Peep Show, Series 7

Mark:
Killing your enemies is a simple solution. Probably why in ethics and law it's so frowned upon

Jez:
(No milk. Not black tea. I'm not some kind of monster!)

Jez:
Zara says we have only one thing to fear, and that's fear itself..It's a clever saying, isn't it?

Mark:
And what about losing all your money, or shitting yourself in public, or the tabloid press mistakingly outing you as a paedo or Alzheimer's patient, or all of those things plus you're drowning?

Mark:
(He brings the insufferable music and then leaves. He's like the 1980s.)

[Mark on Caesarian section]

Mark:
(Holy f***, living innards! I thought now it'd be all high tech, chip and pin, not London Dungeon!)

Mark:
(Never go to war with Stalin, Gerard. Uncle Joe doesn't play by your rules.)

[Supporting the woman whose partner is in a coma]

Jez:
We need to get you some answers. Is he going to pull through? You need to know. (I need to know. Right now I'm the supporting character in a weepy when I want to be the leading man in a porno.)

Mark:
[Watching Jeremy try to read Wuthering Heights] (Fascinating. It's like watching a sheep try to use an iPhone.)

Jez:
Why do they have these brushes anyway? Who wants brushed post?

Mark:
Jeremy, do you think we could take a brief time-out from the masturbate-athon that is your life, to go to my son's christening?

Mark:
Where's the turkey, Jeremy?

Jez:
What?

Mark:
The turkey. Where's the turkey?

Jez:
I thought you were getting the turkey.

Mark:
You what? No turkey?! You f***ing idiot, Jeremy! You total f***ing idiot! That was YOUR job, you f***ing moron! You CRETIN! You're a FUCK-HEAD! That's what you are! A f***ing SHIT-HEAD!

Jez:
(calmly) It was a joke, Mark. I was joking.

Jez:
I'm a Christmasist.

Mark:
I would have found that funnier if I hadn't been literally weeping in fear.

Jez:
Not the Hootenanny! Never the Hootenanny! We're better than that.

Super Hans:
Plumbing's just fucking Lego, innit? Water Lego.

[Sophie is in labour]

Sophie:
Aaaaaargh! Bastard, bastard, fat bastard!

Mark:
(Is that for me or just general bastarding?)

Sophie:
Oh, fuck off, fuck off!

Mark:
(If she keeps saying "fuck off", I might fuck off. That's got to be within your rights, to fuck off if someone repeatedly screams at you to fuck off.)

Gerard:
Dobby's got a boyfriend.

Mark:
Oh, God. Really?

Gerard:
His name's Simon and he's younger, slimmer, better-looking and more fashionable than us.

Mark:
(Us? I'm several social ranks your senior, that's the whole basis of our relationship, Gerard.) So, what's he like?

Gerard:
Graphic designer.

Mark:
Oh, please! "Hello, can I redesign your logo? Yes, that'll be a £100,000 for a squiggle." (Wish I was a graphic designer.)

Gerard:
And he drives an Audi.

Mark:
But of course, Vorsprung Dick Technik! (Wish I had an Audi.)

Mark:
Hold on. I didn't think we had any milk.

Jez:
Er... no, we do.

Mark:
No, we definitely don't, cos I couldn't have any Sultana Bran this morning. There's no milk in the fridge, except... oh!

Jez:
Mark, relax.

Mark:
This is Sophie's milk, isn't it?

Jez:
Think of it as lady milk, from the human cow.

Mark:
Jeremy, this... it's... it's one step away from cannibalism!

Jez:
Oh, right, so it's weird to drink milk from someone you know, but to drink milk from another species, some cow you've never met, that's fine, is it?

Mark:
Yes! Yes, it bloody well is!

Jez:
Well, suit yourself. Mmm, luxury milk!

[Jez walks in on Mark and Gerard]

Jez:
Sorry to interrupt you playing, boys.

Mark:
We're not, we're just arranging our models. With some noises.

Jez:
Enjoy playing with soldiers and wanking over Dobby on Facebook.

Mark:
For God's sake, Jeremy. That's disgusting.

[Jez leaves]

Gerard:
Did you ever actually, er...?

Mark:
Well, you know, on occasion.

Gerard:
Corfu '06?

[Mark nods]

Gerard:
It's cool, man. I mean, I've never actually gone that far myself. But everything's cool in Dobby Club.

Mark:
(Ugh, we're the Dobby Club. Or the Dobby Ring. Can two people be a ring?)

Jez:
Christ, Mark. You really need to grow a pair.

Mark:
Of testicles?

Jez:
Yes.

Mark:
You want me to grow a pair of testicles so I'd have four testicles and somehow that'll help make me braver and better to deal with stress? Staggering around like a baboon with four balls hanging down?

[speaking to Jeremy over the phone]

Super Hans:
Jez, you need to come and get me.

Jez:
What's up?

Super Hans:
I've accidentally run to Windsor.

Zahra:
We thought we'd let you start, as its you place.

Jez:
(We're letting you castrate yourself, as its your penknife.)

Mark:
I'm just off to Dobby's, and I don't think I'll be needing to be friends with Kenneth anymore.

Jez:
OK. Do you think Kenneth might have been made redundant?

Mark:
Indeed, I think Kenneth can take a hike.

[Mark leaves and Jeremy returns to the book group]

Jez:
Kenneth is what Mark calls his nine-inch dildo.

Jez:
We need to relax.

Mark:
You can't relax! We've got to fight, worry, speculate, tut, pace, swear!

Jez:
Why?

Mark:
Because it's an emergency, and in an emergency you watch breaking news and count your tins of butter beans, you don't sit in the garden and put on Kiss FM!

Jez:
Dude, we're here for the duration. Let's chill out.

Mark:
We have an obligation to be anxious, it's a mark of respect for the gravity of the situation!

Mark:
Right, what's Sophie's mobile number? 07700, that's definitely how it starts...

Jez:
You can do it, Rain Man.

Mark:
07700... 900563? I think that's right. It's ringing, it's ringing! Hello?

Mark:
It's not her, it was a man.

Jez:
Try again. Try all the variations.

Mark:
Try all the variations of the five or six numbers I'm not sure of?

Dan:
Now, where's the cauliflower?

Mark:
Cauliflower is not traditional, Dad.

Dan:
CAULIFLOWER IS TRADITIONAL!

Mark:
Oh, right, yeah, the FlashFoward box set.

Dobby:
It's meant to be amazing. Shall we do it this week?

Mark:
Uh, sure, it's just... we watched all the Losts and they were somewhat OK, and Heroes had some interesting themes, but also quite a lot of not-so-interesting themes, and Prison Break... by the end I very much felt I wanted to break out of the prison that Prison Break had become for us, and it's just... don't you think maybe we should... go out?

Dobby:
Where to?

Mark:
To... not the theatre obviously, but... the National Army Museum?

Dobby:
You'd rather go to the National Army Museum than stay in bed and watch FlashFoward and drink brandy? Are you bonkers?

Mark:
Nothing from Dobby since Christmas. I want to call again, but when I leave long messages, I have this nagging sense that I'll end up hearing them being played back to me in a court of law.

Jez:
Come on, man, shake your booty! Tonight even Paxman's out, hoovering up lines of crank off Krishnan Guru-Murthy. Tonight's the big one.

Mark:
Jeremy, all rational people agree it's a truth self-evident that it's impossible to have a good time on New Year's Eve. The pressure's too immense.

Jez:
Tonight, it's not about the bitches, it's all about the hitches!

Mark:
The Hitches? You think we're Peter and Christopher Hitchens on a big night out? And I suppose I have to be Peter.

Mark:
I want to keep a clear head for when I talk to Dobby. Do you think she might be here soon or...

Johnson:
I don't know, Mark. We've been over this, she might pop in. Hmm, fine white wine, ain't that fine.

Mark:
(Hmm, he's conned me to his party. Because it's hard to take a legal position on 'might pop in'. Anyone 'might pop in'. Jeffrey Archer, Hugo Chávez, Skinner and Baddiel)

Mark:
Maybe this is the kick up the arse we both need. I could turn your room into an office, finally nail Business Secrets of the Pharaohs.

Jez:
Right. OK, man, yeah, good on you, because obviously we've always been amazing mates, but also a bit like lead weights dragging each other down?

Mark:
Exactly. Living together, it's been like... eating a vast portion of chips, very comforting but also there's this lurking sense that you're killing yourself. Right?

Party Guest:
Is there any more tartare sauce?

Jez:
Oh, I'm sorry, I'm afraid I've left it all in George Osborne's ball sack. Tell you what, why don't you nip upstairs, wank him off and dip it in that?

Zahra:
Maybe we should just accept defeat, resign ourselves to a bit of Jools Holland?

Jez:
Not the Hootenanny! Never the Hootenanny! We're better than that. We are going to this party!