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: [Pointing to Peter's belly
] And what's all this then? Peter
: It's called a pot-belly, Andrew. We have those in England, along with culture. Andrew
: Oh, how can I put this delicately? It's just that I'm not really in the vagina business.
: Do you have any Equal? Peter
: I'm sorry, I'm famous for having no equal.
: How long have you been married now? Andrew
: Almost three years. Peter
: Quite a long time for Hollywood, isn't it? Andrew
: Yeah. Peter
: Don't you get some kind of a plaque? Andrew
: Yes. We stay together five years I get a free hair transplant and she gets a new set of breasts. Peter
: What, so she'll have four? Andrew
: Yes, but her agent gets one.
: And you know, when you think about it, that's exactly what happens to us when we're born. We're dropped down a random chimney and we have to get on with the strangers we find there. Typical Chesterton there to describe a chimney as a kind of uterus.
[the gang are discussing a cabaret performance in Bradford
: We went on after the Fabulous Poodles! Brian, Sarah's Escort
: The Fabulous Poodles! Now there was a band! Whatever happened to them? Maggie
: I don't know, but we were on after them, and Peter was in the middle of his opening monologue when someone threw a glass, and Peter said... Roger
: [Imitating Peter
] If that happens again, we're going straight home!
[a short pause is followed by the gang pretending to throw glasses at Roger
: We've only got the three days, Maggie. It would be nice to make it into the house at some stage.
: [to Andrew
] Did you bring a surfboard? Andrew
: No, that's just Carol.
[Carol, Maggie, Peter and Andrew are listening to the squeaking from upstairs, which they presume is Sarah and Brian, when Sarah arrives in the kitchen
: Hi, guys.
[the others turn to face Sarah
: Now, that's what I call an extremely long dick. Andrew
: Well, if it isn't Sarah, is it us? Maggie
: It can only be Roger and Mary! Peter
: I assume they must have resolved their differences last night. Andrew
: [telephone rings
] This is the acid test
[Squeaking stops for a few seconds, before resuming
: Darlings! Peter
: Well, if you'll excuse me, I better go!
[Peter shows Andrew the play that the pair were working on before Andrew moved to the States
: [pointing at the page
] That's still a good joke. Peter
: [looking over
] What is? Andrew
: [reading from the page
] I've never fallen in love. I've stepped in it a few times.
: I believe I am what is commonly termed bisexual, which is by the by because actually I no longer sleep with men or women. But if I did, I promise you, you'd be right up there on my wish list, together with Michelle Pfeiffer and... River Phoenix.
: I can think of no finer, fluffier, shinier people to see in the new year with than with your good selves.
: [to Vera
] I do wish you'd please try as a personal favour to me not to be quite so... *Gothic* to my friends.
: It's funny, with both my parents gone, I suddenly have this overwhelming urge to act maturely. Andrew
: Oh, well, I don't think anybody really matures. Adults are just children who owe money.
: [beginning voice-over
] There are some friends you will have for the rest of your life. You're welded together by love, trust, respect, or loss. Or in our case, simple embarrassment.
: Just one of those audience that enjoy it later, you know. They'll get home and think 'yes, I rather enjoyed it'. Andrew
: Oh will they? Well should we give them our individual telephone numbers then? Peter
] I for one should expect dozens of phone calls that said I looked bored shitless throughout the evening, that in reflection, Roger was right! I had a fantastic time! Roger
: You two are so cynical. Andrew
: I think we should hire a lawyer and sue that audience!
: It's not going exactly as I planned.
: [Andrew is furiously drunk and spewing hateful comments at everyone, causing arguments between the others
] Look, look, it's two minutes to midnight... can we please just try to be nice to each other? Andrew
: Yeah, yeah, let's try to be nice to each other. Cause it's New Year's fucking Eve, isn't it? New Year's fucking Eve, in Peter's fucking mansion, where Peter gets to be the lord of the manor, and I get to regret ever leaving England! Peter
: Andrew I know this isn't you speaking, this is 'drunk you'.
: Do you really want to know why I brought you here?
: [Watching Peter fill a basket with firewood
] Hello. just coming to see if you're doing it properly.
[Peter throws another log on
: Oh, no, you're doing it all wrong - I'll have to help you! Peter
: Do you have wood in Los Angeles? Andrew
: Well, we have Hollywood! Peter
: Now, I don't want to have to tell you again, stop it, stop it now!
: [Sarah is telling Peter about catching Maggie with Paul
] There they are, in bed, together! Peter
: With Maggie on top? Sarah
: Like she was in a rodeo!
] You slept with Sarah, I know you did! Peter
: Oh, my dear, the Archbishop of Canterbury has slept with Sarah! And that was years ago.