All language subtitles for Fresh Meat s04e04.eng

Subtitle by peritta

Beats By Dre, ?199.

Abo & Fitch,

?79.95.

SHB Vehicle Hire,

?69.

That's actually bloody decent
for a quad bike rental.

Jack Wills...

Now, please can you just understand

that this was
for an entire winter look.

...?467.55.

The Sock Factory...

That's the name of a website, not
an actual factory that I bought...

Enough. Seriously.
Before I puke up my cheesy frites.

I set you up for an interview
with Magda at Jonty Bonty

and you do what?

I fucked it.

Yeah. You fucked it.
In all available holes.

Fanny, mouth, arse and a bollock
up each nostril.

- I tried. Really hard...
- No, I know what you did Jonathan.

I wasn't born Tuesday,
AKA yesterday.

Well - that is it.
I'm disconnecting the pipe.

What pipe?

The money pipe, Jonathan.

I've sorted you a job.

Junior position, shit pay.

Until you accept,
you are officially cut off.

- Oregon?
- Oh, I'm just, erm, burning some poems.

Right. The, er, competition.

Yeah. Bit of a "poetry
surplus" scenario.

But I mean, you have read them
all, though?

I've read them. Yeah.

I've nearly read most of
these poems.

Do you think that you should
maybe... come clean?

Come clean about what?

- Taking 20 grand and wasting it
on a poetry prize. - It's not wasted!

Arts. Legacy.

Patronage.

It's OK.

Everything's basically
going to be OK.

Right. Back to the bonfire!

- I'll get marshmallows!
- OK.

- I make that precisely Bonk o'...
- [GIRL GASPS]

...clock.

Oh, God.

Oh. Hello?

- Sorry...
- No! No, God, I'm sorry, I... I should've knocked.

Erm... But this is great.
Erm, you two just crack on.

Give him a... bloody good bonking,

and I... I shall take my leave!

He's a clever, clever bastard.

He's isolated my one weakness.

Poverty.

Poverty is like my Kryptonite.

I think poverty is everyone's
Kryptonite, JP.

You know what? It's fine,
I can do it.

I can live on the breadline.
It'll be fucking fun!

Shopping around for deals,
using vouchers for Prezzo.

Oh, yeah. I mean, if you get really
strapped you could always

sell your collection of antique
Edwardian nutcrackers.

Yes, Vod. Or, we could bring out
our mutual friend, Cunty Landlord.

"Oh. Hello, Cunty, how are
you today?"

[DEEP VOICE]: "I'm fine, thank you,
JP. Has Vod paid her rent this week?"

"No. She hasn't, Cunty."

All right. Easy.

Got more angry paper.

It's so red. So angry.

Oggs. More poetry for you.

Right. I'll get the wheelbarrow.

It just all seems a bit... indulgent,
a bit... braggy.

- A bit "Look at me."
- Howard, it's a CV, mate.

It's supposed to be a BIT
"Look at me."

I don't like to boast.

I'm small-headed.
Though ironically

when it comes to helmet rental
I always come up large.

It's Ordnance Survey. OK.

They've probably got 28,000
candidates for that one position.

Oh - quick warning,
I've got Bad-Soc this afternoon

so don't expect any sense
out of me tonight!

Ooh... Badminton. The last
refuge of the fucking loser.

Mind your backs.

Er, Vod. This isn't Badminton,
this is Radminton.

More like... Sadminton.

More like Madminton.

Last week, we ended up doing
vodka shots out of a shuttlecock.

- Shuttlecocks have got holes in them?
- Exactly!

Cos that's how fucking mad we are.

So... yeah, I'm pretty much set up
for friends next year.

Game, set and trashed.

It's from Fulbright. The scholarship
people. That's going to be me, Vod.

Stroking books and just... laughing.

Great.

Professor Dumblefuck's International
School of Book-Stroking.

Hmm...

I think I may sell these
nutcrackers after all.

How's the novella?

It's a novel.

Course it is.

Well... thanks for pitching in
with the reading.

Pleasure.

And thus did
I decamp to fair Buxton,

and therein did immerse
myself in verse.

The majority of which,

sorry to conjure, were
read in a Radox-filled bubble bath.

- What's this?
- Those are my receipts, Oregon.

That you very kindly offered to
cover in lieu of my standard

- reader's fee.
- Three grand?!

Johnnie Walker?

Turbot?

What the fuck is a Belvedere?

It's a type of cigar.

Is that a new cardie?

Have you had your teeth whitened?

Oregon, that is an
outrageous accusation,

that really is from the
bottom drawer.

How am I supposed to get three grand
of turbot past accounts?

This thing is spiralling.

Oregon, if you're struggling,
just reach out and ask for help.

No, it's fine. I can bury it.

These... will not be a problem.

I can just make the necessary...

adjustments to the budget.

Everything will be...

Those are new fucking shoes, Tony.
I can see the soles!

Have you seen where they're holding
the Graduation Ball?

Fucking Distractions!

Oh... I like Distractions.

It's a worm-pit.

It's basically a portal to hell
with a chewy toothbrush dispenser.

The DJ wears a funny wig.
It is a solid night out.

It was like a green quiff,
if you can imagine such a thing.

I mean, why not go all out and hold
it in the fucking Wild Bean Cafe?!

That's not as mad as it sounds.

If you don't like it, why don't
YOU sort something, Kingo?

Oh, yeah, Vod -
I'll sort something out.

Cos that's the sort of thing
that happens.

"Oh, let's have a party.

"What sort of records
will I play at my party?

"Where will all the people
put their coats?

"Or should I just put all
the coats in a big bag?"

Wake up, Vod, fuck's sake. Huh?

Alternative Grad Ball.
Think about it.

So... I have a first draft.

My CV.

The life and times
of Howard Redacted MacGregor.

The first thing you'll notice
is the impeccable formatting.

And then almost immediately your eye
will be drawn to a jarring blend

blend of fonts -
Avenir Medium for the body

and Franklin Gothic Bold
for the headers.

A kind of niggling disparity
which wills you to look away but

of course, you cannot.

- Instep?
- Blood group?

- Potted dental history?
- Oh - can I see that?

Hobbies and interests, N/A?

Not applicable.

I did not know that
about your premolars.

You need interests, Howard.
Just put anything.

- I could put vintage Japanese erotica.
- Yeah, don't put that.

Even your teeth make you
sound weird.

Just make something up, Howard. Lie.

Well... I'm off to "Lee Dull"...?

Lie-Dull?

The horrible place
with the free food.

Josie... I'm a bit confused,

Do you think maybe we could have
a little chat about our trade agreement?

Re. er, docking at Smuggler's Cove.

Probably my least favourite
vagina euphemism.

So, just to clarify -

erm, I am... still free to, er,

trade my bananas with other
interested regions?

No, JP.

Because I'm so in love with you.

[SARCASTICALLY]
"Oh, Josie loves JP!

"Maybe she should get him
a Valentine's card!"

Basically, I wouldn't be that upset
if you died -

- I mean, I'd be sad, but I'd rally
pretty bloody quickly.

So... yeah, maybe we should just
forget the whole thing.

Oh. Fine, yeah, I mean... you know.
If that's what you want?

Well, that way you don't have to
worry about me barging in on you when you're balls-deep.

- Do you really want to
know what this is? - Yes.

It's a fuck-fest free-for-all,
and we're just two horny atoms

who keep... accidentally
smashing into each other. Capiche?

Yeah. Capiche.

I'm really glad we cleared that up.

Good. Now I'm cocking off.
For now - we badminton!

MUSIC: Kids In America
by Kim Wilde

Shuttlecock shot!

Ohhhh!

We only need 15 more and then
we can move for impeachment.

It's a petition. To have Oregon
Shawcross kicked out of office.

Yeah, sorry. I can't sign this.

Erm, she's actually
a friend of mine.

She's running this union
into the ground.

Slashing resources and jizzing away
God-knows-how much on her thing.

Think you better go.

Dale?

Guys... Seriously?
You want me to go?

I'm Jumping Josie Jones.
The mad slag of Bad-Soc.

I just don't think that you'd be
particularly comfortable,

with the kind of activism
WE'VE got in mind.

Like what?

We are going to burn an effigy
of Oregon in the quad.

Wow. OK, yeah. Erm...

first off can I just say,
and this didn't come from me...

Burn the witch, burn the witch,
burn the witch!

Erm... I'm just joking obviously,
she is a really great friend but...

You 'know, any information you could
give us...

would be really appreciated.

So, I've been thinking about this
Alternative Grad Ball.

I think it could look pretty
good on the old CV.

Plus, bit of a cheeky middle digit
up to those goons at 6Music.

My first question as a punter is,
will it be boring?

Why would it be boring?

I do need your help.

You've got 60 seconds then
I must get back to the books.

Right. Theme?

Oh, erm, Carnevale di Venezia.

- So, Carnival of Venice. A masked ball.
- So an orgy?

Not an orgy. Like a warehouse party,
but in a marquee?

Italian Hard House.

You know, like a rave but, erm,
sort of with cheese?

A classy masked rave in a large
tent, with loads of cheese?

Right, let's talk toilets.

One unit per ten females, er,
trough-style urinals for the blokes.

Speak to the farmer whose
field it is, he'll, er,

let you dump your turds in his silo
and that way you'll save on pumpage.

- Next?
- Um...

So, erm, yeah, er,
so in terms of types of cheese,

I was thinking, erm, Grana Padano
and Pecorino Romano?

Dude, you've got 15 seconds left and
you want to ask me about cheese?

- Erm... no?
- What about car-parking?

Ticketing, wrist-bands, security,

insurance, rigging,
lighting, gaffers?

Stage-hire, roadies,
hand-stampers, and that's time.

Where the fuck am I going to find
hand-stampers?

Kingsley, are you sure you should be
taking this on with your finals?

Oh, where's my wooden board?

I like it on a wooden board.
It tastes better on a wooden board.

[SHE MUTTERS IN ITALIAN]

What is with all the muttering?

I don't know, but she just
put my panini in the bin.

Oh, shit, she's coming back.

Well...

There's the famous Latin
temperament.

I mean, I don't know what
I expected?

If you dip your dick into Mount
Etna, you're going to get burnt.

Er, good luck with organising
your marquee for your orgy.

Oh, erm, I was thinking,
60 quid a ticket? Is that right?

Cos, like, 60 times 1,000...

I mean, I should be able to set up
some sort of pop-up

charcuterie store with 60,000 quid.
Right?

Right.

I mean, forget about the books,
how about I give you a hand?

I know a field and it's fallow
as fuck.

Just a few details before we
can proceed with your emergency hardship application.

Please. Take your time.

It's just nice to be warm.

Can I ask what your, er,
living status is, Jonathan?

Landlord.

You're a homeowner?

I am asset-rich but cash-poor.

Which, I don't know whether
you know, Janet,

is just an absolute fucker.

Can I ask what your household
income is? In terms of your parents?

Respectfully, I'd prefer not
to disclose that as I feel it

may negatively influence
the outcome of my application.

Just so you're aware, based on
what you've told me, I think

it's highly unlikely...

Why?! Because of my bearing?

Let me tell you a little story.

Christopher Biggins.

Privately-educated, very popular
entertainer... Bankrupt!

It happens.

And at this point, with regret,
it has become necessary for me

to ask for assistance
from the state.

We have limited resources

and with the recent cuts
we have to focus our funding.

Oregon.

Fucking Oregon.

Don't freak. I repeat.

Do not freak.
Blink if you understand.

Apparently there's a petition
going round.

They've got 100 signatures.

They've triggered a vote of no
confidence. I am so sorry, Oregon.

They're moving to impeach.

[CAMERA FLASH]

[CAMERA FLASH]

Impeachment!

They're trying to overthrow me!

Midway through planting a crabapple
tree and they drop this shit on me.

100 names.

The Traitor Menu.

I mean, I'm not putting them
on a watch list, but...

Mmm, your girlfriend signed this.

What can I tell you? La Donna.

She's her own animal.

God, I wish she'd just
fuck off back to Switzerland.

Erm, Italy.

Why would she fuck off back
to Italy?

Because she's from Italy.

She might fuck off via Switzerland.

- She's not Italian.
- She's totally Italian.

No! She speaks Italian because she's
from one of the Italian cantons

in Switzerland.

Italian cantons of Switzerland?
You just made that up!

You know, Switzerland. Chocolate.
Cuckoo clocks. Dignitas.

Nom-nom-nom-nom. Cuckoo!

Switzerland? Famously stayed out of
World War II?

Ironic considering the politics
of your Nazi, fucking wife.

Swiss...

Hmm, Switzerland?

[ECHOING]: 'My Swiss girlfriend,
Swiss girlfriend, Swiss girlfriend,

'Swiss girlfriend...'

So, what's your next move?

Well, I've got until the vote at 8pm
tomorrow to balance the budget

and get the books straight,

meanwhile I'm tit-high in Tony's
fucking turbot.

[PHONE RINGS]

Hello, Night-Line.
My name's Natasha,

'how can I help you?'

Hello, Natasha.

'How are you doing tonight?'

Not great.

Whatever it is, I'm sure I can help.

I'm closing Night-Line.

Who is this?

This is Oregon Shawcross.
Your President.

I have just have been on a bus

to the supermarket,

where I bought some bones.

I'm about to boil some pasta in
a minute.

If you want you can have my water.

Now I know what reality feels like.

Scratchy and harsh.

You're being pathetic.

Yes, I am being pathetic, Josie,
defiantly pathetic.

I can't do this by myself.

I need help.

Somebody help me.

Well, I have finally e-mailed my CV
to Ordnance Survey HQ.

Interests and hobbies include -
reading, walking and street magic.

- Street magic?
- You put down street magic?

Why did you put street magic?

Because I asked JP, and he said put
something cool down like street magic.

I said, put down something
cool LIKE street magic.

I didn't say, put fucking
street magic.

Oh, hot, horny hell have
I made an error?

They're going to have this stack of
boring CVs and then the resume

of David fucking Blaine. What do you
think their first question will be?

- Can you levitate?
- Will you smash my watch?

- Can you teleport?
- Can you turn invisible?

Can you burn a ?50 note, and then
you cough and it's in your mouth?

Do you honestly think they'll
expect me to levitate?

They'll expect something in
the levitation ballpark, yeah.

I'm on a hiding to nothing on
this one because I'm one of the most land-borne people I know.

Right? Can somebody spot me
some croutons for my bone soup?

PROTESTERS: Where's our bus!
Where's our bus!

Where's our bus! Shawcross out!

[SHOUTING CONTINUES]

Whack the head!
It's filled with Haribo!

Hey, I got a good one!
Orry-Orry-Ore-gone!

PROTESTERS: Out-out-out!

Orry-Orry-Ore-gone...

Josie, what are you doing?

Er... This...

this is just a harmless
bit of satirical fun.

Is that an effigy?

- Are they going to burn me?
- No.

No! Erm, not until they've got all
the sweets out of your big head.

Josie. This is horrible!

Come on. It's just a bit of,
you know, knock-about fun.

Punch and Judy politics.
Don't take it so personally.

They're going to set fire to ME.

Oregon. I don't want politics
to come between our friendship, OK?

But, y'know, closing down
Night-Line...

It got six calls a week!

[CROWD CHEER]

Oh, whoa! God! That really went up!

S'awful.

Burn the witch! Burn the witch!

So flammable.

[CROWD CHANT]: Burn the witch!

That is a killer field.
Beautifully fucking irrigated.

- We should check the acoustics.
- Mmm.

One-two. Two-two. One-two. Two!

- I'm none the wiser.
- Mmm.

Sorry can you put those fucking
sunglasses on, or take them off?

[PHONE RINGS]

God. Mum again.

Bandit had a seizure.

Who the fuck's Bandit?

The epilepsy dog.

Epilepsy dog had a seizure!

Epilepsy dog has epilepsy?!

Well, does he though?

Or is it all just part
of the mind-war?

"Uni's coming to an end."
"Oh, big coincidence, Bandit's had a wobbler!"

She probably locked him
in the cupboard under the stairs

with a strobe until he wigged out.

Oh, yeah, she wants you back.
What a bitch(!)

There's no way I'm
moving back with her.

I'd rather move to the Yemen
and work in a salt-mine.

Nah, I'll just stay in Manchester.

Move in with Rosa, probably.

Very homely.

What do you think about her
though? Really?

I tell you what I think about your
Swiss girlfriend, Kingsley. Neutral.

I feel neutral.
Not one side or the other.

- She's just been on my back lately.
- Hmm.

Weighing you down, like one of them

really big Toblerones you
get from Duty Free.

I mean it can't be the case that
I like her less because she's Swiss.

But also, it is the case.

I mean you saw her,
flying off the handle like that.

There's no need for it.

If she's not Italian that just means
she's just really fucking snippy.

Oregon.

I've come to claim ?20,000 for the
greatest poem in the world!

[CLEARS HIS THROAT]

There was a young legend from Stow,

Who snorted a kilo of blow.

JP, that's a limerick, you're not
going to win with a limerick.

- There was a young lady
from St Mary's Ca... - Again - limerick.

There was a young geezer...

If it begins, "There was a young..."
it's a fucking limerick, JP!

- I brought you some sweets.
- Oh, good(!)

They managed to get all the sweets
out of my big flammable

fucking Pinata head before it
exploded into flames?

No. They didn't actually.

We had some packets left over.

So,

the dreaded vote of no confidence.

If only there were some way you
could rise above your problems.

Howard, what are you doing?

I'm levitating.

Like some kind of highly-employable
Christ figure.

Well, I want names, Josie. I am
going to highlight those involved.

It is not Orwellian, it is just
being very bloody organised...

"Jezebel James?"

That's you, isn't it?

You signed this?

I'm desperate. OK, Oregon.

I need friends for next year
and Bad Soc's all I've got.

Yeah, well, you know what?
Fuck Bad Soc.

- No way?
- Yes way.

Funding has been cut.

I am 'Breaking Bad Soc'.

You evil fucking despot.

Sorry, Josie. Death to Sadminton.

Do you think
he looks menacing enough?

Quite sad eyes.

He's big, he's bald, he's bearded.
Tick, tick, tick. Yes, please.

Maybe I should ask him
to manhandle me.

You know, try before you buy.

Plus, we do a lot of security
on match days.

Sweet!

Ooh, do you want, er, Mole
to manhandle you now, Kingo?

Oh, yeah, she's... she's joking.
There's not...

not much man to manhandle, methinks!

What's the, er, damage, you know,
bunce-wise?

1,500 for the night

or nothing and we do the sundries -

coke, weed, pills.

Interesting. Don't think we've found
a supplier yet for our sundries,

- have we, Kingo?
- Yeah. So sorry, Mole.

Um... just, yeah, quick conflab
with my associate. Um, yeah.

What the fuck? He's a dealer!

He's a short bald man
from Liverpool in a bomber jacket.

I mean, I'm no Poirot...

Mole - he sounds all nice.
He sounds all Toad of Toad Hall.

He's a drugs mole.

There are going to be
drugs at the Grad Ball, hmm?

So, we either go to the open market

or we go with a local supplier
who provides a quality,

freshly-sourced product.

Don't make him sound like he's some
fucking artisan baker!

He's a drug dealer, he's dangerous.

All right. Don't stack your briefs!
We'll find someone else.

OK, so what now? What's
the etiquette with these people?

Do they have an etiquette
or do we just turn around and walk away really fucking briskly?

Yeah, that's what we do.

- How are you holding up?
- Yeah, yeah, really good.

Um, I'm looking forward
to my vote of confidence.

I thought it was
a vote of no confidence.

Yeah, well, that all depends
on if you're a negative person

or you're more in the mould

of a Dorothy Parker
meets Ellen MacArthur.

Straw poll - if you were
interviewing me for a job,

would you be impressed
if I, very safely,

launched a small firework
from about my beard?

Two, four, six... no hands!
Great feedback, thanks.

Oregon, can you just
lift your chin up?

I'm doing a cheeky little
lampoon for the protest movement.

You're lampooning me?

Yeah. The Blaster got in touch
out of the blue.

I've been commissioned. I'm getting
paid. Screw you, Tomothy!

All aboard the satirical cartoon
gravy train!

Next stop - Money Town!

Why have I got whisker...
Am I shitting?

You're a fat cat trying to
escape on a hot-air balloon marked

"Corruption" and you're taking
a big steaming shit

onto all of the students
down below you.

But now, this sword with
"Impeachment" written on it

is about to cut off your head.

It is a pretty good likeness,

considering it's a cat
taking a shit.

Well, it's irrelevant
because I've balanced the budget.

Nightline, fell-walking -
cut, cut, cut!

Plus, I've told them
that I've got an appointment for a yeast infection,

so they pushed the vote
back by two hours.

Oh, no! The England game's tonight.
Uh-oh! There goes the sports vote.

Same old Oregon, same old shit!

No! Actually, JP, new Oregon
cos it's a new day,

new outlook,
new policies, new haircut,

new ideas, new energy, new haircut.

I am going to move on
and I'm changing everything -

new direction, new haircut.

You keep saying new haircut.

New haircut for a new president,

for a new outlook on a new haircut
to inspire new confidence.

Vod, I need you to give me
a new... haircut.

Mm.

So, I was thinking...

All right, I could do that.

OK.

So what I've done is,
I've gone too short on this side.

So I can either go short
on the other side

or you can have slightly wonky hair.

Um...

All right.

OK.

So what's happened here is, I've
gone even shorter on this side,

but I'll just level it up.

OK.

Just to fill you in, basically,
I've done the same thing again.

Yeah, I think I should just
abandon hair at this point.

No president's ever been impeached.
Do you know that?

Apart from Muttock,
but he wasn't impeached,

he just went straight to prison for
killing someone in a road accident.

I don't know how I ended here, Vod.

Maybe Idi Amin started by setting up
a boutique literary award

and then a few things go sideways

and boom! You're the tyrant queen
that killed Night-Line.

Is that going to be my legacy?

Oregon, this isn't over.

You walk in there and you let
your natural charm speak for itself!

What natural charm?

You know. Don't pretend
you don't know. I know you know.

You so know!

I guess I could try
and switch it on.

Come on. Let's even this up.

OK.

OK. What's happened here is...

All I'm saying is, it's good that
Vod is helping you with the party.

This way, you can
focus on your study.

Well, that certainly seems to be a
very safe way of looking at things,

Rosa. Very safe, very neutral.

You need to focus on your finals.

A daily reminder of my finals -
regular as the 9.30 from Zurich.

There you go.

Move out of the way, Mum!

[HE HUMS]

Mmm... ma mia! This looks amazing!

I fucking love chicken nuggets!

Thanks, sweetheart,
thanks, darling, thanks, love!

Chicken fucking nuggets!
Fucking result!

I am going to fucking smash these
chicken fucking nuggets!

Yeah, I might eat this in my room.

So, I have tried and failed to
master the dark art of street magic.

And now, boys and girls,

for my next trick, I will
make my career prospects disappear!

Abra and indeed cadabra!

- Is that a trick, Howard?
- No.

It's just the actions of a man
who no longer requires a watch,

be it for appointment or interview.

Sorry, brah.

I'm going to have to call
John at Ordnance Survey

and request that my application be
officially withdrawn.

Theme of the Grad Ball.
The theme is Carnage.

Like...

Chain-saw artists, Wheel of Death,

a woman in iron pants making sparks
with an angle grinder.

That sounds horrific.

Kingo, I'll focus on the bigger
picture. You sort out the details.

What, you're Florence,
I'm just the fucking Machine?

Try to ignore the whirring sound.
That's just the Machine doing

- all the fucking work while Florence
fucks about in a floaty dress! - Well, that's the deal.

- Unless you want to sort it on your own.
- All right. Fine, fine.

All right, compromise.

Cheese and Carnage.

Well, we might as well start.

It looks like this is all
we're getting.

Our motion is clear.

Oregon, throughout your tenure,
we believe you've shown

a lack of leadership,
a lack of judgment,

a lack of character. Actually,
you have a weak character, Oregon.

And I think I speak on behalf
of a majority of the student body

when I say, with regret,
we have no confidence in you.

[APPLAUSE]

Firstly, I would like to thank
everybody for coming out

tonight and missing the crucial
Moldova qualifier.

It gives me the perfect opportunity
to announce that we, I,

have finally balanced the budget.

We, I, have had a lot of tough
decisions to make and we, I,

have always had the best interests
of the student body at heart.

What about the turbot?

We know about the receipts.

What receipts?

Er... OK. If I could deal
specifically with the turbot...

Let's get straight into this,
shall we? Votes against impeachment.

- Is that us?
- Yeah.

Oi, Dynamo! Levitate yourself
out of that fucking seat right now!

OK. Votes for impeachment.

Wait!

Er, if I could, before they sit
down again, everybody,

I have something I need to tell you.

Oh, God!

- Come on, everybody! Join in!
- You're on your own, mate.

[SHE LAUGHS]

[MICROPHONE BUZZES]

[OREGON LAUGHS]

I thought we were going to have

to helicopter her out of the Quad
like Ceausescu.

It was when she started singing
Man In The Mirror that I knew she was in trouble.

Found these under the mat.

Oh? Oh, you are joking me!

I'm just drowning in red ink!

Um, I'm just off the phone
to John at Ordnance Survey

and I came clean about my CV.

I told him it was just a sexed-up
dossier of mistruths

printed on a tissue of lies,
and he said he admired my honesty.

And so, if I get a First,
the job's mine.

Holy shit, bro!
Wax up the Oyster card

and buy some pepper spray!
You're moving to London!

Mole? Um... you've got a deal.

Yeah, you can do security.
Yeah, and drugs.

'Yeah, he'd be cool with that.
Yeah.'

It was me, by the way.

I gave the Blaster your number and
told them you were good at cartoons.

Oh, thanks.

I've been thinking about our little
trade agreement.

Maybe I could impose a sort of
import ban.

You know, not import from any
non-Josie territories,

withdraw from the EU.

JP, I think that maybe we shouldn't.

We need to stop.

It's over.

Yeah, good. No, I mean... cos
that was my other idea, so...

Oh, and, er, the Blaster said sorry
but, um...

...this is all they could give you.

MUSIC: Free Money by Patti Smith

[HE SIGHS]

Tomothy, it's me. I'll do it.
I'll take the job.

Just please, please,
please turn the pipe back on.

Subtitle by peritta

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