Two Pints of Lager and a Packet of Crisps (2001–2011): Season 8, Episode 8 - Keep on Running - full transcript
Despite Tim's assurances that they are both too good for Gaz,Janet and Donna give him a deadline to...
I wanted to compliment you
on your beautiful eyes. I'm Scott.
Janet's in hospital?
Not now, she's at home, kicking off.
She got moody when
I told her I'd been shagging you.
You might want to go out?
Yeah, I think I might.
I know you slept with Gaz.
I will not be letting my hole
rule my head any longer.
I want to talk to you,
I want to apologise.
Sowwy!
It's make your mind up time and
there will be no going back after this.
It's up to you, Gaz.
So, who's it going to be?
♪ Hey, Mr Bartender, give me a drink
♪ I want a cold, wet glass
with bubbles in it
♪ And that doesn't mean I can't
handle anything stronger now
♪ Just think I'll wait a while
♪ I'll have a pint of lager, please
♪ And a pack of flakies. ♪
Three o'clock?
You're giving me till three o'clock
to decide?
Man City kick off at three.
Why can't one of you just get
ate by a shark or sommat?
Look, this is preposterous.
I'm not putting up with this.
This is misogynistic.
This is anti-feminist. This is
not what I as a person stand for.
Donna's right.
Mmmm!
What is it you stand for again?
You know, it's...
feminism and that.
Which is?
Sorry, pardon, what?
Yes, you've got a point there, Janet.
What do you mean?
Feminism. It's like, you know,
it's like... Germaine Greer.
And, and, not shaving your legs.
Oh! I'm a feminist.
And, and,
being equal to men, and shit.
Donna, Donna, Donna...
sweetheart.
How can you be equal to men?
What, I'm sexist
cos I have a penis?
No, you're sexist for saying
I'm somehow less than you
for not having one.
Yes, well, you are. I mean, come on,
it's absolutely massive.
He's right.
It's bigger than Corinthian's head.
Oh, Jeez.
OK, right, right.
The way I see it, right,
is that feminism is about
not fighting
over the approval of some man.
Well, this isn't just some man,
is it? Eh? This is Gaz Wilkinson.
No! It's, dis...
You're wrong there, because of...
Damn you, Gaz Wilkinson!
Three o'clock
or I'm out of your life forever.
She loves me.
Forever.
Sorry, I felt a bit left out.
He's simply an animal.
I mean, after all this time,
you'd think, after all this time,
he'd just settle down,
selfish bastard.
OK, so now we know how you
feel about The Littlest Hobo.
But we were talking about Gaz.
Well, between you and me,
it's men like Gaz Wilkinson
that make me glad I've got Scott,
my boy-band boyfriend.
Oh, you two are so cute together.
I've never seen you so happy!
I'm ecstatic!
Although, Scott does have
a bad boy image to maintain.
I'm his "ho".
And as such I must remain
"hoochie fierce" apparently.
So where is S to the C to the O T T?
He's on tour.
50 dates. 40 venues.
How will you cope with the groupies?
The what?!
The fans.
The ones who give blow jobs
to the 50-year-old roadies
to get into the band's hotel.
Oh, ye gads!
You're saying that night after night
in venues up and down the country,
young girls will be throwing themselves
at him and his whitened teeth?
Not just girls.
Grrrrrls. Miaow.
What am I going to do?
Where will I get a shitty stick
from, to beat them off with?
Why don't you use that pole
that's been stuck up your arse
ever since I've known you?
Stick another one in there, Tim.
Scott having trouble with
the "wandering eye", is he?
No, his management corrected
his squint with an eye patch.
I wish I could offer some advice,
but I've been cuckolded myself.
Yup, Gaz Wilkinson has
been holding my cuck.
Don't worry,
Donna will come back to you.
After all, Gaz'll want to
stay with his baby, won't he?
That's true, Wesley.
Gaz did get parental responsibility
for Corinthian from the courts.
Which was weird, seeing as
he's the biological father.
No, he's not. Jonny is.
Dead Jonny,
Janet's husband.
Oh, my God.
You mustn't tell! Zip it, bitch!
Corinthian's all Janet's
got left of Jonny.
Except for the lingering odour.
And Gaz wouldn't want little Janet's
heart broken, would he? Oh, no.
What you're saying is,
Wesley Presley
suddenly has a bargaining chip.
Get out, Donna,
you curly adulteress! (HISSES)
Sorry for my brash tone.
I've been drinking whisky
and it has made me,
in the words of the proverb, frisky.
Yeah, Donna, come on.
Me and you need to talk as well.
We need to get things
straightened between us. Sister!
I'm good at all this femininninnism!
Gaz Wilkinson. Prepare to die.
Ring! You piece of shit! Ring!
Practising your marriage proposal,
are we?
No.
Scott still hasn't phoned.
He's obviously being straddled
by a groupie called Chloe
with the Chinese symbol for
"courage" tattooed to her tits.
Slag!
How long's he been gone?
Four hours and 16 minutes.
Well, that's nothing. You wouldn't
expect him to check in with you
every minute of every day
while he's at work.
Don't be ridic!
Every 30 minutes.
Just a text! One text.
Even if it's a smiley face,
or a LOL, or a ROFLMAO.
He adores you.
But his phone might be dead.
Or he might be in a meeting.
Or rehearsing.
No! I charged his phone before
I checked his texts this morning.
He's playing Wrexham Garden Centre
which takes 40 minutes to get to.
I allow time
for a slice of coffee cake
and a browse amongst
the flora and fauna.
He likes fauna.
He performs his three songs.
Checks into his hotel.
Which means, for an hour and a half
he's been banging a 16-year-old
in a leather bra!
Why would he be wearing
a leather bra?
I'm going to phone him.
- No!
- It's ringing.
- He'll think you're a psycho.
- Oh, that's what they all say.
Oh, hi, Scott!
I was just phoning to...
Oh, really! Oh, well,
I'd best let you go then.
Ciao for now.
Why did you let me phone him?!
He's just going on stage now,
they got stuck in traffic.
He's going to think I'm a bunny boiler,
calling him all the time!
I'd best phone him
and put him right.
Scott!
I'm not a bunny boiler.
Er, yeah, you've got to go.
Yeah, I know.
Why did you let me phone him?!
I'm going to have to text
and say I'm sorry.
No, no.
Janet, look after my phone.
I'm not going to ring him again.
Word.
The mad bint. What kind of woman
gets so obsessed with a man
that she subjugates
herself like that?
Oh, wrong crowd.
Never take your eye
off your opponent.
A little birdie told me something
about you, Gaz.
What birdie? That parrot
in the pet shop in the old town?
Cos I didn't tell him to say,
"I'm a pretty boy". It's his own opinion.
I've got something on you, Gaz.
This whole secret's going to blow up
in your face like a rancid yoghurt.
What secret? I'm an open book.
You've got nothing on me.
About Corinthian? About your son?
Janet can't know about that, Wesley.
Oh, can't she? What if I told her?
What if I opened my face and blurted
it out like a rancid yoghurt?
What's stopping me, Gaz?
Why shouldn't I tell Janet
about her child?
She has a right to know,
doesn't she?
You listen to me, you,
you big long bitch...
It would ruin everything.
It'd blow us all apart.
What do you want me to do?
I want you, Gaz Wilkinson,
to let me punch you in the face.
And not hit me back.
That's it?
Yeah.
Have it, sucker. Go on. Hit me.
Although, although,
I thought you would have wanted me
to never see Donna again
or something, but...
Oh, fiddlesticks!
No backsies, come on.
How could I fall twice for
some thumb-headed mechanic?
He does have a really massive cock.
Maybe it's because he's the only man
who's ever stood up to me.
I'm the yin to his yang.
It is one hell of a yang.
Look at you both. You're pathetic.
- Shut up, Tim.
- No!
I've held my tongue for long enough.
You've been back and forth,
back and forth.
This isn't Wimbledon!
This is Wimble-don't!
Wimble-don't?
Tim, I'm not quite clear
on what a Wimble is.
You are! And you.
If you don't resolve
this sorry, sorry mess,
there'll be no more
Wimbling for anyone!
Yeah.
Does he get weirder?
In a way he's right,
though, isn't he?
We need to get this sorted,
it's doing my head in.
I thought you didn't
want Gaz any more.
So did I. But I do.
Well, then it's a stalemate,
isn't it?
Neither of us will let him go.
At least I tried to.
I moved halfway across the country
to get away from him.
How could I be so stupid?!
How did I think I could just
run away from my own shit.
I'm not Paula Radcliffe.
Should I leave?
Should I move to that London?
Oh, God, no. You'd hate it.
All those lovely big parks.
Full of pigeons eating sick.
And the fancy modern art galleries.
Full of pictures of
pigeons eating sick.
And the night life.
People making pigeon food.
Awww!
Ugh!
You have to stay.
Well, should I go?
No. I missed you
too much when you went.
When you came back,
you'd developed strange tics.
You started speaking really weird.
"Like totally amazing, yeah?"
"Loving your work."
You were a twat.
Shut up, you cheeky cow!
- "Like, totally sorry."
- Stop it.
"Cos you don't need this right now
"cos you're working on yourself
spiritually."
Oh, my God, I was a knob.
I really missed Runcorn.
I'm so glad you came back.
Yeah, me too. I missed you most.
That's why this can't go on.
We both love the same person.
Oh! For Beyoncé's sake!
You both, quite frankly,
can do a lot better.
Both stunningly beautiful women,
both intelligent, both young.
The way he's acted, he doesn't
deserve either one of you!
All these deceptions, lies, and secrets.
This isn't EastEnders!
This is EastEn... doesn't!
Mmmm, yeah.
Oh, forget it.
In a way he's right,
though, isn't he?
Yes. In a roundabout, very,
very, very peculiar way, he is.
So we should both say goodbye to him.
He really isn't worth all this.
He isn't. He really isn't.
Do you know what?
We should both dump his ass!
I hear you, sister!
Let that be a lesson to you!
Oh, yeah, it was a sound thrashing.
Who am I kidding?
You're not hurt at all.
No, no, I am, I really am,
you know, you hurt my feelings.
You're not going to tell Janet,
are you?
I suppose not. But why couldn't you
have left my girlfriend alone?
Because I love her, Wesley.
I'm sick of being
the guy who's second best.
Oh, Wesley.
It's cos you ARE second best.
Fine, then she loves you too.
But it's not fair.
It's not fair on anyone.
Least of all, that little kid
with the weird name.
All right! I just can't decide what to do.
If I don't decide by three o'clock,
I'll lose them all.
Why don't you shag them both,
see who's better, then decide?
Oh, sorry, you already did that,
you stupid, spoilt bastard!
You might be onto something there.
I was being facetious.
I should audition them.
It'll be like The X Factor.
Or... The Sex Factor.
You get it? The Sex Factor?!
Who's the stupid
spoilt bastard now, eh?
Still you.
I could judge them on looks,
and, er... housewifery,
and, if I'm lucky,
sexual technique.
How do you get away with it,
you disgusting, little man?
Why won't he just call?
I want Scott to only want me
and not get distracted
by young nubiles
waving their pants in his ears.
When me and Gaz got together,
I used to send him naughty pictures
to his phone.
A naughty picture? You think
that might pique his interest?
Well, much as I hate to say it,
it always worked on Gaz.
Well, I will send Scott a little picture
of me. But not like that.
Nothing that the tabloids
can get hold of.
You know what the British press
are like with "celeb-ritay".
And you know what men are like
with dirty photo messages.
They send them to everyone.
Gaz wouldn't do that.
Nice tits, Donna!
That bastard! Right!
We're going round there right now
to tell him that we, as sisters...
- Sisters!
- Yes, together.
...don't want him
or his freakishly enormous genitals!
How big are we talking?
It was really impressive.
You could hang a grapefruit off it.
(MOBILE BEEPS)
Are you coming, or what?
I would, but...
I think he's chosen me.
Later, sister!
- You all right, Janet?
- Gaz!
I knew you'd choose us!
I thought for a bit
that you might go with Donna,
you know - all child-free and
hassle-free and with the cosy vagina.
But I knew you couldn't leave us.
Oh, Gaz!
We can be a proper family again!
Hey! Whoa, yeah. You're jumping
the gun a bit there, love.
Right. Right, yeah, I've gotta say,
um... looks.
Yeah, you're not bad. Yeah.
You've got a bit of sagging
since the breastfeeding,
but I can overlook that
due to the sheer volume of tittage.
Gaz, what do you mean?
What are you doing?
I'm judging you.
You know, so I can decide.
Now, housewifery...
...that's pretty frigging rubbish.
Gaz, what's going on?
Now, here's the clincher.
Gimme a wank!
What in God's name
are you going on about?
This is very important. I've got to
take each woman on their own merit.
I've gotta say, you're doing very well.
It's OK.
Donna was right.
I was going to give you
the benefit of the doubt.
You're nothing but a sexist pig.
You can't treat me like this!
You can't mess with our lives
like some game of football.
Which reminds me,
kick-off's in ten minutes
so, if you could start the hand-job,
I'd appreciate it.
Tick tock, tick tock! Come on!
No, Gaz.
No. You get out.
I don't need this,
and Corinthian certainly doesn't.
Go on. Maybe it's not too late
for you and Donna.
Or failing that, some other woman.
Who?
What?
Who's this other woman?
Is she fit?
Get out of my house.
And get out of my life!
This is no way for a father
to behave. No way at all!
- Yes, it is, I was just...
- Judging me on my looks?
Well, they're going to fade.
My housework?
I'll always be a skank.
My hand-jobs...
well, they're quite frankly excellent,
but you... from now on,
and always will be a wanker!
Go on! Get out! You piece of shit!
You stay away from me
and Corinthian!
I can't stay away from Corinthian.
He's my son.
No, he isn't.
Gaz, Tim, I need your opinions.
Scott, my celebrity boyfriend,
still hasn't phoned me.
So I need you to tell me
which of these pictures
is the most come-hither.
Here's me at my most playful!
My sexy face.
And finally,
my moody, tormented sex goddess
with a hint of the mysterious
behind the visage.
Louise, come here.
Get off me, you filthy oaf!
(PHONE CLICKS)
- And send.
- Oh, my God!
What have you done?
He's going to think
I'm a cheap slapper!
He'll love it.
We all love the standing muff shot.
How dare you
ruin my chance of happiness!
Why not? I've ruined everyone else's.
Although...
Donna.
Gaz, it's nearly three.
Now, I've been thinking about this
long and hard. Really hard.
And there's something I need
to ask you. Something important.
Yeah?
How do you feel
about breast implants?
Ohhh!
(MOBILE BEEPS)
Oh, here comes the text dumping.
"I think I love you." Huh!
Well, that's an original way
of putting it.
Oh...
he means it!
Nobody's ever said that
to me before!
I can't imagine why.
He loves me! He loves me!
Now...
how do I play hard to get?
Phone off.
Wesley!
Wesley!
Buy us a pint to stick my balls in.
Sorry, mate. I don't think
I can be seen with you.
I thought we were mates.
You shagged my girlfriend.
You abandoned your kid.
You ain't the most popular man.
Mates before dates, bros before hos,
chaps before baps.
I'm sorry, Gaz.
You're a total prick.
Tim, Tim, we're mates, aren't we?
Gaz, you're bad for custom.
Maybe you should make yourself
scarce for a few days?
Like, two or three thousand.
Louise?
What?
Nothing.
What have I been doing?!
It's obvious who I should be with.
What time is it?
Five to three.
I've been a fucking idiot.
♪ Keep on running...
♪ ...Keep on hiding
♪ One fine day I'm going to be
the one to make you understand
♪ Oh, yeah
I'm going to be your man
♪ Keep on running
♪ Running from my arms
♪ One fine day I'm going to be the one
to make you understand... ♪
Come on!
♪ ...Keep on running
♪ Running from my arms
♪ One fine day I'm going to be the one
to make you understand
♪ Oh, yeah
♪ I want to be your man... ♪
I'm just moving it!
Come on!
(POLICE SIREN)
Shit! No.
Yeah! Whoo hooo!
Have it, pigs!
Ah! Shit!
Ah! Jesus!
(CRASHING)
(COUGHS)
Argh!
Help! Help!
(ELECTRONIC BEEPING)
Awake, are we?
I heard you'd been
in an accident.
Well, when I first heard the news
I thought, "Good. I hope he dies."
Because, Gaz Wilkinson,
you have ruined my life,
not once, not twice,
but over and over and over.
And then I got to thinking,
why am I driving to the hospital
so fast just to see if he's dead?
If he's not, maybe it's so that
I can hold a pillow over his face
or put little razor nicks
in his bell-end until he wakes up
and then hold the aforementioned
pillow over his face.
And then, a week later,
when I was still sat here...
...day after day...
...not so much as
changing my clothes,
which is why I smell like a horse...
...I started thinking,
am I an idiot?
And... I am.
And every time I washed you...
...or shouted at the nurses
for not having any answers,
I thought why am I doing this
for this horrible, stupid man?
And when the paramedics told me
that it was me
you'd asked for at the scene,
why did I care, Gaz?
And there's only one answer.
I love you.
And I...
Oh, I hate myself for it,
but I do. And, um...
And I know you love me too,
that's just the way that it is.
So...
here's what we're going to do.
We're going to sort this out,
me and you.
And we're going to start again.
And from now on,
it's just me and you.
(MUFFLED) What about Corinthian?
I know.
I know, yeah, Corinthian.
That bloody baby. Well, it's...
It's going to be a tough one,
is that.
But for God's sakes, if I can get over
that, if I can get over everything
that you've put me through
and still be here, you bastard...
...then you can do every single thing
in your power
to make this work. OK?
OK, just blink once for yes
and twice for no.
It's always been you.
(SHE CRIES)
♪ I'll sing it
one last time for you... ♪
(COCKNEY ACCENT) You ain't coming
round, treating me like that!
♪ ...Then we really have to go... ♪
ALL: Ugh!
♪ ...You've been the only thing
that's right
♪ In all I've done... ♪
I know you slept with Gaz.
- I just need to talk to Donna...
- Sowwy!
...and punch her in the tits!
♪ ...To think I might not see
those eyes
♪ Makes it so hard not to cry... ♪
(SCREAMS)
♪ ...And as we say our long goodbyes...
♪ ...I nearly do... ♪
You've ruined everything, Donna.
How could you do this to me
after everything I've been through?
Never take
your eye off your opponent.
- Shut it!
- Argh!
Just making sure everything's all...
♪ ...Even if you cannot
♪ Hear my voice
♪ I'll be right beside you, dear... ♪
You're nothing but a sexist pig.
Oh!
on your beautiful eyes. I'm Scott.
Janet's in hospital?
Not now, she's at home, kicking off.
She got moody when
I told her I'd been shagging you.
You might want to go out?
Yeah, I think I might.
I know you slept with Gaz.
I will not be letting my hole
rule my head any longer.
I want to talk to you,
I want to apologise.
Sowwy!
It's make your mind up time and
there will be no going back after this.
It's up to you, Gaz.
So, who's it going to be?
♪ Hey, Mr Bartender, give me a drink
♪ I want a cold, wet glass
with bubbles in it
♪ And that doesn't mean I can't
handle anything stronger now
♪ Just think I'll wait a while
♪ I'll have a pint of lager, please
♪ And a pack of flakies. ♪
Three o'clock?
You're giving me till three o'clock
to decide?
Man City kick off at three.
Why can't one of you just get
ate by a shark or sommat?
Look, this is preposterous.
I'm not putting up with this.
This is misogynistic.
This is anti-feminist. This is
not what I as a person stand for.
Donna's right.
Mmmm!
What is it you stand for again?
You know, it's...
feminism and that.
Which is?
Sorry, pardon, what?
Yes, you've got a point there, Janet.
What do you mean?
Feminism. It's like, you know,
it's like... Germaine Greer.
And, and, not shaving your legs.
Oh! I'm a feminist.
And, and,
being equal to men, and shit.
Donna, Donna, Donna...
sweetheart.
How can you be equal to men?
What, I'm sexist
cos I have a penis?
No, you're sexist for saying
I'm somehow less than you
for not having one.
Yes, well, you are. I mean, come on,
it's absolutely massive.
He's right.
It's bigger than Corinthian's head.
Oh, Jeez.
OK, right, right.
The way I see it, right,
is that feminism is about
not fighting
over the approval of some man.
Well, this isn't just some man,
is it? Eh? This is Gaz Wilkinson.
No! It's, dis...
You're wrong there, because of...
Damn you, Gaz Wilkinson!
Three o'clock
or I'm out of your life forever.
She loves me.
Forever.
Sorry, I felt a bit left out.
He's simply an animal.
I mean, after all this time,
you'd think, after all this time,
he'd just settle down,
selfish bastard.
OK, so now we know how you
feel about The Littlest Hobo.
But we were talking about Gaz.
Well, between you and me,
it's men like Gaz Wilkinson
that make me glad I've got Scott,
my boy-band boyfriend.
Oh, you two are so cute together.
I've never seen you so happy!
I'm ecstatic!
Although, Scott does have
a bad boy image to maintain.
I'm his "ho".
And as such I must remain
"hoochie fierce" apparently.
So where is S to the C to the O T T?
He's on tour.
50 dates. 40 venues.
How will you cope with the groupies?
The what?!
The fans.
The ones who give blow jobs
to the 50-year-old roadies
to get into the band's hotel.
Oh, ye gads!
You're saying that night after night
in venues up and down the country,
young girls will be throwing themselves
at him and his whitened teeth?
Not just girls.
Grrrrrls. Miaow.
What am I going to do?
Where will I get a shitty stick
from, to beat them off with?
Why don't you use that pole
that's been stuck up your arse
ever since I've known you?
Stick another one in there, Tim.
Scott having trouble with
the "wandering eye", is he?
No, his management corrected
his squint with an eye patch.
I wish I could offer some advice,
but I've been cuckolded myself.
Yup, Gaz Wilkinson has
been holding my cuck.
Don't worry,
Donna will come back to you.
After all, Gaz'll want to
stay with his baby, won't he?
That's true, Wesley.
Gaz did get parental responsibility
for Corinthian from the courts.
Which was weird, seeing as
he's the biological father.
No, he's not. Jonny is.
Dead Jonny,
Janet's husband.
Oh, my God.
You mustn't tell! Zip it, bitch!
Corinthian's all Janet's
got left of Jonny.
Except for the lingering odour.
And Gaz wouldn't want little Janet's
heart broken, would he? Oh, no.
What you're saying is,
Wesley Presley
suddenly has a bargaining chip.
Get out, Donna,
you curly adulteress! (HISSES)
Sorry for my brash tone.
I've been drinking whisky
and it has made me,
in the words of the proverb, frisky.
Yeah, Donna, come on.
Me and you need to talk as well.
We need to get things
straightened between us. Sister!
I'm good at all this femininninnism!
Gaz Wilkinson. Prepare to die.
Ring! You piece of shit! Ring!
Practising your marriage proposal,
are we?
No.
Scott still hasn't phoned.
He's obviously being straddled
by a groupie called Chloe
with the Chinese symbol for
"courage" tattooed to her tits.
Slag!
How long's he been gone?
Four hours and 16 minutes.
Well, that's nothing. You wouldn't
expect him to check in with you
every minute of every day
while he's at work.
Don't be ridic!
Every 30 minutes.
Just a text! One text.
Even if it's a smiley face,
or a LOL, or a ROFLMAO.
He adores you.
But his phone might be dead.
Or he might be in a meeting.
Or rehearsing.
No! I charged his phone before
I checked his texts this morning.
He's playing Wrexham Garden Centre
which takes 40 minutes to get to.
I allow time
for a slice of coffee cake
and a browse amongst
the flora and fauna.
He likes fauna.
He performs his three songs.
Checks into his hotel.
Which means, for an hour and a half
he's been banging a 16-year-old
in a leather bra!
Why would he be wearing
a leather bra?
I'm going to phone him.
- No!
- It's ringing.
- He'll think you're a psycho.
- Oh, that's what they all say.
Oh, hi, Scott!
I was just phoning to...
Oh, really! Oh, well,
I'd best let you go then.
Ciao for now.
Why did you let me phone him?!
He's just going on stage now,
they got stuck in traffic.
He's going to think I'm a bunny boiler,
calling him all the time!
I'd best phone him
and put him right.
Scott!
I'm not a bunny boiler.
Er, yeah, you've got to go.
Yeah, I know.
Why did you let me phone him?!
I'm going to have to text
and say I'm sorry.
No, no.
Janet, look after my phone.
I'm not going to ring him again.
Word.
The mad bint. What kind of woman
gets so obsessed with a man
that she subjugates
herself like that?
Oh, wrong crowd.
Never take your eye
off your opponent.
A little birdie told me something
about you, Gaz.
What birdie? That parrot
in the pet shop in the old town?
Cos I didn't tell him to say,
"I'm a pretty boy". It's his own opinion.
I've got something on you, Gaz.
This whole secret's going to blow up
in your face like a rancid yoghurt.
What secret? I'm an open book.
You've got nothing on me.
About Corinthian? About your son?
Janet can't know about that, Wesley.
Oh, can't she? What if I told her?
What if I opened my face and blurted
it out like a rancid yoghurt?
What's stopping me, Gaz?
Why shouldn't I tell Janet
about her child?
She has a right to know,
doesn't she?
You listen to me, you,
you big long bitch...
It would ruin everything.
It'd blow us all apart.
What do you want me to do?
I want you, Gaz Wilkinson,
to let me punch you in the face.
And not hit me back.
That's it?
Yeah.
Have it, sucker. Go on. Hit me.
Although, although,
I thought you would have wanted me
to never see Donna again
or something, but...
Oh, fiddlesticks!
No backsies, come on.
How could I fall twice for
some thumb-headed mechanic?
He does have a really massive cock.
Maybe it's because he's the only man
who's ever stood up to me.
I'm the yin to his yang.
It is one hell of a yang.
Look at you both. You're pathetic.
- Shut up, Tim.
- No!
I've held my tongue for long enough.
You've been back and forth,
back and forth.
This isn't Wimbledon!
This is Wimble-don't!
Wimble-don't?
Tim, I'm not quite clear
on what a Wimble is.
You are! And you.
If you don't resolve
this sorry, sorry mess,
there'll be no more
Wimbling for anyone!
Yeah.
Does he get weirder?
In a way he's right,
though, isn't he?
We need to get this sorted,
it's doing my head in.
I thought you didn't
want Gaz any more.
So did I. But I do.
Well, then it's a stalemate,
isn't it?
Neither of us will let him go.
At least I tried to.
I moved halfway across the country
to get away from him.
How could I be so stupid?!
How did I think I could just
run away from my own shit.
I'm not Paula Radcliffe.
Should I leave?
Should I move to that London?
Oh, God, no. You'd hate it.
All those lovely big parks.
Full of pigeons eating sick.
And the fancy modern art galleries.
Full of pictures of
pigeons eating sick.
And the night life.
People making pigeon food.
Awww!
Ugh!
You have to stay.
Well, should I go?
No. I missed you
too much when you went.
When you came back,
you'd developed strange tics.
You started speaking really weird.
"Like totally amazing, yeah?"
"Loving your work."
You were a twat.
Shut up, you cheeky cow!
- "Like, totally sorry."
- Stop it.
"Cos you don't need this right now
"cos you're working on yourself
spiritually."
Oh, my God, I was a knob.
I really missed Runcorn.
I'm so glad you came back.
Yeah, me too. I missed you most.
That's why this can't go on.
We both love the same person.
Oh! For Beyoncé's sake!
You both, quite frankly,
can do a lot better.
Both stunningly beautiful women,
both intelligent, both young.
The way he's acted, he doesn't
deserve either one of you!
All these deceptions, lies, and secrets.
This isn't EastEnders!
This is EastEn... doesn't!
Mmmm, yeah.
Oh, forget it.
In a way he's right,
though, isn't he?
Yes. In a roundabout, very,
very, very peculiar way, he is.
So we should both say goodbye to him.
He really isn't worth all this.
He isn't. He really isn't.
Do you know what?
We should both dump his ass!
I hear you, sister!
Let that be a lesson to you!
Oh, yeah, it was a sound thrashing.
Who am I kidding?
You're not hurt at all.
No, no, I am, I really am,
you know, you hurt my feelings.
You're not going to tell Janet,
are you?
I suppose not. But why couldn't you
have left my girlfriend alone?
Because I love her, Wesley.
I'm sick of being
the guy who's second best.
Oh, Wesley.
It's cos you ARE second best.
Fine, then she loves you too.
But it's not fair.
It's not fair on anyone.
Least of all, that little kid
with the weird name.
All right! I just can't decide what to do.
If I don't decide by three o'clock,
I'll lose them all.
Why don't you shag them both,
see who's better, then decide?
Oh, sorry, you already did that,
you stupid, spoilt bastard!
You might be onto something there.
I was being facetious.
I should audition them.
It'll be like The X Factor.
Or... The Sex Factor.
You get it? The Sex Factor?!
Who's the stupid
spoilt bastard now, eh?
Still you.
I could judge them on looks,
and, er... housewifery,
and, if I'm lucky,
sexual technique.
How do you get away with it,
you disgusting, little man?
Why won't he just call?
I want Scott to only want me
and not get distracted
by young nubiles
waving their pants in his ears.
When me and Gaz got together,
I used to send him naughty pictures
to his phone.
A naughty picture? You think
that might pique his interest?
Well, much as I hate to say it,
it always worked on Gaz.
Well, I will send Scott a little picture
of me. But not like that.
Nothing that the tabloids
can get hold of.
You know what the British press
are like with "celeb-ritay".
And you know what men are like
with dirty photo messages.
They send them to everyone.
Gaz wouldn't do that.
Nice tits, Donna!
That bastard! Right!
We're going round there right now
to tell him that we, as sisters...
- Sisters!
- Yes, together.
...don't want him
or his freakishly enormous genitals!
How big are we talking?
It was really impressive.
You could hang a grapefruit off it.
(MOBILE BEEPS)
Are you coming, or what?
I would, but...
I think he's chosen me.
Later, sister!
- You all right, Janet?
- Gaz!
I knew you'd choose us!
I thought for a bit
that you might go with Donna,
you know - all child-free and
hassle-free and with the cosy vagina.
But I knew you couldn't leave us.
Oh, Gaz!
We can be a proper family again!
Hey! Whoa, yeah. You're jumping
the gun a bit there, love.
Right. Right, yeah, I've gotta say,
um... looks.
Yeah, you're not bad. Yeah.
You've got a bit of sagging
since the breastfeeding,
but I can overlook that
due to the sheer volume of tittage.
Gaz, what do you mean?
What are you doing?
I'm judging you.
You know, so I can decide.
Now, housewifery...
...that's pretty frigging rubbish.
Gaz, what's going on?
Now, here's the clincher.
Gimme a wank!
What in God's name
are you going on about?
This is very important. I've got to
take each woman on their own merit.
I've gotta say, you're doing very well.
It's OK.
Donna was right.
I was going to give you
the benefit of the doubt.
You're nothing but a sexist pig.
You can't treat me like this!
You can't mess with our lives
like some game of football.
Which reminds me,
kick-off's in ten minutes
so, if you could start the hand-job,
I'd appreciate it.
Tick tock, tick tock! Come on!
No, Gaz.
No. You get out.
I don't need this,
and Corinthian certainly doesn't.
Go on. Maybe it's not too late
for you and Donna.
Or failing that, some other woman.
Who?
What?
Who's this other woman?
Is she fit?
Get out of my house.
And get out of my life!
This is no way for a father
to behave. No way at all!
- Yes, it is, I was just...
- Judging me on my looks?
Well, they're going to fade.
My housework?
I'll always be a skank.
My hand-jobs...
well, they're quite frankly excellent,
but you... from now on,
and always will be a wanker!
Go on! Get out! You piece of shit!
You stay away from me
and Corinthian!
I can't stay away from Corinthian.
He's my son.
No, he isn't.
Gaz, Tim, I need your opinions.
Scott, my celebrity boyfriend,
still hasn't phoned me.
So I need you to tell me
which of these pictures
is the most come-hither.
Here's me at my most playful!
My sexy face.
And finally,
my moody, tormented sex goddess
with a hint of the mysterious
behind the visage.
Louise, come here.
Get off me, you filthy oaf!
(PHONE CLICKS)
- And send.
- Oh, my God!
What have you done?
He's going to think
I'm a cheap slapper!
He'll love it.
We all love the standing muff shot.
How dare you
ruin my chance of happiness!
Why not? I've ruined everyone else's.
Although...
Donna.
Gaz, it's nearly three.
Now, I've been thinking about this
long and hard. Really hard.
And there's something I need
to ask you. Something important.
Yeah?
How do you feel
about breast implants?
Ohhh!
(MOBILE BEEPS)
Oh, here comes the text dumping.
"I think I love you." Huh!
Well, that's an original way
of putting it.
Oh...
he means it!
Nobody's ever said that
to me before!
I can't imagine why.
He loves me! He loves me!
Now...
how do I play hard to get?
Phone off.
Wesley!
Wesley!
Buy us a pint to stick my balls in.
Sorry, mate. I don't think
I can be seen with you.
I thought we were mates.
You shagged my girlfriend.
You abandoned your kid.
You ain't the most popular man.
Mates before dates, bros before hos,
chaps before baps.
I'm sorry, Gaz.
You're a total prick.
Tim, Tim, we're mates, aren't we?
Gaz, you're bad for custom.
Maybe you should make yourself
scarce for a few days?
Like, two or three thousand.
Louise?
What?
Nothing.
What have I been doing?!
It's obvious who I should be with.
What time is it?
Five to three.
I've been a fucking idiot.
♪ Keep on running...
♪ ...Keep on hiding
♪ One fine day I'm going to be
the one to make you understand
♪ Oh, yeah
I'm going to be your man
♪ Keep on running
♪ Running from my arms
♪ One fine day I'm going to be the one
to make you understand... ♪
Come on!
♪ ...Keep on running
♪ Running from my arms
♪ One fine day I'm going to be the one
to make you understand
♪ Oh, yeah
♪ I want to be your man... ♪
I'm just moving it!
Come on!
(POLICE SIREN)
Shit! No.
Yeah! Whoo hooo!
Have it, pigs!
Ah! Shit!
Ah! Jesus!
(CRASHING)
(COUGHS)
Argh!
Help! Help!
(ELECTRONIC BEEPING)
Awake, are we?
I heard you'd been
in an accident.
Well, when I first heard the news
I thought, "Good. I hope he dies."
Because, Gaz Wilkinson,
you have ruined my life,
not once, not twice,
but over and over and over.
And then I got to thinking,
why am I driving to the hospital
so fast just to see if he's dead?
If he's not, maybe it's so that
I can hold a pillow over his face
or put little razor nicks
in his bell-end until he wakes up
and then hold the aforementioned
pillow over his face.
And then, a week later,
when I was still sat here...
...day after day...
...not so much as
changing my clothes,
which is why I smell like a horse...
...I started thinking,
am I an idiot?
And... I am.
And every time I washed you...
...or shouted at the nurses
for not having any answers,
I thought why am I doing this
for this horrible, stupid man?
And when the paramedics told me
that it was me
you'd asked for at the scene,
why did I care, Gaz?
And there's only one answer.
I love you.
And I...
Oh, I hate myself for it,
but I do. And, um...
And I know you love me too,
that's just the way that it is.
So...
here's what we're going to do.
We're going to sort this out,
me and you.
And we're going to start again.
And from now on,
it's just me and you.
(MUFFLED) What about Corinthian?
I know.
I know, yeah, Corinthian.
That bloody baby. Well, it's...
It's going to be a tough one,
is that.
But for God's sakes, if I can get over
that, if I can get over everything
that you've put me through
and still be here, you bastard...
...then you can do every single thing
in your power
to make this work. OK?
OK, just blink once for yes
and twice for no.
It's always been you.
(SHE CRIES)
♪ I'll sing it
one last time for you... ♪
(COCKNEY ACCENT) You ain't coming
round, treating me like that!
♪ ...Then we really have to go... ♪
ALL: Ugh!
♪ ...You've been the only thing
that's right
♪ In all I've done... ♪
I know you slept with Gaz.
- I just need to talk to Donna...
- Sowwy!
...and punch her in the tits!
♪ ...To think I might not see
those eyes
♪ Makes it so hard not to cry... ♪
(SCREAMS)
♪ ...And as we say our long goodbyes...
♪ ...I nearly do... ♪
You've ruined everything, Donna.
How could you do this to me
after everything I've been through?
Never take
your eye off your opponent.
- Shut it!
- Argh!
Just making sure everything's all...
♪ ...Even if you cannot
♪ Hear my voice
♪ I'll be right beside you, dear... ♪
You're nothing but a sexist pig.
Oh!