone.
Happy Christmas, one and all!
Hello!
Happy Christmas, Mark. I'm shattered. Can I have a glass of champagne?
Happy Christmas, Mark. I'm shattered. Can I have a glass of champagne? Of course. Cava's through there.
Cava? Oh. >
'Great. Five seconds before the first disappointment. Got that in early.'
Happy Christmas, darling.
Happy Christmas, Mark. Yup.
And you know Jeremy, obviously.
Happy Christmas, Corrigans!Ah!
And this is our...friend.
Hello.
I'm Dobby.
We...know each other.
As you do.
'It's fine. Luckily we're all English,
'so no-one's going to ask any questions.
'Thank you, centuries of emotional repression.'
Hello, Jeremy.
Hello, Sarah. Happy Christmas.
It could be.
If you play your cards right.
Urgh. Not Sarah...not again.
'Ding Dong Merrily on my dong, the Christmas elves are weeping.'
Long time no see, Mrs C. How are you doing? What have you been up to?
Oh, I just finished another play.
Oh, wow. Another one, Mum?
Yes. Another one.
Wow. You're a playwright? Brilliant. What's it about?
It's about this group of young people who are very sexually repressed,
but they become less and less repressed due to the influence >
of this wise, twinkly old Jamaican woman,
who leads them through a series of experiences.
You've got to have a Jamaican if you're going to chase the funding.
(COCKNEY ACCENT) Elf and safety, innit?
Shall we...shall we pull a cracker?
We can't do the crackers until we sit at the table!
Crackers once you sit, that's the rule!
OK. Sorry. OK, Jeremy.
I'm fine, it's just... I'm trying to feel Christmassy and...
Oh, for fudge's sake!
It's OK, Dad, the carpet's seen worse.
You Jezzed the Cava just like you Jezzed the directions, Dad!
Erm, Jezzed?
We got it from Mark, didn't we, Mark?
Oh, right. So... it's when you...?
When you get something wrong. He Jezzed it.
Total balls-up, a real Jezzing!
Right. Yeah. Yeah, that is funny.
It's a bit like being famous.
DOORBELL RINGS
I'll see who that is. Let's hope I don't Jezz it
or do a big Mark in my pants.
Happy Christmas, motherfucker.
Hans!
Hans! Have a guess what Santa's got in his sack.
Answer - a wicked big bag of sinister minister.
Oh... Happy Christmas.
Hans?
Hans? Merry Christmas, Mark.
Hans? Merry Christmas, Mark. Jeremy...
I'm not going to.
Well, don't.
Super Hans! Merry Christmas! Glass of Cava?
Don't mind if I do. Mind out, boys,
Father Spliffmas coming through.
'Great. Methadone in the mulled wine.'
What?
It's your fault.
It's not my fault, I was holding the line.
Yes, but you know him. You shouldn't know him.
Well, I'm sorry but I do know him.
'Oh. Merry migraine and a happy new stomach ulcer.'
So, what sort of line of business are you in, Super Hans?
At the moment, I take out fireplaces and so on from empty houses.
Architectural salvage.
Yeah.
And do you sell to trade or wholesale?
I sell them in pubs and that.
He's training to be an architect.
No, I'm not.
And what do you do, Dobby?
IT grunt.
And do you have a boyfriend at all?
Kind of.
I like him but sometimes he can be a bit of a jerk and so on.
Oh.
He seems cool, but really,
he can be kind of cowardly and mean and do things
and do things that humiliate me and then I think,
"Why don't you just..."
Don't say, "Fuck off."
"..Fuck off." You know?
"Just fuck off."
'Oh, this is horrible.
'She's found a way of telling me her true feelings. Sneaky.'
Happy Christmas, darling. Here we go. It's just a silly one.
Oh, socks! Nice. Thanks, Mum.
And they've got a funny...
Oh. OK.
They're a bit saucy!
'My mother is giving me socks depicting
'a sexual position I have never even attempted.
'How little she knows me.
Oi, Mrs C, answer me this...
Have you ever had a parrot?
Er, no.
It's just you look like you might enjoy a cock-a-too.
Oh! That's very cheeky, Hans.
'This is the spirit of Christmas.
'Super Hans bonking Mum doggy style in the airing cupboard.'
Here you go, Marko. Merry Christmas.
Wow. This is big, Dad, and heavy.
Oh, right, I...I see. Yeah. Great.
Yeah, this is...this is brilliant.
What is it? >
It's...it's a shredder.
It's my dad's old shredder.
But you've already got a shredder.
Why are you looking at me like that?
Like what?
Like you're trying to fry my brain with your laser vision.
'Please shut up.'So...wow.
Sarah got the cashmere jumper and the spa break
and Mark got the second-hand shredder.
What did he do wrong?
'Why did she have to say? I'm going out with a "sayer".'
'The sayers say they can't help saying, but they can!'
Apparently, if it was new,
which it nearly is, it would be roughly the same cash value.
'This is nice. I might bite my tongue off to relieve the tension.
'Give us something to talk about.
How's the cauliflower doing?
It's just resting in the shop, Dad,
due to the fact that cauliflower is not traditional.
'Didn't give him a chance to respond. Nice.
'I should try leaving the room after I say anything to him - much easier.
So, Jez, how's the...?
I don't want to talk about it, OK, Mark?
Christmas is not ruined.
It's OK, Jez.
A great deal of it is cooked.
Huge areas are cooked through.
'Fashionably rare?'
Film. Three words.
Chariots Of Fire. Next. Why always Chariots Of Fire, Mum?
It's the only one I could think of. I don't even like it. I know.
(WHISPERS) Emmanuelle.
Mum, really?
It's fun!
'Oh, God! This is horrible. And the terrible thing is
'this is the high point of the day.
'This is us allegedly having a great time.'
Film. One word.
Bruno.
Milk.
Brokeback Mountain.
Emmanuelle.
'Oh, the indignity of the public hip thrust.'
Jez, over here. I've got one for you.
Here's one... (WHISPERS) Thus Spake Zarathustra.
Excuse me?
It's a book by Nietzsche.
'Oh, great. Fucking thanks, Dan(!)'
'Thus? No. Spake? No. Zarathustra? Nope.'
But...'Fuck you, Dan.'
Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you said Chicken Run.
SHREDDER WHIRRS
I guess it is time to move to cross-cut.
My old strip-cut was probably a security risk, to be honest.
That's a real shredder, not a nancy-boy shredder.
'The office equipment homophobe...'
Happy Christmas, one and all!
Oh!
'Not so fast, old man. It's my time to carve.
'The knife has been passed down the generations.'
Er, Jeremy, the, um...
the turkey's not... entirely...cooked.
No. Carve off the bits that are cooked and leave the rest.
That's what carving's for.
Then we will put the carcass under the grill.
Ooh, what's wrong with my knife?
Is that hot knives?
What's a hot knife?Nothing.
Looks like it's been hot-knifed.
Sorry about that. There you go.
You get a blim of hash and get it between two really hot knives
and then honk it up through a bottle or something.
I think.
Ha-ha.
Next up, we'll be learning how to inject heroin into our armpits!
'Oh, God. Foot in the crotch. This isn't very Nat King Cole.
'But I'm getting a hard-on anyway, like the horny Christmas elf I am.
'How pathetic.'
It's nice. I think Pam and I'll take a break till after lunch, Hans.
Isn't that right, darling?
Isn't that right, darling? If you say so.
Have these sprouts been done properly?Yes.
I can't see any little crosses in their bottoms.
They're definitely there.Yep.
'Definitely not. Truth and reconciliation commission after this.
'Full inquiry. Saville, not Hutton.'
Well, that piece was definitely cooked. Delicious, Jeremy.
Thank you, Pam.
'Maybe it's going to be OK.'
Mmm! Mmm!
This gravy is tickety-boo.
Maybe a bit too thick for your mother.
She likes her liquids highly diluted.
'Nope. We're fucked.'
Oh, for God's sake, Dad.What?
Mum wanted to become a homeopath,
but according to Dad, the family couldn't afford it.
I know it's not normal, but we could put the TV on while we eat...
We couldn't afford for her to become a magic water wizard, I'm sorry.
It was just a fad.
It was a great deal more than a fad.
Mm! Yum! Jeremy may have let us down a bit with the turkey
but he's redeemed himself with this delicious bread sauce.
You had enough to buy a sports car.
Carl would've sold that MG for scrap.
Don't bring the MG into it. You don't know what you're talking about.
Ratatouille is on in a minute. It's meant to be amazing.
Fair play, it is fucking good.
Second-hand MG? Got to be a couple of grand.
It was a good deal on a good car, Missy.
So, Dobby, have you had any good Christmas presents this year?
Well, my boyfriend bought me some kitchen tongs...
'Two for one. Nice work, Uncle Scrooge.'
That wasn't the only present he got you, was it, Dobby, as I recall?
Oh, yeah, he bought me something else, gold, but it's in the post.
Oh, dear.
Look, I'm sure Dobby's boyfriend could have strolled into an Argos
and got a bog standard bracelet from a spotty Saturday girl,
but maybe he wanted to get something a little bit special.
Something with an inscription that would make it extra special,
but also would unexpectedly delay delivery.
That's just one of a number of possibilities, right,
so shall we all just lay off him?
Hello.
Touched a nerve?
Something's afoot.
Shall I see if I can winkle it out with my winkle-pickers?
'Fuck you, Poirot.'
Look, I'm the bracelet bastard.
Oh!
Dobby's my girlfriend. All right?
Sorry I didn't mention it before, but we're an item and she's great
and it's going really well, and she may appear to you "norms"
like a bit of a freak, but I don't care.
'He shoots, he scores, he calls his team-mate a freak.'
Right.
Now, where's the cauliflower?
Cauliflower is not traditional.
Cauliflower is traditional!
I don't know if it really is traditional, actually.
Could you not slip a muzzle on your woman, please, Mark?
'I notice I'm not saying anything.'
Ahhhh...
'Still not saying anything.
'Nothing coming.
You'll have to excuse me. Thank you. This has all been horrible.
How about Pictionary after lunch?
We're not playing bleeding Pictionary. It's a made-up game.
Dobs...I'm going.
I'm going to fuck off to the Dorchester. Want to come or not?
I'm sorry. I can't. They're my parents.
Look, stay. I'll grow some balls later, OK? And a backbone.
We can have backbone and ball stew all Boxing Day.
You can't just leave. What... what am I going to tell them?
Tell them I got sectioned or had some violent masturbating to do.
'Probably believe it.'
(What do you say, Jeremy? Shall we do it?)
(It'd be so naughty.)
(They'll be next door having turkey and we'll be there, quietly humping.)
But, Sarah, it's Christmas.
So? What, are you religious now, or something?
Do you believe in Jesus?
No, course I don't believe in Jesus, but I do believe in Christmas.
I'm a Christmasist.
'Wow, I did it! I resisted something for something else.
'That was...something.'
Hey, Mark, guess what! I was just offered sex and I turned it down!
Oh, well, congratulations.
I did it for Father Christmas.
'Look at him. He probably thinks Father Christmas died for our sins.
We heard the door. What happened?
Dobby's...gone.
Good riddance to bad rubbish. You can do a lot better than that, Marko.
Well, no, actually, because she's great and thanks to you I'm a dick,
so I was punching well above my weight.
Pass me some of that ham, will you?
I think it's the only meat on the table unlikely to kill me.
Allow me. 'You want ham? Well, you're going to get ham.
'See how you like this ham.'
SHREDDER WHIRRS
What the hell do you think you're doing?
Thought you liked your ham shredded.
Mark! Think what it's doing to the mechanism.
It's fine, Dad.
Somebody stop him, he's gone totally mad.
Hello, Christmas movie.
Right, very well.
I'm making myself some cauliflower.
'Uh-oh. Is Daddy coming to get me?
'No, I've won! It's festive Festen!
'Hakuna Matata! I'm the new Lion King!'
Right, Hans, pour my mother a massive drink.
Jeremy, turn on Ratatouille.
Sarah, crack open the Pictionary.
Merry ChristMark, everyone!
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