All language subtitles for Submarine.2010.1080p.BluR

Most people
think of themselves as individuals,

that there's no-one on
the planet like them.

This thought motivates them
to get out of bed,

eat food, and walk around
like nothing's wrong.

My name is Oliver Tate.

"What kind of young person am I?"

That's the challenge.
We talk about challenges.

Well, that's the challenge
I'm giving you this term.

A gauntlet, so to speak.

But this gauntlet is also an opportunity.

An opportunity for self-discovery.

What do I mean by "self-discovery"?
Mark Pritchard?

Having a wank, sir?

Discovery of the self.

Who am I?

I find that the
only way to get through life

is to picture myself
in an entirely disconnected reality.

I often imagine
how people would react to my death.

Mr Dunthorne's quavering voice
as he makes the announcement.

The shocked faces of my classmates.

A playground bedecked with flowers.

The empty stillness of a school corridor.

Local news analysis.

Oliver Tate was a popular
and much-loved pupil.

Many of the people I've spoken to here
referred to him as an example.

He was so funny and so smart.

He's gonna be really missed.
It's so bad. He's so young.

Tear-streaked tributes.

I just wanted to hug him.
I just wish I had.

I wish I could have said goodbye,
but I never said anything to him.

The steady stoicism of my parents.

All the girls liked him.

Other boys respected him,
looked up to him, I guess.

Candlelit vigils.

We are witnessing incredible,
unprecedented scenes of quiet devotion.

Behind me a vigil that's been repeated
all over the country.

A testimony to the love
felt for Oliver Tate

and the loss felt by his friends...

and, frankly, by Wales on the whole.

And, finally, my glorious resurrection.

Don't ask how. Just know
that I'm now more powerful than ever.

Let's get off.

Zoe.

Zoe, this is for you. It's yours.
It has your name on it. Take it.

- It's not mine.
- Please take it.

That note seems fascinating, Oliver Tate.

You know the rules.
Stand up and read it out.

I can't. It's Zoe's.
She gave it to me and I was gonna...

Saved by the bell once again, Mr Tate.

All right, take your time.

I know you're all gagging
to get to double Biology but don't rush.

Jordana Bevan's only real flaws
are her sporadic bouts of eczema.

Other than that, she has many qualities.

She never speaks about herself.
She could be anything.

Perhaps she's a Fabian.

That would make her a socialist
who advocates gradual change.

She's moderately unpopular, which
makes a romance between us more likely.

She's also a girl - to be seen with her
would improve my street cred,

which, though high, could be higher.

Lastly, she's now single,

cos Mark Pritchard cheated on her
with Abby Smuts at the school disco.

The full extent of the betrayal
is still the subject of speculation.

Chips knows there's
nothing more attractive than a bully.

He also knows that Zoe Preece
is a legitimate target

because she's overweight
and won't accept notes in class.

Essentially, I disapprove of bullying.

Jordana seems to enjoy it in moderation.

I must not let my principles
stand in the way of progress.

I must be willing to adapt.

Keep up, Tubs!

This was the correct decision.

Give it back now!

This was a vivid memory of youth that I
would cherish when I was old and trail.

Oh!

Catch. Straight into the hands.

We were working as a team,
testing each other's limits,

challenging one another's bourgeois
assumptions of what was acceptable.

Oh, grow up! Grow up!

I knew that these events - although
hard to bear at this precise moment -

would help build Zoe Preece's
character in the long term.

Aargh!

Wanker!

Honestly, Zoe, it was an accident.

I mean, it was just unlucky
that you were there and that you fell in.

We were playing... sort of like a game.

And you can replace the stuff
that was in your bag.

- I'm not saying it's cheap...
- Fuck off and die!

In many ways, I prefer my own company.

It gives me time to think.

I suppose it's a bit of an affectation,
but I often read the dictionary.

My word for today is “flagitious“,
which means wickedly shameful.

I live in a large house with my parents.

They tell me that our area
has breathtaking scenery.

I'm not sure I believe in scenery.

However, the views allow me
to spy on our new neighbours.

I don't know them yet
but they seem like terrible human beings.

Ninjas.

My parents have not had sex
for seven months.

I've been monitoring their intimacy
via the dimmer switch in their bedroom.

I know when they've been at it
because the dial will be set to halfway.

I wish life could be more like
American soap operas.

Then, whenever things got dramatic,

you could just fade the picture down
and pick things up again later.

Can you tell your mother to hurry up?
I'll be waiting in the road.

- You look nice.
- Thank you.

Yeah, you look good for your age.
For a mum.

Mum's getting the bus.

So... I inherited it all.

Well, er, it's been terrific.
Small world, all that.

It's such a lovely area.

This used to be Jill's grandmother's house,
right?

Yes.

The hours we spent up in that room,
listening to records, hatching plans.

Right, yes.
So are you going to be selling up?

Just gonna let things take their own path.

- You have a good day, Lloyd.
- OK, cheers, Graham.

- Give my love to Jill.
- Will do.

- Ciao, Lloyd.
- Goodbye.

- You go get 'em, killer.
- I will.

As usual,
Dad drops me 800 yards from school.

That way, I can slip in
unnoticed, like a torpedo.

Watch your step, motherfucker! Ha-ha.

You've got to wake up.
How many times have I told you?

- Ellis?
- Yes, sir.

- Griffiths?
- Here, sir.

- Harris?
- Yes, sir.

- Davies?
- Yes, sir.

- Morris?
- Sir.

Preece?

Preece? Anyone seen Zoe?

- Tate?
- Yeah, present.

- Pritchard?
- Yes.

Smuts?

Wanker!

Zoe Preece hasn't been
in school for a while,

so I've written a pamphlet
on how to break out of the victim cycle.

We also given her two
examples to inspire her.

Firstly, Rhydian Bird,

who pulled his trousers down to fart
and followed through,

calling an unhealthy turd onto the tarmac.

But instead of looking embarrassed,
he screamed with laughter and pointed.

Nobody could tease him about it
cos he was so proud.

How do you even know all men read poems?

All men do, unless you're gay. Are you gay?

Secondly, Chips.
He wasn't even considered hot

until the Watkins twins stabbed him
in the back with compasses.

He said nothing, showed no discomfort

as his shirt blossomed with blood poppies.

His stoicism reminded me of the brave men
who died in the First World War.

Chips is an outstanding bully.

He once made our Religious Education
teacher cry using only Blu-Tack.

Right, now, now, now.

I don't quite know what I am yet.

I've tried smoking a pipe...

...flipping coins...

listening exclusively to French crooners.

Other times I go to the beach
and stare at the sea.

Someone made a documentary
about a prominent thinker

who struggled with unspeakable loss.

I've even had a brief hat phase.
But nothing stuck.

- Gene.
- What?

The most secure route to Zoe is big Gene,

who, over the last few months,
has become her only friend and confidante.

Gene told me that Zoe had moved schools.

She was very unhappy because she was bullied
and one boy even pushed her into a pond.

Oh... I had no idea.

I persuaded her to give Zoe the pamphlet
by saying it was a love letter.

It's a big love letter.

I've got a big heart.

Sometimes I wish there was a film crew
following my every move.

I imagine the camera craning up
as I walk away.

But, unless things improve,

the biopic of my life will only have
the budget for a zoom out.

I feel bad, cutting into his head.

Why? It's just a fucking frog.

It's still a thing, though. It had life.

Where do you think they get the frogs?

I don't know.
Probably a lake or a river nearby.

They probably have a guy that does it.
I could find out.

- I don't actually want to know.
- Neither do I.

- I'm just saying. You asked...
- I wonder where Fat is.

- Zoe?

- She hasn't been in school for a while.
- I hadn't noticed.

I thought you would have.
She leaves a big gap.

She's not on my radar.

- Is it cos we pushed her into the pond?
- I didn't push her.

- Think she's weeping herself to death?
- I didn't push her.

Maybe you should write to her.

Maybe you should write her
a pamphlet or something.

What do you think?

What is this?

What do you want from me?

Meet me under the railway bridge after
school and we'll take it from there.

Bring a Polaroid camera and a diary.

OK?

- Got the camera and the diary?
- Do you have the pamphlet?

Give me the camera.

OK.

Now kneel down.

Please, Jordana... What is this?

Kneel down.

Close your eyes.

We kissed until our lips felt swollen.

Her mouth tasted of milk, Polo mints
and Dunhill International.

OK. Now take out the diary
and write today's date.

Write a few paragraphs on how excited
you are to have kissed me.

Mention what a dick Mark Pritchard is
and slag off Abby Sluts.

- It's Smuts.
- Let's call her Sluts.

I sit next to her in
Geography, so we're mates.

I don't need your life story.

Wow. You look mentally retarded.

Have you ever kissed anyone before?

I had in fact only kissed
one person before - Zoe Preece.

It was after the Cowboys And Indians
school disco.

I told her if we were going to do it,
we had to hide behind the refectory.

Her tongue was blue
from blackcurrant squash.

It smouldered in the cold.

OK, I've done it.

Good.

- Can I have the pamphlet now?
- No.

- What will you do with the photos?
- Leave them lying around school.

For people to accidentally find.

Oh.

What are you complaining about?

This is conclusive proof
that you might not be gay.

Gaylord! Gaylord!
Gaylord! Gaylord!

Gaylord! Gaylord! Gaylord! Gaylord!

Come on, gay boy, take back
what you said about me!

I take it back. I take it back.

And admit that you're in fact a Gaylord.

No. Do not admit it.

- Do not admit that.
- Shut up, Chips.

Fine. I'm gay. I'm very gay.

And Jordana's a slut.

- Jordana is a slut.
- No.

Say it. Say it!

No.

Don't be a dick, Mark. Just let him go.

Fine. I'll let him go.

I'll let him go.

If... he admits you're a slut.

- Ooh.
- Just say it, gay boy.

Say it.

Why don't you go fuck yourself?
Fucking big gay.

I was completely overbalanced.

It was luck. I'm gonna get him for this.
I'll bring him so much pain.

Probably catch him like he caught me,
on the sly.

Blood.

- Are you gonna get up now?
- Yeah. Sorry, yeah.

- You've got scaly hands.
- It's eczema.

Now that we had kissed
for non-blackmail purposes,

I thought it gentlemanly
to escort Jordana home.

When there, I asked if
she was my girlfriend now. And she said:

I'll think about it.

But what she meant was, yes.

We are now as one.

Whenever I'm late home from school,

my mother assumes I've been abducted
and left to drown in a lake.

There he is. Oliver?

My mother is worried
that I have mental problems.

I found a book about
teenage paranoid delusions

during a routine search
of my parents' bedroom.

After that, I started slipping
choice phrases into our conversation.

My body has been replaced by a shell.
My organs are made of stone.

- I've been dead for years.
- Right.

My mother is naturally neurotic and in her
youth even dreamed of being an actress.

Until she was told by a speech therapist
her tongue was too big for her mouth.

Now she works for the council's Legal
and Democratic Services department.

One of the rules in her office

- is that if it's your birthday...
- Ta-da.

...you are held responsible
for bringing your own cake to work.

- Happy birthday, Jill.
- Thank you.

Oliver?

Oliver, come here.

Come here.

Where are you going, Oliver?

OK, sit up.

- Are you being victimised again?
- No. I'm never victimised.

You were, in primary school and Cubs.

- I don't remember.
- I do. There was a lot of crying.

- Is it drug related?
- How?

- I don't know. You tell me.
- It's not.

- Your pupils are huge.
- It's dark.

- Is it self-harm?
- Why would I punch myself in the eye?

- I really don't know.
- I wouldn't. This is stupid.

I'm not going anywhere
until you tell me the truth.

OK, I got into a fight.

I was defending the
honour of my girlfriend.

OK, fine.

You're not being serious, it's fine.

No, I am. I have a girlfriend now.

- Really?
- Yeah.

- Do you?
- Yeah.

- Really?
- Yeah.

Of course.

Yes, of course.
I mean, why wouldn't... I didn't...

- Did you think I was...
- No, I didn't. Come here.

What a lovely little chat.
You're doing so well.

So?

K-nock, k-nock, can I come in?

This was the happiest
I'd seen my father for years.

Not too long ago, I discovered
an empty bottle of anti-depressants,

during another routine search
of my parents' bedroom.

My research indicates it all started
when he was sacked from his job

presenting on the Open University.

My father is a marine biologist,

and introduced a segment
called Mysteries Of The Deep.

BUT he was an uneasy screen presence

and never knew quite what
to do with his hands.

After his dismissal,
he spent several days in bed,

drinking hot lemon from the same mug
and never washing it,

a key sign of one of his downturns.

Now he works at the local university,

doing a job he finds difficult to explain

to anyone without
a degree-level knowledge of fish.

Listen, I hope you don't mind.

But your mother informs me
that you have a girlfriend.

Is there anything I can
help you with there?

I'm not sure yet. I'll let you know.

OK. All right.

Yes. Er... listen...

I know you think I'm very boring, you know.

But once... I ripped my vest off
in front of a woman

and er... it was very effective, actually.

I know.

It produced a very atavistic response.

That's just something to bear in mind.

And listen,
I made you a cassette recording.

It's a compilation of songs I used to listen to
during some of my early formative relationships.

Plus a couple of things
I thought you might dig.

I think music can make things seem
a bit more real, sometimes,

- if you know what I mean.
- Thanks.

I've also included some break-up songs
towards the end,

just in case things don't work out.

Which, obviously, you know, that isn't the aim,
though, I'm gonna tell you, it is likely.

Passion rarely lasts, I'm afraid.

All right, well...

good night and erm... well done!

It's an achievement.
It really is, of sorts.

Good night, son.

Jordana and I enjoyed a glorious
atavistic fortnight of lovemaking,

humiliating teachers and bullying the weak.

I've already turned these moments
into the Super-8 footage of memory.

It's fucking ridiculous!
How long's it been?

Two weeks. It's fucking ridiculous!

I'm not bothered. We've as good as done it.

Never take more than a week
between everything but and stuffing it in.

She's taking the piss. Keiron, back me up.

- She's taking the piss, man.
- Thank you.

Watch out, she's looking.

Is she still looking?

Yep.

Jordana hates any place
that could be termed romantic.

With this in mind, I took her to
one of my favourite industrial estates,

for some quality one-on-one time.

This is nice, isn't it?

Yeah, it's not bad.

I mean, you know, we get on pretty well.

Yeah, it's fun.

And we're getting more and more intimate.

Intimate?

Yeah, you know, we've done things.
We've been intimate.

We have been intimate, yeah.

My parents are going to the cinema
on Thursday.

It's a tradition.
They go every Thursday evening.

So what I'm saying is, it's empty.

The house. On Thursday. The house is empty.

On Thursday evening, it's an empty house.

So what do you think?

Are you asking me to come round
and have sex with you?

If I say yes, does that lessen
the chance of you wanting to?

Before I answer that,
I just want to check one thing.

- Yeah, sure. What is it?
- It's quite serious.

Of course, yeah. Go ahead, you should
be able to ask what you want to ask.

Will the house be empty?

Write down the reasons why I should.

OK.

It's Thursday. You're going to the cinema?
You should leave.

Is that what you wear to lounge around?

Your father doesn't want to go out
all of a sudden.

I've been looking forward to it.
I didn't realise there'd be others.

- They're our neighbours.
- Who, the ninjas?

It's Thursday, our cinema night.
It's not a free-for-all.

Do not call them ninjas, Oliver.
It's racist.

He's white.

They don't strike me as
big Eric Rohmer fans.

Why don't the three of you just go and see
some tat at the Odeon?

- I'll just stay in.
- You should both go.

So rude, Lloyd.

Oh, for God's sake.

- Oh, Graham.
- Whoa!

- Oh, not really...
- Hey.

Oh, thanks.

Are you all right?

Whoargh!

You look lovely.

- Thank you very much.
- Sorry I'm a bit early.

It's just, there's a fantastic
noodle bar right next to the cinema.

Kim-Lin and I would love to take
you and Lloyd...

- Ninjas.
- My treat.

- Very sweet.
- No need to take two cars, right?

Plenty of room in the van.

Do you mind jumping in the
back, here, Lloyd?

Hop right in there,
make yourself comfortable.

All right there, buddy? Great.

Thanks for living up a fucking hill.

Sorry, I had to er... go to the toilet.

I'm OK now. It doesn't matter.

Just gonna top this up quickly.

There we go.

To us, and a wonderful
evening of lovemaking.

Can you just get off my shoulders?

I'm just directing you, just...

Right, OK, just don't open them.
I'll tell you when. Stay there.

- What, now?
- Yeah.

Fucking hell, you're a serial killer.

I'm sorry for that.
I didn't know whether you'd like it.

But we can learn from it.
I've learned from it.

I think you've learned from it.
Maybe we could start again.

- I've gotta go home.
- OK, cool. You should go home.

I'll give you this. It's just a letter
I was gonna give you. Just take it.

It's nothing.

- Sorry, but...
- No, no, I... Yeah...

- You.
- OK, bye.

Dear Jordana, thank you for letting me
explore your perfect body.

I could drink your blood.

You're the only person I would allow
to be shrunk to microscopic size

and swim inside me
in a tiny submersible machine.

We've lost our virginity
but it wasn't like losing anything.

You're too good for me. You're too
good for anyone. Sincerely, Oliver.

Don't get cocky.

How was the film?

I'm going to bed.

It's nice to see something lightweight
once in a while,

that you don't have to think about.

Relationships are tough, aren't they?

You should be in bed, Oliver.

Tonight, I stumbled across
an encyclopaedia entry on ultrasound.

Ultrasound is a sound vibration
too high frequency to be audible.

It was first developed to locate
submerged objects -

submarines, depth charges,
Atlantis and such.

Some animals, like bats, dolphins and dogs

can hear within the ultrasonic frequency.

But no human can.

No-one can truly know
what anyone thinks or feels.

What's inside Mum?

What's inside Dad?

What's inside Jordana?

We're all travelling under the
radar, undetected.

And no-one can do a thing about it.

- Any more word from Graham?
- Nothing to report, Jackie.

- We went to the cinema as normal.
- How did that go?

Awkward, of course.

Lloyd sulked
because we watched Crocodile Dundee

rather than one of his dark numbers,
I don't know.

But I really laughed.
I thought it was very charming.

And I could see why someone like her
would go for someone like him.

Graham is still very attractive.
He probably felt threatened.

Lloyd is far too self-involved
to feel threatened, Jackie.

He knows Graham was your first love...

- He wasn't my first love.
- Come on.

- I was 18.
- Pardon?

18. Look, I've got to go.
I'll call you back.

Actually, I'll see you tomorrow, OK.

Lloyd?

Were you listening in to that?

Sorry, what?

I could hear you breathe, Lloyd.

Why hadn't my parents told me
that Graham was Mum's first love?

No wonder their cinema outing
had ended in such a schism.

I can only assume the subject
of wife-swapping was raised

and Dad didn't feel emotionally ready.

Is it possible that Mum would cheat on Dad?

Will they get divorced?

They don't even row.

They just have discussions.

I'm going to have to
increase my surveillance.

Good night, Oliver.

Yargh, yargh, yargh!

Yargh, yargh, yargh!

Yargh!

Thank you very much, Jeff.

I got you these books.
They're really meaningful to me.

This is Shakespeare's most mature work,
miles better than Hamlet.

Just more developed thematically.

And this is Nietzsche, one of the most
influential philosophers of modern time.

I don't agree with all he says
but he makes some interesting points.

And this is The Catcher In The Rye,
a great modern American novel.

Salinger's very influential.

Why are you doing this?

I thought it'd be nice to get some
mutual interest, now we've had sex,

other than spitting and
setting things on fire.

Why would I want to be more like you?

Just try not to crack
the spines or burn them.

We should get in. It starts in an hour.
I want to get a good seat.

It's rude to leave a film
before it's finished.

- Who to?
- The film-makers.

- How do they know?
- They just do.

- How?
- They do.

- There wasn't even any sound on it.
- There was never intended to be.

- Then why did they write it?
- Kiss me.

Get off me!

- What are you doing?
- Just kiss me.

Get the fuck off me, you freak.

That was fucking ridiculous.

"Kiss me!" Who says that?

- It was a kiss. I tried to be romantic.
- What the fuck?

- You were crushing my face.
- Yeah, in a romantic way.

I'm not in the mood.

It seems pretty clear
that Mum is having an affair.

Why else would she be at the hairdresser's
with Graham the ninja?

He probably makes sure
all his prospective sex partners

are salon fresh before impregnating them
with a ninja love child.

Cheers.

Mum normally just gets a trim
from her work colleague Jackie.

But now I think of it,
she did mention her hair the other day.

I used to have long hair like her.

Hm?

I used to have long hair, remember?

Hm, yes.

- Pretty, isn't she?
- I dunno.

Do you like my hair long?

- Er...
- Or short like now?

Well, you know...
I like your hair no matter how long it is.

But did you prefer it long?

Either way's good.

No opinion.

Well, it's up to you.

So it wouldn't bother you
if I shaved it all off?

Not if it made you happy.

If you want to shave off your
hair, you should.

Why would I shave my hair off, Lloyd?
What a stupid idea.

Yeah.

I can imagine my mum calmly leaving one day
while Dad helps her pack.

So er... got any plans?

No, not really.

No, just...

see how it goes, really.

Are you planning on getting dressed today?

- Do you want to take the car?
- That's fine.

I'm going to work from home today
so if you want to take the car...

I was planning on going to see
one of Graham's talks tonight.

- OK.
- You don't mind?

- Why would I mind?
- It just means I won't be in tonight.

- I'll make sure I keep myself busy.
- Oliver, you coming?

- I'd like a moment with my father.
- Lovely.

I'll see you in the car.

I think Mum might be having an affair.

Can you turn the tap off, please?

I saw her in town with Graham and heard
her on the phone talking about him.

You shouldn't be spying on people.

I just saw them and accidentally
picked up the phone. Aren't you worried?

- Graham's an old friend of Mum's.
- They've met up.

- Yes.
- So you're condoning this affair?

There is no affair. He's just some bloke
I stole your mother from.

So you admit they have a history?

I think you should go
to your mother now, OK?

- Thanks, Mum.
- Just a second, we're early.

How are things with Jordana?

Fine.

- You ever going to let us meet her?
- Maybe if you get a terminal illness.

So things are serious between you two?

It may seem like a big deal now but it
probably won't matter when you're my age.

38?

- Just be careful.
- I always use condoms.

Good.

You know that your dad and I
are going through a bit of a tough time.

And I want you to know
we really appreciate you trying to help.

- I'm not trying to help.
- You're a loud whisperer.

You shouldn't spy on people.

Why have you been meeting Graham?

Graham is an old friend and has had
relationship problems with Kim-Lin.

He needed someone he could talk to.

- So he might be single soon?
- Goodbye, Oliver.

- Mum?
- Yes?

Who would you save first in a fire,

given the hypothetical situation
that Dad and I were equally hard to save?

I'd go for you but I'd
feel bad for your father.

OK.

- Kiss me!
- What?

I still can't believe you fucking said it.

I did not say it in a high-pitched...
like a little mouse.

- You cried it.
- Come on, we're late.

- That gap gets smaller every day.
- What are you doing tonight?

I'm busy tonight.

Doing what?

As in, I've got stuff to do. Busy.

No, you never have anything to do.
What are you doing?

What is light?

What is light?

How important is light?

OK, let's think about that for a minute.

Cos it seems very basic and
banal but it's not. It's loaded.

It's a bloody nail bomb.

I think light is probably
the most important gift we have

from the universe.

And if you asked any
intelligent bloody writer,

like Professor Hawking
or anybody of that ilk,

he could talk to you...

for about, I don't know, a year...

just about bloody light!

We don't want to be in the dark,

being fiddled with.

That's for sure.

How's my dad meant to compete?

The only time I saw him enthral a room

was when he gave a talk about
the disappearance of a giant sturgeon.

Sturgeons are royal fish,
since the 14th century,

and, if caught,
they do become property of the Crown.

So, yes, we're treating
the matter as suspicious.

How deep is the ocean?

Seven miles at its deepest point, but on
average, six miles as a rule of thumb.

But no fish could live down there.

There's no light, of course,
and the pressure is far too great.

Any human who found
themselves at that level,

well, they would die immediately.

They would implode.
They wouldn't stand a chance.

But in answer to your question,

the ocean is six miles deep.

I am a prism.

That's not mad.

OK? I am a prism, I am light.

I am lucid.

I am exciting and delicious.

Thanks very much for today.
You've been fantastic.

Well done.

- It seemed to go pretty well.
- Oh, yes, yes.

I think they...

- They loved it.
- Did you enjoy it?

Absolutely.

A lot to take in.

- But it was silly, right?
- No, no.

- You think I'm silly?
- No, I don't.

- It's OK.
- I don't. I don't.

I didn't ask for this, Jill.

This gift, it's...
It's like a burden to me.

Sure.

Yeah, you must be exhausted.

I split up with Kim-Lin.

Oh, no. Oh, dear.

Let her go.

- She was young, right?
- I'm really sorry.

- It's all good.
- Anyway, I'd better... I'd better go.

- Gonna come next week?
- Er...

- I can?
- You'd better.

Sure. I'll check my diary.

- Bring Lloyd.
- Um...

OK. I don't think it's really...

...his cup of... I'll ask.

If you ask him...

he will come.

- I'll see what I can do.
- Right.

- Thank you again. You're very good.
- Ciao, Jill.

- Watch yourself.
- Thank you.

Bye-bye.

I'm watching you.

And by being in balance
with the colours around them,

with a healthy colour
glow around themselves,

they're living a fulfilled life.

So when you're in a crisis, it doesn't
feel like the waves are crashing on you,

it feels like you can just stand
under those waves

and let them do their business,

and then get a towel and bloody dry
yourself off, and go about your day.

That's what it means.

My mum is the exact type of person

who is susceptible to this mystic bullshit.

I can picture her telling Jackie at work

how it's a bit over the top

but there's something in it.

If my dad radiated a colour,

it'd be ochre or eggshell.

He knows the number for the pothole
helpline off by heart.

It's about a foot in diameter.
It's a bit of a concern.

Pothole.

Yes, that's right, Lloyd Tate.
Oh, hi, how are you?

He was the first person in our village
to install double glazing.

It's from Dad.

He ruins every Christmas.

It's a kettle.

Great.

...how extraordinary they are.

Because they've forgotten, right?

Maybe it's time for Dad
to rip off his vest again.

I mean, it's a bit over the top,
but I think there's something in it.

Yes, yes. Good turnout, was it?

I'm going out for a bit.

The question was, do I tell Jordana
about this Graham situation?

I mean, we'd had sex.

Wouldn't it spoil things
if I suddenly got emotional?

I decided to soften the blow
with some light arson.

You don't talk about your parents much.

- I mean, do they get on?
- Yeah, they get on.

Mine get on as well. It's good, isn't it?
It's important that they get on.

So everything's fine at home,
everything's OK?

Cos everything's fine with me.

Actually, my mum's not well at the moment.

They get on, you know.

That's the main thing.

Yeah.

Sorry, did you say your mum wasn't well?

Yeah.

Why, what's wrong?

She's got...

it's called... medulloblastoma.

What does it mean?

It means she's got a brain tumour.

Oh, no.

Confiding in Jordana was now impossible.

Her mother had cancer.

And in the Top Trumps of parental problems,
cancer beats potential infidelity.

I would have to travel this road secretly,

unaided,

a renegade,

a solitary samurai.

Things were a lot less fun since
Jordana's mother might die

and my parents' marriage
started falling apart.

I've been working On strategies
to solve both problems.

I bought my dad some new aftershave,
but I'm drawing a blank on the cancer.

You're fucked. Even if her mum
is terminal, it can still take ages.

Please, Chip, shut up.

This is not what you signed up for.

This is about dipping your wick.
You've done that, game over.

She'll be in no mood to put out any more.

No more Yuletide logging for you,

unlike me, who shall be rolling in it
throughout the festive period.

Do you actually pre-prepare these lines?

I just split lines as they come to me.

You've got to shut the shit down.
Keiron, get my back.

- With extreme prejudice.
- Thank you.

- Nothing's changed.
- Do what you want. Remember two things:

one - treat 'em mean, keep 'em keen.

Two - don't mix family and bush.

Get the fuck out of here.
Merry Christmas. Have a good 'un.

You all right?

You've gotta shut this shit down.
It's fucking ridiculous.

I've been taking my duty as a boyfriend
seriously.

Last night, I reread the book
I Only Want What's Best For You.

I remembered a chapter that says:

It's therefore in Jordana's interest
that her dog dies before her mother does.

Then we can get things back on track.

Oliver Tate.

OK, calm down.

What happened?

There was no need to poison Jordana's dog

because Jordana's dog
had just been hit by a train.

I scraped his remains
into the bin liner I'd brought.

The death of a pet makes it easier
to accept the death of a parent.

I could feel the tension between
Jordana and I start to slip away.

Oh!

No, of course, I'm sorry. I just...

I thought...

We should bury him.

No, I don't think we should.

Foxes dig up dead animals and eat them.

What should we do, then?

Well, there's this thing
the Vikings used to do.

Jude would like to meet you.

- Who's Jude?
- My mum.

Since when have you called her Jude?

Since she might die in two weeks.

Right.

So, do you wanna come?

The Bevans had Christmas dinner early
in case it was the last one they had.

I hoped it wouldn't be,
cos the turkey was quite dry

and the spouts had turned mushy
and out of focus.

This is crackin', love.

Yeah, it's great. Thank you, Mrs Bevan.

This is my last warning. It's Jude.

So, I hear from my little girl
that you've stolen her heart.

Dad...

Let me tell you,
if you're lucky enough to find an angel,

hold onto her with everything you've got.

Oh, these fucking lights!

Cheap shit.

Oh, come on.

You're acting like I'm dead already.

Come on.

It'd take more than
some silly tumour to kill me.

- It might not.
- Oh, come on, now. Don't be daft.

- Sorry.
- All right.

Oh, it's all right, darling. Ssh.

- Come here.
- Sorry, love.

Are you all right? Come on.

- Come on.
- Sorry, sorry.

Sorry.

- All right?
- Yeah.

I'm fine. I'm fine. Give us a cudge.

Listen... Thank you.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Thank you for looking after Jordana,
for walking through the fire with her.

- Thank you. Appreciate it.
- No.

- No, we both do.
- He's a good boy, isn't he?

Part of the family now. Deal?

- Deal?
- Deal.

Family, deal.

Deal, yes?

There we fucking go.

Maybe you should come to the hospital
this Friday.

Mum will have had her operation by then
and we can visit.

- If you felt like it.
- Er, Friday.

I've got to do some Christmas shopping.

- What?
- I always leave it too late.

- I want to get you something good.
- Mother might die.

- I know.
- Do you care,

- or couldn't you give a fuck?
- I do, clearly.

I'll come. When is it?

Friday.

Great, yeah.

Yeah, Friday's good for me, actually.
Yeah, I can do that. Excellent.

Your skin's better.
You're allergic to the dog.

I'm eating better.

Following Mum's special diet.

Is that because of the...

We eat lots of ginger now.

So, Friday.

The visiting hours are six till eight.

Got it. Six till eight.
I'll meet you there.

OK.

I'm sorry I'm like this.

- I dunno. I'm sorry.
- No, it's fine.

- Don't think you have to wait. It's cold.
- No, it's fine. I'll wait.

I've got you these matches.

Your favourite.

I noticed the way you light a match.

The flame is the same shape
as a falling tear.

I knew then it was too late to save her.

She'd gone gooey in the middle.

From now on she'll buy little gifts
for her favourite teachers

and she'll admire the scenery
and she'll buy soup for homeless people.

And she'll never burn my leg here again.

- Maybe I will go. It's pretty cold.
- Yeah.

OK.

Good night.

When I discovered
I could see these colours in people,

it took a longtime because I was
in such a state of anxiety.

It was when I started to be comfortable
with it and stopped trying to resist it,

it started to nourish me.

And I could relax around it and be in it.

Then I started to make
more of an understanding of it.

Well, it's um...

It's interesting.

He's really working that third
eye, isn't he?

It's just a metaphor, Lloyd.

Oh, no, no, no. I mean, it's good, yes.

I like the whole colour coding thing.

Well, I'd like to go again.

I'd like you to be there, so...

- You want us to go?
- Yes, I do.

Right.

Do I have to bring shorts?

- It's on this Friday, so...
- Right, OK, yeah.

What, are you coming or...

Well, I'm intrigued, yeah.

- For sure.
- This Friday. This Friday.

- This Friday?
- Mm-hm.

OK, yep, yep.

- Thank you.
- Mm.

Don't let me down. OK?

The most fantastical way people
experience the Graham I Purvis system

is to come to the seminar.

Oliver, what are you doing?

...have been mind-blowing.
I've seen lives change.

It's just incredible.

I wish on a global scale
that people could get the message.

Wouldn't it be just wonderful?

Friday“.

I'll be OK. I'll be...

I'll be fine. I'll be all right.

Yeah, I'll be OK.

Yeah.

You should go in.

Dad, aren't you going to Graham's thing?

- Hm?
- Graham's thing. It's Friday.

I thought you were going out.

Yeah, I'm meant to be at the hospital.

Well, you should get along then, I suppose.

Yeah. Yeah, I will. Yeah, I should go.

Right, I'm off out.

I'll see you, then.

Bye.

Dad, who would you save
first in a house fire,

given the hypothetical situation

that both Mum and I
were equally difficult to save?

I'd save your mother first,

so we had a better chance
of working together to save you.

Do you often feel like this?

Like what?

- Tired?
- Down in the dumps.

Quite often.

How long for?

Since I was about your age, I suppose.

What does it feel like?

Like being underwater.

Is that why you became a marine biologist?

Maybe, yeah.

Have you always liked fish?

I suppose so.

I just sort of drifted into it, really.
No pun intended.

And does Mum mind?

I think she'd rather I earnt more money.

No, you being underwater.

Oh.

Yeah, no.

I'm sure she'd rather I wasn't.

It's not very pleasant.

The ocean is six miles deep, isn't it?

Well remembered. Yeah.

Could be Mum.

Or Jordana.

I haven't spoken to Jordana about her mother
because there's only two possible outcomes.

Either the operation was a success,

in which case she'll be too relieved
to be angry with me for long,

or her mother was dead,

in which case she needs privacy
and time to grieve.

During this brief hiatus,
I can help save my parents' marriage

and then resume my duties
as the best boyfriend in the world.

Oliver.

Yes?

- What's this?
- I don't know.

- What is this?
- A letter.

- I don't know what's in it.
- I think you do.

Why did you write this, Oliver?

This isn't funny.

If I did write it, and I'm not as yet
admitting that I did,

it'd be because I spoke to Dad.
This is what he wants.

- You spoke to Dad?
- He knows he's been imperfect.

What did you talk about, Oliver?

Listen,

he still finds you attractive.

He still wants to make love to you.

Are you making this up?

Me and Dad have discussed it.
We both want to make this marriage work.

Are you with us?

Going to the beach with Graham.
I will not be back tonight.

On New Year's Eve,
everyone from town goes to the beach.

Chip said, if a girl won't get off with you
on New Year's Eve,

you may as we“ cut it off.

I'm starting to think
that we may grow apart.

I don't want a mystic ninja as a stepdad.

I don't want to be from a broken home
like Chip's,

wearing tracksuit tops instead of coats
and taking gateway drugs in shopping malls.

I want my family back.

I don't want anything to change.

The celebrations are
really kicking in, right?

Yeah.

It distresses tiny animals.

- You can relax, right?
- Mm.

- There's some lovely massage oils.
- Great. OK.

In you get.

All right.

I have no idea what I'm hoping to achieve
by breaking into Graham's house.

I just want to give him
the idea that I'm deranged

and therefore capable of anything.

This will probably involve me urinating
or something.

I need a fucking drink.

I'm doing it. Just do it.

Just do it...

Just do it.

OK.

Feel my piss.

Oh, come on.

Come on.

Oh, for fuck...

Fuck.

It's fine.

Come on. Just...

Fucking piss on your
face, you fucking freak.

For fuck's sake, just come on. Loosen up.

Oh, here we go.

OK, that'll do it.

Jesus Christ.

Fuck.

Kim-Lin?

Is that you?

Do you still have a key?

That's very naughty.

Oh, this is fun, isn't it?

What kind of protest's this, then, eh?

Huh?

How much more of this bizarre behaviour
do I have to endure?

Nearly went red there.

Come on, up you get, sweetheart.

I'm just try...

My name is not Kim-Lin.

My name is Oliver Tate.

Hello.

Hello.

Hello!

Knock, knock.

How are you feeling?

I saw Mum with Graham at the beach.

Mm. Mum told me everything.

Did she say she went into the van
with his face on it?

Yes.

Did she say what happened in the van
with his face on it?

Yes.

Aren't you angry?

Worse things have happened at sea, OI.

- What did happen?
- That's between your mother and I.

Lloyd, I think it best we be honest.

Sweet pea,

I gave Graham a handjob.

Is there anything you'd
like to say about that?

- Lloyd, do you want to add anything?
- No.

OK. Well, I was drunk
and I was trying to relax Graham.

- It was a silly thing to do.
- Mm.

Thank you.

Your father and I have discussed it

and if it's OK with everyone,
that's the last we'll say about it.

OK? Thank you.

Is there anything
you'd like to talk about now, huh?

Me and Jordana
are having relationship problems.

- Oh.
- It's difficult.

I suppose it won't
matter when I'm 38 but...

I'm upset about it.

You should be more angry with her.

Why would I be angry with Jordana?

Oh, you mean me.

Yes. No, no. Well, you know, I am.

Yeah, I'm upset.

We should go back to sleep, though.

Yeah.

We're not going to punish you now but
we're going to talk about what you've done.

What about what you've done?

OK, don't push it, OI.

Well, we'll talk about that too
but you should go back to sleep now, OK?

- OK.
- Mm?

Right.

Dear Oliver, I tried to tell you

but I figure you'll only probably
believe me if it's in writing. It's over.

I enclose my lighter as
a parting gift for you.

Also, I think you should know,
I've found someone else.

When we're in school together,
try not to look upset.

“Mow you're a good actor.

You were right about
my being allergic to dogs. I got tested.

Oh, and in case you're interested,
my mum's fine now.

Sorry if it made you feel awkward.

Could you tell her I called?

It's Oliver. Oliver Tate.

Oh, yeah, she's got my number.

None of this will matter when I'm 38.

But it's been two months
since Jordana last spoke to me.

Her new boyfriend has
an incredibly long neck.

Just thinking about
giraffes makes me angry.

I wish I could hand in this excuse note.

"Dear Mr Davey,

Please may Oliver be excused from class.
His tiny heart is broken.

Yours sincerely, Lloyd Tate."

- Is he all right?
- He's fine. Just leave him.

In my other recurring dream,
I mentally rehearse the end scene.

The one where it's getting dark
and I mistake a girl for Jordana.

A girl with the exact same frame
and the exact same hair.

And when she turns around,
I see her face is nothing like Jordana's.

And she asks, “Do I know you?“

And I look traumatised and say...

No.

You don't know me.

You don't know me at all.

I think this will matter when I'm older,
when I'm 38.

- Don't you knock any more?
- Sorry, Oliver. What?

Jordana... I think it will
matter when I'm older.

Yeah, course it will.

OK, well... Good night.

Wait, wait, wait, wait.

You've got to be shitting me.

Pritchard.

Pritchard, take a look at this.
It's as funny as fuck.

All right, whose note is that?

It's mine.

Thank you, Oliver,
for your refreshing honesty.

But you know the rules.
Up you come, read it out.

It was just a joke?

Yeah.

OK, well, as I say,
if it was just a joke then that's fine.

But if ever you have serious feelings

of, you know, difficulty

or sadness

or any negative feelings that you want
to talk about, feel free to come and...

I know, I know, yeah.

I can talk to you about that.

OK. I don't want to embarrass you

but I just wanted you to know that
I'm open to talking whenever you want.

Yeah. OK.

Cool.

Good.

Nice one, OI. Nice one, you fuck-muppet.

Why write stuff like that?
Perhaps people are right and you are gay.

"Jordana, I love you. I want to
have your babies, get married."

What the fuck?

- Fuck you, Chips.
- What the fuck are you up to, you fool?

What?

- You're a loser.
- Go and see the girl

- who doesn't like you.
- I'll be back.

I'll hit you in the face.

Can I have a word, please, in private,
without him?

I'm fine here.

Sorry I didn't come to the hospital.

I thought my parents were going to split up

and I didn't want to look weak
or things to change.

My mum gave a hand-job to a mystic.

Look, I was frightened.

I'm full of regret.

This is the moment where you leave him
and come with me.

Is it?

Yeah.

Are you coming?

No.

I don't know if I've come of age
but I'm certainly older now.

I feel shrunken, as if there's
a tiny ancient Oliver Tate inside me

operating the levers of
a fife-size Oliver-shaped shell.

A shell on which a decrepit picture show

replays the same handful of images.

Every night I come to the same place and
wait till the sky catches up with my mood.

The pattern is set.

This is, no doubt, the end.

Jordana!

Jordana!

It is you.

I didn't think it'd be you. I...

I thought it'd be like a film where the
girl turns round and it's not the...

You've got a new dog. You're allergic.

- Oliver.
- Where's your boyfriend?

He's not my boyfriend.

Your skin's looking bad, terrible.
It's probably the dog.

I don't care about my fucking skin.

- Why on earth did you get a new dog?
- Because I like dogs, OK?

Why are you such a total dick?

I don't know.

I was crying earlier.
My eyes are probably red.

They look fine.

No, well,
maybe they don't 90 red when I cry.

It happens to some.

You were horrible to me.

I know. I made a mistake.

I made a mistake.
What do you want me to say?

- Ask me how deep the ocean is.
- Shut up.

Go on, just ask me.

- Why?
- Because I know the answer.

- Oh, do you?
- Yeah. I do.

- How deep?
- I'm not going to say.

I'm broken-hearted.

- The ocean is six miles deep.
- Good.