Peep Show, Series 4

Mark:
She's good for me, Jez. She's dragging me into the twenty-first century with its meaningless logos and ironic veneration of tyrants. It's all good, my friend.

Jeremy:
I've got loads of really important stuff to do this weekend.

Mark:
Jeremy, a carton of Mars Bar Milk, a small bag of marijuana, and a pirated DVD of Anchorman are not important things.

Jeremy:
But what's Blair going to do?

Super Hans:
Maybe he'll become an ethical porn star.

Jeremy:
Or maybe he'll form a political supergroup. Blair, Bono on vocals, Clinton on sax.

Super Hans:
Yeah, that's definitely going to happen. Geldof's gonna shit.

Sophie's mother:
Oh, you grew a beard. Makes you look handsome, like a policeman.

Mark:
Thank you. You're obviously very attractive, too. (Ugh! What am I going to do next? Tell her she's got lovely tits?)

Mark:
(Goodbye beard. Hello familiar stupid face)

Jez:
(I'm a motherf***er! That's literally what I am!)

Mark:
You don't just declare war, Jeremy. You prime the press, you square things with the UN, you make up your reasons.

Jez:
(It's almost like a moral decision, but not really 'cause nobody will find out.)

Mark:
(Well, this isn't what I expected. You think you're going to play Simpsons Monopoly, and you end up an arsonist.)

Jeremy:
Mark, we're out with a man who has guns! You're chucking his daughter and I've shagged his wife. Tonight is going, if a bit weird, extremely f***ing well for us.

Mark:
(I'm a firestarter! A twisted firestarter!)

Jez:
Well... I did see him throw a petrol bomb, but I thought it might just have been a joke.

Mark:
This zip... there's no pocket to this zip!

Sophie:
So?

Mark:
(So that's the way it is? Let's just put a zip here, a swastika there. Who knows what these things once stood for? Who the hell even cares?)

Jez:
[To Sophie's father] He can't hear... Can you, you big fox-hunting, badger baiting, tweed-shirt bumf*** homophobe?

[to Jez, smiling smuttily]

Penny:
Get yourself a nice tank of petrol. Come back soon.

Jez:
(Yeah, right, so your husband can kill me and your son can worship my stuffed corpse and you can wheel me out for a f***. No thank you.)

Mark:
Please, no. Please tell me no.

Jez:
What?

Mark:
That. The smutty smile. Jeremy, please tell me that nothing's going on there.

Jez:
Nothing is going on there.

Mark:
Let's just say nothing's going on there.

Jez:
Yeah. [Pause] Actually I did want to tell someone, I mean it was so cool, she had all this jam -

Mark:
Oh my God, you didn't?! You f***ed her! Jeremy, you need chemical castration, you're out of control! That's Sophie's mother!

Jez:
She's hot.

Mark:
She's not out of Hollyoaks, Jeremy, she probably had a ration book! Oh you're a piece of work aren't you? I'm down the pub putting the hours in with the dad, and you're back at the house banging the mum! That is not a good impression!

Jez:
I dunno, I think I made a pretty good impression.

Mark:
Jeremy, please, don't smile like that. You're not James Bond, you're disgusting.

Jez:
(I am James Bond.)

[Mark has just twisted a bird's head off whilst hunting]

Sophie:
Teas, coffees for the huntsmen.

Jez:
No teas for the beastmaster, thanks. He feasts on the blood of his prey.

Jeremy:
(Of course he's not allowed to shoot. He's Mark Chapman in the making and I'm very much a 21st century Lennon)

Mark:
(He doesn't have anyone to talk to. He spends all day with the trees and animals. This is what happens when you live too far away from franchised coffee outlets)

Mark:
(Ugh, "sir". This isn't Tennessee, Mark)

Mark:
(Oh God, the first fiancé challenge and I've got a gun. An actual gun. It's OK, it's perfectly normal, this is the country. This is what farmers do. They go around shooting crows, and trespassers, and eventually, because of the EU, themselves.)

[after Mark is forced to spend an evening in a pub with Sophie's father]

Mark:
(I barely have anything to say to my best friend, what am I going to talk to a fully grown man about all evening?)

Sophie:
[to Mark and her father] Hey, nice to see you two getting on. What are you two talking about?

Mark:
Oh, just...metal. (And the fact that I don't really love you)

Sophie:
Bye. Love you!

Mark:
I love you, too. (It's okay, everyone says it. I say I love Häagen-Dazs and my broadband provider, and I like Sophie more than them. In most respects.)

Mark:
Hi, Alan, you wanted to talk about... oh!

Johnson:
Don't be alarmed, Mark, it's just Tai Chi. Take a seat and I'll just power through. Should take 45 minutes, I'm done in ten. Stick that up your dojo.

Mark:
Great.

Mark:
(I do sort of like it when he's rude to me. Hopefully that's more of a psychological defect, not a weird sexual thing.)

Johnson:
Tonight should be a free-fire idea zone. Watch a DVD, eat some pizza, f*** each other. I'm serious. F*** a chicken if that's what it takes. Watch a chicken f***ing a horse. What? You think the guys who invented Google sat around watching Trumpton?

Mark:
(Oh he is good. Taboo busting, semi-incomprehensible pep-talk.)

Johnson:
In business, Jeremy, you learn that every man has his price, and I judge yours to be... £530.

[about Indecent Proposal]

Jez:
(Is this a terrible idea? It can't be. It's in a film. They wouldn't put a terrible idea in a film, they'd get sued.)

Big Suze:
Sounds like you want to pimp me out.

Jez:
Pimp me out. Pimp my ride. There's a new climate.

Jez:
(God! I only asked her to be a hooker. It's not like I wanted her to work in telesales.)

Sophie:
...and I was quite shocked when you called Kathy a knucklehead, Mark.

Mark:
No, I didn't.

Sophie:
Yes, you did. You said she was a knucklehead and she should knuckle down or you'd knuckle her fat head. Then you stamped on Gerrard's foot.

Mark:
That was an accident.

Sophie:
No it wasn't.

Mark:
But it could have been. I was careful to make sure that it could have been.

Mark:
Sit down. Clear your tubes. 'Cause you and me are gonna chow down on the biggest hairy motherf***ing business shit-storm since Enron.

Mark:
(Suppose I can always roll Gerrard out for the sympathy vote. He's my dark secret... my elephant man.)

Mark:
Oh right, so, now she's finished with you, suddenly you're in love with her again?

Jez:
Exactly. Duh! That's how love works Mark.

Mark:
(Oh great. I'm going out with literally the worst men in the world.)

Big Suze:
Jeremy?! What the hell are you doing here?

Jez:
Me? Oh. Nothing. I was just passing through... Kettering... And I thought, hey I know someone who's gone to Kettering for the weekend.

Jez:
Look, Suze. Being black isn't about the colour of your skin. It's about vibe, hanging out, kicking back, smoking a number. Fighting prejudice and negative stereotypes wherever you find them! Yeah? I'm down with all that! Is Johnson? I mean, what's Johnson done for black people lately?!

Big Suze:
You mean... apart from his mentoring and community work?

Jez:
...Yeah, apart from that!

Big Suze:
You tried to sell my body! I don't want to talk to you. Goodbye

[Suze leaves, the Barman stares at Jeremy]

Jeremy:
I did not try to sell her body. I tried to rent out her sexual organs [beat] on a one-use basis.

Mark:
(Oh God. This is horrible. Ughh, she's touching the tube! That can't be hygenic...)

[While getting a lap dance in a strip club.]

Mark:
(Oh, great! Here we go. I'm just another cock getting wired into the global economy. Uhhh, how should I look like? Bond-like neutrality? As though I'm so used to real-life naked women? Or, don't want to be rude... smiling encouragement? That's not a leer is it? Got to avoid the leer at all costs. And the dribble. Oh God, she looks amazing. This really should not be allowed. This is what men want and we shouldn't be allowed to have it because it's horrible and it make you feel sick! Oh great, now I'm getting an erection. How grimly predictable.)

Stripper:
You should try and sum up all your aims in the first line.

Mark:
Right, look, this is a very complex business proposal so I really don't think you could sum up all the aims in one line.

Stripper:
If you can't sum up all the aims in the first line then they're too diffuse.

Mark:
Look, my aims are not too f***ing diffuse, ok?!

Stripper:
Fine! Jesus! They just might be too diffuse. That was all I was saying...

Mark:
(Great... Now I'm getting an angry lap dance... Brilliant...)

Sophie:
And have I lived enough? I mean, I've only slept with four men. Is that enough?

Jez:
Four?... Oh... Yeah. (Jesus. I've had sex with more men than that, and I basically only sleep with women.)

Jez:
(This is almost definitely a terrible idea, but I won't know for certain until I've actually done it...[Jez and Sophie kiss]... No I was right, that was a terrible idea. That's probably the stupidest thing I've ever done in my entire life... Although... Maybe actually screwing each other will kind of make it weirdly better.)

[about Jez and Sophie being nice to Mark after he walked in on them almost having sex]

Mark:
(Why are they being so nice? Maybe they've had a big chat about me and they're suddenly realised I was right about North Korea, I was right about the European Constitution, and by God I think I'm right about the congestion charge!)

Mark:
You know what this piece of paper says, Jeremy?

Jez:
Is it something to do with history? Have they stopped history books?

Mark:
I'm about to walk into a boardroom gang bang and get f***ed by the biggest swinging dicks in corporate strategy.

Jez:
Maybe you should run away.

Mark:
Right, thanks Jez.

Jez:
Well, I mean, people say it like it's a bad thing, you know, running away from your problems. But if your problems never catch up with you, what's the hitch?

Mark:
Right, well, in this case there would be repercussions.

Jez:
What do you care? You'd be in the woods, playing the ukulele with the rabbits and the squirrels!

Mark:
I suppose I could... run away.

Jez:
Do it man!! (I think that was good advice... I mean, I didn't actually expect him to do it... Maybe I wouldn't have said it if I thought there was any chance of him actually doing it... But... yep, there he goes.)

Mark:
(God, I'm running away! This is brilliant! Maybe I'll go to KFC and have a whole bargain bucket!Or join Al Qaeda!)

Jeremy:
(Hiding out in a parking lot. He's not exactly Grizzly Adams)

Mark:
(I've really done it this time. This isn't a late report or a misspelled memo. This is going feral. Rejecting society and living like an animal. That's not going to look good on my quarterly review)

Mark:
(Right, here I go. Palms dry. Mouth dry. Inter-buttock area moist.)

Johnson:
I'd just like to assure everyone that Mr. Corrigan will indeed be dead within a month.

Mark:
I'm marrying her, what more does she want?

Jez:
Mark, are you having some sort of mental breakdown?

Mark:
I'm just joining the gym. Get some exercise, and some time... not away from Sophie, just... without her.

Jez:
.....

Mark:
You should join too. You get a free pen!

Mark:
(Ugh, why did they have to put the bikes right in front of the sexualiser? Be so demeaning to get a bonk-on while exercising.)

Matt:
Can you take some more? Can you? Do you want it? Do you want it?

Mark:
NO!

Matt:
What?

Mark:
No, I don't want it, alright? F*** off! You've made it too hard, I can hardly f***ing pedal! No mountain is this hard, it's just not realistic!

Mark:
(Ugh, that was horrible. Now he probably thinks I'm embarrassed about the size of my penis. When in fact, I'm not. I'm much more concerned about my misshapen scrotum.)

Jez:
[after joining Nancy in the sauna] (Could use my sauna line.) Phwoor. Cor, it's like a sauna in here! [Nancy laughs] (Classic line. That is just a great line. Gotta manoeuvre more dates into saunas.)

Eva:
[after being trapped in the flotation tank] I've got to get out. It was so dark! So dark!

Jez:
Still, there are worse places to get trapped, right? I mean, you must be bloody relaxed by now!

Manager:
Can you describe exactly what happened, Mr. Corrigan.

Mark:
Uh.. Well, uh, h-he was... uh, g-giving me a m-massage. And, uh, h-he was going up my... legs and my thighs an-and then he... touched my penis... then he rubbed my... penis. Quite a bit. An-and I said "stop". But he wouldn't stop.

Matt:
Mark why are you saying this? I don't understand.

Mark:
B-because... because it's true.

Matt:
Please don't do this! This is my career!

Jez:
You should've thought about that when you were touching his cock.

Mark:
(Maybe it would've been simpler just to kill him. I should know how to kill someone by now. I've watched enough CSI.)

Nancy:
Matt, violence never solved anything: love thy neighbour as thyself.

Jez:
Yeah, exactly; f*** off!

Matt:
Well, you can't stay hiding there [behind Sophie and Nancy] forever!

Mark:
He thinks we can't hide here forever.

Jez:
He obviously doesn't know us at all, does he?

Mark:
What a dud evening. Low quality take-away. Low quality detective drama. Low quality sexual intercourse.

Mark:
Welcome to the world of work, Jeremy. You know, you don't have to be crazy to work here, but it helps.

Jez:
And you don't have to be a smack-head to wank off old geezers, but that probably helps too.

Mark:
(What should I say? Anything that doesn't mention wanking over your memory for the last twenty years would be good.)

Mark:
(I thought she was a frightened little suburban mouse, but no, she's my nightmare: a liberated, sexually adventurous urban woman.)

Mark:
If it ain't broke, don't fix it. And even if it is broke, just ignore it and maybe it'll be sort of OK. Like the environment.

Mark:
Don't flaunt your wad, Jeremy. It's not becoming.

Mark:
(What exactly is my plan here? I've lured them all to the safari park like a Bond villain, but what's the aim? Torture myself with contact with an unattainable woman?)

Mark:
I can't believe it. He's actually thrown me to the lions.

Jeremy:
You're disgusting. But I like it. Like going to a strip club with the Pope.

Mark:
You gave him a hand?

Jeremy:
Yeah.

Mark:
Shit. (I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!)

Super Hans:
Why didn't you tell me about the wanking-off bit?

Jez:
Sorry, I didn't think.

Super Hans:
Well you should've bloody thought. Jesus!

Jez:
Did you do it?

Super Hans:
'Course I did. How do you think I got these trainers?

Nancy:
What's going on? Who's wanking who off?

Super Hans:
Jeremy's been wanking off this bloke for cash.

Jez:
No I haven't! It's not -

Nancy:
Jeremy, that is so you. I always knew you'd end up doing something like that.

Jez:
What do you mean that is so me? That is not so me.

Jez:
Cheer up, Mark. At least now you've got a funny story to tell people.

Mark:
Yes. No, I guess this is a pretty funny story. (One that I'll never ever tell anyone because of my deep and burning shame.)

Mark:
(Ugh... More data entry tonight. I guess the only good thing is that my life is so boring it feels like it might go on forever. Maybe I could put on Big Bond Themes and pretend I'm entering data for MI6.)

[with the relationship therapist]

Therapist:
The sexual problems in your relationship?

Mark:
Oh! Right. Are there...?

Sophie:
Well, I just feel, I don't know, unfulfilled.

Mark:
Unfilled?

Sophie:
Unfulfilled.

Mark:
(Oh great, so I'll be spending £1 a minute to hear how shit I am at sex, that's value for money!)

Jez:
(This weekend is going to be one massive dry hump. Maybe the tension will build to the point where we actually try and f*** each other.)

Jez:
Oh, that is great. You wouldn't even let me drink your piss. I'm not trying to kiss you, Mark. It's liquid waste.

Lucy:
Can I get a metre of vodka...with an inch of tonic?

Mark:
(Come on, Mark, turn it on! Play the game!) Oh, er, naughty, you've combined metric and imperial, you might get an interdenominational...er, you know, from mixing the two measurement systems, a hangover of that kind (Just stay mute, Mark. You're a social freak. Remain in your compound.)

Mark:
(Oh, God, vodka! It'll be an orgy. Great! Disappoint three people instead of just one!

Mark:
The whole world isn't Zoo Magazine, Jeremy. People don't just go around wanting it the whole time.

Jez:
Warp factor 3 please, Scotty!

Mark:
(Oh, great. I'm Scotty. He's off cross-breeding with the beautiful aliens and I'm stuck down in the engine room with the probably cancer-emitting fuel cells.)

Mark:
(Oh my God! I've entered an interview situation and there's a hand near my cock. This is like that dream I had about Alan Sugar and the Badger.)

Mark:
(This can't be real. They're probably Sophie and Johnson in masks and this is being paid for by MTV and the Playboy Channel.)

Jez:
(If I don't think about it, there's always a chance it didn't happen.)

Jez:
(I'll just throw it in the river like when I had my paper route. Screw you, Murdoch)

[discussing Malcolm's daughter]

Malcolm:
What do you think of her? Honestly.

Mark:
(I think she might have a borderline personality disorder.) I think she's... lovely.

Mark:
I don't want sweet punani action; I want to take your bishop and grind you down!

[Mark is pitching his CV]

Mark:
(Shit! I'm losing him!) And if you look at the bottom, you'll see that my hobbies include history and going to the movies.

Lucy:
I like going to the movies.

Mark:
(Of course you do. Everyone does. Man seeks woman. Must be interested in film, breathing oxygen and converting protein intake into muscle energy.)

Mark:
(F***ing hell! He's got Mummy! He's brought a dead dog into my pitch, the stupid bastard!)

Jeremy:
(I'm eating dog leg! This is definitely a new low.)

Jeremy:
It's just a hairy turkey!

Jeremy:
"Mummy" was probably the turkey's nickname. ... It could easily be!

[after Jez has eaten "turkey" (actually the dog, "Mummy")]

Mark:
Did you actually have to eat it?

Jez:
I don't know. I keep wondering that. But in the moment, it really did feel like I needed to eat it.

Jez:
Did you slink off to bed before we did the melon-off?

Mark:
I believe I did, and what exactly is....

Jez:
Two guys get hard-ons, they put melons on their dicks, the first melon to fall off loses.

Mark:
Right, and who won - Gore Vidal or Dr Jonathan Miller?

[Nancy is asleep on the sofa]

Mark:
Nancy stayed over?

Jeremy:
Yeah. Lovely, clean Nancy all over our filthy disgusting sofa.

Mark:
(I'm not marrying out of spite, I'm marrying out of fear. There's a very big difference.)

Mark:
(Need time to think. How can I buy some time? Contract TB? But where from? No badgers. Try to get beaten up? I could say he's got a... fat head. Call him a jizz-cock. It's not actually an insult, all cocks are jizz-cocks really; bit like calling him a piss-kidney.)

Mark:
Well, you should be more careful you... jizz-cock!

Driver:
What?

Mark:
You could have had my legs off you... piss-kidney.

Driver:
Arsehole!

Mark:
(Arsehole! Yep, nice insult. Clean, clear and insulting.)

Jez:
You OK?

Mark:
Yeah, yeah, fine. Bit of a wobble. I just proposed to a woman in a coffee shop and tried to get myself run over.

Jez:
OK. Right. That is maybe a sign that everything isn't totally groovy.

Jeremy:
Mark we're in the middle of the road you're gonna get us killed for the sake of your legacy. Stop it! You're not f***ing Blair!

Jez:
(Am I actually going to piss on the church? It'd be quite a statement. Yeah, baby! Here I go. Richard Dawkins walks the walk but does he actually follow through with an actual act of piss?)

Jez:
God I am dying for a piss. I feel like someone's inflating a balloon full of urine inside me. And not in a good way.

Jez:
Let me go in that prayer bucket.

Mark:
Prayer bucket?... [looking round] Jeremy, that's just a bucket.

Jez:
Alright, I'm gonna creep up to the bucket...

Mark:
No, you can't move!

Jez:
Mark, I can't hold it in any longer! I'm busting!

Mark:
Well, if you really can't hold it in, I guess you'll just have to...piss yourself.

Jez:
You're ordering me to piss myself?

Mark:
Yes, if you have to go, piss yourself.

Jez:
Is this what it's come to?

Mark:
Yes, and do it quietly!

Jez:
And what shall I do after I piss myself? F*** myself? Eat myself? [Jez begins pissing himself]

Mark:
Are you going already?

Jez:
Yes, I'm so pathetic, as soon as you ordered me to piss myself I started the procedure. See what you've done? You've ground down my sense of self worth over the years, I hope you're happy!

Mark:
When are you going to stop?

Jez:
Not for a bit.

Mark:
Jeremy, stop! It's going down the crack!

Jez:
Oh piss yourself, stop pissing yourself, it's not that easy Mark, the flood gates are open!

Mark:
I'm ordering you to stop!

Jez:
You're being a real dick about this, aren't you?!?!

Priest:
...Before God Almighty who knows all the secrets of our hearts...

Mark:
(He's ladelling it on now. Is that in the proper thing or has he just added that to needle me?)

Mark:
(Someone save me! Jeremy? Spacemen?)

Mark:
(That's it. I've ruined my life! You only get one life and I've ruined mine!)

Mark:
: (That's it. I'm alone. Tomorrow morning I'll wake up in my bed alone. Unless... I hire a prostitute. Just for the night. Kind of like a wedding present.)

Mark:
: You know you really do smell quite strongly of piss.

Jez:
: Yes, and your hat and shoe smell of puke, so I guess neither of us are exactly the king, are we?

Mark:
So, Nancy, did she not show up?

Jez:
No, she did ... with Super Hans, so that's nice. I think I might divorce her, see how she likes that.

Mark:
Well, I suppose I should apologize for not letting you go and get her.

Jez:
Yeah, I was pretty pissed off about that. But, I was thinking of waiting for a bit before I brought it up.

Mark:
Oh, that's nice. Thanks man.

Jez:
It's fine. I'll just chuck it in with all my other moldering resentments.

Mark:
Exactly. Stick it on the bill.

Mark:
(Right, here I go. Palms dry. Mouth dry. Inter-buttock area moist.) So. [clears throat] Integrating sales and marketing, Project Zeus. The bad news is... it doesn't work. But, look, big picture... so what? Maybe we shouldn't be in the credit business at all, m-maybe we should look at, uh, human rights or, or global warming, I mean these are just ideas, but... w-where's the humanity? I suppose that's what I want to ask you today, if anything... where is the humanity? [puts a hand on Johnson's shoulder] Old friend. (Shit. I'm crashing and burning. That stupid bloody hippie sold me down the river! Plan B. ...what is plan B?) Right, o-o-okay, you - you can stop the murmuring. Please, s-stop murmuring. Un-unless you think it's nice to murmur a-at someone who's... dying!? (Did I just say that? I did just say that.) Yep, th-th-that's right, I've got brain cancer; half my brain's been eaten away al-already, probably, but I think I did a pretty decent job for a man with a brain tumour the size of a pineapple who - who's going to be dead within a month! (Uh, plan C. Is there a plan C?!) Ah! Ah, my brain, my poor diseased brain! [falls into a chair, blinking awkwardly]

Johnson:
[stands] Yep... I'd just like to assure everyone that Mr. Corrigan will indeed be dead in a month.

Mark:
It's alright, Jez! Use your woman as a shield!

[with the relationship therapist]

Therapist:
Plus, obviously, Sophie mentioned on the phone about the sexual problems in your relationship.

Mark:
I-I'm sorry?

Therapist:
The sexual problems in your relationship.

Mark:
Oh! R-right. Are - are there...?

Sophie:
Um, well, I just feel, I don't know... unfulfilled.

Mark:
Unfilled?

Sophie:
Unfulfilled.

Mark:
Um, r-right, well I... I-I mean... I-I suppose I-I thought that... uh, m-maybe Sophie might be... o-one of those women who-who find it difficult or-or even impossible to, uh, attain, t-to achieve...

Sophie:
No, I'm definitely not one of those.

Mark:
Right.

Therapist:
What would you say if you felt that you weren't going to be judged?

Sophie:
I'd say... I'd say, erm...

Mark:
(This isn't going to be good.)

Sophie:
Often, um, Mark, you... ejaculate... quite a long time... before I've had time to feel like I've... started to enjoy our sex.

Mark:
Uh huh. Thanks for that, Soph. Great, well, I'll... I'll make a note of that. Well, this has been great. Just a great... time. [gets ready to leave]

Therapist:
Mark, it's alright. We've got 45 minutes yet.

Mark:
Really? 45 minutes. (Oh great, so I'll be spending £1 a minute to hear how shit I am at sex. Now that's value for money!)

Priest:
...but first I'm required to ask anyone present who knows the reason why these persons may not lawfully marry to declare it now.

Mark:
(Oh please, someone save me! Jeremy? Spacemen?!)

Priest:
The vows you are about to take are to be made in the name of God, who is Judge of all and knows all the secrets of our hearts...

Mark:
(He's ladelling it on now. Is that in the proper thing or has he just added that to needle me?)

[Sophie begins to cry]

Mark:
(Oh great, now she's crying. I probably look like a wife beater. It's not fair! I'm unhappy too!)

Priest:
Will you take Sophie Hortensia Chapman...

Mark:
("Hortensia"? Oh, this is a fucking disaster. Look at me! I'm one of those men women read about in their magazines!)

Priest:
...and forsaking all others, be faithful to her, as long as you both shall live?

Mark:
I will. (That's it. I've ruined it! I've ruined my life! You only get one life, and I've ruined mine.)

Priest:
[to Sophie] ...as long as you both shall live?

Mark:
(Please don't say "I will".)

Sophie:
[sobbing] I will.

Mark:
(Uggh!)

Priest:
Then I now pronounce you man and wife. (both Mark and Sophie weep) You may kiss the bride.

[They kiss briefly]

Mark:
(Tears of joy. They're tears of joy. That's the line we both stick to, now and for the rest of our miserable lives!)