All language subtitles for Maybe.Baby.2000

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I'm afraid I won't be in
till after lunch.

No. Not ill. Shagging.

Vision.

Energy.

Commitment.

three career-enhancing words.

Here's three more.

Listen. to. Me.

things are going to start changing
around here,

and you can either change with them,

or you can hand in your security
laminates and get the hell out

of the globe's premier
broadcast service provider.

Woolly thinking is for sheep.

the fox gets the cream.

Second-best is not an option.

Stay...on...message.

Sorry.

- Yeah?
- My eggs are done.

Screw me...

now.

Screw you? I'm in a meeting.

Sorry about that, Nigel.

Some of our junior people
have gone off-message.

I'll be back in a tick.

Excuse me. Excuse me.

Morning.

Was it you who ordered the shag,
madam?

Yes! Yes! Yes!

Yes.

- Where the hell have you been?
- Sorry, Nigel.

You know, very important meeting.

Horizontally integrated,
deep penetration.

Good.

You haven't missed much.
We've been standing outside for an hour

because some arse
set off the fire alarm.

It seems to me that,
where trying for a baby is concerned,

women's eggs are like boiled eggs.

You never know exactly
when they're done to perfection.

You just have to grab the moment
when it arises.

Oh, sorry, but I just
had to have it now.

Always a pleasure, never a chore.

It is beautiful, isn't it?

Yes. It's all right, I suppose.

Not a patch on our wedding,
of course.

What? A quick "I do"
at Chelsea Registry Office

and a pork pie picnic in the park!

Hold on. A pork pie picnic
plus a sonnet.

Besides, it's not
how you get married,

it's who you get married to.

I was lucky.

So was I.

And do you still feel lucky?

Despite everything?

I feel lucky because of everything.

Because you are my everything.

For better or for worse.

I really had hoped
it might work this time.

What with us being so close
to a church and everything.

Maybe next month.

Come on, darling,
you did promise you'd try.

I have tried.
I'm just no good at diaries.

It's not a diary,
it's a letter to yourself.

the idea being that
if we periodically assemble

our thoughts and feelings,

we will feel less like corks
bobbing on the sea of fate.

I don't know what to write.

I'm not going to pester Sam
about this.

I know that he's hurting, too,

and dealing with our problem in his own way.

He bought William, who is gorgeous.

Keeping a journal
certainly has helped me.

Whenever I want to cry,
I just write down my thoughts.

The only problem is that
whenever I write down my thoughts,

I just want to cry.

It's no good.

the only thing about me less fertile
than my balls is my imagination.

Oh, don't say that.

Oh, no. Lucy, I'm sorry.
I didn't mean that.

that was just a silly joke.
We'll be all right.

Hang on a sec. I'll just see
if I'm ovulating.

I'm thinking of doing book-keeping.

He's like a very, very short
Brad Pitt.

We could save a ton of money
if we did our own accounts.

Yes. A short ginger-haired
Brad Pitt.

Good idea, but what if Sam
finally gets you up the duff?

I could bring the baby to work.

Bugger that!

I'm not having lactating breasts
flopping about.

I think you're obliged to provide
créche facilities

under European law.

Be quiet, you stupid girl!

I'm vegetarian
and I've just given up heroin.

I'm not going through cold turkey,

I'm going through really bad
cold nut-roast.

Cut to a wide shot,

and drop a laugh in.

Do you think the nation's ready
to take heroin before nine o'clock?

Well, it's what
the new controller wants.

Jokes about drugs will put us
at the cutting edge.

I like him, and so should you.

He really wants us to make
more movies.

Spool forward to the bit about him
being sick in his toaster.

I thought you wanted
to write a movie.

You talk about film scripts.
Here's your chance.

How's young Cuthbert?

Lucy says he's gorgeous. She can't
believe I haven't seen him yet.

Well, why would you?

He can't talk, he drinks milk
and he has no bowel control.

What kind of evening would you have?

- Hello?
- You know they don't work in here.

Duty calls.

I might have to leave this edit
with you, George.

- See you back at the centre.
- Yeah. Don't worry. I've got it.

Got it.

Cut three minutes off the end.
Let's go for a drink.

OK. Here's Cuthbert.

this is him.

I call him Prune,
which I think is fair.

Hilarious, George.

I'd laugh, but I don't want to burst
the 12 stitches I got having him.

You should have greased your perineum.
Vaseline. Never fails.

Well, you do.

It's got animal in it, this,
hasn't it? It has.

No. Just a little bit
of chicken stock.

Darling, you can't and nor should I.

Putrefying flesh remains
in the colon for at least a month.

No wonder you can't get pregnant

with your bowels bursting
with rotting corpse.

How are things at work, Sam?
George never tells me anything.

- He hates it.
- I do not hate it.

You do. You think you're old and
married and life's passing you by.

We all make sacrifices
for our partners.

Women make the real sacrifices.

Look at Lucy. You didn't even finish
your degree, did you, darling?

I'm about to pick it up again.

I'm doing a Shakespeare module
for the Distant Learning Programme.

Lucky you. I don't have a brain
any more. Just a sponge full of milk.

- Sheila?
- Sam...

If you've got a problem,

it's about you.

It's not about anybody else.
It's about you.

You have got to get
out of your own way.

I keep starting to write scripts
and then I just get blocked.

Lucy says I have to draw it
from my deep inner self.

Although she knows perfectly well
I haven't got one.

Just write about what you know.

You see, I don't know anything.

Write about what you feel.

I don't feel anything.

You're buggered then, mate.

they say writer's block
is God's way of telling you

that you're not a writer.

Don't listen to him, Sam.

I'm serious, Luce, I'm serious.

Western society is the only society

that has dispensed
with all its fertility rituals...

- Here we go.
- No, no, no, no.

And the only society where birth
rates are plummeting.

Hello? Hello, everybody!
Obvious connection alert!

What we have to do is to harness...

- Listen. It's very important.
- I'm listening.

Harness the ancient power
and mystery of your vagina.

- Get off, get off!
- Yes!

the air is full of pagan spirits.

they're all around.

You might as well use them,
for God's sake, they're there.

Womb!

Womb!

Womb! Stop laughing. Flow...

It might have worked.
You never know.

I can't afford to leave
any avenue unexplored.

Druscilla says there's a ton
of alternative therapies available.

Visualisation classes,

aromatherapeutic massages.

Apparently, a lot of people
have conceived

having gone to that giant chalk man
in Dorset

and having it off on his willy.

Dorset? there aren't any giant
chalk men closer to London?

Like Brent Cross?

No. But there are some very positive
ley lines in Primrose Hill.

Lucy, can I just clear up
one small point here?

You wouldn't, by any chance,
be going completely barking mad?

Would you?

Carl, may I say
how very happy and thrilled we are

that you're joining this agency.

thank you, Sheila.

to be frank, ever since this whole
stupid celebrity thing happened,

I've felt more like a commodity,
really, than an actor.

You know, I want work
that stretches me,

challenges me, you know?

Well, the Welsh Language
Shakespeare Company

are looking for a friendly
and enthusiastic Bottom.

I imagine that would be
quite challenging.

Yeah. I should also add that I want
work that pays fabulously well,

keeps me in London and is,
above all, in English.

Ou en Français, or in Italiano.

Well, Carl...

Benvenuto.

I can't believe full
evening dress is necessary.

We look like Gomez and Morticia.

Who cares?

Druscilla says we must
be throbbingly,

primevally sexually charged.

timeless animals of passion.

Urgh! Oh, my God!

What?

I have just trodden in the biggest
dog turd that I've ever seen.

Sam!

No, seriously. No mortal dog could
have passed a turd like that.

- I almost went in up to my knee.
- Sam, shut up!

I think an elephant must have
escaped from London Zoo.

I never liked those shoes anyway.

Oh, no!

Oh, it's beautiful, isn't it?

Yes, it is.

Makes us seem pretty insignificant,
doesn't it?

Except that what we've come here
to achieve tonight

is as big as the universe itself.

New life, Sam.

that was beautiful.

A bit hard on the knees, I thought.

It reminds me of a scene
we've been doing on my course

from a Midsummer Night's Dream.

I don't recall anyone having it off
on a ley line.

I just mean the magic.

Where Hermia and Lysander
lie down together

to sleep in the enchanted wood.

You know the bit?

Mmm. Rings a vague bell.

I remember you used to read me
sonnets when we were first together.

I was trying to impress you
with my poetic soul.

Can't see you falling
for that any more. Come on.

Pull your knickers up, you old tart,
before we get arrested.

television is all very well,

but movies are the Millennial
art form,

and British movies
have never been hipper.

there were at least three last year
the Americans quite liked.

So where do you think
I'm going with this? Anyone?

- Anyone?
- We should be making more movies.

thank you, George. Exactly.

Scripts. I need scripts.

Witty, thrilling, provocative scripts.

Scripts that define the Zeitgeist.

With me!

thank you, George.

Come on! Come on!

the traffic light's green.
My temperature's optimum.

Hi.

Sorry. I hope I didn't interrupt
anything.

No, no. Not really.

- Well, we better get on with it.
- Right.

Where's it gone?

Um... Well, I expect
it'll be along in a minute.

Got to get in the mood.

Anything yet?

Well, don't ask that.
It'll never happen if you ask.

It's not like you.

this morning you had a horn
you could hang a bath towel on.

Well, any man can get one
when he doesn't want one.

I've seen harder knobs
on the door of a bouncy castle.

thank you. that was helpful.

Perhaps I should breathe
a bit of life into it?

Would you mind awfully?

No, no. Not at all.

Well done, stud muffin.

Well, I think honour was served.

Do you really have to lie like that?

I resent the implication
that my sperm will only make it

if allowed to swim downhill.

Got to make every effort.

Oh, do you really have to rush off?

Darling, I do have a job, you know.

I am one of the BBC's
most senior lunch eaters.

It just seems so mechanical.

Druscilla says that gentle massage
promotes fertility.

Druscilla is, of course,
an insane witch. Socks?

I just think it would be nice
to have more mystery and romance

in our lives.

Absolutely. Mystery.
Ah, there it is.

Sam Bell. How are you?

- Petra.
- Nice to meet you.

- Ewan.
- Oh, right, thanks.

Sam, if the BBC are serious
about making comedy films,

then Kiss My Ark are the production
company you have to be in bed with.

two words, Sam. Zeit and geist.

tomorrow's comedy...today.

Excellent. that's certainly
what the new controller wants.

Sick Junkie is a comedy

about a group
of normal, ordinary kids.

All heroin addicts, of course.

Possibly Welsh, maybe Irish,
probably Scottish.

We see a week in their ordinary
mundane lives.

they inject heroin
into their eyeballs.

they have babies in toilets.

they get Aids.

they try and raise veins
on their private parts

in order to inject more heroin.

they kill a social worker.

they have anal sex
in exchange for heroin,

which turns out to be cut
with bleach, and kills them.

they have abortions.

they're raped by gangs
of English policemen.

Excuse me. I just want to make sure
I'm following this.

this is a comedy we're discussing,
is it?

It's total comedy,

but real comedy

about what's actually happening
to kids today.

Not escapist English crap.

thank you.

Well...

It's not that I don't like it, Ewan...

No, no.

Hate it, I think
would be nearer the mark.

Hate is good.

- Not in this case.
- Meaning?

Well, I don't see it
as the BBC's job to fund

cynical tales about drugs
and prostitution,

which purport to reflect
everyday life in Britain

just so that fashion junkies who
make them can swank about at Cannes

and then bugger off to the States
the first chance they get.

Bollocks to the English bullshit.

Do you want the picture
or don't you?

I'll be in touch.

I do wish Sam could be just
a little more romantic sometimes.

I mean, I'm not asking him
to turn into a Carl Phipps figure.

Not that I find
Carl Phipps attractive,

although he does have a nice smile

when he deigns to bestow it
on someone as lowly as myself.

You're looking a bit gorgeous today,
Lucy,

if you don't mind me saying so.

Which was simply not true.

All I had on was
this silly little short skirt

and that tight little top
I quite like,

and, frankly, I looked awful,

so it was stupid of him
to pretend that I didn't.

Did you want this massage, then?

Rose and geranium are oestrogenic.

they're meant to be massaged gently
but forcefully

into the lower back
and cleft of the bottom.

Fine.

try and be a bit more sensitive.
I'm not a piece of dough.

Sorry. A bit preoccupied.

You used to like my bottom.

It's got nothing to do with whether
I like your bottom or not.

I've just got things on my mind.

So you don't like my bottom?

Of course I like your bottom.

I bet you'd be more than happy

to massage aromatic oils
into Cameron Diaz's bottom.

Possibly I would,
in an abstract sense.

Well, go on, then.
I am not stopping you.

Lucy, I have no plans to massage
oil into Cameron Diaz's bottom.

But you do find her attractive?

It's irrelevant whether I do
or I don't.

A man finding other women attractive

is not the same as being unfaithful.

So what you're saying is
you want to screw other women?

No.

Lucy, look. All men
find other women attractive.

the fact they remain faithful is
the proof of their love and devotion.

Well, if you're that desperate,
go on, then.

I am not stopping you.

What?

I'm booking tickets for "Love's
Labour's Lost" at the Barbican.

that's nice.

Since you ask, I have to write
an essay on the difference

between Shakespeare on the page
and on the stage.

My God, you do this voluntarily?

So I take it you don't want
a ticket?

Not while there's wet paint
left in Britain

that I can sit and watch dry.

Sam.

I've been wanting to talk about...

you know, trying for a baby
and our sex life.

I thought they were pretty much
one and the same thing these days.

Not that I mind or anything.

Sam, we've got a problem here.

It's time we saw a doctor.

Well, I don't know. that's
a pretty big step psychologically.

I mean, now we can see ourselves
as being unlucky,

but if we go and see a doctor,

we're admitting
that we might be infertile.

Sam...we are infertile.

I'm warming to him.

Did I tell you that I have to have
a sperm test?

No, and actually
I'd rather you didn't.

I don't see how you can be
squeamish on the subject, George.

You produced Cuthbert.

I wouldn't like to meet
the sperm that fathered him.

Sam, sperm is like flatulence -

it's different when it's your own.

What if I fail?

It's a sad moment when a man
has to face the possibility

that there may not be lumps
in the custard.

You wanker!

How did you know?

I've just heard from Justin
at Kiss My Ark

that you dissed Ewan Proclaimer.

- Dissed?
- You arrogant arse.

Ewan Proclaimer
is at the cutting edge.

And he's a God-sent antidote to the
rubbish your department commissions.

- Yes. that's what he said.
- Why the hell did you diss him?

I "dissed" him because I thought
his idea was crap, that's all.

I took a dissing decision and faxed
him accordingly. that is my job.

Oh, yes, it's your job.
Yeah. For the moment.

You know what your trouble is?
You're jealous.

Where's your script, eh?

Where's the great Sam Bell's
masterpiece?

Nowhere, mate.

Which is where you are
and where you're going.

I've made such a mess of things
at work.

I think I might even lose my job.

Oh, dear.

Well, who knows,
it could be a good thing.

Perhaps you should look on it
as an opportunity.

Your chance to do
what you really want to do.

What I want to do is start writing.

Exactly.

I don't know what to write about.

Hey, you all right?

You OK?

- What happened?
- I fell off my bike.

Bad luck.

Don't touch my child. I'm sorry.
I don't want you touching my child.

Don't be so bloody paranoid!
He was only trying to help.

Blimey.

Well, really!

Some people!

they think their precious kids

are at the centre
of the whole bloody universe.

I wouldn't be like that.

Except, of course, you would.

Yes. I probably would.

If I ever got the chance to be.

Oh, my God, that's it.

What?

the idea. the thing
I should write about.

- What is?
- I should write about us.

I should write a comedy
about an infertile couple.

It's so obvious.

A real modern tragi-comedy about...

about life and the absence of life.

And with jokes, too,
but proper jokes.

Sad jokes, which are the best kind,

about sperm tests
and guided fantasy sessions.

Just imagine it. the disintegration
of this couple's sex life.

With the woman starting to think
about nothing but fertility,

and going all teary
over baby clothes.

Sam, don't, please.

You don't like it?

Sam, how could you even think of it?

No.

No, you're right.
It's a stupid idea.

I mean, I'm sorry,
but I just couldn't bear it.

Well, why should you?

Although you did tell me
to look within.

Yes, but I didn't tell you to turn
our private tragedy

into a national joke.

No, that's right. You didn't.

Oh, Lucy, just the girl.

Carl's wondering what to do
for the War Child Benefit.

You're our Shakespeare scholar.

Well, I...um...

It can't be anything too gloomy.

After all, if this concert is
about anything, it's about love.

And the show's being televised,

so he wants to look upbeat and sexy.

Oh, shut up, Sheila.

Charity's fine, darling,
but you have a career.

Lucy?

Well...

what about the eighteenth sonnet?

I know it's a bit chocolate boxy,

but I think it's the best love poem
ever written.

I'm sorry. Which one is that?

I'm sure you know it.

"Shall I compare thee
to a summer's day?

"thou art more lovely,

"and more temperate.

"Rough winds do shake
the darling buds of May and...

"Summer's lease hath all too short
a date.

"Sometime...

"too hot the eye of heaven shines,

"and often is his gold complexion...

"dimm'd.

"And every fair from fair
some time declines,

"By chance,

"or nature's changing course
untrimm'd."

"But thy eternal summer

"shall not fade,

"nor lose possession
of that fair thou ow'st.

"Nor shall Death brag
thou wand'rest in his shade,

"when in eternal lines to time
thou grow'st."

Wrong number.

"So long as men can breathe

"or eyes can see...

"so long lives this,

"and this gives life to thee."

Well, Mr Phipps,

you are in danger of turning me
back into a heterosexual.

thank you for the tip, Lucy.

You're so lovely...

to be doing this, I mean,
for the orphans.

Yeah.

Are you coming to bed?

Er, yeah. In a while.

Well, don't be up late.

Early appointment tomorrow,
remember.

How could I forget?

Do you want me to help at all?

Well, that's very kind, darling,

but I think, bearing in mind
the seriousness of the situation,

it's best to leave it to an expert.

All right. But I want you
to think of me when you do it.

Honestly! Women!

You actually think that a man
can be unfaithful

whilst indulging
in solitary masturbation.

No. It's just I know you'll think
of Cameron Diaz.

No, I won't.

Although, you know,
some psychologists agree

that a healthy fantasy life

is an important part
of a monogamous relationship.

I do not wish to discuss it
any further.

Lucky she doesn't know I'm also
planning to invite Steffi Graf,

the Corrs and Baby Spice
to the party.

Sam...

I'm very sorry about your film idea,

- but you do understand, don't you?
- Oh, absolutely.

Shall I take this to the bathroom?

Yeah. thanks.

I've got my sperm test tomorrow

And my pot is on the shelf

I've got my sperm test tomorrow

And my little pot is on the shelf

Gonna have to go into the bathroom

Sit down and abuse myself.

Not as much as I'd hoped there'd be.

Do you think you got it all?

Yeah. Well, best I could.

It's most disappointing.
It's like a sparrow sneezed.

I thought I might eke it out
with a bit of flour and water,

just for appearances.

No? Oh, well.
I'd better get a move on.

I've only got 50 minutes
to get it back to the clinic.

Doctor Cooper said I should put it
in my pants to keep it warm.

I hope I don't get hit by a car.

Bye.

taxi!

I am in a hurry. I have
some important meetings.

I've got some sperm up my arse
and it's dying.

Hello. Sam Bell.
I'm here to make a delivery.

It's funny how far...

Oh, there we go.

Morning.

I mean, for heaven's sake!

From what I can gather,

as a younger man, he practically
had a degree in masturbation,

and now he's acting
as if he's been sentenced

to be hung by the scrotum
until dead.

But Sam is being supportive?

Well, I mean, he is attentive
to your emotional needs?

Ah, yes. No. Absolutely.
He is wonderful, in his own way.

Oh, my God! there's Carl Phipps!

Where?

Excuse me, miss, you seem
to have given me a dirty plate.

Oh, silly me. It's my main course.

Ho ho! So here's the bloody
cinematic genius

who reckons me "tasteless, cynical
and exploitative".

I take it you got my fax.

George, this is Ewan Proclaimer.

- Hi.
- Safe, bro.

tell me something,
you uptight English bastard,

when did you last write a script,
eh?

Never. Am I right?

And why?

Because you're a talentless twat,
that's why.

A leeching, lunch-eating parasite,

who sits on his fat sweaty arse
all day at the taxpayers' expense,

telling better men to bugger off.

I don't think I've ever heard it
quite so well put, bro.

Ewan, this Sick Junkie
I'm sure is a marvellous script...

It's shite.

I binned it.

And what's more, I knew is was shite
before you told me it was shite.

But let me tell you, pal...

My shite shits on your shite

'cause at least I write shite,

whereas all you do is tell people
that do write shite

that what they write is shite.

So how sad are you?

You little shite.

It's all right. I'm going.

I like him.

Excellent mushroom Pithiviers,
by the way.

You first.

Oh, this is ridiculous.
It's like my A levels.

Well, my blood test's OK.

It seems that I ovulate.

Well, that means
it's definitely me, then.

I am a eunuch.

You'd better do it. I can't.

"Samuel Bell. Sperm test.
30% sluggish."

Sluggish?

Is that the word they use?

Well, couldn't they have found
a nicer way of putting it?

Like relaxed or unhurried?

Relaxed, laid-back sperm
I could handle, but sluggish!

"Motility poor."

Oh, that is just an outrageous slur!

"41% swimming
in the wrong direction."

they're in a plastic pot!

How are they supposed to know
the right direction?

- "Conclusion..."
- I've got slack, stupid sperm!

the stuff's been dawdling
back up my dick.

Banging into each other,
getting their abnormal tails tangled.

"Conclusion - normal."

Normal?

Yup. that's what it says.

Seems that yours is no worse
than anyone else's.

Yes!

Oh, yes!

Oh, result!

One-nil. Passed his sperm test!

Work to do but very pleasing result
this early on in the season.

How about lunch?

Carl Phipps came into work today,

all brooding and Byronic.

He looked like the dispossessed
lord of a bleak moorland estate.

I swear his aftershave
smelt of heather.

I stayed very cool.

Well, that's a lovely thought, Carl,
but I'm on my own, you see?

Sheila's bronchial -
self-diagnosed cure 40 fags a day!

She had to go home,

having coughed up something
that looked like it lived in a pond.

And Joanna's in LA
with Trudi Hobson.

You know Trudi? She's doing
some dreadful action film.

It's a sequel and it's called...

I don't know what it's called.
Shit two, I should imagine! So...

Lucy. Lucy, everyone
is allowed a lunch break.

Yeah. Yeah.

Besides, I'm celebrating.

Big American film. Got a recall.

Oh...aromatic oils.

I did a course in this, you know.

therapeutic massage.
I'm qualified to practise.

Shiatsu and, oh, reflexology, too.

I just cannot get enough
of this alternative therapy.

It's beautiful.

Carl, this is really lovely,

but if you're celebrating,

shouldn't you be celebrating
with someone special?

that's exactly what I am doing.

Oh, my God! I could feel
that rash on my neck coming back.

When I was a teenager,

if ever a boy asked me out,

I invariably, instantly looked
as if my throat had just been cut.

What do you mean, Carl?

I can't believe I'm writing this,

but I think - in fact, I am sure -

I felt his finger playing
in the palm of my hand,

which, as far as I know,
is a silent code for,

"I would not be adverse
to rogering you, ma'am."

And another thing, why is it
that birds have such rude names?

tit, cock, thrush. Whoo-hoo!

Is he getting funnier,

or have I finally lost
the will to resist?

Lucy and I have to do
a post-coital compatibility test.

Which means having it off,

and then a doctor
looking at the aftermath.

Why would you imagine
I would want to know that?

Mrs Bell?

Mr James will see you now.

Mrs Bell, Mr Pooter
is a medical student.

Would you object to him observing?

No, there's nothing I like more

than having a gormless
adolescent youth

peering into my splayed vagina!

No. Not at all.

Good.

Now, this, Pooter...

we will not be requiring today.

this could be useful later.

And this is essential.

You know, my moped saves me
17 minutes a day.

Of course, I ride her damn hard.

You see how the whole thing is...

try to relax if you can,
please, Lucy.

Shove a traffic cone
up your arse, mate,

and see if you can relax.

I will try.

Good.

there we are. All done.

You'll be a bit slippery
in the downstairs department.

It's the lubricant jelly.

Don't be embarrassed. that was me.

Children's TV?

Yes. that's right.

Kiddie telly.

the Director General's
keen to sharpen up

our light entertainment
in that area.

So you want me out, but it's cheaper
to bury me in the daytime schedules.

Yeah. that's right.

Hello? Melinda. It's rather a bad...

Oh, no!

Suspected meningitis.

they won't know
for a couple of days.

they can't tell at present.

It's nice of you to come.

Well, I was right.
I did lose my job.

We won't starve though.

they're moving me
into children's television.

Sam, Melinda may be about
to lose her baby.

I know. What do you
want me to do about it?

Nothing.

Nothing.

Still, if we are infertile,

at least we'll be spared
this kind of nightmare.

Well, at least you can see
the bloody positive side.

that's not...

So how was it anyway?

the test. How was it?

Oh, that was fine. It was fine.

Medically speaking,
it seems we're compatible.

Oh, hi, Lucy.
Sheila and Joanna are just...

You've been crying.

What's wrong?

I think my friend's baby's dying.

they say he's got
suspected meningitis.

Hey, hey, come and sit down.

In the majority of cases
of suspected meningitis,

it turns out to be just that -

suspected.

How do you know?

I played a junior doctor
in a few episodes of Angel Nurse.

the symptoms in these cases
are quite generalised

and sometimes the real cause
of the problem's never known.

the baby just gets over it.

Babies are very tough, you know.

Yeah.

Very brave.

Even though they don't look it.

Carl, I...

Lucy, I like you a lot.

too much, I think.

So...

I'm going to try my hardest to keep
away from you from now on.

It's best.

Lucy...

If you ever need someone to talk to,
you just...

OK?

Would you like a piece of cake,
Mrs Furblob?

Yes, I would, Mr Furblob.

Yummy, yummy, yummy, yummy, yummy!

I'm still not entirely happy
with the Furblob family

perpetrating an exclusively
heterosexual lifestyle.

What do you think, Sam?
You're the boss. It's your decision.

Well...

I think it's something we could
possibly raise in the focus group.

Focus group?

Right. Well...

Hello. thanks for coming.

today's BBC is all about you -
the viewer.

You make us what we are.

It's your BBC.

So, er...

Any comments?

Anything at all?

Right. Who else has had
a little accident?

You see, they really like you.

What are you doing up, Sam?

What are you writing?

Er, nothing.
I just couldn't sleep and...

- I thought I'd do my diary.
- Oh.

You know, like you said.
Letters to myself.

Can I read it?

No, no. Absolutely not.

Oh, don't worry.
I know, it's private.

I'd die if you ever read mine.

Mmm. I'm going back to bed.

His temperature's dropped a bit
at last.

Oh, that's great.

Maybe this is just his way
of reminding me...

that I can't live without him.

Sam, this is fantastic.

It's dark, it's dramatic...

When did you write it all?

You know me, Trevor,
it just pours out.

I'm a frighteningly creative guy.

Sorry I'm late.
Got caught up at the hospital.

I spoke to Melinda. She said
Cuthbert's out of danger.

Not from me. Little runt was sick
all over a Baumler suit.

Sam, we've all had a look
at your pages.

Everyone thinks they're marvellous.

What I want to know is
how's Lucy taking it?

I mean, it's all very intimate stuff.

Like that bit when she props
her bum up on the pillows.

I'm amazed she's letting you do it.

She's not.

- What do you mean she's not?
- She told me not to write it,

but I'm going to do it anyway.

She will kill you.

I know. I know it's a bad thing,
but I couldn't help it.

I'm stuck. I hated my last job,
I hate the job I've got now.

- Have you seen the Furblobs?
- Cuthbert won't have them on.

Exactly.

Writing this is the first thing
I've felt positive about in years.

Lucy will come round.
She'll understand.

After all, it's my story, too,
isn't it?

Another one?

Well, I can't do it.

You'll have to. the IVF people
need their own test.

My God, Sam! It's not
the end of the world.

I'm asking you to have a quick one
off the wrist, not shag a hedgehog.

I have to have
a hystero-salpingogram.

But I have to do it at the hospital.

they want me to masturbate
inside a municipal facility.

I simply cannot imagine
a more horrible prospect.

Well, I can!
How about being stretched open,

scraped out, stuffed full
of bits of cold metal,

injected with dye,
pumped full of air,

and, above all,
having every doctor in Britain

staring up my twat
on a day to day basis?!

Well, if you're going
to play the female card.

Do you think William's
got fleas again?

I've noticed you scratching
a lot lately.

I don't know what it is.
I seem to have these itchy patches.

It's probably an allergic reaction
to something.

All he seems to want to do
these days

is to write in his diary.

I know I should be glad that he's
trying to get in touch

with his thoughts and feelings,

but I do wish he'd share
some of them with me.

Anyway, you've got very fascinated
all of a sudden.

I'm just taking an interest,
you know.

Didn't even know what
a laparoscopy was until now.

Bugger!

What?

I forgot to have my bikini line
done.

Bikini line?

Yes. I know it sounds
sort of stupid,

but, believe it or not,
you want to look your best.

that's very good. that's very funny.

Sam, actually it's not
really very funny.

the whole process
is totally dehumanising.

Yeah. Right. Sorry.

Your bed's ready now, Mrs Bell.

Oh, right. thanks.

Wish me luck.

Good luck.

Laparoscopy. Bikini wax.

Want to look your best.

You've got lovely guts.

Beautiful.

Really beautiful.

Good big healthy bowel, too.

Facilitates a really superb
movement, I should imagine.

Big soft spongy stools?

Well done.

So what do we have here?

Um... Endometriosis...

adhesions on the abdominal cavity,

malignant fibroids on the uterus,

cysts, diseases
in the abdominal cavity,

congenital problems in the womb...

Oh, my God.

And you haven't got any of them.

Super guts. Really super.

Also you've ovulated recently,
which is tremendous news.

Can't make an omelette without eggs.

And by omelette,
I mean, of course...baby.

So there we have it, Lucy.

Everything fine.
Nothing wrong at all.

Except that I'm not pregnant.

Apart, of course,
from you not being pregnant,

but we don't know why you're not,

which is, in itself,
tremendous news.

Is it?

Yeah. It could have been
that you had a cyst

the size of Pavarotti on your ute,

and I was going to have to remove
everything remotely feminine

from your ribs to your kneecaps.

But, no. You are what
is medically known

as "non-specifically infertile".

Or to give it its full
scientific description,

we do not have a bloody clue.

Very common condition.

Very common indeed.

In the world of infertility, that is.

- too much? too mawkish?
- No, it's very good.

It's very personal.

And it's going
to get more personal.

You're dramatising your own life,
Sam.

Yours and Lucy's. What's going
to happen when she finds out?

Well, she probably never will,
will she?

I mean, most movies never get made.

If this goes into production...

well, then I'll worry.

But until then
it's just a mad dream,

and we're all allowed to dream,
aren't we?

Aren't we?

It's open.

Welcome.

Hi. I brought the contracts.

Sheila said you wanted me
to take you through them.

Yeah. Yeah, that's what I told her.

Well, you know, they're really
very standard and simple.

they're very simple and basic.

Very, very standard.

I'm not interested in the contracts.

But you said to Sheila that...

I know what I said.

What do you mean?

I just wanted to be alone with you.

Carl, I'm married.

I love my husband.

I think you're lonely.

Not true.

Yes, you are.

And so am I.

And...

Lucy, I've tried...

I've tried keeping away from you...

but I can't.

Don't...

Please...

Come to bed with me.

I think I'm in love with you.

You don't mean that.

Yes... Yes, I do.

I can't!

I can't!

You... You're wonderful.
You are beautiful.

But I love my husband!
And it's not exciting like this,

but then, nothing ever is exciting
forever, is it?

Isn't it?

that's a rather bleak view
to have of life.

I'm sorry, Carl,
but I've got to go now.

Will you call for a cab, please?

Yeah. Yeah, of course.

I am sorry, Carl, but...

I love my husband.

I shan't see Carl again.

I mustn't.

I feel so guilty.

I don't want Carl.

I want Sam.

That's all I want.

And for us to have a baby.

Oh, God...

if you're reading this,

please make the IVF work.

I do want a baby so very much.

Just had something in my eye.

Right.

Sam, we wanted to talk
because there's a problem.

the script's too blokey.

Blokey?

Colin's stuff is brilliant -

the masturbation scene
is hilarious -

but Rachel is a worry.

Frankly, she's two-dimensional.

She's got some good lines,

but she's being drawn
from a male perspective.

Trevor and I have been thinking.

Why don't we bring in
a woman writer?

Are you out of your minds?

Yeah, all right. I admit that the
Rachel character needs some work,

but I'll get there.

this is my story. Mine and Lucy's.

- Exactly.
- Exactly.

- What does that mean?
- All this has got to come out soon.

If we bring in a female writer,
you can tell Lucy that it was her...

No one is taking my bloody script
away from me, George!

Do you understand?

All right. Wreck your marriage
if you like!

But we still need something done
about the female voice.

Well, leave that to me.
Was there anything else?

No? thank you.

Whatever the fates decide,

I intend to remain
an emotionally functional woman.

I'd read my child Beatrix Potter,

and Winnie the Pooh.

It is simply not possible to
change gear with your legs crossed.

I caught myself looking
at baby clothes again today.

Sometimes,
when it gets too much...

I must admit I pray.

Lucy, hi.

Good bath?

Good.

Are you all right?

Am I...? Yeah. Fine.

Never had this dandruff before.

Psoriasis.

A dry, flaky skin condition.

No cure, I'm afraid.

It must be in your family.

It often strikes out of the blue
like this.

Normally the subject's
under unusual stress.

Is there anything stressful
on your mind?

No!

I mean, no, nothing.

Don't have a thing to worry about.

- Action!
- I want my freedom!

I demand complete security.

I'm gonna do whatever I like,
whenever I like.

All right!

Cut!

Pathetic bang.

OK. Lunch, everyone!

tampon commercial.

Pays the rent.

Nigel sent me your script, Sam.

You might be shite...

but you're a talented shite.

thank you.

Needs work, but I'm gonna do it.

With him. With him.

Sam! When are you going
to give me an ending?

About six weeks. It depends
on how long this stuff takes

to shut down my ovulation.

So in a month and a half's time,
we could be parents.

Yeah. We could be.

Blimey.

Better start nailing
things of value to the ceiling.

Cuthbert didn't mean to smash
your Lancaster Bomber.

It's just he's crawling.

Yeah, well, I'd noticed.

When he can fit it

into his busy shrieking, shitting
and vomiting schedule.

I hate it when you do that bit.

Oh, do you really, Sam?

How strange, because I find it
the highlight of my sodding day!

You better get used to it

because the next lot of drugs
you have to inject into my bum,

and you have to practise
on an orange.

that could be a very funny scene.

What?

If someone... If that was seen...

that could be very funny,
if someone saw that.

through a window.

I love this injection stuff, Sam.

It's fantastic to be able
to put a needle on the screen

that isn't a heroin spike.

It's so original
and it's so liberating.

Hasn't been done in years.

Although it did occur to me

that we might be missing out
some comedy here.

What if the IVF drugs

somehow got mixed up
with Colin's drug stash

and Rachel injects that instead?

Er, yeah, that would be great,
except...

Oh, damn. Colin doesn't take drugs.

- He doesn't?
- No.

- You're joking?
- I'm not.

that is fascinating.

So all that stuff
about the arse injections,

about practising on an orange,

- that's true, is it?
- Oh, yes.

Isn't it amazing?

Grown men and women

that have to be taught
how to use a hypodermic needle.

It's extraordinary.

Well, none of the oranges
seemed to feel a thing.

Now, the nurse said that if I do it
quickly and confidently,

it won't hurt, all right?

Ready?

One, two, three...

For me, corridors throb

with suppressed energy
and sexual tension.

Love tubes with doors.

But I'll need even more light.

It has to be sterile.

Uncompromisingly umbilical,

but cold, bleak and dead.

Ewan, where are we getting
with the casting?

It's all getting very close.

Actors are like cattle, George.

You round 'em up when you need 'em.

the girl's what? 22, 23?

More like 30.

I think we need to be pretty
non-specific.

I mean, obviously we're not
looking at teenage waifs,

but she's got to be vaguely
shaggable, for Christ's sake.

I'll accept anything
from an old-looking 19-year-old

to a young 25.

My God, Colin, I'm asking you
to have a quick one off the wrist,

not shag a hedgehog!

I have to have
a hystero-salpingogram!

thank you.

Tilda. Tilda Bustle.

Five nine, 34B.

Horse-riding, modern dance
and elementary stage fighting.

that was very moving, Tilda.

You clearly have great depth.

thank you. Next!

too young. they're all too young.

Yeah, yeah. I know.
terrible, isn't it?

Have we definitely got
this location for a week?

Yes.

Oh, yes.

Superb.

Photo.

Sketch.

Use that.

Oh, yes.

I can see this shot already.

Sam, Sam, Sam...

Yeah?

Are these the kind of needles
you use?

Er, yes. It's an intra-muscular
injection.

Normally in the backside.
It's pretty painful and quite upsetting.

Exactly.

I think we should call the picture
"My Arse Is An Orange".

Yeah. Except it's called "Immaculate".

Oh, yeah, sure.

At the moment.

Sam seems to have perked up a bit
about his work.

Wish he'd do the same
about his sperm test.

Sheila sent me round
to Carl Phipps's place today

with some contracts.

I'd been half dreading this ever
since that day when he kissed me.

What are you up to out there?

Nothing!

He definitely planned it,

but I was as much to blame.

I went willingly to his bedroom...

He took off his shirt...

He asked me to stay,

but I told him I loved my husband,

and asked him to call me a cab.

Thank goodness nothing happened.

Well...

almost.

Why are you staring at me like that?

If you can bear it, Carl,
just the final line again.

I've got stupid sperm.

the stuff has been retreating
up my dick all these years.

What is it with sperm?

It's lazy, sluggish
and has no idea where it's going.

Sounds like a pub full of blokes.

It's superb, Carl.

It's absolutely superb.

I think it's a start.

Petra, Justin...

Wonderful. Bravo.

So good of you to agree to read
for us.

Hey, no actor is too big to read,

- particularly for Ewan.
- Oh, don't.

Arse-licking twat.

So what do you think?

I thought that what with the
disappearance of the rainforest,

it was ecologically unsound to
produce such a wooden performance.

Anal, uptight, repressed and stiff.

Exactly! A totally
convincing Englishman.

You know, that psoriasis
is really starting to disgust me.

- Isn't there anything you can take?
- No.

But the cruelest aspect
of an incurable condition

is that everybody knows a cure.

that's psoriasis, isn't it?

My cousin had that much worse
than you.

Her naturopath
suggested banana skins.

You just drape them over your body.
It really helped.

You see?

Well, they do say
it's stress-related.

- Perhaps if you told Lucy...
- No, thank you.

I prefer dandruff to death.

Lucy's recommended some alternative
therapies which should be fun.

Lots of mucus.

Very phlegmy.

Very hot inside.

Very dry, very phlegmy.

too much mucus, too much phlegm.

No tomatoes and no beef. Also...

Boil tea. this much.
three times a day. Mmm?

then drink.

Now, what I intend to do

is to place six needles in the
pressure points in your temple,

and another 12 in your anus.

this will help you to relax.

Sam, you are so tense!

It's incredible to think that this
is going to be made into a film.

What?

they're making a movie
about infertility.

We got sent the script
at the agency.

I didn't read it.
It's all a bit close to home.

But I did feel a bit bad, having
stopped you from doing the idea.

You felt bad? You felt maybe
I should have done it?

I just couldn't have borne for it
to be based on us directly.

It would have just...
It would all have gone too deep.

You know, they've cast
one of our people in it.

Carl Phipps as the husband.

I think he'll be superb.

He's a really nice man

and a truly sensitive actor.

- Sam!
- Sorry.

Please, God, make me pregnant.
I want a baby so very much.

Actually, Ewan,

I thought it might be better
if I was closer to the camera.

try it. Yeah.

Please, God, make me pregnant...

Ewan, Ewan, I thought I might
try it in Cockney. Just to see.

OK, Carl. Yeah. Give it a whirl.

take it from
"You don't even want children."

You're lucky.
You don't even want children.

Not children in the abstract sense,
no...

- Doesn't work, Carl.
- Fine, fine.

It was just a thought.

And again,

in your own time.

Not children in the abstract sense,
no...

but as a part of you,

as an expression and extension
of our love,

I want that more than anything
I can imagine.

And if we don't have them,
then that's all right too,

because...because we still have us.

Don't you see?

And our love will be no less whole.

It's getting there.

to me, Nimnh, this is a key speech.

this is the real guts
of the piece here.

I cried when I read it.

Good girl.

Now, in your own time.

As we get closer to the day
that may or may not see me reborn...

the longing inside me seems
to become almost physical.

A sort of morning sickness
for the barren and the unfulfilled.

Every young mother that I see

is a simultaneous moment
of exultation and despair.

I don't know why it is that women
feel such a deep need

to create life
from within themselves.

Why they yearn for a time
when their own flesh

will bring them comfort.

But I know that they do.

That's an experience
which most women -

women with children -

miss out on in life.

The intensely female grief

which accompanies the fear

that those children
might never exist.

Well done, mate.

It's tremendous.

You've really found her.

Ewan, we need to meet with you.

Sam is out of his bloody mind.

He wants to pull his script!

I'm sorry, but it's my script
and I want it back.

No, it's not your script, mate.

It's ours, bought and paid for.

I don't have to finish it.
the final scene isn't written yet.

We'll bring in a writer who will.

then I'll break your bloody arms!
this is my life!

Oh, it's the wife
that's the problem, is it?

Oh, back off!

take it easy, will you?

Sam...

Look.

I can see you're hurting here,
but you have to think.

You're an artist.

this is a fine piece of writing.

It needs to be seen
and seen your way.

this is your art, man.

You have to suffer for it.

that's the rule.

You don't get it.
It's worse than you think.

She'll understand. You had to do it.
You're a writer.

No, I'm not!

I'm a plagiarist.

A thief. I am the lowest
kind of shit.

You know the woman's voice?

- Mmm.
- I didn't find it.

I stole it.

What do you mean, stole it?

It's Lucy.

Lucy's been writing it?

Yeah. In a way she has.

- I've been reading her diary.
- Her diary!

God, I wish I'd never done it,

but it was there
and I couldn't resist it.

Sam, this just gets worse.
You've got to tell her.

Well, of course I'll tell her,
but I can't tell her now.

She's doing IVF.
She's totally hormonal.

Her emotions are all over the place.

I'll tell her soon...
when I know how the story ends.

Right. Lovely. Hope you're fit.

We're right at the end here.
It's quite a hike.

Here we are.

Okey-doke, Luce. If you'd like
to pop yourself in here.

Pop yourself right up there,

pop your togs off
and pop one of these on.

It's a little breezy at the back,

but the doctors have got
to get at your bits somehow.

Now, then, Sammy,

we're going to need
a little deposit from you.

So there's your paying-in pot.

I'll give you a call
when there's a service till free.

Okey-dokey.
Check you in a couple of ticks.

Dignified little number.

I think I'll wear it to a première.

- What? What première?
- What?

You said première. What première?

Any old première. Calm down.
I was only joking.

And it's time
for the gentleman's excuse-me.

So take your partners, please,
for the knuckle shuffle.

No, no. I'm just not getting it.

Let me try something.

Give me a script.

Sam...

Look, I know you don't exactly
like Carl,

but this is a crucial scene,

and I want him to hear
your take on it.

Ewan?

Working.

Er...Carl...

this is a very big moment for Colin.

the stakes are very high.

His wife...

whom he loves very, very much...

has just gone through six weeks

of the most appallingly
intrusive therapy.

Her ovaries are now heavy
and bloated and painful.

Every other day for weeks
she's been traipsing across London

to sit in queues with
a lot of other anxious women,

waiting to have her most intimate
self probed and manipulated.

the reason for all this, of course,

is her desperate heartfelt longing
to have a child.

Yeah.

Now, if at this point,

her husband fails to ejaculate
successfully...

then the whole business
has been for nothing.

So with all this pressure...

Colin now has to sit
alone in a room, and...

do his duty by the woman he loves.

Right.

Now...

obviously we can't show him wanking,

so you've got to give us
all that information

in a mute two-second close up.

Oh, that's it. Brilliant. Hold that.

Hold that. Shooting.

So the white dot on the screen
is the needle.

I'm lining it up with the follicle...

and now we see it deflated.

And we're removing the fluid within,
which will be the eggs.

there we go.

Just think about it.

It's not many children who get to
see themselves three cells big.

You know the chances are
that these ones won't.

I know. But the least we can do

is give Dick and Debbie
as much positive energy as we can.

Dick and Debbie?

that's what I'm calling them.
I don't know why.

Do you think that's a good idea?

they're fertilised embryos, Sam.

Just getting that far
is a huge step for us.

We're so far down the road.

Yeah, but it's still
only a one in five chance.

I know, I know.

But 20% isn't a bad shot.

Just think...

when this photo was taken,
they were alive.

two living entities
created by you and me.

All they have to do is hang on
for a few more days.

they just need to hang on.

Come on, Dick and Debbie.

Come on, Dick and Debbie.

All right, girls,
we're going to rehearse now.

Rehearsal!

Well, that's it.

Bum injected. Pessary inserted.

I hope Dick and Debbie realise
what I'm going through for them.

One day you'll be able to tell them.

there's only
a one in five chance.

Lucy, any child of yours
would be one in a million.

You know, when all this is over,
for better or...

Well, hopefully for better...

there are some things...

I need to talk to you about.
Some things I need to tell you.

I love you, Sam.

Well done. It's fantastic.

I just feel
it's going to be all right.

It's all going to be all right.

It has to be.

Oh, hello. Could I speak
to Sam Bell, please? It's his wife.

No, you can't take a message.
It's very important.

Can you tell me where he is?

I want to start with a mid close-up
on Rachel's jacksie.

So let's really hammer home
the heartbreaking vulnerability.

OK. I wanna start getting ready
to shoot this now.

Dignified little number. I think
I'll wear it to a première.

Oh, sorry, sorry. that was crap.

No, no, no. that was great.

Right, this next bit...

Now, this is a very pathetic moment.

Semi-distraught,
emotionally-dysfunctional woman

making jokes while her heart breaks.

We'll pick up a close-up here, OK?

Now, to me, Nimnh...

this scene represents
the culmination of her descent

into a sort of sad madness.

think of the earlier scenes,
and trust Sam's writing here.

the doomed personal commitment

to remaining
an emotionally-functional woman.

the fantasies of Beatrix Potter
and Winnie the Pooh.

Sometimes she prays.

She's been seriously considering
going to Dorset

and making love
on a chalk giant's genitals.

She's reduced her sex life

to a series
of clinically-calculated servicings.

You bastard, Sam!

You heartless swine.

I've got my period, by the way.

We failed. they've gone.

Don't be embarrassed.

You'll be hearing it all soon
anyway. She'll be saying it soon.

Lucy, what's going on here?

Ask him. He's told you
everything else about me.

My God, Sam, you've used it all!

Excuse me? Are we
making a movie here or what?

- Ewan, please.
- Lucy...

- Get away from me.
- What is going on?

You read my book, Sam.

You've stolen my thoughts.

Well, here's another little thing
about me

that you don't need to read
other people's diaries to get.

I hate you!

I hate you more than I ever thought
it was possible to hate anyone,

and I never want to see
or speak to you again!

Lucy... Lucy!

I hope you were taking all that in,
Nimnh,

because that is the sort
of emotional intensity

we're looking for here.

Lucy, listen...

Please. You're wrong.
You're overreacting because we failed.

Please. I was going to tell you.
Let me explain.

I meant what I said, Sam.
I hate you. I really do.

Lucy, please don't do this.

You've read my book.

You know that the thing I wanted
most was to have a child with you.

Well, it's not any more.
It's the thing I want least.

I'm glad Dick and Debbie are dead!
I'm glad they never fucking lived!

I didn't see Sam
for quite a long time after that.

Although I couldn't bring myself
to ask him for a divorce.

I think I went a bit mad.

And even ended up having
a brief fling with Carl Phipps.

My God, did that nearly
change my life forever.

- Are you nervous?
- A bit.

It's not every day a girl gets
to go to a première of a film

she co-wrote
without even knowing it.

I must say, it was generous of Sam
to share it all with me.

You look great.

I just love Catherine Walker
haute couture.

Carl, about what you said
on the phone...

You do know that you're under
no obligation, don't you?

If it turns out that I am...

Oh, no, Lucy, darling.

Walk away from that thought.

I'm on. No questions.

Oh, I'm bloody thrilled.

It's just a bit of a shock,
that's all.

Since you said you couldn't.

Well, I thought I couldn't,
but it seems that maybe...

just maybe...

I can.

And that's great.

that's really, really...great.

Come on. Let's go.

Shall we?

Come on, Sam!

You've been bloody dreaming of this
since you were a kid.

It was kind of you to volunteer
to be my date, George.

William and I would have looked
a bit sad together.

- I hope Melinda doesn't mind.
- Nah. We'll see her there.

Besides, it gave me a chance
to finish your new screenplay.

It's very, very good.

Uncomfortably so.
Do you really miss her that much?

- Oh, George...
- Yeah, right. Stupid question.

Well, we're in for a great evening.

I was happy with the nudity.

Being Celtic,
I'm very passionate and primal.

I hated every single second of it.

Hated it? We're a smash!

Yeah. My people have been talking
to the Bond people, obviously, but...

but I have a hankering
to join Le Cuestatatat.

Er, an intriguing troupe
of Peruvian bungee jumpers.

Don't get me wrong.
I thought the film was great.

that's why I hated it.

I wanted it to be bad
because that's what I deserve.

God, I hate the English!

You look stunning.

You look like Rasputin.

I thought the film
was wonderful, Sam.

Well, you wrote the best bits.

Don't be ridiculous.
I recognised about four lines.

No, it's your film and...

you should be very proud.

It wasn't worth it.

I learnt a lot.

I wish you'd told me
some of those things at the time.

Well, it'd be nice to meet up,
you know, to talk.

William misses you.
He's pining away.

I don't know, Sam.

Maybe.

OK, William.

Ready?

And go.

Come on, William.
We discussed this. Howl.

Come on. Howl, you bastard, howl!

Go away, Sam.

Lucy.

Lucy!

Please, just listen to me.

"Love is not love...

"which alters
when it alteration finds.

"Oh, no.

"It is an ever fixed mark

"that looks on tempests
and is never shaken.

"It is the star

"to every wandering bark."

I'll be in the park tomorrow.

I'll be there every day.

thank you. Very big help.

You were terrific.

You look wonderful, Lucy.

- You look like a dream.
- Sam, don't, please...

It's all right. I know.

What?

Sheila told me. You're pregnant.

She shouldn't have done that, Sam.
It's really early days.

I mean, I haven't even been
to the doctor yet.

I'm going in this afternoon.
Hi, there.

But, Lucy, it's wonderful news.

It's truly wonderful. You deserve
it more than any woman I know.

I'm so happy for you.

I'd like to kill Carl Phipps,
of course,

but that's just me being
an insanely jealous bastard.

Carl doesn't want a child, Sam.

In fact, he doesn't even want to be
in a relationship.

And I don't want one with him.
It was just a silly fling.

Of course I'm happy I'm pregnant,

but I didn't want it
to be like this.

It's such a shame that we...

Anyway.

Goodbye, Sam.

Bye, William.

Lucy! Lucy, come back to me!

Please.

I made the stupidest mistake
of my life.

I've hated myself
ever since I started it.

Please come back.

Sam, we can't pick up
where we left off.

Especially if I'm pregnant
with another man's child.

I'll bring it up.

I'll take care of it.

I'll be its father.

Sam, you didn't even want children
of your own,

let alone someone else's.

What you live for is your writing.

Well, can't a man change,
for God's sake?

I said I'll be its father.

Lucy...

If I have to serve a life sentence
for what I did,

can't I at least serve it with you?

Is that a line from your new script?

No.

Well, yes, actually it is.

But I still mean it.

Please.

the beard has got to go.

I suppose I was stupid to get
so excited about a home test.

they say on the box
you can get it wrong,

and I suppose this one did.

But she did say
you might have been pregnant.

Possibly, briefly.

But, anyway,
I'm certainly not any more.

Oh, Sam, what are we going to do?

Well...

We've only tried one cycle of IVF

and they haven't found anything
wrong with either of us, so...

On reflection, I suggest that...

we love each other
absolutely and unequivocally

for the rest of our lives...

one beautiful day at a time.

And this, we can use.

Where did you say this
ancient symbol of fertility was?

the chalk giant?
It's on a hill in Dorset.

Shall I take the Great West
Road or just follow a ley line?