Original subtitles

I mean, it's not as though you haven't done it often enough before, now is it?

They were speaking my lines.

An exact same sentence from my Karaoke script.

But that is cure poincidence.

The girl in my Karaoke script. God, she has such a horrible death, doesn't she?

You were staring at me, weren't you?

I'm a writer. I put words into people's mouths.

I make them do things.

Lie to each other or... Yes! Kill! Kill.

Somebody! Quick!

They're going to kill you...

Somebody!

Oooh... Not again... ooch...

2: Wednesday

By mack!

Good morning, bright Ben!

I could see you fell asleep on your sofa again...

and that's naughty, naughty Ben

Ma. You mustn't. You really don't need to do this...

Come, come. Come along.

An egg before the bath, as your father always used to say.

Well, you're a sweet old dear, Ma

there's no mistaking it. Coffee too, eh! Thank you very...

You got some messages, Ben

One. Two. Three.

Work. Work. Work. They can damned well wait a bit,

I give them my life and soul as it is,

these whingeing scribes and greedy producers.

My tiny amount of leisure is very precious to me... to us, eh?

Nice is it? Is it nice, Ben? - Last night, Ma...

that fretful woman and all that...

listen... I'm sorry I made you go to bed early. I'm very sorry.

Yes, my boy. You where wrong. And she's a nice young woman!

I can't upend you a nd give you a good smack, Ben.

But there are other ways, boy. Other ways.

Free range.

What? - You can't beat them, dear.

Free-range eggs from chicens that are allowed to roam here, there and everywhere.

Yes. I suppose so.

Even if they do get the odd bit of hay or farmyard del-i-cac-y in the yolk, eh?

Bunning old cugger!

Hi there, Ben. This is Irwin Willerwaller. It's...what? Yeah... midnight thirty your time.

Give me a call. I'm talking about the stop-go animition flyer...

on those watchacallit fucking woolly things... sheep!... Yeah...

Working title's Baa Baa, would you believe? Anyway, Ben,

They've decided to make the old Nanny Goat in the next field...

the arthritic one if you've read the script, which I darned well you won't have...

The Goat is to be British, Ben. So there you go.

Four, five pages, maybe, for a Pinter, Gray, Whitemore, Stoppard or

even one of your scripters if you move your feet. OK? Owe me!

Anna Griffiths, Ben. Just want to... ah...

to apologize once more for crashing in on you earlier this evening...

and I and I... yes,

I'm showing my neurotic...

For God in bloody heaven!

... get to Daniel Feeld before he comes to the cutting...

Oh, shut up! Bloody woman.

Sorry. Good night, Ben. Sorry

My name is Andrew Mossley, Duty Officer at Hillgate Police Station.

It is 1.20 a.m., Wednesday morning.

We have your number, sir, from St Christopher's hospital in Clipstone Street...

and it was obtained from the wallet of a Mr Daniel Feeld,

who was at that time, so far as we are aware,

unconscious and so unable to speak.

Mr Feeld was admitted into the George Ward of St Christopher's Hospital, at 11.52 tonight...

That's last night as I speak... Tuesday night,

This does not appear to be a police matter, sir.

But the hospital could find no other private number...

You should be used to all that by now.

You're something you are, Sandra. Real special.

No, all the time eyes sticking out of his head

So long as he's not from your actual Customs and Excise.

There! Him, y'see? On Peter!

Nah. Nah. Looks to intelligent.

You think I was in the bleed'n top shop window or something.

I've had enough of this.

Oo the 'ell you looking at!

Hey! None of that! You dragged up in a pigsty or what?

Why not on him? What's the sense of it, Nick?

And I've missed you, too, my lost little love.

Hey. You! Keep yer bleed'n head! Right?

Oh, my dear, dear one.

Don't you look at me like that! You dirty old sod!

You always were such a passionate young woman.

Don't worry about it, my dear.

The wine is really rather poor.

Certainly not up to the Gevrey Chambertin we used to enjoy, mmm?

You're a nutter.

Christ Almighty. - Shut up.

You're out of control! You're dis-gus-ting! What the fuck do you fink you're fucking well doing?

He asked for it, didn't he?

I've never seen anything so... It's dis-gus-ting!

You're not in the bloody McDonald's, are you?

What the fuck are you going to do next? Spit on the floor? What?

I see your pain, Oliver, dear...

But there is nothing I can do about it,

except endure

as you have endured.

Aye.

I know, my love.

We are trapped in our own yearning.

Forgive me.

Forgive.

Are you all right, Mr Morse?

That was a...

I'm very very...

The narrative is all tangled and knotted here...

If we're not careful we shall lose sight of any kind of A-B-C drive in the story.

And settle for Q, X and Y.

In terms of the story we have to have what in effect

are voice-overs from Linda.

I mean, it won't work without them.

Disnae work wi' them, neitherrr.

No? - No.

We can't really tell yet, not definitively.

We need to look at the whole sequence...

I mean, if the old man doesn't `hear' the voice

of the utterly different young woman he remembers with such...

such ache from so long, long ago... if he doesn't think, think

think in his odd, obsessive way that his cheap little tart called Sandra is somehow

the living embodiment of the other lovely young woman he once wooed and lost...

then...

then...

well...

The whole story goes down the drain.

That's extremely helpful, Ian. I deeply appreciate such a useful remark.

Like so many of your impromtu asides and comments. - Sorry.

Let's just look at the thing, shall we?

...very sorry.

I've never seen anything like... - Artistic temperament.

Oh, we've had many a...

What do you know about her?

How can you possibly understand?

These things happen and they are none of your business.

Fine. Fine.

And bring me my bill.

...not on Southend Pier picking out your winkles, are you?

You heard this one? It's good 'un. - Wha... ?

These two bats. In a cave. Right? - Sandra!

'Anging upside down. - You to'ally round the twist or what?

You hearing a word of what I'm saying... ?

They do hang upside down. Bats. - I don't want to know!

Anyway. These two bats... - You're getting right up my nose.

They're talking to each other, right? - We talk, Sandra. You and me.

We've always got on, haven't we, chick?

And the one bat says to the other bat... `Gawd I'm effin 'ungry!

I could do wiv some fresh blood, and I want it now!'

I love the way she says, `I like...'

Look... this bloke... he is not a bad sort... I mean, you've had worse..

All right, all right, he's got a bit of a beer belly and he wears glasses and that...

I'd better... - Let it fucking ring!

I need a favour off him real bad,

and he'd go for you in a big way.

Do this for me! Please!

Come on. Come on. Come on.

Getting no answer, is he? - Doesn't look like it.

How long's he going to keep trying, then?

Well. Two, or at the most three, hours. It's Buckingham Palace, you see,

and they're notorious for keeping you hanging about like a spare flunkey.

What? Only the wife is busy helping with orphans and cripples.

She only has half an hour, see, this very half...

The cazy lunt!

Who are you so tarmingly chalking about, Ben, old beam?

`Tarmingly chalking... ?'

Now, now. No call for that, Daniel.

I've got enough to put up, thank you very much.

In that cutting room... well, it's Ian who should answer,

or one of his assistant editors,

but... oh no... if Nick's there, and Nick is in one of his God's Gift to the Arts moods,

he won't let anyone answer! - Oh, leave it, Ben.

You don't look too good, my dear chap.

Why did they put you in here? Not up to much, is it?

No more drink. - No?

That's definite. Not a drop! You�ve got to help me here.

I�ve crossed some sort of line!

You or somebody should have told me. Held me back!

Yes, Daniel. We should. It wasn�t as though we hadn�t all noticed.

They put me in here because it was all that was available

and because I was in no position to have any say in the matter.

I didn�t know where I was or what I was or who I was. And when I woke up, here,

in this bed,

in the middle of last night, I thought...

Have they diven you a gia...

Have you had any sort of diagnosis yet, Dan?

What? Oh. Well... not really.

Just sinister-feeling suspicions.

In about half an hour they're going to give me this endoscopy...

I think that's how it's called...

you know, they look inside you with a teeny-weeny camera or something.

Sees things that ordinary scans don't, anyway.

But which way do they go...

I mean...

sorry... damn it. - Down the throat, so I gather.

Bloody hell and damn it.

I don't know what it's all about.

They're sniffing around about something.

They've been in touch with Barker,

and they know about the barium enema and the barium meal before that.

Ben... ! - What?

Draw the curtains...

the curtains around the bed... quickly.

Daniel?

Bloody hell, Ben, you... Ben, please. Stand guard!

Just stay out there for a minute or two... Go on! Be alert!

Sorry... ? - Keep your eye out for a doctor or a nurse or something!

There's one that looks like a bin-bag liner on it's day out.

Go on. Look!

All right. All right.

All clear, Dan. All clear.

Not a surse in night!

So you see after all What a Friend We Have in Jesus, eh? Eh?

So ta-ta-for-now, then, my sweet old pudding!

No. It's allright... come on.

What is it? Who is it?

It's allright. It's Anna come to visit. - Shit.

He's just having a cigarette on the sly, Anna.

I thought for a moment there that...

Why are we wispering, Ben?

I'm on guard, you see.

How is he? What happened? And thanks for the message, by the way.

Fark your peet for a mo, Anna. We'll have a little word.

Well, brought it all the way back. Do you want it or no?

Later. Later.

Well, I wouldn't have taken all this trouble, then, would I?

Is he smoking in there? Is he?

Is that any of your business? - Is that what?

It's all our business, lady. And you're just a visitor, if you don't mind!

There's something badly amiss, Anna.

First they gave him the Barium meal X-ray to see of he had a stomach ulcer. Nothing showed,

but it doesn't always apparently, so they treated him for that.

He's been in main for points! Then the enema thing yesterday morning...

well... that showed up spasms in the colon... painful, yes...

but now they seem to be on to something else.

Like what? Oh, look at that creature...

The pancreas, apparently.

That's what they're going to look at this afternoon.

What? For... um... cancer, or...

I don't know.

I hope you know this is a No Smoking area and quite right to! Put it out!

Oh, my G... your face... ! - Wha... ?

Sorry... Sorry... Oh, you poor soul.

Have you had it like that for very long?

W... what you mean?

Well I think you're very brave to walk around with a face as bad as that.

Sorry. What was it you were saying? I was so startled I didn't quite catch it.

What's the matter with my face, Clive?

Nothing much, mate. It's just bloody ugly, that's all.

Christ!

Put it out! Put it out! Comebody's soming!

What's up, guv? - Nothing. Nothing at all.

Just... ah... something I'd sorgoten to fay.

Pardon? - He was trying to protect me.

I've been smoking, you see. - Good on ya!

Here, Ben. Get rid of the smoking gun, if you wouldn't mind.

Daniel Feeld. That right? - Correct.

We're to take you down for an endoscopy. But you know about that... yes?

I do indeed.

If you wouldn't mind stepping back a bit... - Sorry. Sorry.

Mind elbows.

You all right? - Fine.

As right as rain, eh?

They'll only need to keep me in overnight again, so they say.

Up, two, three...

Could you manage to collect me at nine o'clock in the morning, Ben.

I'd be very... - Of course, of course!

Hello, Anna. - Keep your pecker up, Daniel.

I'm afraid my pecker's been picked. Or pickled, anyway

No more boose!

It.. makes... you... drunk!

That'll be the day, eh, Ben?

Well, he wouldn't be the same, would he,

without the whatsit sparkling of the brim.

The bag!

Gawd, I'm effin 'ungry.

I could do wiv some fresh blood, and I want it now! - Me too.

Look... this bloke... he's not a bad sort... I mean, you've had worse.

All right, all right, so he's got a bit of a beer belly and he wears glasses and that...

but Sandra, love, listen, I need a favour off him real bad,

and he'd go for you in a big way. Do this for me, please... ?

It still hasn't got that...

Doesn't work. Does it?

Not totally.

And yet I know it's all there, waiting to be...

What do you think, Ian? - Well. it's like...

Can I say this? - You can say what you like.

Surely you know that, Ian.

What the hell is the point having an editor if you think anything otherwise.

Please! Speak!

Thank you.

Well? What?

Och. You're fond of the wee lassie, the noo.

What does that mean? Take your kilt off!

What it means, Nick, is that it shows.

I'm not altogether sure here what it is you're driving at.

She's so consistently good in this particular...

What are you saying, Ian?

Lingering. - Say again?

Licking her. You've made her your lollipop, man.

That's exactly the sort of sly, innuendo-ridden snidery which gets right up my...

Look. What you're doing. The way you sit there.

You're making comments even when you don't open your mouth.

It's all so negative... - That is because you will not listen, Nick.

She's fine in this and in that,

though the inexperience always shows.

Not in my... - But you are demanding she takes the weight of almost every single scene she's in.

The grammar goes out of the window.

You seem to have forgotten there's such a thing as a two-shot! Och!

It's obsession. It's obsession I'm after.

That old man Oliver Morse. The way he has cradled and cosseted and

somehow curled the failed love of his life.

And so it's about her.

No, not `about' her, I don't mean quite that...

I mean she is the focus of the obsession. She.

And that's why, in editing terms, I want to keep looking at her,

examing her, staring at her, prowling around her and... and...

OK. Licking her, too.

I know what you're saying.

You do? - Aye.

Well, before we wend our weary ways...

Maybe ten minutes or so in that huggermugger hole opposite... ?

I'm meeting my wife there later. - That what?

The wine bar.

If only the English could speak plain English.

But, then, I suppose that would really give the game away, wouldn't it?

Can I go now? You've had your peep in and around the swamp. I feel OK.

Can I go tonight? Got a lot of work to do.

Mmm... Better if you stay overnight, Mr Feeld.

You've had quite a little trauma. Why take unnecessary risks?

Go in the morning... as early as you like.

As bright as a lark. - Well, I'm not too sure about that little bird...

Is it the one that tells you things? - Not quite.

I was going to say that its allegedly happy little song

is as likely to be a sign of hunger, fear or distress as anything else.

Oh, a Des O'Connor sort of bird, you mean.

What did you see down there in my personal pit? What sort of gold nuggets have I got?

A blockage. In the pancreas.

Why don't they let people smoke in here?

They've contracted out the cleaningservices.

Blockage? - Blockage. Yes.

Is that an euphemism? Don't you mean growth?

Ah. But we don't know yet whether it's benign or malignant.

And how will you find out? - I'd like you to come in the day after tomorrow,

Friday, at noon. You'll have a biopsy of the pancreas

and a biopsy of the liver... then stay in just that one night for...

Here? - We've the best facilities in that particular...

No, I mean here in this ward.

It's obviously the one they keep for child molesters, serial killers and Anti-Smoking Fanatics.

Look, I'm on BUPA and all that. If I...

Then of cours you can be put into a room of your own.

When you arrived here late last night, apparently you were pretty much out of things,

and did not even manage to mutter the magic initials.

I'm afraid it's too late in the day to move you for tonight, but...

Oh, well, stick it out!

As long as you don't set the fucking bed on fire.

What did you say? - You heard me well enough.

My God.

Consultants or whatever you're called have changed a lot, haven't they?

It's not Mad Cow Disease or something, is it?

Ah. You writers. Always the last to notice.

Well, almost. I forgot the critics, didn't I?

No... tonight... in this bed... you'll be given a suppository,

some sleeping pills and something pretty powerful to keep the pain at the bay.

Like cigarettes? - Oh, something better than that.

An obstruction.

An obstruction.

Well. It's what I've always wanted to be.

Good-night. - Good-night.

Blockage.

Writers block.

I remember when I could make a whole ward sing.

Must away. - You what? Are you going?

Yes, I am. - How is it possible

to be extremely happy and extremely unhappy at one and the same time?

Wear a condom.

I'm very glad to know her.

But sometimes I wish to God I'd never met her.

Linda? - Linda.

Nick. Go home, man. - No, Ian. I'm meeting my wife. Here...

she's coming here. She's up for the evening.

Why don't you stay a bit? Ruth would love to meet you.

Och no... you're both too grrrand for me. - What?

I can't. Honestly. I'm late.

And an early start, yes? - Yes. An early start. Thanks for the drink.

Linda.

What?After you went down, shouting yer bleed'n head off?

Christ. there was hell to pay.

Them two bloody Japs kept on singing... if that's whatchew call it...

and their whole table was joining in.

They were right offended, I can tell you. They didn't want no fuss, no way.

But Pig... that's what we call him, the boss... he... - Pig?

Yeah. That's what we call him. Anyway, he was so... - But why Pig?

'Cos that is what he is, enn'e?

Christ, a sty's a bleed'n sight too good for him as a matter of fact.

And he was so mad when you went down like that... - Pig?

Yeah. And he was so mad wifya i fought for a minute he was going to stamp on your froat.

Oh. That's nice. - And I wouldn't have minded neither!

I mean... you'd been grabbing 'old of me legs and scarin' the shit out on me.

I fought you was a right nutter and no mistake.

I'm afraid I was very, very drunk... amongst other things.

Oh, that's allright. I know different now, don't I?

But you didn't half give me a turn,

and when yhem ambulance blokes turned up after God knows how long,

I could hear them saying where you was going to...

but I couldn't find which ward, not for ages.

They're bloody' useless down at that desk in the front 'all.

And not very polite about it neither.

Well, that was very clever of you to find me at all.

I was very surprised when you came in through that door.

You changed colour.

And I'm not saying that you still don't give me the willies a bit.

But I can see you're not off yer 'ead.

You know the way I mean. Not like that, anyway.

... soon see some order in all the chaos...

Any new job is rather like the first day at school, you don't think?

Blackboard chalk and hockey sticks. I almost wish.

The thing is not to get hypnotized by the computer gobbledygook.

I wouldn't want all those VDUs to spoil your really rather lovely eyes.

Doesn't want him.

Hi! This is Linda Langer!

I'm not sure how these fings work. Am I in or am I out?

Say who you are, and leave your love or whatever it is after the funny little bee-ee-p. By-ee!.

Linda. It's Nick. Nick Balmer at... oh... 6.20 on Wednesday evening.

I somehow feel that you are there. Please pick up the phone.

Linda?

Please!

You've got him, gal!

Got him good and proper!

OK. OK. Maybe you're not there after all.

You make me feel paranoid!

You make me feel a million different kind of thing, and...

Point is, message is, can you meet for lunch

or at least a drink tomorrow, Thursday, at half-past twelve in that same old place?

I'll be there, anyway. Bye.

Of course you can!

`Am I in or am I out?'

Wasn't she in? - What?

The chirpy little sparrow. Isn't she in her nest? Or

is she out fouling someone else's? What are you talking about?

Oh, Nick. - Ruth. For goodness sake! I was...

you want to know what I was doing?

Ruth, What is this?

I was trying to find out about Daniel Feeld, the weird bastard.

Are you and he having another row? Daniel Feeld on the warpath, is he?

No, it's just screams and shouts.

At you, is it? - You won't believe this...

but last night, after talking like a genuine psychotic to poor Anna,

he carried on boozing in some sleazy clip-joint or other,

collapsed stone-cold unconcious, and was carried off to the hospital.

They're not letting him out until tomorrow, apparently.

Ruth. What's the matter... ?

Darling! Has something happened?

No, Nicolas. Nothing whatsever.

But you look... You look as though you need a drink, my love.

You mean, I look old? - No such thing.

Simply, you do need a drink. And so do I!

Yes, you always do. - Me?

When you're with me. - Eh, excuse me.

Well, let's get out of here and hear ourselves think.

Somewhere cheerful and inspiring like the YMCA or the Ivy.

Including bubble and squeak.

Or shepherd's pie! I'll accept the squeak.

But I'm not at all sure about the bubble.

Oh, come on my love, my love, that's the one thing you'll never loose. Your champagne sparkle.

Anna! - Nick...R-Ruth...

I'm... phew. I'm almost out of breath.

I went to every damned pub and wine bar I know you sometimes go

after the cutting room... except, of course, the nearest!

Something's up.

You need to sit down, Anna. It is Anna, isn't it?

How clever of you to remember, we've only met in the... No, I can't stay.

Really can't, I mean... Yes, it's a problem.

The dopey droop of a lawyer has just come up with some incredible bad luck...

Come on! Out with it!

There is an Arthur Mailion. - What?

And his nickname is `Pig'.

`Pig' Mailion! No... I don't believe it! - No! Oh... no-o-o!

I'm afraid so. And what's worse... now this really takes the biscuit...

what's worse is that this Mailion does actually, really and truly,

own or manage a sort of... well a rather questionable place

where they do play karaoke!

Sit down, Anna. Come on.

Hoy! - Bloody manners. Bloody disgusting.

Well, Mailion is not the first reel... not in the second,

but hang on, he's mentioned by name, isn't he?

Several times. - Fourteen times.

Oh, shit.Shit... shit... shit! - And language to match!

Just call him Tallion or Rallion or something that sounds a bit like it.

`Pig' Tallion... oh, yes... great...

Don't you see the little joke? `Pig' Mailion.

You know... Pygmalion...

I thought I had just managed to work out such exquisite subtlety, Nicolas.

Sorry. Sorry. But... - But the real problem is in the scenes where he is actually playing.

I mean, we can lose a joke and sort of get round most of the rest...

Oh, this is bugger. This is real bugger.

You! Mind your own business! - You talking to me!

Yes! You! Attend to your own affairs. - My God.

Now you listen to me, fella... !

I'm very sorry about this. Do forgive us.

I'm afraid we've just had some rather bad news,

and it's upset my husband so much he's completely forgotten his manners.

Ruth! - Yes. Sorry! My fault.

That's all right, love. I didn't know. It's just a misunderstanding.

Hey. Where's my chair? - I'm sorry... I thought you'd gone.

Ta.

Obviously, we can't change what's already been shot.

But I've looked it up... there are three scenes where `Pig' Mailion is sort of central,

two of them with Peter and one where he is that other thug... whatsisname?

Reg. -Reg... where he's Reg's guest at the very opening,

showing off in the karaoke bar, singing `Why Must I be a Teen...'

`Your Cheatin' Heart', you mean. - Or whatever...

But there's no problem in that scene about the name.

We can't afford even half a day's reshoot... - Who says so?

Not unless there's more money forthcoming. - Well, that can...

Which there isn't.

But if it means... - No more money.

Yes. Yes. Point made.

Unless we take it off that drunken fool's contract.

He's the one directly responsible. - What do you mean?

Daniel Feeld! I mean to God!

He uses the real name of a real character

in a situation that could easily be represented as from his real life...

are you telling me that's just coincidence, simply mere chance?

No way! It's the most unprofessional, the most... - But he can't have done it deliberately, Nick.

That simply doesn't make sense. - Of course it doesn't.

Listen. That man is a very sick guy! - I'm...

yes. I'm afraid he is.

More than we have realized, I think. But not in the sense you mean, Nick.

So what do we do? As if this film hasn't got problems enough already!

Shit! Shit!

I feel like walking away from the whole fucking mess! Right now!

There's a chair here now, if you still want one.

Bloody weird, though, ennit?

Yes, it is. - But you don't really fink I'm...

No. That's silly.

It must be. It has to be.

Look... I'm... - I'm sorry. Visiting time finished,

More than ten minutes ago. - Yeah, but I didn't start on time, did I?

That's not fair, is it? - I'm sorry, but there it is...

We're starting our busy round now and I'm afraid...

It's OK, Nurse. I'll just walk a little down the corridor with my... guest.

Oh, but I don't... - No harm in that.

In any case, it's what I intend to do.

Don't be long.

That's telling her!

I'm out of here in the morning. I can afford to offend whomsoever I choose.

I love the way you talk!

Do you? - Not 'alf. I can listen to you for hours!

... so, what sort of fings do you write , then?

Oh. Television for when children have officialy gone to bed,

movies that hardly ever get made,

books with paper covers,

obituaries, greeting cards.

Would I have seen anything what you done?

Not unless you had a birthday recently.

Yeah! Me twenty-second.

Twenty-two. Oh, my God.

Yeah. Getting on a bit, ennit?

Places like this...

bits left over from other times, other people...

You see, my life's been given over to writing.

Words.Words. Fucking words. - Oooh.

Words. That's all I've ever been any good at, if I'm any good at all.

And I've an idea that I'm soon going to find out about that,

one way or the other. - Watchewmean?

Look, if we go to the end of this balcony, and if that funny little gate opens

we can go all the way down past the other balconies...

To the gardens, yeah.

You like gardens? - I like the word `garden'.

It has a... well, the ring of primal innocence.

The what? - Adam and Eve.

Oh, them two. Yeah.

But what about the whatsit? The snake.

Words. Ah, words.

`Snake' is actually quite a nice one,

though not as good as `elbow', I must admit. - Elbow.

What a lovely sound your heels make on this old iron.

Do they? Ta.

I have that sound in one of my stage directions in the last script I finished.

Just one of the little things that's been bothering me.

What's it called? Your story?

Karaoke.

I called it Karaoke because...

oh, you know, the song or the story of our lives

is sort of already made up for us.

Well... in a way... I mean, yeah. I know the feeling. - Do you?

Oh, look! A real old garden bench! - Bit dirty an' all.

There. Perfectly clean, my dear. Ta! You're a gent.

As you can see, I haven't been feeling too great lately.

What's wrong, then?

I've been on the wrong diet. Eating and drinking my own thoughts.

And I kept hearing what I thought where my own lines come back at me!

That brasserie. Where I kept staring at you. - Not 'alf!

Well, we filmed in that place a few months ago. It's part of my story, you see.

And it's where this girl Sandra has a row with this thuggish bloke called Peter.

Sandra and Peter. - I thought... Christ, how mad can you get! Or how pissed!

I thought you were saying my words. I really did.

And in my story...

In the story, she gets murdered. - Stop it!

That's what give me the creeps, ennit!

I mean, you might be bloody psychic or whatever it's called.

What's this girl Sandra do? - Oh, she's a kind of model...

Glamour model, I think they call it...

No, this Sandra hasn't really been what you'd call a good girl.

But she also works sort of part-time as a hostess, if that's the right word,

in this ver-y slea-zy club. It's run by a villain.

The nastiest character I've ever written, by far.

Funny thing is... Well, they call him Pig too.

All the girls who, sort of, work there, keeping the customers happy

in whays that aren't always proper, to say the least.

Pig? - Yes, Pig.

It started out on the page as a little joke.

His surname is Mailion. You see. `Pig' Mailion. Pygmalion. Get it?

What's the matter!

Sandra! Wait! Sandra!

No! - Sandra!

Please. Please God.

Please.

Please don't let any of this be true.

Mr Feeld.

Mr Feeld!

Mr Feeld. What are you doing! Come back to your bed!

Mr Feeld!

We're doing the drug round! - Just give me a drink instead.

This is very, very naughty! Please, come back at once!

Oh, my God.

Subs edited by CINEMAAS.