Original subtitles

I serve notice on this property to begin repossession.

I'm gonna be on the streets turning tricks. She's got a baby, you can't just turf her out.

Janet, we would like to...

buy your house.

Really? 'Fraid so. Oh, Donna, that is the best thing a friend could do!

Don't mention it. I'm sure that you and Corinthian and Louise will be very happy in Gaz's flat.

I can't believe it. This place...

this palace! It belongs to us now.

Excuse me if I don't dance a merry jig of joy but I've got my interview. How's your leg?

It's preventing me from dancing a merry jig of joy. But I can still do this.

And while I'm gone, you need to get rid of all this worthless junk.

Worthless?! You can't put a price on...

Oh, hang on. 49p?! Say what you want about Jonny but he really had an eye for a pink flamingo.

Right, I've got everything. Wish me luck. Good luck.

I don't need luck!

That area manager job is mine.

I'm gonna knock 'em dead at the interview.

Then I'm gonna stand over their mangled, bloodied corpses

and I'm gonna shout, "I am Donna Wilkinson, hear me roar!"

Get rid of these things! Please, Donna.

This lot, it's all I've got to remind me of Jonny. That's a photo of Janet.

Jonny's favourite photo of Janet.

And this. That's Janet's bra.

Jonny's favourite bra of Janet's.

Gaz, this crap might have been OK for them pair, but I want the place sophisticated, like me.

Wait.

Hungry bum.

Mmm, how hungry?

Get on with it. Fine. I'll have a clear out. For you.

Good. Now give us a hug.

No way, bum hands.

See, Corinthian? It's not so bad living here.

It's bit more cramped than our old place but at least it's ours.

HIGH_PITCHED SCREAM

Louise! Yeah. What are you doing?

Practising my childbirth screams, stupid.

I need to sound sexy in case there's any hot doctors about.

Clooneys or Doogie Howsers or, at a stretch, Quinn.

You're not gonna pull a doctor when you're in labour.

A person coming out of you is likely to put off a person coming into you.

I need something that says, "I'm still young and nubile, even if my chuff looks like a dropped pie".

Well, do it quietly! Certainly.

SHE SCREAMS

Oh, I can't live like this! I'm gonna demand Gaz gives me back my house.

It's all I've got to remind me of Jonny. Apart from this.

That's a photo of Gaz. Jonny's favourite photo of Gaz. And this.

That's Gaz's T-shirt. Jonny's favourite T-shirt of Gaz's.

SHE SCREAMS

For the last time... Oh, Munch!

Ah, I slept like a horse.

By which I mean standing up.

Oh, my God! You mean you've been squatting in Gaz's flat?

Well, yeah. I squatted for a bit.

Then I stood up. Now it's toilet time so I'm going for another squat.

Munch, it's dead easy. We've just got to sort Janet's old stuff into the tacky, and the not tacky. Right.

Right. One genuine, bona fide fully authenticated Knightrider snow-globe.

Tough one. The head says tacky, the heart says timeless.

It's not about what we think. You've got to think like a woman.

Oh. You know something, I should never have married him. You what?

You said think like a woman. I was thinking like Rose West.

I meant think like Donna. Oh. You know something, I should never have married him.

Tacky or not tacky, one mint condition novelty "I heart boobies" mug.

I reckon she'd like that.

She loves boobies. I'm always catching her playing with them.

Really? Obviously she says she's washing them.

And then she says, "Why are you hiding in the linen basket peering at me?

"And why have you got an empty ketchup bottle on the end of your knob?"

She's got to learn to respect your boundaries, Gaz.

Stick it in the maybe pile.

Tacky or not tacky, one limited edition monkey-with-a-boner statuette.

Donna loves monkeys, and she likes boners, but does she like monkey boners?

I like monkey boners. No.

That's horse boners. No.

That's horse racing.

No. Motorbike racing. No.

Hang on, it is monkey boners.

Sod it, this is too hard. Let's just chuck everything out.

Wait, wait, wait!

Look. Jonny's T-shirt!

You can't chuck this out.

Think of all the happy memories, all the happy times he spent wearing this.

Gaz, I think that's Janet's... and to answer the T-shirt's question,

yes. Can I touch you?

Donna Wilkinson. That's me. Riddle me this, what you can bring to the table

vis a vis solutioneering blue-hat answers to black-hat problems?

Bearing in mind we're selling the sizzle here, not the sausage.

Sorry, pardon? Let's cut the proverbial.

I need a highly motivated go-to guy, or girl, capable of envisioneering

actionable win-win scenarios within a time-crunch work-frame. Thoughts?

I have a GCSE in music.

Interesting. Now let's stir-fry this in your mind-wok.

You have to incentivise your team.

How would you conceive achieveable solutions to push that particular banana hammock?

Brainstorm?

Envelope?

Wok!

OK, erm... Donna. Yeah, I think that's enough.

We'll touch base ASAP apropos future interfacing. Well, I, er...

We'll let you know.

Aye aye! Don't get many of them to the pound.

Munch, you can't say things like that any more!

What you mean is, you can't get many of them to the kilogram.

KNOCK ON DOOR

Hi, Janet. Gaz, now you listen to me. I demand that you give me my home.

My home! My stuff! My genuine, bona fide, fully authenticated Knightrider snow-globe! Where is it?

Where's concrete Jonny?!

It's all safely packed away in the kitchen.

You told me to put it all in the skip.

No, no! I told him to... skip to the kitchen.

Now go and fetch it for Janet.

And skip. You what?

Skip.

It's just a little bit of redecoration. Donna wants it all sophisticated.

She's got really posh tastes.

She loves Il Divo and won't even eat pies from the tin.

And I suppose my plastic flamingoes are too tacky for Lady Muck, are they?

No! Well, yeah. We're keeping all the ceilings and walls!

We even thought about keeping the carpet until we noticed the squelching.

Gaz, why are you wearing...

Jonny's T-shirt? Just makes me feel close to him. Isn't that...

Jonny's. I'd better get on with the decorating.

Yeah, well you do that. I'll just get back to my tacky little life.

With my tacky house and my tacky clothes and my tacky baby.

Though, actually, he's more sticky.

I don't think you're tacky. You've got great taste. You should help with the decorating!

No, I'm rubbish. Everything about me is horrible and ugly.

That's just stupid.

You're beautiful, Janet. Me? Yeah right. Yes, you!

You're the most beautiful...

..wife of my best friend and best friend of my wife.

Anyhoo... Yeah. Help me with the decorating.

Just don't fill the place with a load of Jonny memorabilia like you did the wedding.

I wouldn't do that! I learnt my lesson last...

Where do you want him? I was thinking by the door.

Louise, what am I gonna do? What?

About the interview.

I mean, I'm through to the second round, thank God for that music GCSE,

but I don't think I'll make it past there, the interviewer talked such utter bullshit.

You should've just bullshitted him right back. How?

Well, first you open a bilateral face mash then you pull stumps and pick the low hanging fruit.

That's it! That's exactly what he was like!

You've either got it or you haven't. What do you think to this?

It's hideous. You look like the knotted end of a used condom.

Donna, it's my childbirth face.

It's very important that I'm chic and demure whilst the midwife's up to her wrist in my gammon kebab.

Ah, the magic of childbirth. So you must've finished your antenatal classes by now.

Finished? I never started. What? It was just like being back at school.

All that listening and learning and letting strangers look at your fanny.

Louise, this is serious. Childbirth is the most painful experience you'll ever have to go through.

Yeah, I know. Listen to me, when I was born I was stuck in my mum's birth canal for two hours.

She said it was like shitting out a three-piece suite.

Sideways.

With people on it.

Fat people.

In wheelchairs.

I'll cope. Her fringe got all sweaty. Oh, Jesus! I'll be hideous!

The hot doctors won't like me!

I don't think many doctors will be looking at your fringe.

Not if it's all sweaty, they won't. Relax. You just need to be prepared.

I'll be your birthing partner if you teach me how to bullshit. I guess I can try.

Great. And don't worry, I'm gonna keep you calm and relaxed

through the red-faced, agonising bloodbath that is the miracle of childbirth.

Do I know sophisticated, or do I know sophisticated?

And the best part is, I feel ready to close the door on this place, settle into my new home.

How is the flat? It's OK. A bit cramped. Me, Munch, Louise and Corinthian.

I feel like the old woman who lived in a shoe. Mainly because it smells of feet.

Aye, I miss that place. I miss this place.

You should come and visit. You too. Whenever you want.

Night or day. It's important to remember the little things.

You're right. The smells. Yeah, and the sounds. And the feel.

And the eyes.

And the arms.

And the lips.

Oh.

Oh, my God! And in front of Jonny.

It's fine. I'm sure he didn't see. He was busy serving.

Gaz, he sees everything! He's everywhere! Like God!

Or Polish people!

Look, I should go. I'm really sorry. Gaz, wait!

No, Janet. I can't do this.

I live here now, don't I?

Yes. I should go, back to my new home.

Goodbye, Gaz.

I forgot something. Your bag. No, this.

See, bullshitting is an ancient and highly complex art form.

All modern bullshit as we know it descends from the Rules of Semantic Convolution,

as laid down in 5BC by Greek philosopher Turdopheles.

Really?

No. Turdopheles?!

I made it up! The secret is making your bullshit as exaggerated and as detailed as possible.

That way no-one questions it.

Right. Like the time I didn't come to your birthday thing.

What? You mean, there was no spider-monkey?

No banana shortage?

No savage attack leaving you with a rare and potentially fatal dose of African Death Face?

My God, you're like the Picasso of bullshit artists.

Here's what you do. Walk into the interviewer's office and tell him,

"Let's cut the turnips and get straight to the gravy.

"I, Donna Wilkinson, am a walking thought-grenade." I should write this down.

"Because modern business is a wet beehive, and who wants

"to get caught rolling coconuts the wrong way down a three-way street?"

"So give me a job. Please."

OK, right. I think I'm getting it.

Tim. Yes, my curly-haired cupcake?

I need to, er, schedule some mouth-time with you, ASWAD,

in regards to spanking our proverbial badgers

before the bat hits the frying pan, if you catch my drift.

Erm, OK, then.

My God. He actually thought I knew what I was talking about.

She's gone all Heather Mills, she has.

Right. I'm gonna phone and schedule my second interview.

I mean, I'm going to head-synch with the trans-telephonic mother brain

in regards to dipping my sheepdogs in the big corporate waterfall.

Hang on. What about being my birthing partner? In a bit.

I need to put you on hold while I process my aspiration fax. Ha!

Ha!

Oh.

This can never happen again. We just can't help ourselves!

You've just been so nice to me and... And you're so vulnerable and sad...

And it was a friend kiss. Yeah, a friend kiss!

Exactly! It meant no more than a pat on the back. Like this.

Or a hug. Like this.

Or a peck on the cheek. Like this!

Or the equivalent of all three.

We just did it again, didn't we? Pretty much, yeah.

I need to leave. We obviously can't be trusted to be around each other.

You're right. We should never be alone again. One for the road.

Good news, Gaz! I called back about the job and...

JESUS SHITTING CHRIST!

Donna...this isn't what you think.

The house. You haven't done a thing!

Oh, that. Yes, I have! I should've known you'd screw it up.

But I thought this was, like, classy.

Gaz, your idea of classy is aiming your ejaculation away from my hair.

I was gonna do it and then Munch came round this morning and...

And what? You sat around talking about wanking for two hours?

No. We talked about fishing for a bit.

Right, well, you're gonna redecorate properly this time. Janet, you're gonna make sure he does.

Don't leave his side for a second.

I don't think that's a good idea. You're a woman, I know you won't let me down.

I want you all over Gaz's arse!

And make sure he does it right this time.

I want you to really make him sweat, Janet, put him to work.

Hard and fast.

OK, yeah, we'll do it. We'll make it look classy.

Good. Now, guess who's got a career reinterfacing networking opportunity on their short-range radar-planner.

Guess who's got a job interview.

Me!

Right, you lot, wish me luck. I'm off to that London!

To get a proper top chuffing well-paid new job, like.

London? Will you bring me back some hummus?

Tim, I'll bring you back so much hummus you'll vomit.

Just a tub's fine.

Donna, you can't go. You're supposed to be my birthing partner.

Oh, Louise, I... I'm sorry, I forgot and my taxi's...

Anyway, you don't need one of those.

Childbirth's a piece of piss.

You said it was like shitting a three-piece suite.

Sideways.

With people on it.

And my hair won't be pretty!

What I meant was it's like shitting a footstool.

Lengthways. With Vaseline on it.

Please. I bought a childbirth manual and everything. OK. Fine. Great.

Now, it says here, the best thing to do is a child-birth role-play.

Great. Let's get those contractions started.

Slow, rhythmic opening of the uterus, to Orinoco Flow

by Irish chanteuse Enya.

Right. My taxi's coming. Any chance you could speed this uterus up?

Maybe try a quicker rhythm. Think Mambo No. 5.

Everybody's in the car, so come on,

Nope, no good. OK, then.

Oh, look, your waters broke!

It must be coming out.

Oh. OK. Better lie down, then.

Now, don't worry, Louise, you're my friend and I will be here for you. Right by your side.

Every step of the... CAR HORN SOUNDS Well, that's me.

Honestly! The selfish cow.

Oww!

Ooh, is it me or did my cervix just stretch and relax?

Ugh! Oh, my God!

Baby time!

Look, can we talk? Gaz, there's nothing to talk about.

It was just a couple of harmless, meaningless snogs.

With 74 equally meaningless bottom touches.

And one equally meaningless bulge.

I know, I know, but I've been thinking, what if it's fate?

We keep getting thrown together, what if someone's trying to tell us something? I love you forever.

What? Janet, I...

Jonny! He must've done it when we were decorating.

Oh, yeah.

That is so romantic.

If you ignore the doodle marked "Jonny's all-beef cock sausage".

Aye, he did draw a good dick.

Look at the shading on that helmet.

Gaz, maybe you're right. Maybe someone is trying to tell us something. Maybe it's Jonny.

Janet, he'd want you to move on.

You reckon? Yeah. In fact, let's ask him.

Jonny, if you have a problem with me being with Janet, give us a sign.

Wait, that's void. I mean, things falling over don't count.

All right, all right, a simple straightforward question, Jonny, do you want me to be with Janet?

Forget it!

I'll remember this, you selfish twat.

None of this matters. We can't be together anyway because you're married, to my best friend.

So what should we do? Keep out of each other's lives. We can't keep doing this, Gaz, we're adults now.

Yes, I know. God, I hate you sometimes, you're so boring.

Look, Gaz, I think we should... We need to swap T-shirts.

What? But this is... Mine! You know it is.

And this...this is yours.

I'm going to need some help.

Well...

this is an unexpected turn of events.

Indeed. It's almost like someone's trying to tell us something.

Oh, for f...

Right, look, I'm off.

And no snogging this time.

Don't worry, I'll stand back.

Goodbye, Gaz.

Goodbye, Janet.

Mind how you go.

Cheeky cow, she could've washed it.

Ooh, another contraction!

Oh, God, it's actually happening.

Thank God I've got my birthing partner.

'I'm here for you, Louise, unlike selfish horrible Donna.

'Just breathe deeply.'

SHE BREATHES DEEPLY Do I still look...glamorous?

'Yes, Louise, you do still look glamorous.'

Thanks, me.

'That's OK, Louise, because...' MESSAGE SLURS AND STOPS

Fiddlesticks!

Did you want me?

Munch! Oh, I was sleeping like a baby.

By which I mean, in my own shit.

Well, get back in your cupboard, I'm trying to have my... contractions!

Ohh! That was a big one!

Oh, I love a good birth, me.

I was there every time me ma went into labour. All 17 times.

What? Really? Oh, yeah, you couldn't move for afterbirth round our house.

We were swimming in the stuff.

Well, paddling. That's it, then, you're my birthing partner.

OK, then. I'll go and get the whelping box.

The what? That's what we used on me ma. She screamed like an animal.

It's only fair, really, cos she was an animal.

Who was?

Me Ma. Our pit bull. I named her after the ambulance siren.

"Me-ma, me-ma"! Oh, she loved an ambulance.

She'd wag her little tail every time she savaged a child.

So you only know... OW! ..dog births?!

Yeah. That one really hurt!

Relax, it's all the same thing.

Now, I need you to pant with me.

Eh?

Eh?! Oh!

Oh! Oh!

Wait...wait... Stay calm, stay calm, I'm sure we didn't do anything.

Let's examine the evidence.

Lambrini.

Candles.

Your cock is still in me.

Yes, I know, this is awkward now. OK.

How?! How did this happen?!

I don't know. Let's just think. Erm...

You went home, then you came back and knocked on the door.

Yeah, I'd left my phone.

Then I give you your phone and you asked for a glass of water.

Then you walked me to the door, then you opened the door.

And then...then I put my cock in you.

Oh! Ohh!

Donna's back any minute, you should go. Oh, God. God. Ow. Oh, God.

Oh, no. KNOCK AT DOOR

Erm... All right, Donna. You're back.

I was just having a...

Gaz, I've got something to say and I need you to listen.

For a really long time now, even before Jonny died, I've been looking for something.

And it's taken me losing this place to realise what it was.

I've been looking for a home, Gaz.

I've found it. It's here.

Next to the bookcase?

No, Gaz, with you. You're home.

You're my home. Oh, Janet...

I need you, Gaz Wilkinson.

I think I probably always will.

Hey, come here.

Hey. I'm not going anywhere. All right? I'll always be here for you.

You swear?

Yeah.

For you and Corinthian.

I love you.

I got the job.

Get your bowler hat on, Gaz, we're moving to London!

LONDON!

We can't move here. We're going to have to have the baby here.

I'm still going to London, I just wanted to say goodbye properly.

With me knob.

SHE GROANS

Well, I have to tell you it's both grave and sinister and may ruin your life forever.

She's perfect.

She's beautiful.

with bubbles in it

handle anything stronger, now