Filth and Wisdom Page #3

have you been hiding in?

Holly, this is Lorcan O'Neill,

a very old crony of mine.

He's won a Pulitzer Prize.

He also taught me the finer art

of fellatio as an undergrad at Oxford.

Relax, Holly, I'm kidding again.

No, he's not.

- I'm loving the gray, by the way.

- I hadn't noticed.

Been too busy fumbling around

in the dark.

Sir?

So how have you been puffing

yourself up these days?

Haven't you seen the series I've had

published in the Telegraph this month?

- No. Very good, thank you.

- Shame, it's f***ing good.

Actually, I'm here with my publisher

to celebrate the fact that my new novel

has been short-listed for the Booker Prize.

How very nice for you.

So you'll be needing a new mantelpiece

in your six-storey, semi-detached

Chelsea manor, won't you?

Well, it's seven, old boy,

and distinctly detached.

- I'm starving, can we order?

- Forgive me, I'm going.

Holly, it was lovely to meet you,

and, Christopher, such a very nice

surprise to see you after all these years.

Nice to see you too. Nice.

Are you ready to order?

- Um, I'll have a hamburger and fries.

- And I'll have the pheasant, thank you.

Burger and fries are not going to look

very good in your G-string.

Maybe I'm trying to get fired.

They'll never fire you.

You're too beautiful.

How do you know what I look like?

Andre may have mentioned it

once or twice.

Oh, yeah?

- What color's my hair?

- That's a tough one.

Let me see. I'll have to guess. Uh...

- Blond?

- No, I'm not. I'm a brunette.

You're not clever enough

to be a brunette.

You know he's in love with you,

don't you?

I think it's you he's in love with.

He can't stop talking about your poetry.

Well, he lives in a fantasy world,

doesn't he?

Don't we all?

I love this guy.

Property developer, my ass.

Filthy little excuse for a man.

That's it.

I'm never doing this again,

you f***ing gyppo.

You f***ed it up.

Who the f*** told you to open the door?

Find someone else

to do your dirty work.

Speaking of dirty work, I've gotta go.

I'm gonna be late.

You know, in my country,

we have a saying

that a man without a mustache

- is like woman with mustache.

- I'm sick of your Ukrainian folklore.

F*** you!

Take Juliette.

She's a nice girl.

She's also got a swamp up there.

She cares a lot about

starving children in Africa,

and she don't know

she's starving too.

Oh, my God. What happened to you?

What are you doing here?

- I've come to tell you something.

- Well, make it fast. I've got work to do.

I'm leaving.

Leaving what?

School, home, everything.

I'm gonna travel the world,

find out who I am.

You wouldn't leave the driveway

without Mummy and Daddy's permission.

I've told Mum everything.

Aren't you the brave girl?

- I've gotta start somewhere.

- I just can't believe you'd do it, that's all.

I'd thought you'd be happy for me.

I am happy for you.

But how can you afford

to travel the world?

Mum gave me money.

You're so weak.

So how does that work?

You stick around for a few more years

of fatherly affection.

You don't say anything about it

and get a nice prize.

Well done.

I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry.

Good for you.

Is it okay if I leave some

things with you before I go?

Yeah, come by whenever.

I've got to get to work.

Get out.

Mom, how do I look?

Where did you get these clothes?

It's for you.

Who the bloody did this to you?

I'll bloody fix him good.

I'd better get out front.

I told you not to call me at work.

Yeah, well, I'm busy, busy, busy.

Daughter, bloody prostitute.

I'll deal with Lakshmi

when I get home, all right?

Yeah, enough, all right.

Dinner is served.

Oh, Juliette.

Bloody hell.

Sardeep.

Sardeep.

- What the bloody is this?

- What does it look like?

What are they doing

in your bloody pocket?

What are you doing

in my bloody pocket?

- You, with your preoccupation

- Excuse me.

with starving children of Africa.

Bloody Africa?

You can't even look after your bloody self.

Excuse me.

- You're a hypocrite.

- Look who's talking.

- I put you on a pedestal.

But it's your pedestal,

Sardeep, not mine.

Don't you bloody interrupt me.

This is a respectable establishment.

You can't show up here with pills

and a black eye,

frightening off the customers.

- Quite right.

- Thank you.

I'm an Indian, and this is

a bloody Indian establishment.

I work so very hard every day.

Every day, for what, huh?

My wife screams at me from the moment

I get up to the moment I go to sleep.

All I want is a little bloody

peace and quiet in my life.

And this is not a bloody ashram!

I will not work for a bigot.

I'm going to Africa,

and I don't care what you, or you,

or anyone else thinks about it.

If I have to rob a bank

to pay my way, then so be it.

This is not...

- Piss off.

Listen, if women

weren't so f***ing boring,

Harry wouldn't be in business.

I hates woman, just like

my mommy and my sister.

I don't hate women.

I just feel sorry for them.

They don't use their imagination,

you know?

Men like strange, they like new.

I see it every night, don't I?

You know how much pizza

I eat every week?

Forty-nine for the delivery

to find one I like.

What, you like the delivery boy?

I love the delivery boys.

In one night, I eat 20 pizza

because the same boy's coming.

You know what I say to him?

No.

- Call me Margarita tonight.

Honey, you show me a beautiful girl

and I'll show you a man

who's tired of f***ing her.

- Are you sure?

- You want varnish?

- Talk is cheap.

- Simple, isn't it?

Variety is the spice of life.

Am I right or am I right?

She's forever right.

Hi, Holly. Late again?

So how much do we know?

Is that Holly?

Good girl.

Come on, Britney.

Yo, professor.

Delivery boy.

We've got ripe olives from Turkey.

We've got one loaf

organic bread, brown.

We've got

a fruit basket from the Lord,

all sprinkled with nectars.

A special for my blind man.

Rubbish, isn't it?

No.

In fact, it's brilliant.

- I wanna read more.

- There aren't any more.

There are such things as Braille,

you know?

What's the point of sitting here

feeling sorry for yourself?

I would give my eyes

to write like you.

Okay, okay. Go, go.

Thank you for helping

the f***ing blind man.

Can I just put away this for you?

Please, just go.

Go!

Using the time. Good, ladies.

Up. That's it. Right round.

Good. Oh, good.

One, two.

And around. And four.

Tight fifth, through,

and back to the last.

Good. Two.

Over.

And through.

And...

Good.

Okay, thank you.

Thank you, Shaun.

Right, see you tomorrow, thanks.

Excellent choice.

- Yeah?

Now, you know

what you should try with that?

Just a little virgin olive oil,

and just slowly dip in bread.

No, try this one.

Another one of Deb's recipes.

Pork pie and guacamole.

Ow!

I'm so, so sorry. I'm so, so sorry.

I'm sorry.

Have you done your homework?

Oh...

Mrs. Goldfarb,

are you trying to seduce me?

Come here, you naughty little boy.

Come on. Over.

- What are you?

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