All language subtitles for PT.S02E04.720p.x264

76%, ladies and gentlemen.

For the less mathematically inclined
amongst you,

that is equivalent to three
of every four biological males,

as well as six of every ten
biological females

who have,
at some stage in their life,

for one reason or another,
fantasised about committing murder.

For women, it is members of their
family or, more particularly,

their spouse's family
who are most at risk

in their deadly imaginings.

For men, however, it is more likely
to be someone at their workplace

who provokes
these homicidal thoughts.

Sorry I'm late, Professor.

Please.

Of course, only an infinitesimal
proportion of those of us

who have contemplated
an unlawful killing

proceed to turn thoughts into deeds.

Which begs the obvious question -

what distinguishes
the very few who do

from the vast majority who do not?

In a nutshell, is there such a thing
as the DNA of a murderer?

We're all of us busy people,
officer, that's no excuse!

I've got a serious criminal matter
to report.

Perhaps I can be of assistance, sir?
And you are?

DS Lisa Donckers.

A Detective Sergeant?
That's right, sir.

Well, I'm gonna need to speak
to someone more senior than you.

OK.

The first one arrived
at my husband's place of work

three days ago.
The second one came this morning.

Although the postmarks
are the 2nd and the 6th.

Shows you can't even rely
on the Royal Mail

to deliver a death threat promptly
these days.

We'll send them for fingerprinting.

And you've no idea
who may have sent these, Mr Davies?

That's a stupid question.

It's the first thing
I would've mentioned if I did.

Is your husband in the public eye?

You know, the sort of person
who might become a target

for cranks or trolls?
He runs an artisan bakery.

I mean, I say run,
but it's me who does all the books

and handles all the orders.

He just chats bloody sourdough
all day. DS Winters.

All right, Mr Davies...

we'll give it our top priority.
Thank you.

"Top priority?"

It was the only way
I was ever gonna get rid of him.

I could see you struggling in here,
boss. I came straight in.

Just bear that in mind,
maybe mention it to Christina.

Thank you, Winters.

Oh, dear.
Are we going back to doing that?

May I suggest you see it
as an endearing little ritual?

Right.

Can you control your thoughts,
Jasper?

Of course.
Then don't think of a white bear.

Wegner's bear, 1987 -

by supressing a thought,
it becomes inevitable.

Look, this is not a game of chess.

You know, it's not-it's not
psychological one-up man ship.

I can't help you
if you're determined to anticipate

and forestall
every reasonable line of inquiry.

And I cannot be blamed
if your methods are predictable.

Well, your disdain for them -
and for me - is obvious.

I wonder if you'd be happier
with a different therapist...

A male practitioner, perhaps.

I fail to see how your
biological sex is relevant.

Like you fail to see the patterns
of your hostility

towards women in general?

I'm not hostile towards women,
merely neutral.

You sound like you're Switzerland!

I mean, neutrality does little
to help human relationships

prosper and endure, Jasper.

You need to discover and start
expressing some positive sentiments

towards the women in your life.

Malcolm, I'm wondering why
you left it up to your husband

to report these death threats.

It suggests you're not taking it seriously.

That's probably because I'm not.

Why would that be?
Get death threats every day?

Look, it's probably
just one of my friends.

You know, a bit of banter.
Funny kind of banter.

Funny kind of friends.
Oh, all right, not FRIENDS, then.

Er, acquaintances.

Look, I'm a member
of the local baking club.

Won Star Baker
at our recent awards night.

There's been some sniping
that I should be disqualified

for being a professional.

That, and a nasty rumour that my
sourdough is artificially enhanced.

I figured it was just
one of the baked goods nuts

trying to warm me off.

There are ways that don't involve
a colossal waste of our time.

No other issues or disagreements
that you can think of?

Er, we're in a legal dispute
with our neighbours.

FORMER neighbours, I should say.
But that's been going on for years,

and the solicitors
are handling everything.

That beard!

See you Friday.

Is it personal or professional?
Hm?

You always dawdle when you've got
a question to ask me.

I was admiring the notice board.
You keep it very... symmetrical.

And I was wondering...

given your recent foray
into online dating,

whether you wouldn't mind
advising me

on arranging
an intimate evening with...

...a member of the opposite sex.
Let's see.

Salsa with Estevan tomorrow,

couple's massage with Klaus
on Wednesday.

Ah, yes, 8pm Thursday,
I'm free for dinner.

Ooh, er, I am so sorry,
I did not mean...

You weren't seriously thinking
of inviting DCI Brand to dinner

without rehearsing it properly?

Rehearsing?

It's in your diary.

I can't believe Rabbit is making us
follow up on this.

Oh, you've got better places to be,
do you? I do, actually.

Hello.

Debbie, some idiot's parked
in front of our drive again!

That idiot would be me, I'm afraid,
Mr Sanderson.

I'm DS Winters,
I'm with the Cambridge Police.

This is my colleague, DS Donckers.

They've been asking about Malcolm, hon.

Oh, you've got to be kidding me!

Seems like we touched a nerve.

You'll have to excuse Steve, officer.

He's a Teddy bear, really.

But Malcolm...
that is a sore subject.

There's been some kind of legal
dispute we're led to believe.

Oh, it goes a long way back
before that.

They were in business together
for a few years -

they ran a small delivery firm.

After Steve was discharged
from the army.

Broke two bones in his back.
He's never been right since.

So what happened? Oh, well,
Malcolm was always a sweetheart.

Unlike his other half.

We've had the pleasure
of Aiden's acquaintance. Yeah.

Steve and Malcolm
were chalk and cheese

but they hit it off from the moment
we bought this place.

Workmates, best mates.

Till Malcolm told Steve he didn't
want to do deliveries any more.

Just like that. No warning.

Did you ever get to the bottom
of what happened? Not really.

They stopped talking after that.

Next thing we know,
they're suing us over a fence.

About a year later, they moved out,
started renting the place out.

Do you know how they could have
afforded that?

Well...
you didn't hear this from me...

'That was a stroke of luck.'

'A stroke of luck?
More like a bloody miracle!

'Malcolm's never been known
to bet a penny in his life.'

A bit suspicious, don't you think?
What is?

Someone who makes a big thing
of never gambling would win tens,

maybe hundreds of thousands
on some lottery.

We've only got the neighbor's word
for it.

Who knows what goes on
behind the net curtains?

In case you've forgotten, Dan,

it's not Malcolm Davies
we're supposed to be investigating.

It's whoever's been sending
death threats.

Steve Sanderson seems to have plenty
to feel aggrieved about.

We all have plenty
to feel aggrieved about.

Hm, is that what you'll tell Rabbit?
When he asks how the case is going?

No. I will tell him to stop
wasting our time on petty domestics.

Where are you going?
Home, to see my dad.

Are you coming?

Yes. Obviously I'm coming.

I don't do performance art, darling.

No point standing there rubbernecking.

If you've come to borrow
the dog again, the answer's no.

I'm afraid Kafka's
all at sixes and sevens.

I came to see how you were.

What do you want, Jasper?
I do not want anything.

I merely wondered if these bulldog
clips might be of use to you

in your artistic endeavours.

A gift, for me?

Miss Snares was throwing them out.

Well, it's like my birthday,
Christmas and Mothering Sunday

all rolled into one!

Do not confuse sarcasm with wit, Mother.

Don't be so touchy, darling.

I'm delighted with them.
Truly, I am.

I was interested to observe
if you might think so.

If this is the result
of your therapy,

then it's definite progress.

Only next time,
pearls and champagne, please?

Hello.
'Sorry to wake you, Donckers.'

Oh, it's no problem, boss.

You better head in ASAP, there's
been a development in your case.

'What now?
Did somebody poison his cat?'

Malcolm Davies has been found dead.

Oh. Jeez.

Can you get a message to Winters?

Yeah, I'm sure
I could track him down.

He's certainly the quarrelsome type.

He put up a fence
between the properties

without consulting his neighbours,
while they were on holiday.

The Davies' claimed it was
on their side of the boundary.

Won a restraining order.
Sanderson counter sued.

It's been grinding
through the courts ever since.

He's ex-military,
and reputedly has a temper.

We've seen that first hand.
He fits the profile.

And yet, here you are.

The dispute's been dragging on
for years.

The Davies' moved out a while back.

It doesn't seem like a trigger
for slashing someone's throat.

For individuals
with extreme personality traits,

no trigger is too small or trivial
to be discounted.

But in a case
of premeditated murder,

whilst you piece together
the how, where, when, what and why,

you must always be mindful
of the "who".

Who amongst the suspects
displays the personality type

that would enable them to kill
with calculation?

Anti-social, paranoid, remorseless,

convinced the world is against them.

Turns out Malcolm Davies
was a witness in a murder trial

eight years ago.

His evidence was key
to the successful prosecution

of Larry Buckland for the murder
of his boss, Sunil Mehta,

who owned a boat-building business.

Larry was sacked for fighting
with an employee,

and heard making violent threats
against his boss.

So how was Malcolm Davies connected?

Poor bloke just happened
to be making a delivery

on the night in question.
He testified he heard raised voices

and saw Buckland leave
Mehta's office.

He found Mehta bleeding to death -

stabbed in the neck
with a short blade,

something like a letter knife.

And it was Buckland's threats that
convinced them it was premeditated?

That, and 170 grand
missing from the safe.

So we could be looking at payback, then.

Maybe, but I'm assuming Buckland
is still inside? He is.

But guess where his wife
and son are now living.

They're renting Malcolm
and Aiden Davies' old place,

moved in a few weeks ago.

I'd say we get them both in
for questioning.

Really? It's a total coincidence?

You can see why we might find it
difficult to believe, Mrs Gilmore.

No more than I did when I found out.

Malcolm came round to fix the door
on the washing machine.

Mum recognised him right away.

Took him a little longer
to place us.

Looked like he'd seen a ghost.
I don't believe in coincidences,

just like I don't believe in ghosts, Jonah.

Why would I lie?

We've moved half a dozen times
in the last eight years.

I was just grateful
to find somewhere.

I can imagine.

I only dealt with the letting agent.
If his name was on the contract,

I certainly didn't see it
before signing.

You'd have thought your landlord

might have done a bit more
due diligence.

Except I've gone back to using
my maiden name.

You'd have had no way of knowing
our connection to Larry.

Where were you last night
between 8pm and 12 midnight?

At home,

doing a college assignment,
watching TV.

Anyone who can vouch for you?

My mum was out watching a film
with a friend, got back late.

Mm-hm.

You know, I'm not my dad.

Whatever it is you think you know
about him, it doesn't apply to me.

"The sins of the father
are to be laid upon the children."

Shakespeare, The Merchant Of Venice.

If you say so.

It must have been painful for you

to be associated
with your father's crime

from such an early age.

To be labelled the son of a killer
wherever you went, whoever you met.

You have no idea.

Well, if you have nothing to hide,
I'm sure you won't object to us

conducting a search
of your property, will you?

Oh! I didn't expect to see you here.

And yet this is exactly
where I hoped I might find you.

You were looking for me, were you?
I have something to ask you.

Well, can it wait? I'm running late.

It can wait. OK.

Fancy tagging along?

I have rather a lot to catch up on.

Music 'La Music a'
by Vichenzo Orru plays...

Dan.

Donckers.

Look what the search turned up.

We found that knife
in Jonah Gilmore's shed,

and it looks a good match with
the wounds on Malcolm Davies' neck.

Has it been fingerprinted?

Not yet, but my bet is that
he'll have wiped them off.

He's not that stupid.

Although evidently stupid enough
in your estimation

to hide the murder weapon
in his garden shed?

If they weren't a bit stupid
we'd never catch 'em.

He has a motive and no alibi,
Jasper, unlike his mother.

Plus what looks likely to be the
murder weapon found on his property.

There's nothing for you
to solve here.

I have scrutinised the reports

of the psychologists who assessed
Jonah in the years since the trial.

He is said to be well-adjusted,
conscientious, trusting.

Anything but vengeful,

despite the trauma of his father's
conviction at such an early age.

So what are you implying, Jasper?

That Jonah Gilmore
does not have the DNA of a murderer.

Someone is communicating intimate
sentiments towards you, I surmise.

Jasper.

So, er...

So what is it that's, erm...

that's so important that's made you
want to stay here all afternoon

to talk to me in private?

I wish to ask you to dinner.

If you toy with his affections,

my wrath is a terrible thing
to behold.

I-I...

I don't think that would be
a very good idea, Jasper.

On the contrary.

My therapist believes that
encouraging positive interactions

with women
will help with my phobias.

I think your chat-up lines
might need a bit of work, Jasper,

but yes, of course,
if it's-it's part of your treatment,

of course I'll come.

Hm.

Screws in here,
how much do you think they get paid?

Are you thinking
of changing career, Dan?

Thanks for seeing us, Mr Buckland.

You've heard we've taken your son
Jonah into custody, I take it?

My wife phoned last night.

What?

You lot.

You're a bloody joke.

Not content
on one wrongful conviction,

now you're going for the full set.

And you're still saying
you're innocent.

I've been saying it
for eight years, mate.

Buckland admits he'd had a skinful.

Decided it was a good idea
to go and ask for his job back.

And he accepts he lost his temper
when Mehta refused to reinstate him.

Beat him senseless,
in his own words.

But he's adamant
he didn't stab anyone.

And I am yet to find anything
to prove that he did.

Rather you than me, Professor.

Well, it looks like
you could use a hand

with this haystack, Professor. Oh.

Wish I knew which particular needle
we were looking for.

Anything unexplained or inconsistent

with the known facts of the case,
Detective Sergeant.

There's a Steve Sanderson
in reception for you, Winters.

Says he wants to make a statement
about Malcolm Davies.

Oh, fancy sitting in, boss?

More than I fancy
that bloody great pile of paperwork.

I will observe, if I may.

Great !

Thank you for your cooperation.

Unlike the other day,
from what my colleague tells me.

When you came knocking,

I didn't know
he was gonna wind up dead, did I?

Or maybe you did.

We'll check out your alibi, Mr
Sanderson, but I have to be honest,

we can't yet eliminate you
from our investigation

cos of your long-running dispute
with the deceased.

Well, that's all over.

Aiden knocked on our back door
the night after Malcolm was killed.

He told us he wanted to settle
as soon as possible,

was willing to pay for the fence
to be built in the original place,

even offered
to cover all of our legal costs.

We figured it must have been
the shock of Malcolm's death

that made him act so out of, erm,
you know, out of character.

Yeah, he said he'd just come round

from squaring it off
with his tenants.

He'd even been taking a look at
the site in the garden in the dark.

It took us till three in the
morning, but look what Dan found.

It was right at the bloody bottom.

This was taken
at Sunil Mehta's office by forensics

after he was stabbed.

A delivery box
from Mr Mehta to A Cockett

dated five days before
Sunil Mehta was murdered.

Guess who A Cockett turns out to be?

Aiden Cockett.

Freelance accountant,
AKA Aiden Davies,

who has taken his husband's surname

but still uses his birth name
for professional purposes.

It was a simple matter
of looking at his website.

If Aiden Davis
was Sunil Mehta's book-keeper,

Malcolm may well have
known about the money in the safe.

Which gives him a motive for murder.

And if Malcolm Davies
murdered Sunil Mehta,

that suggests a motive for
Jonah Gilmore to murder him in turn.

I cannot believe your impertinence.

I made it perfectly clear
about my professional connection

to Sunil Mehta with the
investigating officer at the time.

We can only apologise, Mr Davies,

if you think we're going over
old ground,

but it was new information to us.
And it was a different complexion

on your husband's association
with the case.

I expect more than
a mealy-mouthed apology, Detective.

I shall be making a complaint
to your superior officer.

You're wasting my time
raking through stone cold ashes

when you should be
focusing on tracking down

my poor Malcolm's killer!

Do you mind?

Perhaps I might impose on you

to take us through the events of
the night of your husband's murder.

I've been through it
countless times.

And no doubt it sounds a little more
implausible with each retelling.

A nanosecond in your company,
Mr Davies,

is ample time to ascertain that
you are not the personality type

to let the family budgerigar,
let alone your spouse,

go out in the middle of the evening

without telling you precisely
where they were going

and who they were meeting.

I suspect that your husband
left home to meet Jonah Gilmore

on the night of his murder.

What is more, I suspect that
you are fully aware of that fact.

Which bit didn't you understand,
Jonah?

"It may harm your defence
if you fail to mention

"when questioned something
which you later rely on in court."

Look... I should've said something.

I was in shock...

about the knife
turning up in our garden.

I thought if you knew I was
supposed to meet him that night,

well, then... case closed.

It's certainly looking that way.

I didn't... kill Malcolm Davies.

That's exactly what your dad said
about Sunil Mehta.

Maybe cos he was telling the truth?

When Malcolm showed up at our house,
I took it as a sign.

It was time to do something
to prove Dad's innocence.

I started going to his shop.

Weekends, lunch times, pestering him
to see if he remembered something

about the night of the murder, anything.

And how did Mr Davies react?

Well, he just ignored me at first.

And then he got agitated,
very agitated.

Said he'd evict us if I didn't stop.

So you backed off?

Sort of.

Look, I was thinking
of giving it all up, to be honest,

and then he asked me out
for a drink,

out of the blue.

On the night he was murdered?
Yeah.

I waited over an hour, some
bloody pub in the middle of nowhere.

He never showed up.

Should be easy enough to check out.

There'll be CCTV cameras at the pub
where they arranged to meet.

Penny for your thoughts, Jasper.

They're worth a good deal more.

I was musing
on the criminological significance

of our inherited biology.

It is not a fashionable view
to hold.

Nevertheless,
it is one to which I subscribe

with unshakable conviction.

We cannot escape the destiny
imprinted in our genetic code,

ladies and gentlemen.

Whether foisted on us by nature

or fostered there by nurture.

Some of us are predisposed
to criminal violence, even murder,

by the twisted molecular
complexities of our DNA.

The apple doesn't fall far
from the tree, in other words.

Precisely so, in more prosaic terms.

A jury won't buy it.

Dad's a convicted murderer,
so son must be too.

I would advise against
seeking to prosecute Jonah Gilmore,

Detective Inspector.

He's most assuredly innocent
of the murder of Malcolm Davies.

Just as his father, Larry...

is innocent of the murder
of Sunil Mehta.

There is only one man
in these photographs

who fits the profile of a murderer.

You see, inherently quarrelsome

and paranoid people like you,
Mr Davies,

do not become peacemakers overnight.

Aiden knocked on our back door
the night after Malcolm was killed.

He told us he wanted to settle
as soon as possible.

He said he'd just come around from
squaring it off with his tenants.

He'd even been taking a look at
the site in the garden in the dark.

I suspect you were hiding the knife
in the shed of your tenants,

Jonah and his mother,
when Mr Sanderson saw you.

So you distracted them
with your uncharacteristic offer

to settle your legal dispute
and pick up the bill.

Your neighbours are guileless
and good-hearted, Mr Davies,

but I believe
the worst of human nature.

We use darkness
to cover our transgressions.

So he planted the weapon we found.

The knife that killed his husband. Yeah.

So if that's true, then...

Then he must have killed him.

But why?

'Your husband
had not been himself for weeks.'

He was overcome by guilt,

not at having bent the rules
in a baking competition,

but at being confronted every day
by the son of a convicted murderer.

A man he knew was innocent.

You're suggesting my client's
husband killed Sunil Mehta?

I'm asserting that he lived
for years with the knowledge

of who did without saying anything.

Malcolm was not a murderous type,
was he, Mr Davies?

Everybody said so.

Oh, Malcolm was always a sweetheart. Hm.

But you most certainly are.

'It was you and not your husband
who was present

'when Larry Buckland
left Sunil Mehta's office.

'It was you who saw the opportunity
to take the money from the safe.'

I'm sure it was easy enough
to bully Malcolm

into claiming he returned the files

and saw Larry Buckland
leave the scene.

There never was
a win on the Lottery.

You gave him the money
to open the artisan bakery

he'd always dreamed of
to soothe his ticklish conscience.

And it worked...

...for eight years.

Until by a remarkable twist of fate,

he was confronted by the son of the
man whose life his lies had ruined.

Poor Malcolm.

You were worried he was gonna crack,
confess everything,

so, you told him to arrange
a meet-up

and you went along
to keep him on track.

You told him to stop along the way,
didn't you, Mr Davies?

Why are we stopping here?

To talk through
what you were gonna say.

This is all your fault.

Aiden! Aiden!

Do you have a shred of evidence
to support this story, Detective?

You have less than 11 hours

to charge my client

or to let him go.

He's right, of course.
We don't have enough to charge him.

We'll look again
at the murder weapon

now we've got his fingerprints,
but I don't hold out much hope.

What about the car?

It's his husband's vehicle,
his DNA will be all over it.

The professor has an idea.

Jasper?
Let me talk to him.

Perhaps his own lies
in conjunction with the evidence

will uncover the truth.

Surprisingly commodious...

...though I might not think so if,
like you,

I was destined to spend
the next 30 years in one.

It is switched off, Mr Davies.

There is no way of proving
that the conversation

we are about to have
actually occurred.

You can continue to make no comment

on the criminal acts
that led to your arrest,

as is your right under the law.

And you may be fortunate.

The police could fail
to find sufficient evidence

to make the case against you.

It is more likely, however,

that they will uncover
what they need

to link you to the scene
of your husband's murder.

A sharp object forced
into human flesh at close range

produces what is known
as blood splatter...

...a sanguineous miasma
of tiny droplets

that leaves thousands
of microscopic stains

on anything it comes
into contact with.

Who knows?
With advances in forensic science,

they may even find a trace
of Sunil Mehta's blood

on that charming paper knife
you keep on your desk.

Then there is the money,

and your implausible story
of a lottery win.

It should not take much
to disprove it.

You would make
a fascinating case study

for my students, Mr Davies.

Disagreeable, litigious,
quick to take and give of fence,

unburdened by moral scruples.

I do not need Eysenck to tell me
that you are a neurotic extrovert,

capable of icy self-control
and great calculation.

And calculation
is what is now required.

Should you stick
with your current strategy,

say nothing and hope for the best?

Or twist, and plead guilty
to the manslaughter of your husband?

As your former neighbours
have testified,

you have proved you are able
to impersonate someone

with agreeable personality traits.

It should not be beyond you
to convince a jury of your peers

that you were psychologically
terrorised by your husband

to stop you revealing
what you knew about his involvement

with Sunil Mehta's murder.

If that is the case, Mr Davies,

then you acted in self-defence.

Thank you.

For the record, can you confirm
that to your certain knowledge,

your husband Malcolm Davies

is guilty of the murder
of Sunil Mehta...

...and that he gave false witness

at the trial of Larry Buckland
eight years ago?

Mr Davies - for the record, please?

Yes.
"Yes" what?

My husband killed Sunil Mehta.

And did you, Aiden Davies,

in fear of your own life
and the lives of others,

kill Malcolm Davies
on the ninth day of this month?

Yes.

I killed my husband.

Of course,
what Aiden failed to calculate

is that sending death threats
to your own husband,

someone you later confess
to killing,

suggests premeditation on his part.

It will definitely make it
more difficult

to plead manslaughter
rather than murder.

Or to persuade a jury to acquit him.

I think we've got him.

Has the paper knife
been sent to forensics yet?

Just now, Ma'am. They think
there's a good chance of DNA.

You never know,
we might even get him

for Sunil Mehta's murder as well.

Great work, Donckers.

Mostly the professor's, Ma'am.

Lisa?
Yeah?

I'm, erm, thinking of putting you
forward for promotion.

There have been times
when your constant need to question

has seemed a little bit
like insubordination,

but I think more recently, you've...

...been making the right call
more often than not.

Ma'am?

Well, like today,
and on the Tidswell case,

when you worked so well
with Professor Tempest

to get the investigation
back on track, despite my orders.

You know, this isn't, erm...
This isn't for public consumption,

but DI Rabbit has put in a request
for leave of absence

while he sorts out
the child custody arrangements

for his granddaughter.
Mum's the word, Ma'am.

So I'll be looking for
a temporary head of department.

You've passed
your inspector's exams,

and I think you'd make
an excellent candidate.

You know,
change can be challenging, Lisa...

...especially for those
we're closest to.

Something to think about, maybe.
Of course.

Are you going somewhere, Ma'am?

I'm, er, on a dinner date.

It's just an old friend.

- 'My darling boy.'
- Mother.

'The great giver of gifts.

'To what do I owe
this latest hon our?'

I was wondering
if you could advise me

on the best way to open an oyster?

'With a knife, Jasper.'
Yes, I surmised as much.

'Could I trouble you to be
a little more specific?'

It's all in the wrist, darling.
Prise and wiggle.

'Wiggle and prise.'

You didn't take me literally,
darling, did you,

when I had my little joke
about pearls and champagne?

Of course not, mother.

Then you must be going to
all this effort for someone else.

'I hope you've thought this through,
Jasper.'

You know what they say
about oysters.

Showtime!

A gentleman always takes
a lady's coat.

And you should offer champagne
as an aperitif.

Of course.

Would you like a glass
of champagne?

Sparkling water, please.
I'm driving.

Ah.

Bossa nova plays...

You do not like oysters?

I'm a little surprised you do.

It is part of my exposure therapy...

...to systematically desensitise
by embracing phobic stimuli.

Right.

Besides, I am reliably informed
that they are...

Nutritious and utterly delicious.

You can't go wrong with them.

Jasper.

What's the idea behind all of this?
What's it all about?

Do you think that I have a problem
with women, Christina?

I think you have a problem with
everyone you've ever encountered.

I think that's a question
for you and your therapist.

Mm-hm.

Ah, ah!

No shop talk.

I... found these old photographs.

I wondered if it might
bring you pleasure to see them.

You could make a woman very happy.

I've been trying to find
a time to tell you.

I've started seeing someone.

I need not ask whom.

Simon is very thoughtful
and very considerate. I...

I think you might like him.

Simon is an unknown quantity,
and you cannot possibly know him.

I believe you to be
foolishly infatuated.

You are not in a position
to lecture me on my private life.

And you are definitely not qualified
to make that kind of a statement.

Good night, Jasper.

That's Aunty Charnette.

And her daughter Laura-Leigh.

Charnette.

Yeah, Dad, your sister.

And that's you and Mum,
looking about 15.

And there's me.

The proudest day of my life.

What about your wedding?

The proudest day of my life.