Mark Corrigan: [voiceover] Sophie's the one. Toni's Russia; vast, mysterious, unconquerable. Sophie's Poland; manageable, won't put up too much of a fight.
[Mark pulls back the duvet on his bed to find a bloody mess of raw sausages and bacon spelling the word "JUDAS"]
Jeremy Usborne: What's the matter? I thought you liked pork.
Mark Corrigan: How did... what does it mean?
Jeremy Usborne: It means "omertà". It means "rewengay".
Mark Corrigan: Look, I'm sorry, OK? I'm sorry I humiliated you in front of Toni.
Jeremy Usborne: Don't think I can't see you, Mark. Trying to get a slice of my action because Sophie the office girl won't put out.
Mark Corrigan: Oh right, the gloves are off, are they? Well then, perhaps it's best you do know what I think of your music.
Jeremy Usborne: Well, let's have some more truth, shall we? Yeah? Yeah? Cos the truth is, you're a posh spaz!
Mark Corrigan: Oh, really? Well, I'd love to know in way I am a posh spaz!
Jeremy Usborne: In the way that you're always doing posh spazzy things like tidying up and ironing your socks.
Mark Corrigan: I do not iron my socks!
Jeremy Usborne: Socks, shirt, whatever!
[Mark and Jeremy both fancy Toni]
Mark Corrigan: [voiceover] I'll get her in the end. I have the power of the brain, the most erotic muscle. The longbow beats the crossbow, my idiotic friend.
[Mark manages to catch the bus]
Mark Corrigan: [voiceover] Yes! I am the Lord of the bus, said he.
[Mark is reading "Stalingrad" by Anthony Beevor]
Mark Corrigan: [voiceover] Those kids have no idea whatsoever of what went on at Stalingrad. Although I can in no way compare my struggle reading it with that of the Red Army, it has been a very big read.
[Mark peers through the tower block entrance letterbox at the kids who have started picking on him]
Mark Corrigan: [voiceover] Come on, come on, piss off! I want to go to the shop. Need a poo, got to have loo paper. I should be able to just walk out of my own front door, what's wrong with me? It'd be great if a car just ploughed into the lot of them, twisted broken bones.
Super Hans: So, you got our track?
Jeremy Usborne: Er, no. I've been thinking, I'm not sure. I think maybe it's shit.
Super Hans: Whoa! Hold it, cowboy. Rewind, wash it. The track's shit? Jez, the track's THE shit!
Jeremy Usborne: It's just I found Mark laughing at it.
Super Hans: Oh what, so Mister fucking ocean colour pants don't get it? Well, quelle fucking surprise.
Jeremy Usborne: Plus he was doing it in front of Toni.
Super Hans: Mate, you gotta get some rewengay. He broke omertà.
Jeremy Usborne: You think?
Super Hans: Listen, the whole industry is run by suits like your mate.
Jeremy Usborne: Do you think that's why we haven't got a deal yet?
Super Hans: Course it is, they're all a bunch of Marks, ain't they? Sitting behind their big marble desks, ties done up to eleven, clicking their fingers to the fucking Lighthouse Family, getting their dick sucked by a big Alsatian dog.
Jeremy Usborne: Yeah?
Super Hans: They're all perverts, mate. All in with each other. It's not who you know, it's who you blow.
Boy #1: Hey look, it's Clean Shirt!
Mark Corrigan: [voiceover] Clean Shirt? What does that mean? Isn't that good?
Boy #1: How do you get that shirt so clean, mate?
Jeremy Usborne: So, Toni's friends. Who, what, why, where?
Toni: Well, that's the fun, I don't know anyone! These are our neighbours.
Mark Corrigan: Neighbours?
Toni: Why, did you think I was going to invite my friends? I tell you, you find out who your real friends are when you set fire to Hampton Court maze because you can't take any more of your husband's shit.
[During a game where people wear notes on their forehead with a famous name on them and they have to guess who it is]
Toni: Hey Jeremy, have you worked out your...
Jeremy Usborne: [his one is David Blunkett] Oh, don't even go there. It is literally impossible. Turns out I'm just someone's secretary.
Mark Corrigan: The HOME Secretary, Jeremy, you're the Home Secretary.
[an old lady at the party is still trying to find out who the name on her forehead is, it's the one that Jeremy wrote: "Cockmuncher"]
Neighbour: Is it Jamie Oliver?
Jeremy Usborne: Look, you're a cockmuncher, OK?
Mark Corrigan: Yeah, so, er, Jeremy tells me you watched a porno together. You know, I'd be into...
Toni: That wasn't a porno. That was The English Patient.
Mark Corrigan: [voiceover] Ha! What an idiotic boob! He's out, I'm in!
Jeremy Usborne: What's the big deal? So I didn't give him the number for Dr. Tang. She's got leukaemia! Sticking a few needles in her face at 50 quid a pop is not gonna fix that!
Jeremy Usborne: We're just gradually sliding into a fuck buddy scenario.
Mark Corrigan: Fuck buddy?
Jeremy Usborne: Yeah. A buddy you can fuck. I mean, we're both so relaxed about the whole sex thing. Last time I was round there we watched a porno. 4 in the afternoon, just me and her, watching a porno. I mean, that's me. I'm just not ready for the kind of thing you're after, the whole... someone to go to Waitrose with.
Mark Corrigan: Yeah, I suppose.
Mark Corrigan: I don't want to go to Waitrose, I want a fuck buddy.
Jeremy Usborne: [voiceover] I wish I was her fuck buddy next door. We could do it through the wall.
Jeremy Usborne: How thick is wall?
Mark Corrigan: Depends.
Mark Corrigan: I need to find out for a friend the name of that Chinese doctor she was raving about. Can you remember?
Jeremy Usborne: Sure.
[Mark starts writing on a piece of paper]
Jeremy Usborne: It was Dr Ying Fu Yip, Wang Shong...
[Mark stops writing and looks at Jeremy]
Jeremy Usborne: Pang Fang Wang Dang Dong Ning Po Ku.
Mark Corrigan: Oh, right. I see, I get it. You were lampooning me. It was a simple lampoon.
[Yet again Mark runs into the nasty kids on his way home, they spot him and start jeering at him again. He picks up a rusty iron bar off the ground]
Mark Corrigan: [voiceover] OK. You want some, do you? Do you want a taste of my steel?
[He runs at them with the bar, screaming. They run away. Sophie, passing by in the bus, watches him, shocked]
Toni: Don't do anything I wouldn't do, sis... which leaves her a hell of a lot of leeway!
Super Hans: Pint of Guinness, please. No logo on the foam.
Jeremy Usborne: No logo on the foam?
Super Hans: You don't buy into all that one, do ya? What, the old "Oo, I've got a clover in me foam, I'm so important." No, what you're doing there is you're drinking an advert, ain't ya, eh, shithead?
[On the bus, Sophie accidentally sits on Mark's hand]
Mark Corrigan: [voiceover] Oh no, shit, she's... I should say... No, too late. Already, it's too late. Maybe if we hit a bump I can slip it out. Or keep schtum, ride it out. Going to need to waggle eventually, to keep the circulation going.
Sophie Chapman: Oh God, there's something... Mark have you... Your hand.
Mark Corrigan: Er, oh. I was gonna say, but... I just... Sorry.
Sophie Chapman: No, no, it's fine.
[she starts reading her book]
Mark Corrigan: [voiceover] Of course, she's giving you the book-off. Ugh. Women don't want your hand under their bottoms, Mark. That's been established, that's a given. "She sat on it, officer. It was an accident." "Of course it was, now get in with the nonces." What a disaster.
Mark Corrigan: [trying to seduce Toni by talking about Stalingrad] See, by the winter of '42, the whole city was surrounded by the massed Sixth Army. It was pressing...
[he holds Toni's hand]
Mark Corrigan: And pressing. The Russians couldn't on much longer. Many wanted to submit.
Toni: Mark, you know I don't just bang anyone, yeah? I'm not some kind of next-door fuck jar.
Mark Corrigan: No. No, of course not. What I mean is that the German supply lines were stretched, Zhukov countered...
[he puts Toni's hand back in her lap]
Mark Corrigan: And the siege was broken. And that's all the story of Stalingrad.
Jeremy Usborne: You're an animal Corrigan. You have to keep your tie done up to eleven, otherwise all this grey ugly office envy sludge will just spill out and drown you and... and you've got weird nuts!
Mark Corrigan: What? How did you...?
Jeremy Usborne: If you're going to watch the TV in your dressing gown, you might want to put some pants on.