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I'm afraid I won't be in till after lunch.

No. Not ill. Shagging.

Vision.

Energy.

Commitment.

three career-enhancing words.

Here's three more.

Listen. to. Me.

things are going to start changing around here,

and you can either change with them,

or you can hand in your security laminates and get the hell out

of the globe's premier broadcast service provider.

Woolly thinking is for sheep.

the fox gets the cream.

Second-best is not an option.

Stay...on...message.

Sorry.

- Yeah? - My eggs are done.

Screw me...

now.

Screw you? I'm in a meeting.

Sorry about that, Nigel.

Some of our junior people have gone off-message.

I'll be back in a tick.

Excuse me. Excuse me.

Morning.

Was it you who ordered the shag, madam?

Yes! Yes! Yes!

Yes.

- Where the hell have you been? - Sorry, Nigel.

You know, very important meeting.

Horizontally integrated, deep penetration.

Good.

You haven't missed much. We've been standing outside for an hour

because some arse set off the fire alarm.

It seems to me that, where trying for a baby is concerned,

women's eggs are like boiled eggs.

You never know exactly when they're done to perfection.

You just have to grab the moment when it arises.

Oh, sorry, but I just had to have it now.

Always a pleasure, never a chore.

It is beautiful, isn't it?

Yes. It's all right, I suppose.

Not a patch on our wedding, of course.

What? A quick "I do" at Chelsea Registry Office

and a pork pie picnic in the park!

Hold on. A pork pie picnic plus a sonnet.

Besides, it's not how you get married,

it's who you get married to.

I was lucky.

So was I.

And do you still feel lucky?

Despite everything?

I feel lucky because of everything.

Because you are my everything.

For better or for worse.

I really had hoped it might work this time.

What with us being so close to a church and everything.

Maybe next month.

Come on, darling, you did promise you'd try.

I have tried. I'm just no good at diaries.

It's not a diary, it's a letter to yourself.

the idea being that if we periodically assemble

our thoughts and feelings,

we will feel less like corks bobbing on the sea of fate.

I don't know what to write.

I'm not going to pester Sam about this.

I know that he's hurting, too,

and dealing with our problem in his own way.

He bought William, who is gorgeous.

Keeping a journal certainly has helped me.

Whenever I want to cry, I just write down my thoughts.

The only problem is that whenever I write down my thoughts,

I just want to cry.

It's no good.

the only thing about me less fertile than my balls is my imagination.

Oh, don't say that.

Oh, no. Lucy, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that.

that was just a silly joke. We'll be all right.

Hang on a sec. I'll just see if I'm ovulating.

I'm thinking of doing book-keeping.

He's like a very, very short Brad Pitt.

We could save a ton of money if we did our own accounts.

Yes. A short ginger-haired Brad Pitt.

Good idea, but what if Sam finally gets you up the duff?

I could bring the baby to work.

Bugger that!

I'm not having lactating breasts flopping about.

I think you're obliged to provide créche facilities

under European law.

Be quiet, you stupid girl!

I'm vegetarian and I've just given up heroin.

I'm not going through cold turkey,

I'm going through really bad cold nut-roast.

Cut to a wide shot,

and drop a laugh in.

Do you think the nation's ready to take heroin before nine o'clock?

Well, it's what the new controller wants.

Jokes about drugs will put us at the cutting edge.

I like him, and so should you.

He really wants us to make more movies.

Spool forward to the bit about him being sick in his toaster.

I thought you wanted to write a movie.

You talk about film scripts. Here's your chance.

How's young Cuthbert?

Lucy says he's gorgeous. She can't believe I haven't seen him yet.

Well, why would you?

He can't talk, he drinks milk and he has no bowel control.

What kind of evening would you have?

- Hello? - You know they don't work in here.

Duty calls.

I might have to leave this edit with you, George.

- See you back at the centre. - Yeah. Don't worry. I've got it.

Got it.

Cut three minutes off the end. Let's go for a drink.

OK. Here's Cuthbert.

this is him.

I call him Prune, which I think is fair.

Hilarious, George.

I'd laugh, but I don't want to burst the 12 stitches I got having him.

You should have greased your perineum. Vaseline. Never fails.

Well, you do.

It's got animal in it, this, hasn't it? It has.

No. Just a little bit of chicken stock.

Darling, you can't and nor should I.

Putrefying flesh remains in the colon for at least a month.

No wonder you can't get pregnant

with your bowels bursting with rotting corpse.

How are things at work, Sam? George never tells me anything.

- He hates it. - I do not hate it.

You do. You think you're old and married and life's passing you by.

We all make sacrifices for our partners.

Women make the real sacrifices.

Look at Lucy. You didn't even finish your degree, did you, darling?

I'm about to pick it up again.

I'm doing a Shakespeare module for the Distant Learning Programme.

Lucky you. I don't have a brain any more. Just a sponge full of milk.

- Sheila? - Sam...

If you've got a problem,

it's about you.

It's not about anybody else. It's about you.

You have got to get out of your own way.

I keep starting to write scripts and then I just get blocked.

Lucy says I have to draw it from my deep inner self.

Although she knows perfectly well I haven't got one.

Just write about what you know.

You see, I don't know anything.

Write about what you feel.

I don't feel anything.

You're buggered then, mate.

they say writer's block is God's way of telling you

that you're not a writer.

Don't listen to him, Sam.

I'm serious, Luce, I'm serious.

Western society is the only society

that has dispensed with all its fertility rituals...

- Here we go. - No, no, no, no.

And the only society where birth rates are plummeting.

Hello? Hello, everybody! Obvious connection alert!

What we have to do is to harness...

- Listen. It's very important. - I'm listening.

Harness the ancient power and mystery of your vagina.

- Get off, get off! - Yes!

the air is full of pagan spirits.

they're all around.

You might as well use them, for God's sake, they're there.

Womb!

Womb!

Womb! Stop laughing. Flow...

It might have worked. You never know.

I can't afford to leave any avenue unexplored.

Druscilla says there's a ton of alternative therapies available.

Visualisation classes,

aromatherapeutic massages.

Apparently, a lot of people have conceived

having gone to that giant chalk man in Dorset

and having it off on his willy.

Dorset? there aren't any giant chalk men closer to London?

Like Brent Cross?

No. But there are some very positive ley lines in Primrose Hill.

Lucy, can I just clear up one small point here?

You wouldn't, by any chance, be going completely barking mad?

Would you?

Carl, may I say how very happy and thrilled we are

that you're joining this agency.

thank you, Sheila.

to be frank, ever since this whole stupid celebrity thing happened,

I've felt more like a commodity, really, than an actor.

You know, I want work that stretches me,

challenges me, you know?

Well, the Welsh Language Shakespeare Company

are looking for a friendly and enthusiastic Bottom.

I imagine that would be quite challenging.

Yeah. I should also add that I want work that pays fabulously well,

keeps me in London and is, above all, in English.

Ou en Français, or in Italiano.

Well, Carl...

Benvenuto.

I can't believe full evening dress is necessary.

We look like Gomez and Morticia.

Who cares?

Druscilla says we must be throbbingly,

primevally sexually charged.

timeless animals of passion.

Urgh! Oh, my God!

What?

I have just trodden in the biggest dog turd that I've ever seen.

Sam!

No, seriously. No mortal dog could have passed a turd like that.

- I almost went in up to my knee. - Sam, shut up!

I think an elephant must have escaped from London Zoo.

I never liked those shoes anyway.

Oh, no!

Oh, it's beautiful, isn't it?

Yes, it is.

Makes us seem pretty insignificant, doesn't it?

Except that what we've come here to achieve tonight

is as big as the universe itself.

New life, Sam.

that was beautiful.

A bit hard on the knees, I thought.

It reminds me of a scene we've been doing on my course

from a Midsummer Night's Dream.

I don't recall anyone having it off on a ley line.

I just mean the magic.

Where Hermia and Lysander lie down together

to sleep in the enchanted wood.

You know the bit?

Mmm. Rings a vague bell.

I remember you used to read me sonnets when we were first together.

I was trying to impress you with my poetic soul.

Can't see you falling for that any more. Come on.

Pull your knickers up, you old tart, before we get arrested.

television is all very well,

but movies are the Millennial art form,

and British movies have never been hipper.

there were at least three last year the Americans quite liked.

So where do you think I'm going with this? Anyone?

- Anyone? - We should be making more movies.

thank you, George. Exactly.

Scripts. I need scripts.

Witty, thrilling, provocative scripts.

Scripts that define the Zeitgeist.

With me!

thank you, George.

Come on! Come on!

the traffic light's green. My temperature's optimum.

Hi.

Sorry. I hope I didn't interrupt anything.

No, no. Not really.

- Well, we better get on with it. - Right.

Where's it gone?

Um... Well, I expect it'll be along in a minute.

Got to get in the mood.

Anything yet?

Well, don't ask that. It'll never happen if you ask.

It's not like you.

this morning you had a horn you could hang a bath towel on.

Well, any man can get one when he doesn't want one.

I've seen harder knobs on the door of a bouncy castle.

thank you. that was helpful.

Perhaps I should breathe a bit of life into it?

Would you mind awfully?

No, no. Not at all.

Well done, stud muffin.

Well, I think honour was served.

Do you really have to lie like that?

I resent the implication that my sperm will only make it

if allowed to swim downhill.

Got to make every effort.

Oh, do you really have to rush off?

Darling, I do have a job, you know.

I am one of the BBC's most senior lunch eaters.

It just seems so mechanical.

Druscilla says that gentle massage promotes fertility.

Druscilla is, of course, an insane witch. Socks?

I just think it would be nice to have more mystery and romance

in our lives.

Absolutely. Mystery. Ah, there it is.

Sam Bell. How are you?

- Petra. - Nice to meet you.

- Ewan. - Oh, right, thanks.

Sam, if the BBC are serious about making comedy films,

then Kiss My Ark are the production company you have to be in bed with.

two words, Sam. Zeit and geist.

tomorrow's comedy...today.

Excellent. that's certainly what the new controller wants.

Sick Junkie is a comedy

about a group of normal, ordinary kids.

All heroin addicts, of course.

Possibly Welsh, maybe Irish, probably Scottish.

We see a week in their ordinary mundane lives.

they inject heroin into their eyeballs.

they have babies in toilets.

they get Aids.

they try and raise veins on their private parts

in order to inject more heroin.

they kill a social worker.

they have anal sex in exchange for heroin,

which turns out to be cut with bleach, and kills them.

they have abortions.

they're raped by gangs of English policemen.

Excuse me. I just want to make sure I'm following this.

this is a comedy we're discussing, is it?

It's total comedy,

but real comedy

about what's actually happening to kids today.

Not escapist English crap.

thank you.

Well...

It's not that I don't like it, Ewan...

No, no.

Hate it, I think would be nearer the mark.

Hate is good.

- Not in this case. - Meaning?

Well, I don't see it as the BBC's job to fund

cynical tales about drugs and prostitution,

which purport to reflect everyday life in Britain

just so that fashion junkies who make them can swank about at Cannes

and then bugger off to the States the first chance they get.

Bollocks to the English bullshit.

Do you want the picture or don't you?

I'll be in touch.

I do wish Sam could be just a little more romantic sometimes.

I mean, I'm not asking him to turn into a Carl Phipps figure.

Not that I find Carl Phipps attractive,

although he does have a nice smile

when he deigns to bestow it on someone as lowly as myself.

You're looking a bit gorgeous today, Lucy,

if you don't mind me saying so.

Which was simply not true.

All I had on was this silly little short skirt

and that tight little top I quite like,

and, frankly, I looked awful,

so it was stupid of him to pretend that I didn't.

Did you want this massage, then?

Rose and geranium are oestrogenic.

they're meant to be massaged gently but forcefully

into the lower back and cleft of the bottom.

Fine.

try and be a bit more sensitive. I'm not a piece of dough.

Sorry. A bit preoccupied.

You used to like my bottom.

It's got nothing to do with whether I like your bottom or not.

I've just got things on my mind.

So you don't like my bottom?

Of course I like your bottom.

I bet you'd be more than happy

to massage aromatic oils into Cameron Diaz's bottom.

Possibly I would, in an abstract sense.

Well, go on, then. I am not stopping you.

Lucy, I have no plans to massage oil into Cameron Diaz's bottom.

But you do find her attractive?

It's irrelevant whether I do or I don't.

A man finding other women attractive

is not the same as being unfaithful.

So what you're saying is you want to screw other women?

No.

Lucy, look. All men find other women attractive.

the fact they remain faithful is the proof of their love and devotion.

Well, if you're that desperate, go on, then.

I am not stopping you.

What?

I'm booking tickets for "Love's Labour's Lost" at the Barbican.

that's nice.

Since you ask, I have to write an essay on the difference

between Shakespeare on the page and on the stage.

My God, you do this voluntarily?

So I take it you don't want a ticket?

Not while there's wet paint left in Britain

that I can sit and watch dry.

Sam.

I've been wanting to talk about...

you know, trying for a baby and our sex life.

I thought they were pretty much one and the same thing these days.

Not that I mind or anything.

Sam, we've got a problem here.

It's time we saw a doctor.

Well, I don't know. that's a pretty big step psychologically.

I mean, now we can see ourselves as being unlucky,

but if we go and see a doctor,

we're admitting that we might be infertile.

Sam...we are infertile.

I'm warming to him.

Did I tell you that I have to have a sperm test?

No, and actually I'd rather you didn't.

I don't see how you can be squeamish on the subject, George.

You produced Cuthbert.

I wouldn't like to meet the sperm that fathered him.

Sam, sperm is like flatulence -

it's different when it's your own.

What if I fail?

It's a sad moment when a man has to face the possibility

that there may not be lumps in the custard.

You wanker!

How did you know?

I've just heard from Justin at Kiss My Ark

that you dissed Ewan Proclaimer.

- Dissed? - You arrogant arse.

Ewan Proclaimer is at the cutting edge.

And he's a God-sent antidote to the rubbish your department commissions.

- Yes. that's what he said. - Why the hell did you diss him?

I "dissed" him because I thought his idea was crap, that's all.

I took a dissing decision and faxed him accordingly. that is my job.

Oh, yes, it's your job. Yeah. For the moment.

You know what your trouble is? You're jealous.

Where's your script, eh?

Where's the great Sam Bell's masterpiece?

Nowhere, mate.

Which is where you are and where you're going.

I've made such a mess of things at work.

I think I might even lose my job.

Oh, dear.

Well, who knows, it could be a good thing.

Perhaps you should look on it as an opportunity.

Your chance to do what you really want to do.

What I want to do is start writing.

Exactly.

I don't know what to write about.

Hey, you all right?

You OK?

- What happened? - I fell off my bike.

Bad luck.

Don't touch my child. I'm sorry. I don't want you touching my child.

Don't be so bloody paranoid! He was only trying to help.

Blimey.

Well, really!

Some people!

they think their precious kids

are at the centre of the whole bloody universe.

I wouldn't be like that.

Except, of course, you would.

Yes. I probably would.

If I ever got the chance to be.

Oh, my God, that's it.

What?

the idea. the thing I should write about.

- What is? - I should write about us.

I should write a comedy about an infertile couple.

It's so obvious.

A real modern tragi-comedy about...

about life and the absence of life.

And with jokes, too, but proper jokes.

Sad jokes, which are the best kind,

about sperm tests and guided fantasy sessions.

Just imagine it. the disintegration of this couple's sex life.

With the woman starting to think about nothing but fertility,

and going all teary over baby clothes.

Sam, don't, please.

You don't like it?

Sam, how could you even think of it?

No.

No, you're right. It's a stupid idea.

I mean, I'm sorry, but I just couldn't bear it.

Well, why should you?

Although you did tell me to look within.

Yes, but I didn't tell you to turn our private tragedy

into a national joke.

No, that's right. You didn't.

Oh, Lucy, just the girl.

Carl's wondering what to do for the War Child Benefit.

You're our Shakespeare scholar.

Well, I...um...

It can't be anything too gloomy.

After all, if this concert is about anything, it's about love.

And the show's being televised,

so he wants to look upbeat and sexy.

Oh, shut up, Sheila.

Charity's fine, darling, but you have a career.

Lucy?

Well...

what about the eighteenth sonnet?

I know it's a bit chocolate boxy,

but I think it's the best love poem ever written.

I'm sorry. Which one is that?

I'm sure you know it.

"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

"thou art more lovely,

"and more temperate.

"Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May and...

"Summer's lease hath all too short a date.

"Sometime...

"too hot the eye of heaven shines,

"and often is his gold complexion...

"dimm'd.

"And every fair from fair some time declines,

"By chance,

"or nature's changing course untrimm'd."

"But thy eternal summer

"shall not fade,

"nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st.

"Nor shall Death brag thou wand'rest in his shade,

"when in eternal lines to time thou grow'st."

Wrong number.

"So long as men can breathe

"or eyes can see...

"so long lives this,

"and this gives life to thee."

Well, Mr Phipps,

you are in danger of turning me back into a heterosexual.

thank you for the tip, Lucy.

You're so lovely...

to be doing this, I mean, for the orphans.

Yeah.

Are you coming to bed?

Er, yeah. In a while.

Well, don't be up late.

Early appointment tomorrow, remember.

How could I forget?

Do you want me to help at all?

Well, that's very kind, darling,

but I think, bearing in mind the seriousness of the situation,

it's best to leave it to an expert.

All right. But I want you to think of me when you do it.

Honestly! Women!

You actually think that a man can be unfaithful

whilst indulging in solitary masturbation.

No. It's just I know you'll think of Cameron Diaz.

No, I won't.

Although, you know, some psychologists agree

that a healthy fantasy life

is an important part of a monogamous relationship.

I do not wish to discuss it any further.

Lucky she doesn't know I'm also planning to invite Steffi Graf,

the Corrs and Baby Spice to the party.

Sam...

I'm very sorry about your film idea,

- but you do understand, don't you? - Oh, absolutely.

Shall I take this to the bathroom?

Yeah. thanks.

I've got my sperm test tomorrow

And my pot is on the shelf

I've got my sperm test tomorrow

And my little pot is on the shelf

Gonna have to go into the bathroom

Sit down and abuse myself.

Not as much as I'd hoped there'd be.

Do you think you got it all?

Yeah. Well, best I could.

It's most disappointing. It's like a sparrow sneezed.

I thought I might eke it out with a bit of flour and water,

just for appearances.

No? Oh, well. I'd better get a move on.

I've only got 50 minutes to get it back to the clinic.

Doctor Cooper said I should put it in my pants to keep it warm.

I hope I don't get hit by a car.

Bye.

taxi!

I am in a hurry. I have some important meetings.

I've got some sperm up my arse and it's dying.

Hello. Sam Bell. I'm here to make a delivery.

It's funny how far...

Oh, there we go.

Morning.

I mean, for heaven's sake!

From what I can gather,

as a younger man, he practically had a degree in masturbation,

and now he's acting as if he's been sentenced

to be hung by the scrotum until dead.

But Sam is being supportive?

Well, I mean, he is attentive to your emotional needs?

Ah, yes. No. Absolutely. He is wonderful, in his own way.

Oh, my God! there's Carl Phipps!

Where?

Excuse me, miss, you seem to have given me a dirty plate.

Oh, silly me. It's my main course.

Ho ho! So here's the bloody cinematic genius

who reckons me "tasteless, cynical and exploitative".

I take it you got my fax.

George, this is Ewan Proclaimer.

- Hi. - Safe, bro.

tell me something, you uptight English bastard,

when did you last write a script, eh?

Never. Am I right?

And why?

Because you're a talentless twat, that's why.

A leeching, lunch-eating parasite,

who sits on his fat sweaty arse all day at the taxpayers' expense,

telling better men to bugger off.

I don't think I've ever heard it quite so well put, bro.

Ewan, this Sick Junkie I'm sure is a marvellous script...

It's shite.

I binned it.

And what's more, I knew is was shite before you told me it was shite.

But let me tell you, pal...

My shite shits on your shite

'cause at least I write shite,

whereas all you do is tell people that do write shite

that what they write is shite.

So how sad are you?

You little shite.

It's all right. I'm going.

I like him.

Excellent mushroom Pithiviers, by the way.

You first.

Oh, this is ridiculous. It's like my A levels.

Well, my blood test's OK.

It seems that I ovulate.

Well, that means it's definitely me, then.

I am a eunuch.

You'd better do it. I can't.

"Samuel Bell. Sperm test. 30% sluggish."

Sluggish?

Is that the word they use?

Well, couldn't they have found a nicer way of putting it?

Like relaxed or unhurried?

Relaxed, laid-back sperm I could handle, but sluggish!

"Motility poor."

Oh, that is just an outrageous slur!

"41% swimming in the wrong direction."

they're in a plastic pot!

How are they supposed to know the right direction?

- "Conclusion..." - I've got slack, stupid sperm!

the stuff's been dawdling back up my dick.

Banging into each other, getting their abnormal tails tangled.

"Conclusion - normal."

Normal?

Yup. that's what it says.

Seems that yours is no worse than anyone else's.

Yes!

Oh, yes!

Oh, result!

One-nil. Passed his sperm test!

Work to do but very pleasing result this early on in the season.

How about lunch?

Carl Phipps came into work today,

all brooding and Byronic.

He looked like the dispossessed lord of a bleak moorland estate.

I swear his aftershave smelt of heather.

I stayed very cool.

Well, that's a lovely thought, Carl, but I'm on my own, you see?

Sheila's bronchial - self-diagnosed cure 40 fags a day!

She had to go home,

having coughed up something that looked like it lived in a pond.

And Joanna's in LA with Trudi Hobson.

You know Trudi? She's doing some dreadful action film.

It's a sequel and it's called...

I don't know what it's called. Shit two, I should imagine! So...

Lucy. Lucy, everyone is allowed a lunch break.

Yeah. Yeah.

Besides, I'm celebrating.

Big American film. Got a recall.

Oh...aromatic oils.

I did a course in this, you know.

therapeutic massage. I'm qualified to practise.

Shiatsu and, oh, reflexology, too.

I just cannot get enough of this alternative therapy.

It's beautiful.

Carl, this is really lovely,

but if you're celebrating,

shouldn't you be celebrating with someone special?

that's exactly what I am doing.

Oh, my God! I could feel that rash on my neck coming back.

When I was a teenager,

if ever a boy asked me out,

I invariably, instantly looked as if my throat had just been cut.

What do you mean, Carl?

I can't believe I'm writing this,

but I think - in fact, I am sure -

I felt his finger playing in the palm of my hand,

which, as far as I know, is a silent code for,

"I would not be adverse to rogering you, ma'am."

And another thing, why is it that birds have such rude names?

tit, cock, thrush. Whoo-hoo!

Is he getting funnier,

or have I finally lost the will to resist?

Lucy and I have to do a post-coital compatibility test.

Which means having it off,

and then a doctor looking at the aftermath.

Why would you imagine I would want to know that?

Mrs Bell?

Mr James will see you now.

Mrs Bell, Mr Pooter is a medical student.

Would you object to him observing?

No, there's nothing I like more

than having a gormless adolescent youth

peering into my splayed vagina!

No. Not at all.

Good.

Now, this, Pooter...

we will not be requiring today.

this could be useful later.

And this is essential.

You know, my moped saves me 17 minutes a day.

Of course, I ride her damn hard.

You see how the whole thing is...

try to relax if you can, please, Lucy.

Shove a traffic cone up your arse, mate,

and see if you can relax.

I will try.

Good.

there we are. All done.

You'll be a bit slippery in the downstairs department.

It's the lubricant jelly.

Don't be embarrassed. that was me.

Children's TV?

Yes. that's right.

Kiddie telly.

the Director General's keen to sharpen up

our light entertainment in that area.

So you want me out, but it's cheaper to bury me in the daytime schedules.

Yeah. that's right.

Hello? Melinda. It's rather a bad...

Oh, no!

Suspected meningitis.

they won't know for a couple of days.

they can't tell at present.

It's nice of you to come.

Well, I was right. I did lose my job.

We won't starve though.

they're moving me into children's television.

Sam, Melinda may be about to lose her baby.

I know. What do you want me to do about it?

Nothing.

Nothing.

Still, if we are infertile,

at least we'll be spared this kind of nightmare.

Well, at least you can see the bloody positive side.

that's not...

So how was it anyway?

the test. How was it?

Oh, that was fine. It was fine.

Medically speaking, it seems we're compatible.

Oh, hi, Lucy. Sheila and Joanna are just...

You've been crying.

What's wrong?

I think my friend's baby's dying.

they say he's got suspected meningitis.

Hey, hey, come and sit down.

In the majority of cases of suspected meningitis,

it turns out to be just that -

suspected.

How do you know?

I played a junior doctor in a few episodes of Angel Nurse.

the symptoms in these cases are quite generalised

and sometimes the real cause of the problem's never known.

the baby just gets over it.

Babies are very tough, you know.

Yeah.

Very brave.

Even though they don't look it.

Carl, I...

Lucy, I like you a lot.

too much, I think.

So...

I'm going to try my hardest to keep away from you from now on.

It's best.

Lucy...

If you ever need someone to talk to, you just...

OK?

Would you like a piece of cake, Mrs Furblob?

Yes, I would, Mr Furblob.

Yummy, yummy, yummy, yummy, yummy!

I'm still not entirely happy with the Furblob family

perpetrating an exclusively heterosexual lifestyle.

What do you think, Sam? You're the boss. It's your decision.

Well...

I think it's something we could possibly raise in the focus group.

Focus group?

Right. Well...

Hello. thanks for coming.

today's BBC is all about you - the viewer.

You make us what we are.

It's your BBC.

So, er...

Any comments?

Anything at all?

Right. Who else has had a little accident?

You see, they really like you.

What are you doing up, Sam?

What are you writing?

Er, nothing. I just couldn't sleep and...

- I thought I'd do my diary. - Oh.

You know, like you said. Letters to myself.

Can I read it?

No, no. Absolutely not.

Oh, don't worry. I know, it's private.

I'd die if you ever read mine.

Mmm. I'm going back to bed.

His temperature's dropped a bit at last.

Oh, that's great.

Maybe this is just his way of reminding me...

that I can't live without him.

Sam, this is fantastic.

It's dark, it's dramatic...

When did you write it all?

You know me, Trevor, it just pours out.

I'm a frighteningly creative guy.

Sorry I'm late. Got caught up at the hospital.

I spoke to Melinda. She said Cuthbert's out of danger.

Not from me. Little runt was sick all over a Baumler suit.

Sam, we've all had a look at your pages.

Everyone thinks they're marvellous.

What I want to know is how's Lucy taking it?

I mean, it's all very intimate stuff.

Like that bit when she props her bum up on the pillows.

I'm amazed she's letting you do it.

She's not.

- What do you mean she's not? - She told me not to write it,

but I'm going to do it anyway.

She will kill you.

I know. I know it's a bad thing, but I couldn't help it.

I'm stuck. I hated my last job, I hate the job I've got now.

- Have you seen the Furblobs? - Cuthbert won't have them on.

Exactly.

Writing this is the first thing I've felt positive about in years.

Lucy will come round. She'll understand.

After all, it's my story, too, isn't it?

Another one?

Well, I can't do it.

You'll have to. the IVF people need their own test.

My God, Sam! It's not the end of the world.

I'm asking you to have a quick one off the wrist, not shag a hedgehog.

I have to have a hystero-salpingogram.

But I have to do it at the hospital.

they want me to masturbate inside a municipal facility.

I simply cannot imagine a more horrible prospect.

Well, I can! How about being stretched open,

scraped out, stuffed full of bits of cold metal,

injected with dye, pumped full of air,

and, above all, having every doctor in Britain

staring up my twat on a day to day basis?!

Well, if you're going to play the female card.

Do you think William's got fleas again?

I've noticed you scratching a lot lately.

I don't know what it is. I seem to have these itchy patches.

It's probably an allergic reaction to something.

All he seems to want to do these days

is to write in his diary.

I know I should be glad that he's trying to get in touch

with his thoughts and feelings,

but I do wish he'd share some of them with me.

Anyway, you've got very fascinated all of a sudden.

I'm just taking an interest, you know.

Didn't even know what a laparoscopy was until now.

Bugger!

What?

I forgot to have my bikini line done.

Bikini line?

Yes. I know it sounds sort of stupid,

but, believe it or not, you want to look your best.

that's very good. that's very funny.

Sam, actually it's not really very funny.

the whole process is totally dehumanising.

Yeah. Right. Sorry.

Your bed's ready now, Mrs Bell.

Oh, right. thanks.

Wish me luck.

Good luck.

Laparoscopy. Bikini wax.

Want to look your best.

You've got lovely guts.

Beautiful.

Really beautiful.

Good big healthy bowel, too.

Facilitates a really superb movement, I should imagine.

Big soft spongy stools?

Well done.

So what do we have here?

Um... Endometriosis...

adhesions on the abdominal cavity,

malignant fibroids on the uterus,

cysts, diseases in the abdominal cavity,

congenital problems in the womb...

Oh, my God.

And you haven't got any of them.

Super guts. Really super.

Also you've ovulated recently, which is tremendous news.

Can't make an omelette without eggs.

And by omelette, I mean, of course...baby.

So there we have it, Lucy.

Everything fine. Nothing wrong at all.

Except that I'm not pregnant.

Apart, of course, from you not being pregnant,

but we don't know why you're not,

which is, in itself, tremendous news.

Is it?

Yeah. It could have been that you had a cyst

the size of Pavarotti on your ute,

and I was going to have to remove everything remotely feminine

from your ribs to your kneecaps.

But, no. You are what is medically known

as "non-specifically infertile".

Or to give it its full scientific description,

we do not have a bloody clue.

Very common condition.

Very common indeed.

In the world of infertility, that is.

- too much? too mawkish? - No, it's very good.

It's very personal.

And it's going to get more personal.

You're dramatising your own life, Sam.

Yours and Lucy's. What's going to happen when she finds out?

Well, she probably never will, will she?

I mean, most movies never get made.

If this goes into production...

well, then I'll worry.

But until then it's just a mad dream,

and we're all allowed to dream, aren't we?

Aren't we?

It's open.

Welcome.

Hi. I brought the contracts.

Sheila said you wanted me to take you through them.

Yeah. Yeah, that's what I told her.

Well, you know, they're really very standard and simple.

they're very simple and basic.

Very, very standard.

I'm not interested in the contracts.

But you said to Sheila that...

I know what I said.

What do you mean?

I just wanted to be alone with you.

Carl, I'm married.

I love my husband.

I think you're lonely.

Not true.

Yes, you are.

And so am I.

And...

Lucy, I've tried...

I've tried keeping away from you...

but I can't.

Don't...

Please...

Come to bed with me.

I think I'm in love with you.

You don't mean that.

Yes... Yes, I do.

I can't!

I can't!

You... You're wonderful. You are beautiful.

But I love my husband! And it's not exciting like this,

but then, nothing ever is exciting forever, is it?

Isn't it?

that's a rather bleak view to have of life.

I'm sorry, Carl, but I've got to go now.

Will you call for a cab, please?

Yeah. Yeah, of course.

I am sorry, Carl, but...

I love my husband.

I shan't see Carl again.

I mustn't.

I feel so guilty.

I don't want Carl.

I want Sam.

That's all I want.

And for us to have a baby.

Oh, God...

if you're reading this,

please make the IVF work.

I do want a baby so very much.

Just had something in my eye.

Right.

Sam, we wanted to talk because there's a problem.

the script's too blokey.

Blokey?

Colin's stuff is brilliant -

the masturbation scene is hilarious -

but Rachel is a worry.

Frankly, she's two-dimensional.

She's got some good lines,

but she's being drawn from a male perspective.

Trevor and I have been thinking.

Why don't we bring in a woman writer?

Are you out of your minds?

Yeah, all right. I admit that the Rachel character needs some work,

but I'll get there.

this is my story. Mine and Lucy's.

- Exactly. - Exactly.

- What does that mean? - All this has got to come out soon.

If we bring in a female writer, you can tell Lucy that it was her...

No one is taking my bloody script away from me, George!

Do you understand?

All right. Wreck your marriage if you like!

But we still need something done about the female voice.

Well, leave that to me. Was there anything else?

No? thank you.

Whatever the fates decide,

I intend to remain an emotionally functional woman.

I'd read my child Beatrix Potter,

and Winnie the Pooh.

It is simply not possible to change gear with your legs crossed.

I caught myself looking at baby clothes again today.

Sometimes, when it gets too much...

I must admit I pray.

Lucy, hi.

Good bath?

Good.

Are you all right?

Am I...? Yeah. Fine.

Never had this dandruff before.

Psoriasis.

A dry, flaky skin condition.

No cure, I'm afraid.

It must be in your family.

It often strikes out of the blue like this.

Normally the subject's under unusual stress.

Is there anything stressful on your mind?

No!

I mean, no, nothing.

Don't have a thing to worry about.

- Action! - I want my freedom!

I demand complete security.

I'm gonna do whatever I like, whenever I like.

All right!

Cut!

Pathetic bang.

OK. Lunch, everyone!

tampon commercial.

Pays the rent.

Nigel sent me your script, Sam.

You might be shite...

but you're a talented shite.

thank you.

Needs work, but I'm gonna do it.

With him. With him.

Sam! When are you going to give me an ending?

About six weeks. It depends on how long this stuff takes

to shut down my ovulation.

So in a month and a half's time, we could be parents.

Yeah. We could be.

Blimey.

Better start nailing things of value to the ceiling.

Cuthbert didn't mean to smash your Lancaster Bomber.

It's just he's crawling.

Yeah, well, I'd noticed.

When he can fit it

into his busy shrieking, shitting and vomiting schedule.

I hate it when you do that bit.

Oh, do you really, Sam?

How strange, because I find it the highlight of my sodding day!

You better get used to it

because the next lot of drugs you have to inject into my bum,

and you have to practise on an orange.

that could be a very funny scene.

What?

If someone... If that was seen...

that could be very funny, if someone saw that.

through a window.

I love this injection stuff, Sam.

It's fantastic to be able to put a needle on the screen

that isn't a heroin spike.

It's so original and it's so liberating.

Hasn't been done in years.

Although it did occur to me

that we might be missing out some comedy here.

What if the IVF drugs

somehow got mixed up with Colin's drug stash

and Rachel injects that instead?

Er, yeah, that would be great, except...

Oh, damn. Colin doesn't take drugs.

- He doesn't? - No.

- You're joking? - I'm not.

that is fascinating.

So all that stuff about the arse injections,

about practising on an orange,

- that's true, is it? - Oh, yes.

Isn't it amazing?

Grown men and women

that have to be taught how to use a hypodermic needle.

It's extraordinary.

Well, none of the oranges seemed to feel a thing.

Now, the nurse said that if I do it quickly and confidently,

it won't hurt, all right?

Ready?

One, two, three...

For me, corridors throb

with suppressed energy and sexual tension.

Love tubes with doors.

But I'll need even more light.

It has to be sterile.

Uncompromisingly umbilical,

but cold, bleak and dead.

Ewan, where are we getting with the casting?

It's all getting very close.

Actors are like cattle, George.

You round 'em up when you need 'em.

the girl's what? 22, 23?

More like 30.

I think we need to be pretty non-specific.

I mean, obviously we're not looking at teenage waifs,

but she's got to be vaguely shaggable, for Christ's sake.

I'll accept anything from an old-looking 19-year-old

to a young 25.

My God, Colin, I'm asking you to have a quick one off the wrist,

not shag a hedgehog!

I have to have a hystero-salpingogram!

thank you.

Tilda. Tilda Bustle.

Five nine, 34B.

Horse-riding, modern dance and elementary stage fighting.

that was very moving, Tilda.

You clearly have great depth.

thank you. Next!

too young. they're all too young.

Yeah, yeah. I know. terrible, isn't it?

Have we definitely got this location for a week?

Yes.

Oh, yes.

Superb.

Photo.

Sketch.

Use that.

Oh, yes.

I can see this shot already.

Sam, Sam, Sam...

Yeah?

Are these the kind of needles you use?

Er, yes. It's an intra-muscular injection.

Normally in the backside. It's pretty painful and quite upsetting.

Exactly.

I think we should call the picture "My Arse Is An Orange".

Yeah. Except it's called "Immaculate".

Oh, yeah, sure.

At the moment.

Sam seems to have perked up a bit about his work.

Wish he'd do the same about his sperm test.

Sheila sent me round to Carl Phipps's place today

with some contracts.

I'd been half dreading this ever since that day when he kissed me.

What are you up to out there?

Nothing!

He definitely planned it,

but I was as much to blame.

I went willingly to his bedroom...

He took off his shirt...

He asked me to stay,

but I told him I loved my husband,

and asked him to call me a cab.

Thank goodness nothing happened.

Well...

almost.

Why are you staring at me like that?

If you can bear it, Carl, just the final line again.

I've got stupid sperm.

the stuff has been retreating up my dick all these years.

What is it with sperm?

It's lazy, sluggish and has no idea where it's going.

Sounds like a pub full of blokes.

It's superb, Carl.

It's absolutely superb.

I think it's a start.

Petra, Justin...

Wonderful. Bravo.

So good of you to agree to read for us.

Hey, no actor is too big to read,

- particularly for Ewan. - Oh, don't.

Arse-licking twat.

So what do you think?

I thought that what with the disappearance of the rainforest,

it was ecologically unsound to produce such a wooden performance.

Anal, uptight, repressed and stiff.

Exactly! A totally convincing Englishman.

You know, that psoriasis is really starting to disgust me.

- Isn't there anything you can take? - No.

But the cruelest aspect of an incurable condition

is that everybody knows a cure.

that's psoriasis, isn't it?

My cousin had that much worse than you.

Her naturopath suggested banana skins.

You just drape them over your body. It really helped.

You see?

Well, they do say it's stress-related.

- Perhaps if you told Lucy... - No, thank you.

I prefer dandruff to death.

Lucy's recommended some alternative therapies which should be fun.

Lots of mucus.

Very phlegmy.

Very hot inside.

Very dry, very phlegmy.

too much mucus, too much phlegm.

No tomatoes and no beef. Also...

Boil tea. this much. three times a day. Mmm?

then drink.

Now, what I intend to do

is to place six needles in the pressure points in your temple,

and another 12 in your anus.

this will help you to relax.

Sam, you are so tense!

It's incredible to think that this is going to be made into a film.

What?

they're making a movie about infertility.

We got sent the script at the agency.

I didn't read it. It's all a bit close to home.

But I did feel a bit bad, having stopped you from doing the idea.

You felt bad? You felt maybe I should have done it?

I just couldn't have borne for it to be based on us directly.

It would have just... It would all have gone too deep.

You know, they've cast one of our people in it.

Carl Phipps as the husband.

I think he'll be superb.

He's a really nice man

and a truly sensitive actor.

- Sam! - Sorry.

Please, God, make me pregnant. I want a baby so very much.

Actually, Ewan,

I thought it might be better if I was closer to the camera.

try it. Yeah.

Please, God, make me pregnant...

Ewan, Ewan, I thought I might try it in Cockney. Just to see.

OK, Carl. Yeah. Give it a whirl.

take it from "You don't even want children."

You're lucky. You don't even want children.

Not children in the abstract sense, no...

- Doesn't work, Carl. - Fine, fine.

It was just a thought.

And again,

in your own time.

Not children in the abstract sense, no...

but as a part of you,

as an expression and extension of our love,

I want that more than anything I can imagine.

And if we don't have them, then that's all right too,

because...because we still have us.

Don't you see?

And our love will be no less whole.

It's getting there.

to me, Nimnh, this is a key speech.

this is the real guts of the piece here.

I cried when I read it.

Good girl.

Now, in your own time.

As we get closer to the day that may or may not see me reborn...

the longing inside me seems to become almost physical.

A sort of morning sickness for the barren and the unfulfilled.

Every young mother that I see

is a simultaneous moment of exultation and despair.

I don't know why it is that women feel such a deep need

to create life from within themselves.

Why they yearn for a time when their own flesh

will bring them comfort.

But I know that they do.

That's an experience which most women -

women with children -

miss out on in life.

The intensely female grief

which accompanies the fear

that those children might never exist.

Well done, mate.

It's tremendous.

You've really found her.

Ewan, we need to meet with you.

Sam is out of his bloody mind.

He wants to pull his script!

I'm sorry, but it's my script and I want it back.

No, it's not your script, mate.

It's ours, bought and paid for.

I don't have to finish it. the final scene isn't written yet.

We'll bring in a writer who will.

then I'll break your bloody arms! this is my life!

Oh, it's the wife that's the problem, is it?

Oh, back off!

take it easy, will you?

Sam...

Look.

I can see you're hurting here, but you have to think.

You're an artist.

this is a fine piece of writing.

It needs to be seen and seen your way.

this is your art, man.

You have to suffer for it.

that's the rule.

You don't get it. It's worse than you think.

She'll understand. You had to do it. You're a writer.

No, I'm not!

I'm a plagiarist.

A thief. I am the lowest kind of shit.

You know the woman's voice?

- Mmm. - I didn't find it.

I stole it.

What do you mean, stole it?

It's Lucy.

Lucy's been writing it?

Yeah. In a way she has.

- I've been reading her diary. - Her diary!

God, I wish I'd never done it,

but it was there and I couldn't resist it.

Sam, this just gets worse. You've got to tell her.

Well, of course I'll tell her, but I can't tell her now.

She's doing IVF. She's totally hormonal.

Her emotions are all over the place.

I'll tell her soon... when I know how the story ends.

Right. Lovely. Hope you're fit.

We're right at the end here. It's quite a hike.

Here we are.

Okey-doke, Luce. If you'd like to pop yourself in here.

Pop yourself right up there,

pop your togs off and pop one of these on.

It's a little breezy at the back,

but the doctors have got to get at your bits somehow.

Now, then, Sammy,

we're going to need a little deposit from you.

So there's your paying-in pot.

I'll give you a call when there's a service till free.

Okey-dokey. Check you in a couple of ticks.

Dignified little number.

I think I'll wear it to a première.

- What? What première? - What?

You said première. What première?

Any old première. Calm down. I was only joking.

And it's time for the gentleman's excuse-me.

So take your partners, please, for the knuckle shuffle.

No, no. I'm just not getting it.

Let me try something.

Give me a script.

Sam...

Look, I know you don't exactly like Carl,

but this is a crucial scene,

and I want him to hear your take on it.

Ewan?

Working.

Er...Carl...

this is a very big moment for Colin.

the stakes are very high.

His wife...

whom he loves very, very much...

has just gone through six weeks

of the most appallingly intrusive therapy.

Her ovaries are now heavy and bloated and painful.

Every other day for weeks she's been traipsing across London

to sit in queues with a lot of other anxious women,

waiting to have her most intimate self probed and manipulated.

the reason for all this, of course,

is her desperate heartfelt longing to have a child.

Yeah.

Now, if at this point,

her husband fails to ejaculate successfully...

then the whole business has been for nothing.

So with all this pressure...

Colin now has to sit alone in a room, and...

do his duty by the woman he loves.

Right.

Now...

obviously we can't show him wanking,

so you've got to give us all that information

in a mute two-second close up.

Oh, that's it. Brilliant. Hold that.

Hold that. Shooting.

So the white dot on the screen is the needle.

I'm lining it up with the follicle...

and now we see it deflated.

And we're removing the fluid within, which will be the eggs.

there we go.

Just think about it.

It's not many children who get to see themselves three cells big.

You know the chances are that these ones won't.

I know. But the least we can do

is give Dick and Debbie as much positive energy as we can.

Dick and Debbie?

that's what I'm calling them. I don't know why.

Do you think that's a good idea?

they're fertilised embryos, Sam.

Just getting that far is a huge step for us.

We're so far down the road.

Yeah, but it's still only a one in five chance.

I know, I know.

But 20% isn't a bad shot.

Just think...

when this photo was taken, they were alive.

two living entities created by you and me.

All they have to do is hang on for a few more days.

they just need to hang on.

Come on, Dick and Debbie.

Come on, Dick and Debbie.

All right, girls, we're going to rehearse now.

Rehearsal!

Well, that's it.

Bum injected. Pessary inserted.

I hope Dick and Debbie realise what I'm going through for them.

One day you'll be able to tell them.

there's only a one in five chance.

Lucy, any child of yours would be one in a million.

You know, when all this is over, for better or...

Well, hopefully for better...

there are some things...

I need to talk to you about. Some things I need to tell you.

I love you, Sam.

Well done. It's fantastic.

I just feel it's going to be all right.

It's all going to be all right.

It has to be.

Oh, hello. Could I speak to Sam Bell, please? It's his wife.

No, you can't take a message. It's very important.

Can you tell me where he is?

I want to start with a mid close-up on Rachel's jacksie.

So let's really hammer home the heartbreaking vulnerability.

OK. I wanna start getting ready to shoot this now.

Dignified little number. I think I'll wear it to a première.

Oh, sorry, sorry. that was crap.

No, no, no. that was great.

Right, this next bit...

Now, this is a very pathetic moment.

Semi-distraught, emotionally-dysfunctional woman

making jokes while her heart breaks.

We'll pick up a close-up here, OK?

Now, to me, Nimnh...

this scene represents the culmination of her descent

into a sort of sad madness.

think of the earlier scenes, and trust Sam's writing here.

the doomed personal commitment

to remaining an emotionally-functional woman.

the fantasies of Beatrix Potter and Winnie the Pooh.

Sometimes she prays.

She's been seriously considering going to Dorset

and making love on a chalk giant's genitals.

She's reduced her sex life

to a series of clinically-calculated servicings.

You bastard, Sam!

You heartless swine.

I've got my period, by the way.

We failed. they've gone.

Don't be embarrassed.

You'll be hearing it all soon anyway. She'll be saying it soon.

Lucy, what's going on here?

Ask him. He's told you everything else about me.

My God, Sam, you've used it all!

Excuse me? Are we making a movie here or what?

- Ewan, please. - Lucy...

- Get away from me. - What is going on?

You read my book, Sam.

You've stolen my thoughts.

Well, here's another little thing about me

that you don't need to read other people's diaries to get.

I hate you!

I hate you more than I ever thought it was possible to hate anyone,

and I never want to see or speak to you again!

Lucy... Lucy!

I hope you were taking all that in, Nimnh,

because that is the sort of emotional intensity

we're looking for here.

Lucy, listen...

Please. You're wrong. You're overreacting because we failed.

Please. I was going to tell you. Let me explain.

I meant what I said, Sam. I hate you. I really do.

Lucy, please don't do this.

You've read my book.

You know that the thing I wanted most was to have a child with you.

Well, it's not any more. It's the thing I want least.

I'm glad Dick and Debbie are dead! I'm glad they never fucking lived!

I didn't see Sam for quite a long time after that.

Although I couldn't bring myself to ask him for a divorce.

I think I went a bit mad.

And even ended up having a brief fling with Carl Phipps.

My God, did that nearly change my life forever.

- Are you nervous? - A bit.

It's not every day a girl gets to go to a première of a film

she co-wrote without even knowing it.

I must say, it was generous of Sam to share it all with me.

You look great.

I just love Catherine Walker haute couture.

Carl, about what you said on the phone...

You do know that you're under no obligation, don't you?

If it turns out that I am...

Oh, no, Lucy, darling.

Walk away from that thought.

I'm on. No questions.

Oh, I'm bloody thrilled.

It's just a bit of a shock, that's all.

Since you said you couldn't.

Well, I thought I couldn't, but it seems that maybe...

just maybe...

I can.

And that's great.

that's really, really...great.

Come on. Let's go.

Shall we?

Come on, Sam!

You've been bloody dreaming of this since you were a kid.

It was kind of you to volunteer to be my date, George.

William and I would have looked a bit sad together.

- I hope Melinda doesn't mind. - Nah. We'll see her there.

Besides, it gave me a chance to finish your new screenplay.

It's very, very good.

Uncomfortably so. Do you really miss her that much?

- Oh, George... - Yeah, right. Stupid question.

Well, we're in for a great evening.

I was happy with the nudity.

Being Celtic, I'm very passionate and primal.

I hated every single second of it.

Hated it? We're a smash!

Yeah. My people have been talking to the Bond people, obviously, but...

but I have a hankering to join Le Cuestatatat.

Er, an intriguing troupe of Peruvian bungee jumpers.

Don't get me wrong. I thought the film was great.

that's why I hated it.

I wanted it to be bad because that's what I deserve.

God, I hate the English!

You look stunning.

You look like Rasputin.

I thought the film was wonderful, Sam.

Well, you wrote the best bits.

Don't be ridiculous. I recognised about four lines.

No, it's your film and...

you should be very proud.

It wasn't worth it.

I learnt a lot.

I wish you'd told me some of those things at the time.

Well, it'd be nice to meet up, you know, to talk.

William misses you. He's pining away.

I don't know, Sam.

Maybe.

OK, William.

Ready?

And go.

Come on, William. We discussed this. Howl.

Come on. Howl, you bastard, howl!

Go away, Sam.

Lucy.

Lucy!

Please, just listen to me.

"Love is not love...

"which alters when it alteration finds.

"Oh, no.

"It is an ever fixed mark

"that looks on tempests and is never shaken.

"It is the star

"to every wandering bark."

I'll be in the park tomorrow.

I'll be there every day.

thank you. Very big help.

You were terrific.

You look wonderful, Lucy.

- You look like a dream. - Sam, don't, please...

It's all right. I know.

What?

Sheila told me. You're pregnant.

She shouldn't have done that, Sam. It's really early days.

I mean, I haven't even been to the doctor yet.

I'm going in this afternoon. Hi, there.

But, Lucy, it's wonderful news.

It's truly wonderful. You deserve it more than any woman I know.

I'm so happy for you.

I'd like to kill Carl Phipps, of course,

but that's just me being an insanely jealous bastard.

Carl doesn't want a child, Sam.

In fact, he doesn't even want to be in a relationship.

And I don't want one with him. It was just a silly fling.

Of course I'm happy I'm pregnant,

but I didn't want it to be like this.

It's such a shame that we...

Anyway.

Goodbye, Sam.

Bye, William.

Lucy! Lucy, come back to me!

Please.

I made the stupidest mistake of my life.

I've hated myself ever since I started it.

Please come back.

Sam, we can't pick up where we left off.

Especially if I'm pregnant with another man's child.

I'll bring it up.

I'll take care of it.

I'll be its father.

Sam, you didn't even want children of your own,

let alone someone else's.

What you live for is your writing.

Well, can't a man change, for God's sake?

I said I'll be its father.

Lucy...

If I have to serve a life sentence for what I did,

can't I at least serve it with you?

Is that a line from your new script?

No.

Well, yes, actually it is.

But I still mean it.

Please.

the beard has got to go.

I suppose I was stupid to get so excited about a home test.

they say on the box you can get it wrong,

and I suppose this one did.

But she did say you might have been pregnant.

Possibly, briefly.

But, anyway, I'm certainly not any more.

Oh, Sam, what are we going to do?

Well...

We've only tried one cycle of IVF

and they haven't found anything wrong with either of us, so...

On reflection, I suggest that...

we love each other absolutely and unequivocally

for the rest of our lives...

one beautiful day at a time.

And this, we can use.

Where did you say this ancient symbol of fertility was?

the chalk giant? It's on a hill in Dorset.

Shall I take the Great West Road or just follow a ley line?