Gay

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Filter.

OK, are you ready?

- I need something white.

Stephanie, hair.

- It's OK.

Sure?

- Just a sec.

Are you rolling?

- We're rolling.

Welcome to the new

programme, Ultimate Makeover.

During the coming weeks we'll

be picking people off the streets...

and turning them into a success.

Was that OK?

- Fine.

Steph?

- Couldn't have been better.

I'm going to do it again.

You're from Star Magazine, right?

- Hi, Pascal. Yes, I called you.

That's right. So, here I am.

- Indeed, and rather late at that.

Yes, I had a photo shoot,

you know how it is.

No, I don't actually.

- What would you like?

A still mineral water, please.

- Cappuccino, no cacao.

Let's get straight down to it.

- That sounds like a good idea.

Pascal, four years in a

top soap, a fantastic role...

Absolutely.

- And suddenly you're gone.

What happened?

- Very simple:
I quit.

I'd had enough. I mean, soap is nice

enough, but I'm going to Hollywood.

Great, but before you make it there...

- You have a scoop here, you know.

Yes, I realize that

and I can write it all down...

but before you make it to

Hollywood... You quit, you say?

But I heard from a reliable source

that you'd simply been written out.

End of role, end of Pascal.

- That's a load of rubbish.

Ah, nice. Do you have a light?

- Sure...

Lots of froth.

- Of course I have a light for you.

There you go.

- May I have your autograph?

Of course. What's your name?

- Katja.

Let's see, I think I have

a nice picture for you.

For Katja...

Right, here's your pen, and

this is for over your bed.

OK, thank you.

- No problem. There, you see?

Yes, I see. But what will they

see of you in Hollywood?

Lots. I have contacts there.

Besides, I've won three soap awards,

so there won't be a problem.

Three soap awards... I've seen many

Dutch actors leave for Hollywood...

but I've also seen most come back.

When will we see you back?

I won't be. I'm at a completely

different level, you see.

A different level... I guess

Hollywood can't wait.

This is pathetic. There are hoards

of tramps here every day...

but when you need one,

there are none.

Couldn't you have arranged one?

Sorry, I thought there'd be one.

- Christ, go and find one.

I can't work like this.

Do those editing tarts do anything

besides powdering their noses?

Come on, boys, stand by.

- I've found one...

but he really stinks.

- Who cares? Bingo.

Jesus Christ, what a stench.

OK, are you rolling?

I think we've found someone. Hello,

who are you and why are you here?

What do you want?

We're making a show about

returning someone into society.

It could be you. What's your name?

- Nol.

Nol, in the coming ten weeks we can

offer you a complete makeover...

by stylist Tom Sebastiaan. A

luxury house, insurance, a job: -

in short, a future.

And something with alcohol in it?

- And something with alcohol in it.

OK, cut. Did you get that? Would you

take care of the rest, Stephanie?

Christ, what a stench.

OK, sorted?

- Sorted.

Listen, Steph, this programme

has a tight budget...

so everyone in the team has to

put Nol up for a couple of nights.

So he'll be going home

with you later on.

You can't be serious?

Sure I am. And then with Tanja or

Tessa, until we've found him a place.

That's disgusting.

But it's impossible. My house is too

small and I don't have a spare bed.

And you like working in television?

- Yes.

There you go. It's not all

fun and games, you know.

Next week we'll tart him up.

Tommy-boy, we've got it

on film. Yep, no problem.

Hey, listen, that assistant:

Can we switch her?

Being a star, you can't keep

everything private, can you?

And, I mean, a lot has

gone on between you and Max.

As I said, I don't

want to talk about it.

Well, I do want to talk about it.

- And I don't.

Enough has been said about it already.

- Yes, by Max.

As I said, I'm not talking about it.

- Well, that may change.

When another photo of Max and some

other guy comes out, for instance.

I think we're finished here.

- Finished?

Yes.

- Sure, if you say so.

Thanks.

I want you. X Max

Here.

Here's to three years of us.

And to things getting back

to the way they used to be.

Open wide.

Yes, three years, Max.

Darling, shall we import a child

now that everything's OK again?

Don't be silly.

- Yes, you're right.

I won't mention it again.

Here, girl. Come on, darling.

- Well, look at you...

Yes, we already have an

epileptic problem child, don't we?

Has she had her medicine?

- Darling, have I ever forgotten?

How was your interview?

I wonder what she'll print this time.

I don't trust the b*tch one bit.

Oh, journalists, they're

all so two-faced.

And how was your day?

Did you give them all hell?

We found a tramp for

my Ultimate Makeover format.

Good. One of those

really dirty blokes?

Yes, but they like my format and

they're paying very good money, so...

Yes, that's true, my

rich little businessman.

All day I've been so...

horny.

- Really?

Yes.

- What did you have in mind?

S... e... x.

Darling...

I love you.

Max, do you think I should

have my eyes lifted?

Pascal, don't be silly.

Oh, come on, for just 6,642 euros

I'd look so much better.

Please.

- No, you're dishy enough as you are.

I bought the gossip magazines today,

and we're in them again.

Yes, so I heard. It drives me crazy.

Maybe we should sue them all.

- Don't worry. We're hot, that's all.

I hate those hacks and

I think it's horrible for you.

Darling, I forgave you, didn't I?

I just don't want it to happen again.

I've told you a thousand

times:
I'm sorry, OK?

OK. Now stop it.

It makes me so insecure.

OK, deal. I'll never mention it again.

Over, finito, schluss.

You belong to me and

no one else, understood?

So, little Cher, Daddy will look

good in his ironed shirt, won't he?

I'll iron yours, too, in a minute.

But first, musica di tango.

Lift up your paws.

May I have this dance?

Who's that? Who is that?

Daddy. It's Daddy. Yes.

Don't you think that this

makes me look far too sexy?

Darling, you've got

shaving cream on your ear.

And I'd better help you with those

buttons. If you didn't have me...

Then I'd be completely lost.

- That's right.

Don't you want to wear the other one?

- No, this is just fine.

Yes, you're right, it is.

Yes, but I don't know what to wear.

- Darling, what you have on is perfect.

I see Beverly Hills, a large,

heart-shaped swimming pool...

I'm a film star,

you're a top producer.

And Cher sitting on Cher's lap.

And mega-contracts each week,

champagne parties, Madonna...

Well-filled swimming trunks...

- L.A. Here we come.

Yeah. I feel like going out.

- Yes, it's been a whole four days.

That's far too long.

- Yes.

I'll give Snoes a call.

- Poor little Snoes.

The poor thing. Let's

find her a man tonight.

Yeah, right, in a gay bar.

Snoes speaking.

- Hello, my little fag-hag.

Hello, darling. You always call when

I'm doing something rather private.

Always? What on earth are you doing?

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