Original subtitles

But Sunday morning is only for the blessed, and

the sacred moments of silliness are where I find my heaven,

where I find my heaven, where I...

Oh, sorry, I was looking for someone called Amanda Wilkins.

I am she.

Oh, well, look.

I'm Matthew Cruikshank, the chairman.

You write James's letters yet?

Oh, God, is the spelling wrong? No, no, no, far from it. You have a mean way

with a semicolon.

Well, thanks. Yes, you know the difference between infer and imply.

What are you implying?

I'd like to take a hunch on you, Amanda.

How would you like to edit the new fiction list?

Well, I think... Oh, there would be a directorship, of course. A company car,

profit chair.

Wardrobe allowance?

Ten grand.

Bacon sandwiches?

Any time you want one.

What do I look like?

You look like a big shape obscuring my view of a very interesting television

programme.

It's a programme about building a rockery.

I'm interested in it.

Come off it.

You're not interested in gardening.

You wouldn't even let me get a window box. I had my reason.

Oh, yeah, I remember them. I don't like all that soil and outside shit.

Ma 'am, just get out of the way. I feel peculiar when I haven't got a clear view

of the television.

What do I look like?

You look nice, man.

You look like a girlie. What do you expect?

A nice girlie.

200 quid, this?

I'm just not achieving, am I?

What do you want to achieve?

I don't know.

I just, you know, want to get on.

I mean, I've got three A's at A level, I've got an upper second, I've got a

-figure overdraft and I'm still doing shit work.

Never mind, man.

Have a cup of tea.

Cup of tea for Mand, Mart.

Hey, Mand.

I'd make a good geisha girl, wouldn't I? The amount of tea I make.

Mand? Yes, I heard you.

Very funny. Ha, ha, ha.

Sorry.

I think man is upset about something.

On the blob, mate.

What?

On the blob.

Having her period.

Women get weird when they're on their blobs.

And before it.

And after it sometimes.

Let's just ignore it.

I'd hate to be a woman.

All that sticky, smelly stuff.

Oh, shut up, Matt. I've only just had my dinner.

God, sorry, mate.

I forgot.

Go away.

Man, I just wanted to say it's all right.

We understand.

Or at least I do, anyway.

I mean, this whole thing's a bit beyond poor old Mark. I said go away!

Hey, hey, hey. I know. It's OK.

You feel a bit deranged at the moment.

You don't know what you're saying.

All I mean is, I understand.

I know women.

Bugger off!

All right, all right.

Demented cow.

Just wanted to talk to you about Martin's birthday.

But if you're not interested...

Sort it out on my own.

Look, can we just get something straight? I am not having a period. I am

a life crisis, that's all.

On the blob.

I am not on the blob, Matthew, as you so daintily put it.

God, you have the vocabulary of a mentally defective sex criminal.

Which he is.

He's on the blog.

Oh, OK.

Let's be serious.

You've got a problem, and we'd like to help.

Well... The central thing is that I feel totally undervalued in the workplace.

That's why I spend so much money on clothes, because everybody makes me feel

like shit.

And then when I wear the clothes, I look like a nice girly.

And my eyes... IQ is 139, for God's sake. Why do people treat me as if I'm

utterly insignificant?

Well, don't worry.

I mean, we're utterly insignificant, too, aren't we? Oh, thanks a lot,

Listen, you're my best friend's little brother. You're supposed to be

insignificant. I mean, I should have got somewhere by now. I should be a really

happening girl.

I'm significant.

I happen.

You're bloody vital, me.

Look at your sister.

She's only getting headhunted to edit another magazine and she's already on 30

grand. Yeah, Claudia's always been lucky.

I mean, it's not Claudia's actual job I'm envious of. It's just that I want

business meetings and business lunches and business cards and I just want a lot

more money.

So you can pay me the rent?

I thought you were always having business lunches. No, those are just

want to shag me.

Well, those are the sort of lunches I'd like.

Funny, isn't it?

Do you know something, Ron?

I sincerely believe that we're looking at the next winner of the Booker Prize.

I bloody hope so, James.

First draft of that book was written in pure sweat, James. And I'm not bloody

kidding. Pure bloody sweat.

Yes, yes.

I believe...

Blood pudding is a really seminal work.

Well, ah, yeah, that and all.

I'll probably carry off Booker and bloody Whitbread and all.

Not that I'm bothered about prizes at all. I just want my message to get

where it counts.

And I'm not talking about them London literati wankers.

Quiet.

Oh, thanks, love.

Oh, Ron, this is Maria. She's temping here while Serena is away.

Mandy, actually.

No, no, you're wrong. I'm quite sure it's Serena.

Yes, but my name is Mandy and not Maria.

Quite right, too.

Now... I loved your book, Mr Grimshaw.

The bit about the little girl who wet the bed, it was terribly moving.

Oh, really?

Yes, really. It made me cry.

Thank you, Maria.

Sorry, I'll just... Bye.

Bye.

Lovely -looking girl, isn't she?

Looks awfully like a very sweet au pair we once had.

Swedish.

Hey, Mandy!

Hey, Ron. Ron Grimshaw.

Hi. Any fancy a drink?

Yeah. Oh, great.

Oh, it was dead nice what you said about my book.

Well, it's true.

I loved it.

That was me, you know.

Pardon? The little girl that wet the bed, that was me.

Except I was a little boy, of course.

Actually, I used to wet the bed too.

No, Jan.

My mattress was never off the front lawn because my mum was always trying to dry

it out properly.

And my sisters used to lean out the window and shout at passers -by.

Oi, you see that big patch of yellow? That's Mandy's wee.

My mum just used to prop up a little tin of talc under the sheets.

Never dried out properly.

Oh, that's terrible.

Look, I was going to get in touch with you anyway.

I wondered if you'd like to get together with me to talk about doing some

research. Well, I know you're only working for James temporarily, like,

Well, I do need some research doing on my new book.

What, a job, do you mean? Yeah, a job.

Not as your secretary, though, right?

No, like I said, if you're doing research, you'll be a researcher, like.

A researcher?

Well,

how do you know I'd be any good?

You've suffered.

I've suffered.

We'll get on, I know it.

Go on, mate.

Let's have one of your Frozens. No, I can't, mate.

My mother started marking the dates on them.

If I run out before I'm supposed to, she'll cut off my supplies.

You're a very sad bastard. Do you know that, Henson?

Do you know, I hate my name, Henson.

So uncool, don't you think?

I wish my name was De Niro.

Martin De Niro.

Yeah.

Matthew Puccino.

Mart Jagger.

Matthew Brandahl.

Martin Willis.

You what?

You know, as in Bruce Willis.

Diehard. He's the one who wears those white vests like the ones I wear.

Oh, great.

We'll all be all right then, won't we, when the flat's taken over by a gang of

crack international terrorists, so long as you've got your vest on.

it all, mate.

Mate? Alright, alright.

Selfish bastard.

Bloody hell.

Look at the mouth on that.

She could suck you through a hose pipe.

And back again.

It'd be a bit claustrophobic though, wouldn't it?

You what?

Oh, nothing.

Just don't fancy being sucked through a hosepipe very much.

Yeah, well, your trouble, Martin, is that you're completely asexual.

Am I?

Asexual what?

Asexual dynamo or something.

Asexual. One word, man.

Meaning... Basically, you're not sexy. You're like an amoeba or something.

I am sexual.

I really fancy her, for example.

Her? She's about 12, man.

Well, she looked sweet, though, didn't she?

Yeah, she could have me in her Wendy house.

Now you're talking, mate.

I like the mother.

I've got this fantasy about her, where...

She coats herself in peanut butter.

Then I put a bin liner over her head.

And then I lick bits off her.

I don't think that sounds very nice.

Yeah, well, not very surprising coming from the amoeba man.

That is one hot, totally erotic fantasy, something you know nothing about.

I've got a really hot fantasy.

Oh, yeah?

What's that, then?

Well, it's just this, really.

Go on.

I meet a girl.

We fall in love.

And we do it.

I'm 23 on Friday, Matt.

Now, where did my youth go?

When am I going to do the things that I look back on when I'm older and think

how great it was to be young?

You're a pathetic bastard, you know that?

Hiya, chaps.

Hello, Mandy.

Wasn't it a nice day today, eh?

One of those bright, crisp days that, I don't know, just cheers you up, makes

you feel just great.

I thought it was a bit foggy. Off the blog.

It's got nothing to do with biology, Matthew Martin.

I'm just in an extremely good mood.

I've got the chance to work as a researcher for an author I met at work.

That sounds interesting. What sort of research?

I don't know yet. We're going to have dinner to discuss it.

Dinner?

Yes, dinner.

What of it?

I expect you'll be researching authors' underpants and their content.

You really haven't got a clue, have you, Matthew?

Most people have interviews.

Mandy has dinners and gets shagged.

I know it's not a concept that you're familiar with, Matthew.

But it's a job. It's got nothing to do with sex.

What are you grinning at?

Nothing, nothing.

I just thought of what to give Mark for his birthday.

Ugh, Gibbon smells of egg sandwiches again. Ugh, gross!

I wrote a poem about him last night.

Listen right.

Fat belly, watched some telly, ate some jelly, and done a smelly.

Smelly.

Oh,

it's fine. Yeah.

You know, when you play with your thing, and stuff comes out. Yeah.

How much stuff?

Do you reckon comes out?

About a pint and a half, usually.

Between a pint and a pint and a half.

Yeah. I usually do just under a pint. Yeah?

Sometimes a pint. Ah. And what about you, Martin, eh?

Um, I bet he only does a tiny girly dribble. Yeah.

Tiny girly dribble. Tiny girly dribble.

I don't. I come like a fool.

I was thinking about old Spike Davis today.

I wonder what happened to him.

Spike? He's done all right.

He's got a minicab business.

And he runs two girls.

How do you mean he runs them?

Are they athletes?

In a sense, Mark.

And was he like dog racing?

Yes and no.

He's gone on a game, Mark.

He lives off their immoral earnings.

Spike Davis?

He used to copy my French homework.

Yeah, well, now he's got his own.

He used to say he came a pint and a half.

Well, there you are.

That sort of thing gives you power over women.

What would you know about power over women? You never even leave this flat.

Oh, I've got that card you wanted.

Pen.

Happy birthday, mate.

Say thank you, then.

Thank you.

Have you got my cash out?

Oh, yeah.

£200.

I can't really understand how you're going to spend it, though, seeing as you

haven't set foot outside this flat for months.

Shut up, Ginge. I'm trying to count.

Just because it's your birthday doesn't mean I can't do you over.

Come on, Dick.

Nipples, Dick. Go on, Martin.

You're all right, all right.

Here.

I don't want you to look in a mess.

You don't know where it might be.

God, I hope it's Winona Ryder.

This is Ron Matthews. He's come to see Mandy.

Mandy's not in?

I do, kid.

I am a bit early.

I didn't know how long it was going to take the bus to get here.

What, you came by bus?

Aye. You're a famous writer, aren't you?

Well, I'm not going to sit in the back of some bugger's car ordering him around

like Lady Muck of Cow Shit Farm.

Mandy gets cabs all the time.

Drink, Ron?

Oh, I'd love a brew if you're making one, kid. Right.

What do you do?

What's your job?

I don't work, actually.

Oh, shit. Sorry, kid. Bloody Tory face grinding bastard.

You'll pull through, kid.

I can feel it.

Thanks.

Peasant.

You haven't read my book, Underdog, have you?

No,

not that one, I don't think.

Read it.

I wrote that book for you, kid.

Have we met before, then?

Martin? Door!

Gold out for time of year.

Is it?

I haven't been out today.

Oh, sorry, son, I forgot.

Bloody insensitive of me.

Have a drink on me.

Matt, you haven't advertised one of the rooms to rent, have you?

No.

Well, it's just that there's someone come from an accommodation agency who

she was given this address.

I'm really sorry.

It seems to have been a mistake.

Oh, look, the agency definitely gave me your address.

That is strange, isn't it?

Definitely not us, though.

I'm afraid I've got two tenants already.

Oh, I guess I'll just have to go home again.

It's taken me ages to get here from Crouch End.

Look, I know it's a bit of a cheat, but I couldn't have a quick cup of tea

before I set off again. It's freezing out.

Of course.

Of course, yeah.

Come with me. The kitchen's just down here.

Mark, happy birthday, mate.

I'm still not convinced that I'm the right person to research the history of

mines in Yorkshire.

Oh, you're the one.

We've got a bond, you and me.

You understand.

But I live in London, for one thing, and I've never done any research.

I just can't agree until I've considered whether I can do the job or not. Oh,

that doesn't matter.

I mean, I could be completely useless and sick for all you.

What did you just say?

When? Just now.

Don't know.

You said it doesn't matter.

And you were referring to whether I could do the job or not.

I didn't mean it like that.

Ron, look me in the eye and tell me you don't want to shag me.

Mandy, I can't. I'm in love with you.

No.

Research your own pants, Ron Grimshaw.

We're lucky, though.

I mean, really, really, really lucky, aren't we?

Because if you hadn't been given the wrong address at that agency, you and me

might never have met.

I mean, if that had happened, it would have been so... so awful, wouldn't it? I

mean, really awful.

I can't bear to think about it, actually.

Things like this. I mean, it's fate.

Best of the... I mean, bloody hell.

Matt. Yes?

Kim.

I've got to go to the loo.

Right, just down there.

Kim.

Yes.

Bye. Have a nice time.

I love you,

Kim.

Look, does your friend just want to talk or what?

No, no, he wants to be with me.

Okay, I'll have the money now then, please.

After Arthur?

In advance.

Some dickhead think it's funny to have sex and then not pay.

Oh, yeah?

And what would happen if we did that?

A man called Eddie Smith would come and cut your face.

Thank you, Matthew.

I'm his birthday present, Martin.

From Matthew.

Thank you. You shouldn't have.

Come on, Mark.

Claudia?

It's me.

I'm sorry to ring so late. I've got to talk to you.

Claudia?

I've just done it with Ron Grimshaw.

He's lying next to me, now.

Listen.

I really didn't mean to do it.

I thought he was going to offer me a research job.

All he really wanted to do was shag me.

Oh, God.

I told myself I'm just going to get up and walk out of the restaurant, but I

just sort of couldn't.

We finished going back to his hotel room.

Claudia.

He said I had the body of a champion whippet.

And he got embarrassed and he said, only with boobs like.

Oh, God, I'm so stupid.

It was awful.

Claudia, he cried.

I know.

I cried too.

Oh, Claudia, what's going to become of me?

Yeah, great, thanks.

Good, was she?

Um... Well, she seemed highly accomplished.

And a very nice person.

Nice person?

Yeah.

Yeah, but bugger that, Mark. What positions did you do?

Well, the main one was, um... I lay there.

Yeah. And she did the, um...

You know what?

Business.

Hmm.

On Top Machine.

Look, Matthew, the truth is I wasn't really in the mood for it, so I just

for a straightforward massage, which was lovely, thank you, so don't keep going

on about it, please.

Yep.

Opted... ..for a massage.

Yes.

No nudie prod whatsoever.

No.

Martin, where is she now?

She's gone to the loo and then she's going home.

I do realise I paid her for the full monty.

Sorry, I just... I couldn't.

What?

I believe we've got some unfinished business to discuss.

Pardon?

Martin says that you didn't do anything.

So I'm afraid I'm going to have to shag you instead.

I'm afraid I'm off duty now.

I paid you for the work. It's not a solid massage.

It's not true what he says, anyway.

We did it four times.

He was insatiable in his desires.

Was he?

Look how shattered he is.

OK, then, I'll pay you to do me as well. No, can't do that.

Why not?

Look, I've had enough of the nights. They don't make us difficult for me.

Why won't you?

I don't fancy you, all right.

I'm into girls, if you must know.

Your friend was nice.

Bye, Mark.

Bye, Kim.

So the thing is, there really isn't a research job at all.

Not for me, anyway.

Oh, well.

You had nothing in common with him, really, did you?

I did.

We were both called Smelly at school.

I hope you told him off for wasting your time.

Knowing Mandy, she probably shagged him.

I said to him, look me in the eye, Ron Grimshaw, and tell me you don't want to

shag me.

And he looked at me and he tried to say it, but he just couldn't.

God, what did you do?

I stood up and I said, research your own pants, Ron Grimshaw, really loudly, so

the whole restaurant could hear.

And then I threw my wine over him and I marched out of there with my head held

high.

I think I'll hit the sack then.

Bit tired now.

Better sort out a new career in the morning.

Night, then.

Night, ma 'am. Night, ma 'am.

Matt? Yeah?

You know you like having a bit of a fight sometimes?

Yeah.

How about one now?

It's a bit late, Mark.

Oh, go on, then.

If you really want a bit of punishment... Oh!

Come on, man, lighten up!

Oh, sorry, mate, does this hurt? I didn't realise.