All language subtitles for Flack - 01x01 - Anthony.MTB

Come on. Come on.

- Like that?
- Yeah, harder.

Faster.

- Use both hands.
- I am.

Come on.

Don't stop. Keep going.

Just let me.

Um... Fuck!

Fuck! Blow in his mouth.

You're supposed to blow in his mouth.

- Patrick, I've got this.
- We weren't doing anything gay.

- How old is he?
- Fuck! Fuck! I am Fucked!

- What exactly have you had?
- Coke, vodka, MD...

We used some poppers, oxycodone...

Vicodin, clozapine,

and he was drinking that stuff
with all gold flakes in it.

- You know, gold leaf.
- How much cocaine?

I don't know. A lot.

Listen to my voice.
There was just a bowl of it.

What's his name?

I don't know. Pedro.

Pedro?

You so don't know his name.

Don't just snap at me.
This is very stressful.

Okay. Can you roll that thing up?

You're flapping it
really close to my face.

If this comes out,

I'm dead.

It's... It's over.

- I can't do this.
- Patrick.

- If this comes out, I'm crucified.
- Patrick!

If you kill yourself
I'll fucking kill you!

I can't take this.

Ugh!

- I'm sorry.
- Are you okay?

- Uh-huh.
- Good.

That's for getting sick on my dress.

Now, get it together.

As for you...

Wake the fuck up!

- Senora.
- Patrick!

- Room service.
- You ordered room service?

I've got blood sugar issues.

Is everything all right in there?

Just leave it in the hall, please.

- Go on get dressed right now.
- Yeah.

No lamp-o, por favor.

I'm just gonna put this down right here.

Mr. Andrews.

There is no Mr. Andrews, huh?

Mr. Andrews.

I tell.

Here's what's gonna happen, okay?

You're not gonna tell it to
anyone about Mr. Andrews

because Mr. Andrews wasn't here

and you've never met Mr. Andrews.

That's a favor I'm asking.

And in return,

I'm not gonna have you arrested for
solicitation and thrown in prison

where you'll get to do exactly
what you're doing right now,

but for a hell of a lot less money.

Hmm. You understood that
all right, then.

You can stay here tonight.
I'll take care of the bill.

You can order room service,

you can use the minibar.

Knock yourself out.

But tomorrow,

you fuck off and we'll
hear no more about it.

Deal?

Deal.

Oh, one more thing.

Let's get rid of these shall we?

- Is that all of them?
- Yes.

Thanks, Pedro.

Left down the corridor
to the service elevator.

I'll have a cab meet you
at the end of the street.

Thank you for coming, Robyn.

I don't know what I'd do without you.

All right, come on.

Buenas noches, Pedro.

Synced & corrected by kinglouisxx
www.addic7ed.com

- Morning, Auntie Robyn.
- Oh, Jesus.

Hi, sweetheart.

You smell funny.

You look funny.

I made up the bed
in the spare room for you.

- Couldn't make it that far?
- What time is it?

- 6:00.
- There was a crisis at work.

Of course there was.

Hi, Rob.

Good morning.

Radiant as usual.

- Hey.
- Naughty Auntie Robyn.

Hey, that was your fault.

Okay, Kelly can have fruit or toast

or one of those if she really wants one.

You're not working today?

No, they're letting me work
from home this morning.

Daddy daycare.

- There's coffee for you.
- Thank you.

You.

Is everything all right?

Peachy.

Okay, let's do this.

You sure you don't
want to take a shower?

You smell like a stripper.

Doesn't she?

I'm okay.

Auntie Robyn, you dropped this.

Oh, thanks, babe.

I can't have my coffee without my sugar.

Thanks.

Are you f-ing kidding me?

- Fuck! Ow!
- Hey.

"F."

Kelly, let's make some toast,
darling. Come on.

You like yours strong.

Don't, Robyn.

- Not in my house.
- I swear it's not mine.

I confiscated it from a client.

Hey, those are mine.

You'll get them back.

There is an extra bottle
for Teddy in the fridge.

There is backup, if you
need it, in the freezer...

Freezer. I know. I can cope
looking after our children...

All right, if I'm not at work by 8:00,

Caroline will have me
chemically castrated.

Okay.

- You good?
- Absolutely.

- You?
- Yeah.

- Let's do it.
- Good to see you, Rob.

Hope all goes well this morning.

I'll be thinking of you.

And you, of course.

Be good for Daddy.

Can we have pancakes?

Can't have pancakes, sweetie.
It's not Sunday.

Let's make some pancakes.

Shades might be a bit much.

Al least I made an effort.

What's wrong with this?

Nothing. If you're a high-end prostitute

looking for work.

I didn't know we were supposed
to dress like Jackie Onassis.

I don't know. This, here...

You ready?

Wait!

Hey.

Should we say something?

Like what?

I don't know.

Like a prayer?

What?

A prayer?

Okay.

Hey.

We shouldn't have left.

We shouldn't have let her...

You and me, kid.

Oh, shit!

No. It's fine. It's fine.

You go.

Hello.

- I love you.
- I love you, bye.

Yes. Mmm-hmm. Yep.

- Is she in?
- Office.

Come.

Morning, Caroline.

Does this make me look like a lesbian?

Uh...

No. It's lovely.

You must understand.
I want to look like a lesbian.

It's for a benefit, for lesbians.

Oh, well, in that case
with the right hair...

What lesbian are we talking?
Ellen or Portia?

The second one.

Someone's trying to sell a story

on Anthony Henderson.

Again? Who is it this time?

Oh, I don't know,
some fame-hungry twiglet

with puffy lips and sad-eyes.

Wouldn't normally be a problem,

- but she says she's got pictures.
- Of course, she does.

As you know,

the papers have a creaking
drawer full of women

waiting to cash in on their one night

of wild forgettable sex with Mr. H.

And once those floodgates open,

Noah himself wouldn't be
able to save him.

We have our fists in
the proverbial dike.

And she's not happy about it. I get it.

Why can't someone else deal with him?

Because you, my dear,
are the best we have.

Plus, you're the only one in the
office he hasn't screwed yet.

- What if he tries to screw me?
- You screw him.

Or you politely decline like a big girl.

I don't care. This isn't a sleepover.

All I care about is that every
housewife in the country

has a dozen of his cookbooks
on their shelves.

And they frig themselves to sleep

over what a devoted husband
and father he is.

So, let's not burst their bubbles.

Or his 21 million a year turnover,

by exposing his myriad human failings.

Just get this in the ground today

before the hashtag HendersonPutItUpMeToo

lights up the Twittersphere.

I don't care if that Jesus himself

asking for your hand in marriage.

There's only one person allowed to
touch their phone in this office.

And you're looking at him.

You're meeting Henderson
at the Mondrian in half an hour.

Brush your teeth first.

Christ, you've got lovely skin.

I'd kill for your skin.

I mean, literally.

I would kill you and
peel it off if I could.

- Caroline.
- Tell me you didn't open that door

without looking first.

I'm so sorry.

Just there's a terrified Scottish girl

waiting in reception for you.

Oh, yes.

I got you a new pet.

Hi, I'm Robyn. You're gonna be with me.

Hi, I'm Melody. It's nice to meet you.

Let me give you the tour.

So, what do you know about us?

Okay, um, Mills Paulson PR.

You've got offices in
London and LA and New York.

You cover everything from media training

to brand management, career strategy,

and specializing in crisis management.

We don't use the word "crisis"

we call them "challenges."

Now, the woman in
the Death Star is Caroline.

She's the boss. If you ever see her
smoking inside don't mention it.

And when she sends you out for lunch

she wants fresh steamed broccoli

and salmon sashimi from Taro.

Make sure you put
the chopsticks in the bag.

She won't use them. But she'll be
offended if they're not there.

Eve, this is the new intern, Melody.

Melody, Eve.

Hi, Eve.

Oh, God. Look at that.

Did you dress yourself?

Be nice, pumpkin.

She looks like she's been
kidnapped by a murderer

and dressed in his mother's clothes.

No offence.

Great. Um...

Can I get you anything?

- Coffee or something?
- I'll have a coffee.

She can get her own coffee.

But I do need you to get
ahold of the woman

who claims to have pictures
of Anthony Henderson,

and buy them from her.

- I'll email you the details.
- Right.

I'll get on to that right away.

Decaf flat white without milk, please.

Okay. Should I...

Do the thing I said. Ignore her.

Maybe one of those protein bowls.

I missed breakfast. A fruit bar?

The pics, okay.

Christ.

- How much we paying her?
- We're not.

- She's an intern.
- You kidding me. Nothing?

I need one of those at my flat.

Do they come in boy?

Six months. Here for the experience.
No money.

The little Cambodian kids

that make your knock-off Hermes
make more than that.

How dare you?

I only buy handbags made
by free-range children.

And we all had to do it.

Well, I didn't because
my father plays golf

with lots of important people
but everyone else does.

So you're on Henderson?

News travels fast.

Have you dealt with him much?

When you say "dealt with" are you
asking if I visited the boneyard?

I cleaned up his mess
with one of the Towies.

We ended up in the back of his estate.

I still got a scar on my forehead

from where I hit it repeatedly
on his kid's booster seat.

- You're a classy lady, Evie.
- One tries her best.

Okay. I better go.

The world won't save itself.

Lunch? I'm spending the
morning with Conor McGregor.

He's decided he wants
to write a children's book

about a shy cockerel who gets
bullied by all the chickens

'cause he's got the funny thing on
his head. What do you call that?

- Comb.
- Comb. Right.

Anyway, the cock then finds self-respect

by taking up mixed martial arts.
I shit you not.

What is the obsession
with writing children's books?

Surely there's better way
to get your kids to love you.

Apparently not.

- It's a date.
- Don't bone him.

No juice?

Um, you... You didn't ask for a juice.

First impressions count.

So next up we're gonna
knock up a classic

Henderson household dish.

This dish, for me,
screams, "family dinner."

It's made with care, it's made with
love, and it's easy as pizza pie.

Meaning, you and
the missus, get maximum...

Uh, Robyn, extreme circumstances
for a first meeting.

Not for me.

No. Of course not.

Listen, you must think that I...

I need to know what to
expect if this thing drops.

What do you mean?

How many other women
are gonna be making calls?

I... I don't...

Well, maybe in the past,
I've been a bit...

I'm on the telly.

And that provides opportunity...

This isn't the Leveson inquiry.

Can we hurry this up, please?

- I love my wife.
- How many women, Anthony?

I'm such a fucking idiot.

We're in the process
of acquiring damages.

But the truth is, the press
have already had a sniff.

So if we want them to drop the bone,

we're going to have to give
them something better.

What do you mean, "something better?"

Something sympathetic.
Illness is always good.

- Anything wrong with any of your kids?
- Excuse me?

Downs, meningitis, learning
difficulties at a push.

No, thank God.

- Cancer?
- No!

Oh, come on, Anthony, work with me!

Wife, brother, sister. You've seen
the ads. It affects one in three.

Sally's mother died of breast cancer.

But she was eighty-seven,
and that's four years ago.

So it's in the family...

- That's good.
- Is it?

Okay. I'm gonna book her in
for a mammogram.

I know a clinic. It's a private place.

Maybe she found a lump.
Maybe her breasts were tender.

And if she tragically lost
her mother to the disease,

she's got to go in and get it checked out.

And you're gonna take
her there and be by her side.

The supportive, wonderful
husband that you are.

Surely we can't just lie.

Did you think we'd
resolve this without lying?

'Cause we can try that
approach if you prefer.

Sorry, but how exactly am I supposed
to get her to agree to this?

With all due respect, I'm sure
you've lied to your wife before.

You'll figure it out.

Look, just tell her that you love her.
And that you...

read an article about
breast cancer rates, and you're worried.

And you don't want your
kids to lose their mother.

You'd be surprised what people
will believe if they want to.

God! What is...

What's wrong with me? Why do I do this?

Hey, Anthony. You can't...

It's a nightmare.

Hey, wow, okay. You can't do this here.

And you're squeezing my hands.

Get... Anthony, get off.
Get off. Come on.

Come on.

Come on...

Hi, I'm the, uh, computer guy.

Hi! Hi, um, I'm Melody.

It's this one here.
I can't get it to work.

- Is this your computer?
- No. I'm just an intern.

Um, it's Robyn's computer?
Robyn is my boss.

That's a pretty name.

Melody, not Robyn. Well,
Robyn's a pretty name too.

But, so... What did you say
the problem was, again?

Okay.

Sorry.

It's like... This thingy there?

So when I move that,
it doesn't move, so I can't...

Yeah, it's... Just... Sorry.

It's not switched on.

Yep, that was really embarrassing.

It just wasn't switched on.

And I didn't even think to change the...

I need you to book us somewhere
for lunch. Fancy but cheap.

Somewhere I'll like that
won't give me bread.

What's Harry Potter doing here?

I was just fixing a thing for Melody.

Yeah, it wasn't even switched on, so...

Don't worry about that.
It's always the switch.

- Adorable. Restaurant.
- Right.

Once you've done that, I want
you to go through these for me.

What's this?

It's Tinder. You're not
familiar with it?

No, I know what Tinder is...

Great. So go through. Say yes
to all the attractive ones.

But remember, you're matching with me,
not you, so standards, high.

Be picky. Nines and tens.
Working professionals.

No beards, no glasses, no tiger selfies.

If any of them message you,
then you can discuss dinner.

Once they suggest a restaurant,
Google it, look at the menu.

If you can buy a bottle of wine
for less than thirty quid

then tell them it's a no.

Keep Tuesday evenings free.
That's when I do Kundalini.

Yep?

I'm still with Henderson.
Did you get the pictures?

Um, yeah. I was just trying to email you,

but I couldn't get
your computer to work. So...

- Yes or no?
- Right, yes, I think.

She said she would agree to sell them,
but they're not gonna be cheap.

I didn't know how much
money you had around, so...

That's fine. He can afford it.

Look, I need you to book
a mammogram for me.

A what? For... For you?

- No! Not for me. For his wife.
- His wife?

I'll text you the number
of my guy in Harley Street.

He owes me a favor.

Okay, um... What time do you...

Did he try and fuck you yet?

Jesus! No, Eve! The man
is having a breakdown.

Of course, he is.
Has he started crying yet?

That's what tipped me.
Love seeing a man cry.

Eve.

Oh, come on, he must
have done something.

He had his hand on my arse
within three minutes.

Knob out in twenty.

Well, maybe he just recognizes that
I'm more professional than you are.

Yeah, you're probably right. Ciao-ciao.

- Sorry about that.
- It's fine.

But, you are paying for the hotel
and that's mini bar whiskey

so it's gonna cost you about
term of your kid's school fees.

Well, best enjoy it then.

Hmm.

Things haven't been great
with me and the missus.

We hadn't had sex for a year-and-a-half.

Anthony, I don't care.

It's a sickness, I'm an addict.

I can't help it, it's like diabetes.

Maybe you should stop putting
your dick in so many cakes then.

You are a very cold woman, you know.

I'm not gonna feel sorry for you
because you cheated on your wife.

I am a decent bloke, okay?

Yeah, I messed around
a little bit, but who hasn't?

I don't deserve to be crucified for it.

Seriously, this shit is terrifying.

Everybody's got a story nowadays.

Everyone. I've got friends
that'll never ever work again

because some disgruntled one-night stand

just pointed the finger at them.

And it goes both ways.

I've had to deal with my fare share

of clumsy passes from drunken women.

They follow me down to the toilet

and grab my arse, but you don't see
me calling Rupert Murdoch, do you?

You done?

Just saying, if I were a woman,

we wouldn't be having this conversation.

What's the difference?

I would say the main difference

is that you haven't been told
since you were 11

that every male you encounter

has the potential to
rape and murder you.

Followed by a life of pre-sexualization,
cat-calling and slut-shaming

that fills you
with so much guilt and fear

that when you're 16 and some kid
starts choking you during sex,

either with his hands or with his penis,

'cause he saw it in a bunch of porn.

You assume it must be you
who got it wrong.

So, every time there's an
inappropriate comment

or a hand on your thigh, you swallow it.

Until one day the world says,

"Hey, actually, maybe all
that crap isn't your fault,"

and the relief is so great

that shit just pours out
of you like a tsunami.

And, yes, like most tsunamis
innocent people drown.

But, I am sorry that you've
had to deal with women

you didn't deem attractive
enough, grabbing your ass.

I appreciate the life
has its challenges.

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

Should I?

I do love her you know,

my wife.

And I love my kids, obsessively.

That thing I said to you about
not having sex for a year-and-a-half,

that was a lie.

We have sex all the time
and it's... It's great.

It's just sometimes, I...

I like to fuck people
that I don't love, too.

That feels like the first
honest thing you've said to me.

I'm gonna make some calls,
round up some photographers.

Stay here for a bit.
Get your head straight.

Why haven't you tried
to have sex with me?

Excuse me?

If it's such an addiction, why haven't
you tried to have sex with me?

Um, would...

- Would you like me to?
- No.

- I can do if you want.
- I don't want, thank you.

I'll be in touch.

You're complicated.

You got all this stuff
going on behind the eyes.

I wouldn't even know where to start.

Of course, I'd like
to have sex with you.

But you are not simple.

You only try to sleep with simple women?

- You want me to be completely honest?
- Why not?

- I'm intimidated by you.
- And why is that?

Because I know you are more
fucked-up that I am.

When you do it, does it make
you feel better or worse?

Both.

"Conor The Cockerel was a game bird

"but sometimes the other
chickens would laugh at him

"because he was too flamboyant

- and his crow was too loud..."
- Eve...

Eve, um, Robyn wanted me to pick...

Look at this. I mean, that's the
stuff of nightmares, right?

- I need to book an appointment for...
- Look at that.

They're like prison drawings.

I just need to know if I should call...

Conor, darling!

Yes, I did, I did, and I am
looking at them right now.

They're beautiful, sweetheart.

Such a lovely simplicity about them.

I think it's right not to use color.

So strong in black and white, like you.

Hello, is that Mrs. Henderson?

Yes, uh, this is Melody. I am calling
from your husband's PR company.

I'm just looking to book-in your
mammogram for this afternoon.

And I was just wondering what
kind of times would be good.

Your mammogram?

Oh...

Right then. So, what happens now?

I go and get on with my day,
you go and speak to your wife.

Where are my goddamn underwear?

Treat yourself to a new pair.

- They are not mine.
- You okay?

- Great!
- What are you angry about?

How long you got?

Hey, just so we're clear.
Who actually fucked who there?

I'd say, that I fucked myself
and you fucked your wife.

I'll be in touch. Nice
working with you, Anthony.

Melody, phone.

Right. Tinder update.

Jesus.

Okay, Christ. Right.

I can see I'm gonna have to
go through this whole thing again

from the beginning.

I mean, what's the deal with this guy?

- I mean, he's wearing a hat.
- Oh...

That should set off alarm
bells for starters.

He's got a song lyric for his bio.
For Christ's sake.

- I thought it was a poem.
- It's November Rain.

Thank God it's not a poem.

Then I'd be really pissed off.

Amateur hour, must do better.

Oh, Robyn,

I think I might've done something bad.

You fucked him, didn't you?

Look, before you say anything...

I'm just saying. I know I can't judge,

but I thought you were better than me.

I am better than you.

Did you have sex with Anthony Henderson?

So my guy at The Mirror called me.

Seems Patrick Andrews'
little Spanish friend

from last night's been in touch.

Cheeky father-fucker, I paid him.

Mmm, gets better. He's 15.

It's okay. He's sitting on it for now.

Says their cup overfloweth
with Pedro stories,

but wants something good
to make it go away.

Mmm. Tell him he can
have the exclusivity

on Patrick and Bianca's wedding.

Patrick Andrews is getting married?

He is now.

They can announce it tonight.

- God, that poor girl.
- Poor girl, what?

Living in a mansion and getting an
allowance to buy drugs and dresses?

Mmm-hmm. That's the dream.

- Do you think she knows that he's...
- Do you think she cares?

Give her her dues.

She'll have trolled Essex
nightclubs for months

sucking off a lot of frogs
to get into his bed.

And now she's found her princess.

Aw, I love a footballer's wedding.

We should all go. Shits, giggles.

Drink free champagne, laugh at
the chavvy wedding dresses,

watch Melody get gang-raped
by bunch of drunken

sexually repressed footballers.

I don't think that's very funny.

It wasn't a joke.

Melody, get a ring
sent round to Patrick's,

a big one, and send him the bill.

Where are you going? We're lunching.

Going to the chemist.

You'll call your guy, yeah?

Wait, I'll need to tell you that thing.

Email me.

Is that a gym selfie?

You're on your third strike, Bridget.

How's it going?

I'm all right. Just another day.

- How about you?
- Just another day.

What did you do?

Nothing.

Robyn, you're less convincing

than my 4-year-old telling me that

she wasn't the one who
put Lego up the cat's ass.

- I fucked a client.
- Ow!

Careful. You did what?

- Robyn!
- I know. I know.

- What the F?
- I shouldn't have told you.

Well, you did.

Take that out of your mouth, please.

What?

Not you. Well, actually, yes, you.

Jeez, Louise. I don't know what
goes through your head sometimes.

Yeah.

Just don't think you get a free pass

just because today's today, you know.

It doesn't give you an
excuse to be S-H-1-T-T-Y.

"Shonetty"?

Yes, "Shonetty."

So, is whatever it was
out of your system now?

It was never in my system. It was...

Just a stupid...

I did it because it was there.

And I knew I'd get away with it.

It's my job
to help him get away with it.

Is it your job to fudge him?

- What is fudging someone mean, Mummy?
- Nothing, sweetie.

Do your coloring and you can
have some apricots, okay?

Do you see? Do you see what you
are bringing into my house?

So, who was it?

Does it matter?

Well, that's a slutty thing to say.

Anthony Henderson.

What? Oh, he is fine!

- You're supposed to be telling me off.
- I am!

But just because I vehemently disapprove

doesn't mean I need to be
spared the sordid details.

My life is hardly inundated
with smut these days.

The only thing keeping me awake at night

is screaming children or Mark's IBS.

I can't remember the last
time Mummy had some D.

Anthony Henderson?

Oh, I thought he was
one of the good ones.

There are no good ones.

Well, you reap what you sow, my dear.

So. How was it?

It was fine.

Blunt.

"Blunt"? Brilliant.

Thank you, E. L. James, for
your fine erotic illustration.

That'll make a great
addition to the diddle box.

I'll never be able to
enjoy his aubergine gratin

in the same way again.

Were you wearing my underwear?

- I'll wash them.
- Ugh!

Oh! Oh, God damn it!

I gotta go.

Taxi!

She won't let you in.

She wants a divorce.

Hold these.

Hi.

Who are you?

I'm Robyn.

I work for the PR firm
that represents your husband.

Of course you bloody do.

How did you get in?

- Bathroom window.
- You broke into my house.

Jesus. You people are incredible.

What do you want?

I just want to fix things.

I'm leaving him.

Why?

Okay. Why now?

Because I'm sick of being
treated like an idiot.

Him cheating on me is one thing,

him thinking I'm stupid enough
not to realize is another.

I know what he does.

But he could at least
have the bloody decency

to stop getting caught.

- Mmm.
- There's nothing more pathetic

than the wronged wife.

I cannot abide people
feeling sorry for me.

Okay. What do you want?

You want him punished?

One phone call

and I can have him on the front
page of every newspaper tomorrow.

Named and shamed,

broadcast to everyone you know

and everyone you don't know.

Or you ride it out.

You get over this hump,

and then,

when the fuss has died down,

quiet and dignified,

get a divorce.

And you take that son of a bitch

for every single penny you can get.

Did he fuck you, too?

No.

Six months, I want a cookbook.

And I wanna do Strictly.

- You want a grape, love?
- Uh, no.

Mrs. Henderson.

- I'll come with you.
- Absolutely not.

What did you say to her?

Doesn't matter. She's here, isn't she?

Photographers are outside.

You should probably go say something.

"Worried. What a strain.
Respect your privacy..."

- Can I ask you something?
- Shoot.

Why did you have sex with me?

To see how I felt.

And how did you feel?

I didn't.

I don't.

Sorry, don't take it personally.

No. No, I don't. I just hoped that
you might have had a better answer.

Rub your eyes.

- Why?
- It'll make you look upset.

Anthony, is there
anything you can tell us?

Well, these are obviously
very worrying times.

Uh, immense stress on the family.

These are precautionary...

Precautionary tests...

All right, darling.

Well, I think it's an excellent idea.

Well, we're always here.

Whatever you need. Ta-ta.

Apparently some Ukrainian wrestler

just called Conor a Gypsy on Insta.

So, thankfully he's decided to
put his shy cock to bed for now

and focus on hitting men's
faces a little while longer.

Celebratory drink.

I'd love to, but I'm destroyed.

Oh, come on, don't be such a baby.

I've got an hour to kill before my date.

- Who do you have a date with?
- Melanie?

His name's Peter, he's a GP.

His name's Peter, and he's a GP.

- Is he the one who drives an Audi?
- Yes.

- Drives an Audi.
- So pleased to see you guys are bonding.

- You sure you can't manage a quick one?
- Maybe tomorrow.

Oh, tomorrow, tomorrow.

It's enough to give a girl a complex.

You're the only girl for me, sugar-tits.

I'll go for one.

Aw!

Bless you.

Um... Look, I just wanted to say

I'm really sorry about

- phoning Sally Henderson.
- It's fine.

But in the future,

just assume that we're
lying to everyone.

Did you get my pills?

Yeah.

Oh, God, no. That's way too much.

Call it wages.

- I don't get any...
- Keep it.

But if you tell anyone

I'll deny it and give you to Eve.

If you're a woman,

would you want to have sex with me?

I am. And I do.

Good. All sorted?

He shall live to fuck another day.

Hmm.

Caroline,

do you prefer worrying about...

If this is gonna be a question
about existential angst,

I'm going to have to stop you there.

The world keeps turning, Robyn.

We just help push.

- Oh, by the way, they found a shadow.
- What?

In his wife's breast, from the scan.

They found a shadow.
Thought you'd want to know.

Lucky. She owes you one.

Ah, my date's here.

She works in accounts.

She's actually straight,

but she's the closest I could find.

Hey.

Oh, sorry.

He's beautiful.

Or... She... It... It's beautiful.

You can have it if you want.

I haven't slept in three days.

He.

Hmm?

He's a he.

It's hard to tell if he's happy or...

Having a poo.

Oh, sorry.

Oh, that's all right. Don't
take it personally, I mean...

I love him and all that...
But Christ, he's boring.

And selfish. I mean...

All they do is eat, shit, cry.

- Eat, shit, cry.
- I had an ex like that.

Mummy's losing her mind, isn't she?

Yes, she is.

See?

Nothing.

- Where's the father?
- Work.

Lucky bastard.

I have a master's in criminal psychology

and the sum total of my conversation

in the last four days
has been shushing, cooing,

begging.

I went...

I went out.

Left the house with my jumper on

inside out and back
to front this morning

and when I noticed

I didn't even bother to change it.

I mean, less than a year ago,

I dropped a grand
on a Burberry trench coat.

How was your day?

My mother committed suicide
a year ago today.

She jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge.

Well, this is awkward.

Hey, I'm so...

I'm so sorry about your mum.

It's okay, she was nuts.

My sister and I moved here
to get away from her.

To be honest, part of you goes,

"Well, it happened,

"so, now, I don't need to worry
about it happening anymore."

Mmm, yeah, I get that.

The real problem is the dread.

I feel like now she's gone
I'll take her place.

It's like...

Looking at your reflection
in a dirty pond.

Hmm.

- Can I ask you a question?
- Yeah.

Are you happy?

I don't know. Um...

I don't know. I'm just really tired.

Me too.

Hmm.

You are a filthy, filthy man.

Mmm. No.

Shit. Enough.

I'm sorry. I got to go now.

Someone more interesting has turned up.

- Yeah. Ravi says hi.
- Hi, Ravi.

All right, man. I got to go. Later.

Shit.

I'm sorry. I... I can explain.

It's fine. You don't have to.

- I know I'm not meant to be smoking.
- Babe, it's fine.

How's Ravi?

He's a terrible, terrible man.

Met this girl at the gym that
he's trying to get with, right?

And so he sends her a picture
of his dick, as you do.

But instead of sending it to her,

he sends it to his estate agent
who is a dude.

- Christ.
- Yeah.

And then he tries to
start the whole thing out

by sending another message saying
his phone had been stolen,

but he sent it from the same phone.

This guy's an absolute
fricking car-crash.

Man, dick pics.

Whoever thinks those are a good idea?

It just looks like a selfie
taken by an angry sock puppet.

Enough about Ravi's dick, already.

How you doing?

Missed you last night.

How's Ruth?

This morning all go okay?

It went.

I did try calling you a couple of times.

Yeah, I know.
There was a crisis at work.

When is there not?

How was your day?

Not good.

Fifteen-year-old girl thought
it would be a good idea

to throw herself under a train.

They brought her in, absolute mess.

Looked like a Mr. Potato Head
that had been put together wrong.

Then her parents turned up.

Pretty shitty.

Hence the, uh...

Okay, you win.

Baby, I hate to do this to you
after such a stressful day,

but apparently your
fertile window is closing.

I'd like to get in there.

Do you find that weird that you
have an app that tracks my womb?

- Do you?
- Mmm.

Can I just grab a quick shower
first and wash the day off?

Of course.

Sure you're okay, Rob?

Peachy.

You all right in there?

Yeah.

Just dropped my toothbrush.

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