Peep Show, Series 5

Mark:
(So unhappy. I wonder if anyone has ever been this unhappy while drinking champagne.)

Jez:
Mark, double date tonight?

Mark:
No...what's she like...is she sexy?

Jez:
Mark, beggars can't be choosers. She's an actual woman.

Mark:
It's too early, I'm not into it. No, I'm still technically married. I'm not safe to be reintroduced into society yet.

Jez:
We might need to tidy up a bit. And we may have to untape the DVD and video and TV and Sky remotes

Mark:
[disappointed] The Megatron? But....no

Jez:
It smells wrong. I mean, the Megatron doesn't say 'urban freewheeelers', it says 'sofa masturbators'...y'know

Jez:
Here we are. What are you doing?

Mark:
Friends of the British Museum magazine. Clearly I'm not a Johnny Depp Tony Parsons Hunk of the Month, I need my props, I have my rituals.

Mark:
(Jeremy was right; she's an actual woman.)

Mark:
(Oh my God! I've already closed on a second date! This magazine is sexual dynamite!)

[Jez has just been told he may have Chlamydia]

Paula:
Lots of times it's symptomless basically so it's just...

Jez:
It's symptomless? Oh, right. So what's the biggie? I mean, no one minds if the invisible man comes to dinner. (Maybe I can get into this. Sexually transmitted disease. Sexually transmitted. Sexually. Sexy. I'm feeling sexy.)

Paula:
You haven't noticed any unusual discharge from your penis, have you?

Jez:
(Not so sexy.)

[Mark and Jez are on a double date at the theatre]

Jez:
[whispering] When do we get to go out?

Mark:
[whispering] As far as I can make out, we get to go out for a bit in an hour, then we have to come back for two hours.

Jez:
You're kidding. I think I'll die.

Mark:
If this was on television, nobody would be watching.

Jez:
Oh God. Why aren't we watching television? [...] I've got Heat on DVD at home. We're watching this, when for less money we could be watching Robert de Niro and Al Pacino.

Mark:
I'm going to pretend I am watching Heat.

Jez:
OK. Let's just pretend we're watching Heat.

[Jez has left the theatre early]

Jez:
(This is amazing. I wasn't meant to be out 'till eleven, and it's not even nine. I've time travelled. I've made time! I could do anything. I'm golden!)

[Whilst giving his ticket to a tramp]

Jez:
Here you go mate. Go and see the second half. It's shit.

[Mark comes home to find the flat has been burgled]

Mark:
Have you called the locksmith, have the police already been?

Jez:
No, I thought I'd check with you first, coz, I mean what do you call?....or do you do it all online now?

Mark:
The Playstation! The memory card! I'd nearly broken through on Medal of Honour. They've nicked 120 hours of quality me time! Bloody hell!!

[Apprehending the burglar]

Mark:
(I'm wrestling with the white working class! Morse never did this!) Just shut up!! (I'm better than Morse!)

[On the phone to the police]

Mark:
45 minutes? But...I'm sitting on him. Is that legal?

Mark:
Look, let's just try to continue our evening as if he wasn't here and if he tries to escape, I'll just have to take him down. (I've got balls like baked potatoes!)

[Holding up the Megatron]

Heather:
What's this?

Mark:
(Oh, the Megatron is shrinking my massive balls!)

Mark:
[Right, you shit! It's mutually assured destruction!] Suze, I'm afraid I have to inform you that Jeremy has or may have a sexually transmitted disease. I'm sorry I had to tell you...

Jez:
Mark! Shut up!

Big Suze:
Is it AIDS?

Jez:
Course it's not AIDS, this isn't the 80s. It's the best STD, just cute old mostly symptomless Chlamydia.

Mark:
You know Jez... I've started to get this feeling that I'm totally, totally f***ed... You know, I f***ed up my wedding, I f***ed up my only relationship. Everything's just completely f***ed.

Jez:
You have been thinking this for a while, haven't you?

Mark mentions he'd like to be a scout master. Jeremy smirks

Mark:
What? You don't have to be a paedophile to want to work with children.

Jeremy:
But it probably helps.

Mark:
I spent five happy years in the scouts! And never once...

Jeremy:
[Interupting] You told me kinky Leyton was all over you.

Mark:
Yeah, alright Leyton was a bit of a paedo. But it was old style paedoing. Before it got such a bad name. (Of course, Leyton only ever really had eyes for Duncan Carpenter, the doe-eyed little flirt).

Mark walks past two of Sophie's friends. They stop their conversation and give him nasty looks

Mark:
(Ugh.. the gossip mill. That's right, stare at Hess; throw fruit at Hess, pacing his prison yard!)

Jez:
This is a chain-on scenario.

Mark:
Mmmm. Why toast when you can roast?

Jez:
Another roast? That's the third today.

Mark:
What's nicer than a roast?

Jez:
Yeah, but, chain-eating roasts?

Mark:
Ugh no... Heartbreak Tuna! No, just bin it. But not literally - no need to be dramatic. Freeze it. See how I feel in six months.

Mark:
If she wants a PR War, then she can have a PR War... I'll Mandelson her! Nobody wanted New Labour, Jeremy, but now we all know how it works.

Mark:
[entering the office] (Walking into the jaws of death. Got to go past Sophie's desk. What I am going to say? Please save me, Jesus - I'll believe in you if you save me now ... The other way! She's looking the other way! Thank you, Jesus! ... Although it was fifty-fifty which way she'd be looking - might need a bit more to start believing.)

Mark:
Mmmm, Piggin' Tea Break. Cup of piggin' tea and work out my piggin' campaign strategy.

Lisa:
Erm, Mark, I just want to say about the wedding... that I think you're a real piece of shit.

Mark:
Oh... OK. (That's fair. Lisa is a very fair person.)

Mark:
Hi Soph, how are you? How are you feeling?

Sophie:
Well... I want to give things another go.

Mark:
You... you do?

Sophie:
No, of course I f***ing don't!

[Jeremy plays Barney's music to Super Hans]

Super Hans:
Yeah, this is raw. Who is this, is this us?

Super Hans:
Shit, he's done something there. How's he done that?

Jez:
I think that what's happening is maybe two or three different musical things, at the same time!

Super Hans:
Have you read the Big Beat Manifesto lately?

Jez:
Did we write it down?

Super Hans:
The Big Beat Manifesto goes "Big Beats are the best, Get high all the time".

Jez:
Right. At the time, it felt like a much more all-encompassing philosophy.

Super Hans:
I think this is probably the best example of the sort of stuff we'd do we've ever had.

Jez:
Oh yeah. 'cause sometimes it's really hard actually to do your own ideas.

Mark:
(Where do I sit... This must be what it's like being a nonce in prison.)

Mark:
By the way, is it possible to get a block on a couple of e-mail addresses?

Dobby:
Why, what have you been getting?

Mark:
Ah, just the usual... crap.

Dobby:
[reading] You're a piece of shit. Shitter, Stuff your bollocks up your gob...

Mark:
It's just mates and that.

Dobby:
[still reading] F*** off and shut up and die?

Mark:
Yeah they're pretty funny.

Dobby:
Arseholes.

[after Dobby asks Mark to reach something high inside a closet room]

Mark:
Ugh...you'll, you'll have to...move.

Dobby:
Yeah, I should move, but...I might not move. [begins to rub her bottom against Mark's private area]

Mark:
(This is possibly the most exciting thing that has happended to anyone ever. Does she know what she's doing? Is she just innocently waggling her bum around and I'm getting illegal benefit? I'm not doing a sexual assault am I? You can't do a sexual assault if you stay still like a statue. I'm just a statue, a dirty, filthy statue. Oh God, I'm getting very...Captain Corraghan if flying without a licence! Oh Jesus, it's too much, I'm going to blow my beans! I'm going to do a Chesil Beach!)

Mark:
(I win because they all think I pissed myself, when they have no idea I came all in my pants!)

[about Jeremey's show in the club F***bunker, after Dobby seduced Mark earlier in a closet]

Mark:
I just wondered if you fancied coming down with me to the F***bunker.

Dobby:
Is that what you call the stationery cupboard?

Jez:
(Hmmm... women. There they are, walking around. And they've all got them. Under their clothes. Hiding there. But I know the secret. Vaginas.)

Mark:
(I've been caught out! Like Angus Deayton or Harold Shipman)!

Mark:
This is piggin' massive!

Jez:
What's going on?

Super Hans:
Barney's locked himself in the bathroom.

Jez:
What did you do to him?

Super Hans:
Nothing...jesus...

Barney:
He's a f***er!

Jez:
Has he been sucking you off?

Super Hans:
No! Of course not...

Barney:
Yes.

Super Hans:
Well...maybe once...

Jez:
What the f*** are we going to do!?!? We don't know how to play his mu...our music. We're the frontmen! I was planning on just waving a maraca and giving the hotties my sex eyes.

Barney:
I wanna go home. I wanna go home. I wanna go home. I wanna go home. I wanna go home. I wanna go home. I wanna go home.

Jez:
What's going on?

Super Hans:
He wants to go home.

Super Hans:
[Discussing Barney] He's in a K-Hole right now, but in ten the speed'll kick in. Can a coke and a cig, he'll be right as rain.

Mark:
Okay, what now? Go home and roast the shit out of some meat.

Mark:
Look at us Jez, we're letting our lives slip through our fingers. Maybe you don't care, but I need to get out there. And I'm never going to meet a woman in a pub, or a nightclub, or an art gallery, or a bookshop, or any other formal or informal social gathering. Realistically it's just not going to happen.

Jez:
(He's such a tight arse. Won't even replace the widescreen. How are they meant to brainwash me with their adverts if I can't see them properly?)

Mark:
Recognise this, Jeremy?! I went to get the Cherry Garcia out to defrost and look what I found inside! [holds up a post-it note] "Look, I know what you think happened and yes you're right I have eaten all your ice cream." This is it. This is the line. You have crossed the line!

Jez:
Read the mitigating circumstances. There are loads.

[Mark is making a list of everything that Jez can consume.]

Mark:
Toilet paper, OK. Soap, OK. But not shower gel. And no razors. If you're poor, grow a beard. Tea Bags are allowed within limits.

Jez:
Limits? What Limits?

Mark:
No making a pie out of tea or anything weird

Mark:
You ate your nest egg? You're meant to sit on your nest egg until it hatches, not eat it like some greedy, mad chicken.

Jez:
It's not that easy Mark, there's just not that many jobs in the media. That's the reality.

Mark:
Do something else. Get on your bike.

Jez:
I can't believe you're making me get a job not in the media. You're such a bastard.

Jez:
(Mmm... Delicious Cumberland final straw, dripping in onion gravy.)

Mark:
(Ugh, speed dating. That was horrible. No one else seemed to mind. Maybe this is the future. Three minute date, three minute f***, three minute marriage.)

Mark:
Ah, the results are in! What does the swingometer say?!

Speed Dating Hostess:
Well, I'm afraid you've got no matches for dating...

Mark:
What?!! None?! But number 23 said she was definitely going to tick! That's a verbal contract!

Speed Dating Hostess:
Well, maybe you could take her to court

Mark:
Yeah, speed dating! I'd be better off speed skating! (Doesn't really work. But she gets the point. I'm just another reject slowly slipping out of the gene pool to get hoovered up by the sex industry.) Ohhh, Saz, she implied she might be ticking. Maybe she did tick! Maybe the data wasn't collated correctly! Maybe she's my hanging chad

[To nurse at the sperm bank]

Jez:
I just want to assure you that I am not the same as the rest of these feckless cumshedders. So if you ever need anyone for a private donation...you've got my details. (Urgh, bit creepy, the spermy atmosphere is cramping my style. Right, time to open my sticky bank account. Hey, where's the porn? No porn? Am I supposed to just dry hump myself? Must be something I could use. [Pulls out a £20 note] Would it be wrong? Why not? It's a free country)

Mark:
I've been thinking ... it's been great having you here. But you've done the south now - the London Eye, the Trocadero - so you probably want to be heading up north. [...] There's a Harvey Nichols in Leeds that everyone goes on about, as if it's the answer to something.

Saz:
Don't kick me out, Marco.

Mark:
There's an ANZAC memorial in Huddersfield.

Jez:
So that's what it comes down to, is it? You don't want to bone me, so I'm out - it's that brutal. Have you seen the old man, down by the seaman's mission? Yes - not very f***able, is he?

Dobby:
[sings] Jeff's doing a joke, Jeff's doing a joke, everybody quiet 'cos Jeff's doing a joke!

Jeff:
Freak.

Super Hans:
It's a pisser though, innit - cancer. They should find a f***ing cure.

Mark:
I think they're trying.

Super Hans:
Yeah, sure they are. They should pull their f***ing fingers out. It's important, Mark.

Jez:
Twenty thousand pounds. I'm going to be a millionaire!

Super Hans:
Wow, nice. Nice gun. Must be, what, a... war gun.

Jez:
You've got sarcasm. I've got a big gun.

Mark:
(It's Paddy Ashdown. It's Indiana Jones. It's Indiana Ashdown!)

Mark:
(Why doesn't Jeremy want you to be his dad? I want you to be my dad. I want to sit on your knee right now.)

Mark:
(Good old Jeremy's mum. The more sophisticated end of the mum spectrum. The sort of mum you'd buy in John Lewis.)

Jez:
Mummy, coffee, f***y hurry uppy.

Mark:
(Whereas he's the sort of son you'd get free with Nuts magazine.)

Jez:
Did you bring those CDs like I told you?

Jackie:
Oh yes, they're in my handbag. Shall I fetch them?

Jez:
Might be an idea. Oh, and guess what, you forgot to top-up my phone. Again.

Mark:
Sorry, Jez, is there some reason why you're being so incredibly rude to your mum?

Jez Oh, right, stick up for mummy. You don't know her, Mark. You don't know her tricks. Anyway, what's it to you? Do you want to f*** my mum, is that it? Mum, Mark wants to f*** you.

Mark Shut up, Jeremy.

Jez He definitely wants to f*** you, Mum.

Jackie Stop showing off to Mark, Jeremy.

Jez Me? I'm not the one dressed like a prossy.

Mark:
Please, Jez! This level of conflict may be usual for you, but it's not healthy - I'm going to have a heart attack!

Jez:
Oh, and I suppose your relationship with your mum is healthy, is it? Sitting in silence watching Taggart. Thirty years of mutual resentment eating away at you.

Mark:
We like Taggart. Even the new ones.

Martin:
Do you write at all?

Mark:
Well...I did once start a business book and I've always fancied doing an article about the evacuation of Greece in 1941 for the local paper. Not that it would really fit in with all the kebab shop stabbings.

Mark:
(It's fascinating. Everything that can kill a man is fascinating... guns, electric chairs, paracetemol, lead piping)

Mark:
You really do have to get over this thing with your mum - you're not Hamlet. Stop being Hamlet.

Jez:
Well, all right, I'll stop being Hamlet when you stop being...

Mark:
(He can't think of a Shakespearean character!)

Jez:
... a massive twat.

Mark:
(Ha! He couldn't even think of Romeo! Romeo's easy!)

Mark:
(This is great! Why was I anxious? I'm in my element. Older people are still people. They're just people who think when they open a new window on the computer the previous window has disappeared for good.)

Mark:
(YES!!! No-one else I know would have found that funny, but I was right to think it was amusing!)

Mark:
(I would literally stab a baby to do it!)

Mark:
(This is a fantastic evening. I've become a military historian and Jeremy's future happiness rests in my hands...And I've got a tiramisu. This is f***ing amazing!)

Super Hans:
Jez - can you tell me, yeah, as a mate, someone who knows me really well, is the bottom half of me on fire?

Super Hans:
Come on Mark, don't piss on my strawberries.

Mark:
(Is she straight? Gay? Doesn't bother me, just nice to know. It's not like I'm a homophobe. But it's good to know who you are. Stay safe. Praise the food, the lukewarm, disgusting food.) This food is superb.

Jez:
How was the rest of your evening with Peaches Stalin?

Jez:
It sounds like you've been raped, by a soldier, like in a Mike Leigh film.

Natalie:
I tell you what, let's make this next one an Irish wine.

Mark:
Well, what's an Irish wine? (Look at me, talking happily to a lesbian about war and Irish wine. Good job you're dead Norman Mailer cos there's a new Gonzo in town.)

Natalie:
Whiskey usually makes me horny. It's a horny drink.

Mark:
(When did we stop saying randy, I wonder. Horny has driven randy out)

Jez:
Hello Natalie, how's your dad?

Mark:
Jez, don't.

Natalie:
Yeah, fine thank you.

Jez:
Enjoying my money, is he? Is he lying in a bath of my money nude, after having sex with my mum nude?

Mark:
(I'm having an orgasm against my will!)

Jez:
You, my friend, are a rape victim. [...] Do you have feelings of guilt and shame, self-loathing?

Mark:
You know I do - don't load the question!

Mark:
It wasn't rape, alright? It was just a minor sexual assault. She didn't force anything up my bum - that's why it's not rape.

Jez:
Well, it's not bum-rape, no.

Super Hans:
Never said it was bum-rape, Mark.

Mark:
(Maybe that was actually good sex? Loosen up, Corrigan - that's what happens in the bedroom now: no old fashioned fumbling and kissing, a lesbian rapes you whilst you dream about your mother. It's edgy.).

Mark:
(Please don't shit on my dreams. I don't want shit on my dreams.)

Mark:
War is never a picnic. Although obviously soldiers do end up eating outdoors a lot.

Jez:
If they can't get to Corfu, they can't spend my money. That's physics.

[Cally is signing up Jez and Super Hans' band]

Cally:
Any questions?

Super Hans:
Yeah, there are certain countries within the European Union that I'm barred from entering. You got a problem with that?

Jeremy:
I'm a very sexual performer. Are you going to be able to handle that?

Jeremy:
Wow, we've finally met the man. And the man is a woman. And he's hot!

Jeremy:
Wow, this is definitely happening. Okay, got to focus. It's very important for my future career development that I give my manager an orgasm.

Mark:
(Jeremy's getting a manager. I'm getting divorced. Maybe he'll end up happy and successful and I won't. That would be typical! I do everything society demands and die in a ditch, he sits on his arse an accidently shits a golden egg!)

Cally:
It's so frustrating. There must be thousands of cash-rich and time-poor singles out there, I just don't have the time to meet them. I'm a gap in the market, somebody fill me!

Mark:
(I'll fill you!! I love you, Cally! You are the one! Let's get married by Alan Sugar and live off all-butter croissants in Canary Wharf!)

Super Hans:
We want to wallow in our own filth, Mark. Have a good old f***ing wallow.

Super Hans:
A suitcase with wheels? Real men don't get the earth to carry their luggage for them, mate. They carry it themselves.

Cally:
I thought you were a business brain Mark, but you're better than that. You're what my grandma would call 'a real piece of shit'

Cally:
Do you want to date? Are you a dater?

Mark:
(Well, err, I have been out with women...so I guess...)

Mark:
(Wow, I've got a date! I'm a real piece of shit! I bet those two things go hand-in-hand. I bet if I got into defrauding pensioners, the pussy would really start rolling in.)

Mark:
(God, I can't believe I'm dating someone I really like. I've done it right! I've done it right for once!)

Cally:
How could you possibly make one of these [crystal skulls] except by some type of magic?

Mark:
In a factory...from glass.

Cally:
Oh sure, c'mon! Could you make that?

Mark:
No.

Cally:
Could ANYONE?

Mark:
Yes.

Cally:
Look, Mark, this is important to me. If we're going anywhere, I need you to tell me that you believe in crystal skulls.

Mark:
(Please don't make me believe in them.)

Cally:
Do you believe?

Mark:
I do believe in crystal skulls.

Cally:
And what do you believe about them?

Mark:
I believe that they were crafted by the ancient inhabitants of Atlantis and that they're powerful centres of healing.

Cally:
There, that wasn't so hard, was it?

Mark:
(Sorry science. Sorry Enlightenment. Sorry logic.)

[Mark and Cally are in bed after having sex together]

Mark:
(Well, that was great. Apart from the skull sending out its invisible rays of bullshit, I think that might be my best ever sexual experience)

Cally:
Okay, I think we have to have a talk. About the whole thing.

Mark:
I'm sorry? The whole...?

Cally:
The whole sexual experience. I have to say, that was very disappointing.

Mark:
Oh, right.

Cally:
I don't mean to be rude, but is that the kind of thing you usually do?

Mark:
Well, I suppose, in general....what, what exactly did I do wrong?

Cally:
Well, it was better than with Jeremy though. With Jeremy, I had to stop him in the middle.

Mark:
You stopped Jeremy in the middle?

Cally:
Sorry, is this weird for you, do you want to know?

Mark:
[reluctantly] I do...a bit

Cally:
He's like a red setter bounding after a tennis ball, you're like a captain solemnly going down with his ship.

Mark:
Well, well that's good to know.

Cally:
But we can try again, just as long as you're prepared for me to tell you exactly what to do?

Mark:
That could be a good system.

[Mark and Jez are at a Christian rock festival]

Mark:
(Look at them all - the Christians. It's not fair. I could be that happy if I believed in a lot of rubbish.)

[Jeremy's been baptised]

Jeremy:
There's like a 1 per cent chance the whole Jesus thing is true. In which case I'll have something to pull out of the bag on Judgement Day.

Mark:
(Oh God. He's in a raft drifting towards Niagara Falls, flicking through Heat magazine with one hand down his trousers.)

Jeremy:
We'd be selling our souls.

Super Hans:
Well, we'd be selling our souls to Jesus. Isn't he the best person to sell your soul to? It's his whole setup.

Jeremy:
She's trying to shaft me, Mark! You've gotta dump her, it's a no-brainer.

Mark:
It is not a no-brainer. I'll have to think about it. It's a brainer. It's a real brainer. See the thing is, I don't think I've ever done sex right before.

Jeremy:
Oh, you're fine, mate. Stick with Missionary, you're a sexual civilian. Leave the disgusting stuff to me.

Mark:
Cally's teaching me, she's giving me second-by-second detailed instructions of what to put where for how long

Jeremy:
That's cheating! Anyone can please a woman if she tells you what to do. You're not allowed to ask, that's the whole point.

Jeremy:
So, did Cally tell you about her and me...much?

Mark:
No, no, God no. Don't worry, nothing like that. (She stopped him in the middle! I'll save that for a rainy day! That's money in the bank!)

Jeremy:
(Christian security guard? What's he gonna do, excommunicate me?)

Mark:
(The one is giving me the finger and driving away. There's the familar gut punch of pain and loneliness. Hello, old friend.)

Mark:
Hey Jez!

Jez:
Oh, hi Mark.

Mark:
This may be the best day of my life! War with Sophie is over, and Johnson's given me a promotion! I've only got my own bloody little office.

Jez:
That's great. Good for you.

Mark:
(Uh-oh, the ghost at the feast, better take the mustard off.)

Mark:
Well it wasn't that great. Lunch was pretty nothing-y. Baked potato...again...Are you, alright Jez?

Jez:
I've just been doing alot of thinking.

Mark:
(Oh shit.)

Jez:
Why do I do half the stupid shit I do? I've been thinking, maybe I'm not in the one percent of people who think they're going to be famous musicians and are totally right. But, in the ninety-nine percent of talentless, misguided dickheads.

Mark:
(I feel guilty about everything, from the pollution caused by Chinese industrialisation to not wearing some pairs of boxers as much as others. I'm sorry, stripey blue - you're just too tight.)

Mark:
(Dobby - the acceptable face of woman. I hardly have to modify my behaviour at all in her company. I really think she might be the one.)

Mark:
(Is that... it? No sarcastic putdown, no casual kick in the balls? Maybe it's because she's been smoking drugs... Good old drugs).

Mark:
(Maybe I'm Shaft. Maybe I'm Trump. Yeah, I'm Trump, in my dirty, wiggy tower.)

Mark:
(Look at me! Drunken one night stand. I mean, she is my wife. Still, finally got to use my bachelor's emergency condom.)

Mark:
(Sperm is like lending someone less than a fiver. You can't really ask for it back.)

Mark:
(Hope she's not pregnant. It's been ages, she hasn't mentioned it. She won't be pregnant. It's not like I'm a Royal Marine with super sperm.)

Johnson:
I'm not running a rehab clinic. This is a maximum security business institution.

Sophie:
I've actually, I've got some news. Big news.

Mark:
Oh yes? (Please don't say you're pregnant. Please don't say you're pregnant.)

Sophie:
I'm pregnant.

Mark:
(FUUUUUUUUUUUCK!) [Calmly] Right, you're pregnant. Of course.

Sophie:
I did three home tests last night and they were all positive.

Mark:
Only three?

Mark:
(Oh fiddlesticks. Of course, I'm having a baby. Great, I'll probably drop it or it'll grow up and write a bitter memoir about how distant I was.)

Mark:
(Just gotta say the right words - can think about what they mean later.)

Mark:
(Oh my God, I can't fire anyone. I'm like British Leyland in 1976.)

Jez:
Are you angry?

Mark:
You had sex with my wife, Jeremy!! That's quite a number, even for you. But then, on the other hand, I was definitely having a baby which, to be honest, wasn't really on my to do list for the year, so in a way, things are looking up.

Jez:
Such a relief to tell you. It's been ever so weird ever since it happened. I've had this really bad feeling, like in my brain.

Mark:
It's called guilt, Jeremy. Most people feel it quite a bit when they've done something wrong.

Jez:
And...what about the...issue?

Mark:
Oh, well, if Sophie continues down her path towards self destruction, we'll probably end up adopting like a couple of gay dads anyway. So there's no need to know whose it is.

Jez:
Right! Who knows. Who the f*** cares!

Mark:
Right. (Oh Jesus)

Jez:
(Oh Jesus)

Thanks blokes I'll do that mark wallow.

[after Dobby asks Mark to reach something high inside a closet room]

Mark:
Erm...you'll, you'll have to...move.

Dobby:
Yeah, I should move, but...I might not move. [begins to rub her bottom against Mark's crotch]

Mark:
(Is she shifting her bum against my area?) Are you sure you don't wanna get out of the way?

Dobby:
I'm alright.

Mark:
(What if someone comes in? Should step away. Step away from the bum. Bit impolite to step away, I don't want to step away.)

Dobby:
I got some feta today.

Mark:
Oh, feta? That's a sheep's cheese isn't it?

Dobby:
I don't know.

Mark:
Yeah, I believe so. (This is possibly the most exciting thing that has happended to anyone ever. Does she know what she's doing? Is she just innocently waggling her bum around and I'm getting illegal benefit? I'm not doing a sexual assault am I? You can't do a sexual assault if you stay still like a statue. I'm just a statue, a dirty, filthy statue. Oh God, I'm getting very... Captain Corrigan if flying without a licence! Oh Jesus, it's too much, I'm going to blow my beans! I'm going to do a Chesil Beach! Don't let her know!) A-ah...!

Dobby:
Are you okay?

Mark:
I'm fine, but sorry, I should be going 'cause you know, the world turns on its axis, one man works while another relaxes. Ah, Post-its.

[Mark is making a list of everything that Jez can consume.]

Mark:
Toilet paper, OK. Soap, OK. But not shower gel. And no razors. If you're poor, grow a beard. Tea Bags are allowed within limits.

Jez:
Limits? What Limits?

Mark:
No making a pie out of tea or anything weird.

Jez:
Look Mark, lay off, will you? The thing is... and, I keep meaning to tell you this, but, basically, a few years ago, mummy gave me a nest egg, and I kept on meaning to... invest, but it turns out, I've spent it.

Mark:
You ate your nest egg? You're meant to sit on your nest egg 'til it hatches, not eat it like some greedy mad chicken. Well, the solution's obvious: get a job!

Jez:
Yeah, fine, whatever, but it's difficult, you know? There just aren't that many media positions out there. That's the reality.

Mark:
So? Do something else. Get on your bike.

Jez:
I can't believe you're trying to make me get a job not in the media. You're such a bastard.

Mark:
You have to pay rent, Jeremy, that needs to happen.

[Jez takes a sausage from Mark's plate]

Mark:
Put the sausage back! I'm deadly serious! Y-you never pay any rent - if you start stealing from me as well, that's it, you'll have to move out. This is the final straw!

[Jez eats the sausage anyway]

Jez:
(Mmm... Delicious Cumberland final straw, dripping in onion gravy.)

Super Hans:
I have a mouth, but do not speak. I have a bed, but never sleep. What am I?

Mark:
A river.

Super Hans:
Nicholas Lyndhurst.

Mark:
I think that's the wrong answer section.

Super Hans:
Fuck this shit!