Original subtitles

(ominous music)

- Hello, hello.

Is this on?

Oh. (soft tapping)

One, two.

One, two.

(speaker squeals)

One, two.

Okay.

Is everyone...

Yeah.

I think we should get started.

Let's face it, everyone loves a good story,

but with the kind of pressures we are under today,

we can't always find a time in our busy lives

to read and finish entire novels.

But we do need stories in our lives.

And that, my friends,

is the key to the success of our product.

Our condensed book editions

make stories accessible to everyone.

Let's not forget, some of the biggest fans

of our condensed books are the authors themselves.

The last time I was in the States,

I went along to a celebrity dinner

and I found myself talking to Dick Francis.

I said, "Dick, tell me the truth,

"what did you think of our condensed version

"of your last book?"

Well, he looked at me for a long time,

and, I must say, I was steeling myself

for a pretty tough response.

He said, "Well, Bob, I'm very upset."

I said, "Why, Dick, why?"

And he said, "You know, I actually thought

"it was better than the original."

(crowd laughs)

Now that is a giant compliment

from a giant writer. (cellphone ringing)

But seriously, folks, it's a fine product.

Please join me in

applauding the 200th edition. - Gary Kelp.

- Oh. (crowd applauds)

(Carol whimpers)

- Are you supposed to do that?

- I don't know.

- Can you touch them?

- He's our father, Gary.

They don't own him just because he's dead.

- He's giving off cold air.

- Close his eye.

- You do it.

- Poor old bastard.

He was so scared of dying, wasn't he?

(cellphone buzzing) (cellphone ringing)

(cellphone beeps) - Hello.

Yeah.

I'm still at the morgue.

Yes, still.

Well, Simon, how long do you think you'd need

to say goodbye to your father?

No, no, no, don't apologize.

That's fine.

Why don't you give me 15 minutes?

Oh, actually, make it 14.

How's that? (cellphone beeps)

What?

What?

Hang on, you're not trying to tell us

that emptying his leg of bone marrow

is standard postmortem procedure?

- I didn't say that, Mrs. Kelp.

No.

- It's Ms.

It's Ms. Kelp.

- Oh, I'm sorry.

Ms. Kelp.

What I was saying is it's shocking, isn't it,

to see our loved ones changed like this?

You expected to see your father

and say goodbye to him as he was, didn't you?

As he was when he was alive.

But he isn't like you remembered him, is he?

He's different.

(grunts)

(grunting)

- Gary!

What the hell are you doing?!

Gary?!

Put him back!

(woman screams)

(bell ringing)

- Oi!

(tires screeching) (people shouting)

- Take me back.

- So how much of his body have you actually harvested?

- I'm not the appropriate person to speak to about this,

but I can tell you that your mother has generously agreed,

and legally donated cells and tissues

from your father's body so that the doctors

can give life to other people.

(television chattering)

- Mum?

Mum! - That is 17413.

We're going to use that first 6450 or 6550,

and you've got mint, violet, or white.

And as it's the first product in the hour,

I won't go into detail of that one straight away.

I'll move on to our next preview for you.

- Since when have you had cable?

- Oh, I got it put on.

- Finish foundation, and it comes with a block

of sponges, lots of sponges, actually.

And in this one, we have got, color-wise,

now we've got, gosh, Hills, this hard

to read it from here. - There's Chic Beige.

- Yes. - Light beige, natural beige,

and nude beige.

- And will you just differentiate

between those for us?

Or actually, when we come to it,

we might do that as well. - We'll go through the colors.

(door clacks)

(door thuds)

(keys jingling)

- How are you feeling?

- Fucked.

He was your first one?

- Yeah.

Was 28.

And he'd blown the top of his head off with a shotgun.

Never forget his face, it was all squashed.

Need a skull to hold your face up.

Did you know that?

- No.

- Mm.

Mm, was a heroin user, an alcoholic.

He smoked too much.

- Jesus.

- Mm.

His body was a fucking mess.

- Do they refrigerate them or what?

- Mm, they keep them in alcohol.

- So they're just floating in alcohol?

- Mm.

In big tubs.

- I'm not leaving my body to science.

- Why not, you don't need it when you're dead.

- How do you know?

- What?

- How do you know you don't need your body when you're dead?

(chuckles)

- Trust me, Gary, you don't.

Once you're dead, that's it.

Zip.

Got about three weeks before you're soup.

- But who is you?

You're more than just your body, aren't you?

You're more than just a sum total of your body parts.

(sighs)

- You're stoned.

I'm going to bed.

- This is really about changing your life.

I see something radical.

Raw vegetables.

Brown rice.

Miso.

Lentil dishes, nuts, seaweeds.

This is an in-your-face cookbook,

something that will really challenge people's ideas

about what they put into their bodies.

- Yes.

(pen taps) Yes.

Well, what does everybody think?

Ray?

(sighs)

- It's a challenge.

(fingers snap)

- That's it.

We're throwing down a challenge.

We're saying "Come on, buddy, I dare you to live this."

Right? - We could even do some

light recipes for fasting.

- I don't see what's so challenging about it.

People are so obsessed with their health.

Publishing a new diet's like waving a bone

in front of a dog.

- People should be concerned about their health, Gary.

- Yeah, well, maybe they should,

but 90% of our nonfiction books relate to health.

90%.

Doesn't that seem a bit, I don't know, unhealthy?

- Most of our customers are pretty old.

- You know, there's a little homily

that appeals to our customers.

If you haven't got health, what have you got?

- Well, don't you think we underestimate them?

I mean, 1% of the Earth's population

is living off 99% of its resources.

The oceans are all dying.

The air's becoming unbreathable.

Pretty soon we'll be the only species left on the planet,

outside a zoo that is,

and here we are neurotically obsessed

with the amount of fiber in our diets.

- I think the extinction rate

is about one species every three minutes.

- I heard that cockroaches are going to outlive us.

- Hey.

Why don't we do a dying planet series?

Start off with the effects of third world debt.

- No one's interested in the effects of third world debt.

- A dying planet series.

Okay.

Okay.

What do you think, Ray?

- It'd go down like a sack of shit.

- Yeah.

Yeah.

I think you're probably right, Ray.

I think it would go down like, well, like you say.

Gary?

At this stage, I think you should just be focusing

your energies on "The Illustrated Family Doctor."

(ominous music)

- Can't do this anymore, Ray.

Can't even bring myself to look at it.

- What is that?

- Elephantiasis.

- Nice tits.

- Fuck off, Ray.

- It's only nature.

- There's nothing natural about that.

- Of course there is.

It's life, isn't it?

- It's death.

- It's a fact of life.

- It's disgusting.

It's pornographic.

"The Illustrated Family Doctor."

It's not fit for normal people, let alone families.

(Ray sighs)

(Ray sighs)

What's so fucking fantastic about health books anyway?

- They sell.

- So does crack.

- Stick with the facts, son.

Straight information.

Cut and paste.

(ominous music)

- How can you be so confident about what to keep in a novel

and what to chuck out?

- It's easy.

You just get a feel for the boring bits,

and you take them out.

Subplots come out either way.

- Even if they're not boring?

- Oh, it's a sad thing, but such is life.

Same with minor characters.

- You've got to have minor characters, haven't you?

- Only if they stick to the plot.

- But what if you're just a nice bit of elegant prose,

describing the moodiness of the sea or some shit?

Look out, it's Ray.

Click, and you're out on your ass.

- Nothing wrong with a bit of atmosphere.

- What about irrelevant details?

- What about them?

(computer beeps) - Why did you save that?

- Got to come out, it's not moving the plot along.

- But why did you save it?

- Because I wanted to keep it.

- Why though?

- I liked it.

- What are you gonna do with it?

- Absolutely nothing.

- What's this?

- It's a story.

A story full of minor characters, like you,

doing a whole lot of irrelevant shit.

- So you're writing a novel?

- I'm not writing it, just saving it.

(both moaning)

- Hang on, if they're checking out your ass,

how can you see them?

- Okay, so they check out my tits.

- But if they're just looking at your tits,

that doesn't mean they're gonna rape you.

Everybody checks out tits, that's what tits are for.

(sighs)

- Can't we just do it?

- How many of them are there?

- Four.

- Four?

What are they all doing?

- One of them puts his hand up my dress from behind

while I'm trying to put the key in the car door.

- Just like that?

- I don't have knickers on.

- Well, they were probably checking out your ass.

I suppose you were bending over in front of them.

- That's a different fantasy.

Mm.

(Jennifer moaning)

- Okay, so then what happens?

I can't believe all this is going on while I'm fucking you.

- So then, a couple of guys pull me away from the door

while two others open it

and they push me onto the backseat.

And there's a guy in front and he's holding my arms.

And there's guy another guy in the back

and he's holding my legs apart

and he's pushing them wider and wider apart

till it's hurting my thighs.

- And why don't you scream?

- There's a hand's over my mouth.

There's other hands and they're all over my tits.

(Jennifer panting)

(Gary groans)

- What's so erotic about this?

Sounds fucking awful.

(panting)

- It is.

- Why does it make you come, then?

- I don't know.

Biology?

- Look at this.

What is it?

- I don't know, Gary.

It's probably a sunburn.

- No, this is not sunburn.

- Or a rash.

- No, look at it.

Is it an infection?

Looks like typhoid.

(Jennifer chuckles)

- Think you'd have a pretty serious abdominal pain

if it was typhoid, Gary.

- Can't you tell what it is?

- Listen, I'm a nurse, not a fucking dermatologist!

(radio chattering)

(ominous music)

- Hey. Gary.

Gary.

Come here.

Big feller.

Take a look, son.

Have a look at this.

Come on, have a look.

Have a good look.

- Excuse me.

- Hello.

- I'm looking for Ray Gill's office.

- Do you know where he is?

- I've been here before, but I just,

I get so lost in this place.

(sighs)

(knocking)

- Ray, there's someone here to see you.

- Righto. Thanks, Gary.

Thanks, Gary.

And close the door.

- How's the IFD shaping up, Gary?

- Oh, hi, Bob.

Sorry?

Oh, the IFD?

- Mm.

- Oh, well, you're gonna have to talk to Ray about that.

He's working on it now.

Didn't he tell you?

- I thought we agreed "The Illustrated Family Doctor"

would be your responsibility.

- Well, I've got "The Illustrated Book of Facts"

to work on still,

as well as "The Practical Guide to Comedy."

That was a hell of a lot of research, actually.

I never realized there were so many ways to tell a joke.

- But I spoke to Ray.

- Didn't he didn't tell you he was working on it?

- He said nothing about it.

- Oh, no, no, no, Ray and I have talked about this.

He's a big fan of the health books,

and he wanted to take it over.

Oh, I couldn't say no.

- Really?

- Yeah.

- Well okay, I'll talk to Ray about it.

(ominous music)

(distant singing)

♪ Clarelle ♪

- Carl Lucas?

What are you doing here?

- Gary?

(upbeat music)

(laughs)

I always wondered what sort of person condenses books.

It's Gary Kelp.

- Actually, someone else does that.

I just rip off ideas from popular reference books,

give them a new title and a different format.

(Carl laughs)

- You don't give a fuck, do you?

You look like you've got the bubonic plague.

- No, I don't.

Bubonic plague is characterized

by the inflamed swellings of the glands.

I'm just overworked, and I've got some problem with my skin.

So what have you been doing?

- I've got a nice little caravan up north.

I've been growing a bit of weed and working on a novel.

- A novel?

What's it about?

- You never discuss what it's about.

If you're gonna tell people what it's about,

you might as well not fucking write about it.

- Fair enough.

- Let me tell you a little something about writing, Gary.

Writing is just like tantric sex.

Mm?

You withhold, and withhold, let it build up and build up

until you've got a load so unbearable you've got no choice.

You've got no choice but to shoot it

down the throat of the entire world.

You don't dissipate it by telling everyone.

You know, that's just like jacking off.

Mm.

Every stranger's face, every spiderweb we saw as kids,

everything you've ever experienced is recorded in the brain,

but memory has no specific location in the brain.

In fact, neither does sight.

- Well, how do they know memory and sight

don't have specific locations?

- Well, that is a very interesting question.

They've removed parts of people's brains,

they don't lose specific memories,

they just lose a general memory strength.

- Memory strength?

- Mm, likewise with sight.

This Bavarian guy found out.

- Which Bavarian guy?

- Dr. Krapski.

Gustav Krapski.

Yeah, he found out that, like, cats

only need 2% of their optical fibers

to perform some pretty complex visual tasks.

- Like what?

Finding the couch?

(Carl chuckles)

- He did some interesting tests on monkeys too.

Apparently, and this isn't very well-known,

he taught monkeys to do particular puzzles,

then cut bits of the monkeys' brains out

to see if he could eradicate the memories.

- Poor old monkeys.

- Well, the monkeys still did the puzzles,

no matter which part of the brain they took out.

Sometimes, their motor skills were a bit, you know, wonky,

but they still knew how to those puzzles.

Then, Krapski took one of the monkey's brain out,

switched it around, put it in back to front.

- What name is Krapski?

It's not Bavarian.

It's not even German.

- Go on.

- Well, it could still do the puzzles.

- But that doesn't prove a thing.

- That's what Krapski thought.

So, he took the monkey's brain out again

and, this time, he cut it into four quarters,

replaced them in a different order.

- Bullshit.

- What happened?

- Well, a bit groggy.

Comes around. (fingers snap)

Does the puzzles again.

No problems.

- Oh, monkey.

- The next time, Krapski, he takes the brain out

and slices it up like a loaf of bread.

- Monkey darling.

- Shuffles it around like a pack of cards, puts it back.

- Did it work?

- Bit groggy.

(fingers snap) Comes around.

Does the puzzles again, correctly.

- That's one clever little monkey.

- Finally, he put it through a blender.

- Get fucked.

- Could he still do the puzzles?

- Well, he was a bit groggy.

(both laugh)

- That's not funny.

- Change.

Change is a fact of life.

Coping with change is something we all need to learn to do.

There are a number of stages we all go through

when dealing with change.

The first stage is confusion, like our friend here.

We don't understand why we have to change.

We get all upset and confused and we say,

"I don't like these changes.

(foot stomps) "I don't want to change."

Then, we get angry, don't we,

like Mr. Grumpy here,

and we say, "No, no, no.

"I want everything to be the same."

(Clarice chuckles)

Then, of course, after we've had our little tantrum,

we get all apathetic, don't we, like Mr. Sleepy here,

and we say, "Oh, I just don't care anymore.

"I can't be bothered.

"It's all too hard."

- He was a Polish butcher with an artificial hand.

Away.

Away.

You do like this.

Always.

Never this.

You wanna be this?

Is that what you want?

You wanna be this?

I used to be shit scared of him.

So, what do I do?

Wah!

Fucking this.

I saw two of my fingers drop into the sawdust

before I felt a thing.

Picked them up, wrapped them in my apron,

put it all in my coat pocket.

I called out, "Hey, Roman, I've just got to go up

"to the post office."

I walked out.

- What did you do?

- Went to the fucking casualty.

- No, I mean after that.

- Bought a car, and headed north.

- Did you keep your fingers in a jar?

I kept my tonsils in a jar for years.

- Keep them?

Sure.

I taught them to play the fucking piano.

(Gary chuckles)

- So what'd you do up north?

- Drove around.

That's how I met the ex-wife.

Came round a bend one day and there she was,

walking along the side of the road, stark naked.

I pulled over and said, "Want a lift?"

She got in, that was it.

- Bullshit.

- She was off her head on something.

Didn't know where she was.

She was bleeding from the lips, bruised all over.

I covered her with an old coat and said,

"What happened to you?"

She didn't say a word for three weeks.

Only found out years later.

Truckies raped her.

- Oh, shit.

- Yeah.

We spent the next seven years living in a tent

like Adam and Eve in some fucking paradise.

- So why did you move back to the city?

- We were watching this friend of ours

eating tree bark one day.

Said, "Mate, what are you eating fucking tree bark for?"

He says "Try it, Ray.

"It's better than magic mushrooms."

The wife and I sat there and watched him.

He ate the whole fucking tree and went into a coma.

And the wife just looked at me and said,

"You want to go and live in Sydney?"

I said "Sure, let's go."

- So who was that woman the other day?

Your girlfriend?

- My daughter.

- Your daughter?

That was your daughter?

She seemed a bit upset.

- Yeah.

She's having a rough time of it, always has.

Still, what can you do?

I'm just her father.

- She's quite attractive, isn't she?

Well, she doesn't look like you at all.

- Yeah.

Looks just like her mother.

(people chattering)

- The hell is this supposed to be?

- What's going on?

- They've only gone and given us all the sack.

- Who? - "Who"?

All of us.

All of us.

- How can they ax a whole department?

- It's called outsourcing.

They give the work to a cowboy outfit

with a tin shed and a payroll full of migrants.

- Do you think they'll outsource us?

- Well, there's plenty of freelance editors out there.

You don't pay them for days off or superannuation.

- We should do something.

- You should do something.

- Like what?

- I don't know, Gary.

Whatever it is you need to do.

(gentle music)

- You might have poked yourself in the eye.

- I think I'd have noticed that.

- Or it could be a common sty.

(John sighs)

Sorry, Gary.

I'm a surgeon, not an ophthalmologist.

What is science?

- Science?

What do you mean?

- Well, what is it?

Come on, tell me.

What is science?

How would you define it?

- Experimentation.

- No, that's the methodology.

Practically speaking, science is ocular observation.

- Gary.

Come on, we were gonna get away an hour ago.

- Cheers.

- I didn't know you were ready.

- Yeah, right, I only told you twice I was ready.

- Thrice.

- Let's go.

God, I hate seeing my father and you talking like that.

All that boys' own intellectual dribble.

- You don't know what we were talking about.

(Jennifer laughs)

- I know the genre.

- Genre?

- Yes, genre.

God, I hate it when you're pissed.

You're not getting in the car with that either,

not while I'm driving.

- He's very didactic, isn't he?

- Oh, for God's sake,

don't go treating him like a fucking guru.

That's what he wants. - I'm not.

- Saw you looking into his eyes,

practically licking his balls.

- Oh, settle down.

- Maybe you should sleeping with him instead of me.

- You're not actually jealous of me and your father?

- Shut up!

I can't go on like this, Gary.

I think I've just had enough.

- Enough of what?

- Look at you.

You never look at yourself.

You know why?

- Okay.

Why?

Why do I never look at myself?

Tell me fucking why.

- Because if you looked at yourself,

you'd see there's something missing.

- Like what?

- You don't put out.

- Put out what?

- Anything.

You don't have feelings for anyone or anything.

- Yeah, that's your real reason why I don't look at myself?

- A lot of people think so, Gary.

You're missing the whole fucking point.

- Well, who are they?

(sighs)

- See?

It's a waste of time.

- No, you say a lot of people, who are these people?

Tell me one person.

Just one.

Right.

Nobody.

(Jennifer sighs)

- Okay.

Your friend Carl.

- Carl Lucas?

- Well, you wanted to know.

- Said that?

- No, not word for word!

Anyway, Gary, this isn't about you, it's about me!

- Hi, Gary.

- Oh, hi, Bob. - Can we talk?

Yep, Gary, caught up with Ray this morning.

We've been discussing progress

on "The Illustrated Family Doctor."

You're right, Ray is very keen to work on it, very keen.

- Really? - Yeah, well, he's very

interested in all health-related issues

and, I must say, he's amazingly well-informed.

But, look, after some discussion,

and considering the amount of work he has on his plate,

we agreed it shouldn't be his responsibility at the moment.

It should remain your responsibility.

Ray's got a number of fiction projects to work on

which we also want to have ready for Christmas release.

- Well, couldn't I work on them?

I know a bit about fiction.

- Gary, I'll be blunt.

Yours is not a senior position here.

Your job is to do what you're told

as efficiently and as quickly as possible.

We in agreement here?

- Sure.

- Good.

So, when will it be ready for proofing?

- What?

- When will "The Family Doctor" be ready for proofing?

- Listen, Bob, I just can't wade through

all that medical stuff.

I open it up and my stomach churns

and my brain just shuts down.

You know, I just can't do it.

- What the hell is your problem, Gary?

- Well, I don't know whether you heard,

but, well, my father died recently.

- Oh. - And...

- I'm very sorry to hear that.

- Well, you know, it's just one of those things.

It's just-- - No, I understand.

I understand.

- You're staring to make me look like a real cunt, Ray.

- That's not hard.

- What are you doing, three books a week now?

- Three or four, who's counting?

- Bob Boundary and the fucking

productivity police are counting.

Who isn't counting?

- What else am I gonna do, sitting around here all day?

- Can't you find something less productive to do?

You're really losing the plot, Ray.

Lucky you're not in a novel, you'd be out on your ass.

- I'd be in good company then, wouldn't I?

- I don't know.

Do you ever look around you and go,

"Shit, this is my life"?

- No.

Not anymore.

You finished "The Family Doctor"?

- No.

- It's straight facts.

Cut and paste.

(ominous music)

(mouse clicking)

(sighs)

(groans)

(toilet flushes)

(faucet handle squeaks) (water splashing)

- That looks nasty.

You want to get some drops for that eye.

Osram 58 drops from the chemist.

They come in a little bottle about so big,

cost you eight bucks.

Osram 58,

the only thing that will clear up an infection like that.

- Yeah?

- Osram 58, yeah.

- Jen?

Jen?!

Hey, Jennifer?

(phone ringing)

Jennifer, hi.

- Gary, it's me, Carol.

Listen, Mum's not coping.

- Coping with what?

- What do you think, you idiot?

She's been phoning the hospital.

- What hospital?

- The hospital Dad was in.

(sighs)

- Why?

- I don't know.

Think it's some guilt thing about giving away his organs.

- Well, what can I do?

- I don't know.

Go and see her.

- Jen's moved out.

Carol?

- Five seconds, Simon.

(sighs)

Well, what happened?

- I don't know.

Did you bring your list?

- Oh, God, I've forgotten the list.

- Well, don't panic.

We can improvise.

Oh, that's butter, Mum.

You don't need butter, do you?

- Is that butter?

- Yeah, look.

It's got a cow on the tub and it says Butter.

- What's it doing in a plastic tub?

- Not much.

- Margarine comes in plastic tubs,

butter always comes in greaseproof paper.

- I don't know, Mum.

- Well, why do they keep changing things?

(gentle music)

- Can I help you?

- Can I have a scotch, please?

Just a shot with no ice.

Make it a double with no ice.

Did I just say that?

No ice?

And a beer too.

- What?

Who the fuck do you think you are?

Who the fuck do you think you are?

Do you care?

Do you can care?

Are you actually listening to me?

What's that stupid look on your face for, hm?

Do we actually have a fucking relationship here, hm?

Do you know the meaning of the word?!

Are you fucking deaf?

Who are you looking at?

(loud thud)

(cash register rings)

- You a student?

- Yeah, mate, I'm studying assholes.

(lively music)

(sighs)

- What are you looking at?

What are you looking at?

You were looking at me.

- Oh, I didn't mean anything by it.

- It's okay, you don't have to feel bad about it.

Hey!

I don't mean to interrupt,

but is this a public bar or a public library?

I would like to buy a drink for this man

because he was looking at me.

- You don't have to buy me a drink.

- Well, I know that, but do you want me to?

- Same all around, eh?

- Mm.

So what do you see?

- When?

- When you look at me, what do you see?

- It depends.

- On what?

- Whether your boyfriend's in the way.

- Him?

Boofhead's not my boyfriend.

- It looked like you were having a bit

of a domestic over there.

- Yeah, his whole life's a fucking domestic.

I'm sick of him, I think I finally hate him,

although it's hard to tell.

I've never hated anyone before.

- What's he done to you?

- He's made me hate.

Isn't that enough?

(glass clacks)

- You don't remember me, do you?

- Should I?

- I work with your father, Ray.

I met you when you came to see him at the office.

Is your sight bad?

- Oh, shit.

You're that guy.

(chuckles)

A girl can't go anywhere without being seen, can she?

- You really should get some glasses.

Then you could see who's seeing you before you see them.

Oh, fuck.

Before they see you.

(chuckles)

- So do you condense books too?

- It's a day job.

- What do you do at night?

- Oh, this and that.

- "This and that"?

Sounds exhausting.

- Well, actually, I write.

- Ah.

What do you write?

Poetry?

Screenplays?

Pornography?

- Oh, you know, stories.

- About what?

- Oh, you don't talk about that,

what you're gonna write about.

It dissipates your creative energies, like jacking off.

- Mum wanted to go back to her family, to her place.

She was sick of the city

and she was sick of watching Dad waste his talent.

- What talent?

- Telling stories.

(gentle music)

- So Ray does write.

- Yeah, he used to.

Mum says condensing books leached away his imagination.

He stopped thinking for himself.

I don't want to go home tonight.

- Neither do I.

- Hey, I'm gonna go and score some pot, okay?

Will you wait for me, please?

- Yeah. Sure.

Of course I will. - Okay.

I just need a little smoke.

- Mm-hm. I'll be here.

- But you can't tell Dad.

- I won't.

- You promise?

- I promise.

- Okay.

- I don't even know your name.

- Christine.

- Christine.

(buttons clicking)

(mysterious music)

(horns honking)

- Hey.

Mate, don't sleep here.

(gasps)

- What?

- Go home.

Not waiting for her, are you?

- I'm finishing my drink.

- She's not coming back, she does it all the time.

- I'm just finishing my drink.

- Did you get it?

- What?

- "What"?

Your Osram 58.

- No.

- What?

- I got Eye-Tex.

- I can't believe this.

- What?

- Did I say to get fucking Eye-Tex?

- No.

But the chemist said-- - The chemist fucking said?

But of course the chemist fucking said.

Eye-Tex is expensive, and you bought it.

- Well, yeah.

It's a strong antibiotic

and it's got a codeine-based painkiller.

- Fucking unbelievable.

I tried to help, and you wasted my time.

- Well, Osram 58 is basically just salty water.

- Bullshit!

Who told you that?

Do you know where they make Osram 58?

- No, I don't.

- Fucking Switzerland.

- Oh, I didn't know that.

Gee.

- Why would we import salty fucking water from Switzerland?

(people chattering)

- Who is that guy?

- What guy? - That guy who just

came out of your office.

- Didn't see him.

- Bullshit.

He just walked out of your office.

The nasty bastard with the spit.

- Oh, that guy.

- Who is he?

- Don't you read the papers?

That's Snapper Thompson.

- Who's Snapper Thompson?

- He's a fucking colorful identity.

- What's he doing here?

- Bob sent him down here to borrow a disk.

- So what's he doing with Bob?

- I don't fucking know.

- No, you wouldn't know if your ass was on fire.

- What did you say?!

- Nothing.

- Why don't you just concentrate

on the things you can change?

- Is that what you do, Ray?

- Yeah.

I'm a role model, in reverse.

Now piss off!

(ominous hum)

(dramatic music)

(grunting)

(gentle music)

- Hello.

Now how can we help you today?

- Please.

(woman laughs)

- Oh, we nurses come across many, many shapes

and sizes every day of the week.

- Oh, of course you do.

(Jennifer and Carl laugh)

- We're constantly exposed to bodily fluids.

- Mm.

Gallons of it.

- And we need to protect

ourselves against infection.

(Jennifer and Carl laugh)

- Oh, surgical gloves are essential.

- Oh, incontinence pads for sponge downs.

We nurses can get very, very wet during sponge down.

- Mm.

Dental dams?

(Jennifer laughs)

- Of course.

We mustn't neglect our oral hygiene.

(Jennifer and Carl laugh)

- Gary?

Gary Kelp?!

(Jennifer gasps)

(loud crash) (door chiming)

(loud thud)

(lively music) (people chattering)

- What happened?

- Fell off his chair.

- Jesus, Gary, are you all right?

- Did I spill my drink?

- Yeah.

Help me get him up.

(Christine grunting)

- What are you drinking?

(groans)

Oh, my back's fucked.

- Sure you want another drink?

- I don't want one, I need one.

- It's your body.

- Excuse me.

Two extremely large glasses of scotch, please.

So what happened last night?

- You don't want to know.

- Yes, I do.

- No, you don't.

- What happened?

- Nothing.

- Oh, bullshit.

- You really want to know what happened?

You want to see what happened?

- Oh, shit.

What happened?

- Cockhead.

- I thought he wasn't your boyfriend.

- He's not.

He's my husband.

So where's your computer?

- What computer?

- The computer you write on.

- Ah.

I don't write on a computer.

- So what do you write on?

Stone tablets?

- Pen and paper.

- You're never gonna get published like that.

Don't you want your own work condensed one day?

- Never really thought about it.

- I bet you're really talented.

- I like you.

(horn honks)

(soft clacking)

Thanks.

It's a beautiful day.

- You're going to work?

- No, I'm gonna spend the day with you.

What would you like to do?

- I've got things to do.

- Okay.

Well, let's meet for lunch.

We could make it dinner.

Do you want to?!

- I can't.

- Tell me you're not going back to your husband.

Answer me.

- Can I use your toothbrush?

- Okay, listen to me.

You don't have to see him.

I can go and get your things.

If I have to, I'll call the cops, all right?

We'll do this properly.

I'll ask Ray for help.

- Don't you fucking dare!

You promised!

(gentle music)

You don't write stories at all, do you?

- It's like Central bloody Station,

watching you go back and forth.

- Every time I sit down to work, I need to go again.

- Well, don't sit down.

- Oh, fuck off, Ray.

It's really bad.

Worst pain I ever had.

- Go home!

(ominous music)

(loud clattering)

(soft humming)

- Excuse me.

(soft humming)

(sighs)

How did you get in?

(mimics glass crashing)

(laughs)

Oh, fucking great.

What do you want?

- Ah.

What do I want?

What do I want?

You ask me what I want?

- What are you doing here?

- Whoa.

Slow down.

I want to tell you what I want.

Right?

- Go on.

- Justice.

That's what I want.

I want to live in a world

where there's some fucking justice.

- Get your hand off me!

- Do you understand the meaning of the word justice?

- Of course I do.

- No, you don't.

You don't know what it means.

You have no idea what it's like to have people

do some injustices on you.

(wok clangs) Ow!

Whoa.

That hurt. - Well, what did you expect?!

It's a wok!

- Now I've got a fucking headache.

- Get out of here, or I'll do it again!

(both grunting)

(Gary groans)

Fuck!

(both grunting)

(wok clanging)

- Ow!

Fuck!

(loud crashing)

Did you fuck her?

- What if I did?!

- You did, didn't you?

You fucked my wife.

(wok clangs)

(ominous music)

- Gary.

- How about a knock?

- What on Earth happened to your nose?

- I had an accident.

- Well, come in and close the door.

- I want you to knock on my door in the future.

- Now, what's your problem?

- I wanted to talk to Ray about something.

- Sit down.

Gary, I'm aware that you seek Ray's instruction

on certain matters relating to work,

but, for the time being, Ray's gonna be working

very closely with Mr. Thompson here,

and I'd like you to seek guidance elsewhere.

If you have any real problems, you can come to me.

Have you been introduced to Mr. Thompson?

- Who snotted you?

- I walked into a door.

- Gary's one of our General Books staff members.

He's been working on our home medical adviser,

"The Illustrated Family Doctor."

- But you're not a medical man, are you?

- No, not really.

- Well, what are you, then?

- I don't know.

- He doesn't know.

(Snapper chuckles)

(Bob laughs)

- Okay, well, never mind, Gary.

As you can probably appreciate,

we've got things to get on with.

I'll come around soon and see how "The Doctor"

is shaping up.

- Could I ask what Ray and Mr. Thompson will be working on?

- Well, this is something I don't want to leave this room,

if you understand.

Mr. Thompson and Ray will be working

on a very exciting project.

A "True Crime" series.

It'll going to be a big winner,

and we're pretty excited about it, aren't we, Ray?

(Ray sighs)

(panting)

- It's amazing, isn't it,

how many facial injuries are caused by domestic doors.

Now me, I'm a simple man.

And, to me, a door

is a pretty straightforward fucking thing.

If it's closed and you want to go through,

you open it, don't you?

Not much room for confusion there.

Now, where it can get just a little bit confusing

is the protocol required.

Shall I demonstrate something here?

Door open.

Door closed.

Door closed, what do we do?

Knock, knock, knock. (knocking)

Hello.

With this simple fucking courtesy,

we enable the occupant, behind the door,

to exercise his right to privacy.

Do you understand me?

Maybe you should put a warning about doors

in that fucking medical adviser of yours.

What's it called?

- What?

- What's the name of your fucking medicine book?!

- "The Illustrated Family Doctor."

- Yeah, well, you're gonna put a warning in

about fucking doors so people like yourself understand

the necessary protocols involved,

and cunts like you don't go

causing yourself a fucking injury!

- Fuck off.

(gentle music)

- Hello.

Gary Kelp's come to.

I'm Phil.

This here's Kerry.

The old bloke over there is Kajermo.

(speaker chiming)

- Dr. Avery to cardiology, please.

Dr. Avery to cardiology.

- Kelp.

That's a funny name.

Doesn't say much, does he?

Kelp's a kind of sea animal, isn't it?

- No, that's krill.

You know, krill's a microscopic crustacean.

Kelp, that's a seaweed.

(chuckles)

- Hear that?

You're a seaweed.

(Phil chuckles)

- It's all right. We're not being rude.

That's just the way we carry on here.

You'll get used to us.

- Your kidneys aren't functioning at all, not at all.

So, it's this machine that's keeping you alive.

Now, since you've got no compatible family,

you'll have to go on a waiting list for a cadaveric organ.

- "Cadaveric"?

- Someone who doesn't need their organs anymore.

Now, Gary, it can take weeks, months,

or even years to get a compatible organ.

It's really the luck of the draw.

(Gary whimpering)

Hey.

Lighten up there, Tiger.

Things could be a hell of a lot worse.

Your blood group and tissue type are the most common.

I see body parts compatible with yours

walk into this place every day of the week.

Chances of one of them dropping off the perch

are pretty good, especially in here.

- Well, I hope you're pleased with yourself.

- What?

- You've done a great job

looking after your family, haven't you?

You can't even look after yourself.

What am I supposed to do now?

- It's not his fault, Carol. - Oh, shut up, Mum.

- Going back to nature?

- Ray.

- Sit down.

- What are you doing here?

- Brought you a get well card.

So how are you feeling?

You look a bit better.

- Yeah, I'm okay.

- Kidneys, eh?

- Renal failure.

- Should have guessed, you had all the symptoms,

urinary infection, paleness,

lethargy, itchy rash, bad breath.

- Thanks, Ray.

- Don't thank me.

Thank "The Illustrated Family Doctor."

Aren't you gonna open your card?

- Finished it?

- Call it an act of mercy.

- Bullshit, Ray.

Bob told me how keen you were to work on it.

- Well, I thought confronting a few facts would do you good.

Didn't think you'd take it so seriously.

- How's the "True Crime" series going?

- There's plenty of crime, truth's a bit harder to pin down.

- Snapper Thompson would have a few

colorful stories, wouldn't he?

- "Colorful"?

His mind is the darkest place I've ever been.

No wonder he can't sleep at night.

Calls me at 3:30 the other morning.

I said, "What the fuck do you want?"

He says, "Raymond, I've just remembered

"the name of that dead cunt who ripped me off in 1972."

I said "Good, tell me tomorrow."

Hung up on the prick.

- Shit.

- Yeah, he's making my life a living hell.

(sighs)

- Ray, there's something I want to tell you.

- About the door you walked into?

- Yeah.

- Christine told me.

- She okay?

- Yeah.

She will be.

Time for a change, I think.

You get better.

- Thanks, Ray!

(gentle music)

- What is a corpse, anyway?

- What?

- Corpse. You know.

- What's this, a philosophical question?

- Well, think about it.

- All right.

I will.

- No, seriously.

Right.

You can have a headless corpse, can't you?

- Yeah.

- But you can't have a corpseless head.

- Corpseless head.

That's just a head.

- That's what I'm saying.

Now, you can have a limbless corpse.

- You can.

- But the corpse isn't just the torso.

The torso is the torso.

- No, corpse is a corpse.

- But there's no such thing as a torsoless corpse.

That's just arms and heads and stuff.

- Help us, Gary Kelp.

Tell us, when is a corpse a corpse?

- You got two arms, a head, and two legs, right?

Have you got a corpse?

- I don't know.

Why?

- Found one in the harbor.

- Another one?

What sort?

- Headless sort.

- Gangland murders, turning up all the time.

- Or parts of them.

- Whatever corpses are.

- Fucking shark food.

(laughs)

Hey, fucking shark food!

(Kerry laughs)

(Phil laughs)

- Hey.

- Hey.

- How are you feeling?

- Much better, thanks.

- How are the kidneys?

- Oh, I go on a machine every couple of days.

Could be worse.

- Good to see a positive attitude.

We've always valued that in you.

- "The Illustrated Family Doctor," it's finished.

(laughs)

- Good work, Gary.

This is very good.

You know, management and I

have been discussing your abilities

and we feel you should take on the task

of condensing our fiction.

- Really? - Yeah.

We know how keen you were to get a start on the stories,

and we feel you do a fine job.

- Thanks, Bob.

- You can move your things in there, to Ray's old office,

and we'll talk about your first project.

Okay?

- What's happened to Ray?

- Oh, no.

You wouldn't have heard.

Ray hasn't been in to work for some time now,

and we haven't been able to contact him.

He's disappeared.

We've had the police around here doing investigations,

searching Ray's office,

his residential address, the whole bit.

But to tell you the truth, we fear the worst.

I'm feeling very, very upset about this right now.

In a sense, I have to share some of the responsibility.

The material that Mr. Thompson gave us

was entirely inappropriate for our publications.

I can see that now.

I took immediate steps to terminate our contract.

But Ray should never have taken it upon himself

to go to the police with Mr. Thompson's

more sensitive information.

That was completely beyond Ray's sphere of responsibility.

But it now seems Mr. Thompson didn't take too kindly

to what he must have felt was a betrayal of his trust.

It's been a sobering lesson for us all.

Ray was a fine member of our team.

He served the company well,

and I know he'll be remembered fondly.

Wasn't that hard, was it?

- Straight information, Bob.

Cut and paste.

(gentle music)

- Okay, there's this nurse.

She's running down a corridor with a chart in her hand,

she's yelling out, "Doctor, you forgot to sign this."

(laughs) - Oh, I've heard this one.

- Doctor takes the chart off the nurse

and reaches up into his pocket,

but instead of pulling out a pen,

pulls out a rectal thermometer.

Looks at the nurse, says--

(cellphone ringing) "Some asshole's walking

"around here with my favorite pen."

(group laughs)

- It's just a bum joke.

- Bullshit, it's fucking Shakespeare.

- David Cherry.

Yeah.

Yeah.

Gary.

I see.

I see.

Right.

Great.

Okay.

What do you want first, the good news or the bad news?

- Oh, shit.

- Bad news is we haven't got time for another drink.

The good news is that there's a kidney available,

matches your tissue type and blood group.

(heart beating) (heart monitor beeping)

(gentle piano music)

- Ray.

Ray used to be a butcher till he chopped off

two fingers with a boning knife,

and ended up condensing fiction at the Info Digest.

Ray read copious amounts of text,

novels as thick as house bricks.

War stories, romance, pulp horror, and period classics,

Ray didn't care.

Ray's fingers guided his mouse over everything

he thought was bullshit, and just deleted it.

Bits that caught his attention for whatever reason,

bits that glinted in the light

or shone through water like mother of pearl,

Ray would cut out and save up.

He'd turn them over like precious objects,

reading and rereading them with a satisfied animal smile.

One night when he was working late,

his daughter Christine turned up

at the door of his office unannounced.

Ray shut his eyes to a lot of things, but he wasn't blind.

He could see she was sinking deeper and deeper

into a place with no light.

He asked her what happened,

and the secrets she'd been keeping from him

poured out of her in a warm bloody rush.

Ray grabbed on to her and held on.

He felt like a man attempting to revive life,

trying to bring it back from another realm.

He knew he had to get them both up for air,

swim them to the surface, up toward the light.

Ray put Christine in the passenger seat of his car,

and pointed it north.

He drove through the night,

the bonnet devouring the white lines of the highway.

Christine didn't stir until the heat

of the morning sun filled the car.

She sat for a long time in silence,

gathering up the pieces of recollection available to her.

The highway unfolded and unfolded.

Eventually, she looked over and asked her father,

"Where are we going?"

Ray looked at her for a moment and said,

"Back to bloody nature."

(knocking)

- Work hard, relax hard, that's what I always tell the wife.

- Hi, Bob.

- How are you feeling?

- Good.

Strange but good.

- Congratulations.

- Thanks.

- Not everyone gets the gift of life.

- I know.

- We might even do an article about it in our newsletter,

"My Life is a Miracle."

- Sounds like a winner.

- Great. (clicks tongue)

See you at the General Books meeting in five?

You.

(gentle music)

(mouse clicking)

Gary?

Gary?

Where the hell are you going?

- This puts them at particular risk

from illegal poaching.

The hunters prefer the mature males with the largest tusks,

and this can quickly affect

the population's ability to reproduce.

Another major threat is the bush meat trade.

This is when elephants are killed for their meat.

In Gibbon, in Central Africa, for example,

elephant trunk is an expensive delicacy.

In the Central African Republic,

poached elephant carcasses have been found

with the flesh removed, but the tusks still intact,

showing that, in some areas at least,

the meat is worth more as a source

of vast cash than the ivory.

Whilst tourists who come to see elephants

on wildlife safaris can be a major source of income...

(gentle music)

Inbreeding and massive death during birth.

A large percentage of the world's elephants

must compete for food and water--

- Here you go. - From local communities,

they are often reduced to raiding fields

and risk being tortured and killed

by angry farmers and villagers.

(television buzzes)

(whimpering)

- Do you want a cup of tea?

(gentle music)