Perfect Sense

There is darkness...

...and there is light.

There are men and women.

There's food.

There are restaurants.

Disease.

There's work.

Traffic.

The days as we know them.

The world as we imagine the world.

Hey.

Hey.

How would you feel

about heading home?

I've only just fallen asleep.

Well, you have, I haven't.

I have a tough time sleeping

with someone else in the bed.

Are you kicking me out?

I have to go to work soon anyway.

We dance and drink all night,

we go back to your place, you f*** me

and now you wake me up

and kick me out?

I can't sleep

with another person in the bed.

- That's funny.

- That's just the way it is.

I didn't know

you'd started smoking again.

What do you feel like doing?

Throwing stones.

At what?

Seagulls.

Sweetheart.

- You'll find someone.

- Shut up and throw.

I suppose I should go back to work.

Come on.

Poor baby.

Lebanon?

Morocco.

Morocco.

Now that's funny.

- What's funny?

- Seeing you today.

Hilarious.

Come with me for a minute, will you?

They want us at the hospital.

Aren't you going to ask

why I haven't been to work?

- Well, you've been sick.

- Not sick, just unhappy.

Well, it's the same thing.

Unhappy on account of a man.

No kidding?

So what are we wanted for?

Er, to see a patient.

- Why?

- What's going on?

Well, we're just going to find out.

- You know he's really pissed off in there.

- Excuse me.

When can I take him back home?

Oh, well, we just need

to talk to him, so...

- He needs to explain it all again?

- Well...

Look. Look, listen.

He called me up, right,

and he told me he was coming home...

and then all of a sudden his voice breaks

and he bursts into tears.

Mm-hm.

And then he starts telling me

that he doesn't see any meaning to life.

I mean, he's not usually like that.

He's a truck driver.

OK.

And then he pulls over at the side

and says he's fine again.

- Except, he cann'ae smell any more.

- He can't smell any more?

Well, I told him to find a hospital

because, you know,

that isn't normal, is it?

Hello, er... Donald.

Stephen Montgomery here again.

- Hi, I'm Susan.

- Hello, Stephen. Hello, Susan.

- You can't smell any more?

- That's right, Susan.

I can't smell any more.

But is your mood back to normal?

I've been sitting here for nearly

But you don't feel any discomfort

other than a lack of smell?

No, Susan.

And has anybody else in your family

or at work had similar experiences?

I haven't got a clue

cos I'm sitting here, aren't I?

- What do you want from me?

- I just want your opinion.

I'm an epidemiologist, Stephen.

So why am I talking to this guy?

Cos we've got seven more

just like him in Aberdeen.

Five in Dundee.

There's over 100 reported cases

in England.

They've got them in France,

Belgium, Italy, Spain.

They've all appeared

in the last 24 hours.

How were they infected?

I'm not sure they are.

Meaning?

Well, all the early indications suggest

no connection between them at all.

No contact. No pattern. Nothing.

Is my wife still out there?

Let me speak to my wife.

Please, let me speak to my wife.

Maybe it'll just go away.

- So we won't panic.

- Hm.

Michael, that's a table of 12

just sat down.

- Where are they, at the bar?

- Yeah.

Where's that lobster and haggis?

I need that right now.

- That's table five, mains.

- You're an arsehole.

- What's the matter with you?

- What?

- Those starters for table seven...

- That girl was such a sweetheart.

- What girl?

- "What girl?"

You just f***ed her and dumped her,

didn't you?

- Poor little baby.

- Theresa, where's those salads?

OK, one oysters, one soup, an antipasti,

two duck and a steak rare.

Yes, Chef.

I'd have made her breakfast.

Strawberries,

heated the milk for her coffee.

But they don't want to f*** the nice guy.

They want to f*** the arsehole.

- Next two checks at the same time.

- Yes, Chef.

How about those ravioli, boys?

How long on those?

- Three minutes, Chef.

- Right, right, right.

- Chef.

- OK, how do we know it's fresh?

- We smell it?

- No, check the eyes.

They should be clear.

The gills should be red.

- It should be firm. And the smell?

- Fishy?

It can smell fishy.

But, if it does, it's not fresh.

It should smell like the sea.

Does it smell like the sea?

- Mostly smells of fish.

- Get me another f***ing sea bass.

One day.

One day, son, you'll be in love.

And you'll be miserable.

Table seven. That's your karma.

- Hot pot!

- Truly in love and miserable.

Richard, I need that pot back!

Richard!

- Hi, Jen.

- Hi, sweetheart.

- Listen...

- Really?

- Do you want to come with me?

- Of course I do.

Great.

I can find someone

else if you're busy.

Don't worry, it might not be that serious.

I'll call you as soon as I know more.

OK?

You wouldn't happen to have

a spare cigarette?

- I'm on the phone.

- Who's that you're talking to?

Oh, nothing.

It's just a guy asking for a cigarette.

- OK, I better go.

- Yeah.

- Bye.

- Hmm.

- OK, OK. Bye.

- Have you got a light?

How about board and lodging,

while we're at it?

Nah, I don't even know your name.

Do you have one, though?

Sh*t.

Oh, dear.

I'm Michael.

I work in the restaurant there.

- All right, sailor.

- I'm a chef.

Good for you.

Come on, guys. What have we got?

We've checked all the Scottish cases

but have no obvious matches.

No proteins mutating, no prions, nothing.

There's nothing to say it's a virus.

Nothing that matches anything we know.

But it's fair to say

it isn't obviously contagious.

It's fair to say it's spreading.

OK.

Could be environmental, it could be

a toxin we know nothing about.

It could be terrorism.

OK, so it's not a contagion.

I'll tell them... probably disappear

in a short while and don't panic.

Maybe they put something in the water.

Overwhelmed with grief.

People are hit with all

that they've lost.

Lovers they never had.

All the departed friends.

They think of all the

people they've hurt.

First, overwhelmed with grief.

And then no sense of smell.

That's the disease.

They call it Severe

Olfactory Syndrome.

SOS.

This is a cause for concern and

requires a heightened state of alert.

But it's not a cause for alarm.

We stand ready for the arrival

of the first confirmed

case of infection...

...the World Health Organisation's

stepping to level five

doesn't automatically mean

that the human race...

They say it isn't contagious.

But who dare believe that?

Nothing.

Well, shall we call it a night?

I don't know what the f***

we should call it.

Let's go chase some pretty ladies, huh?

- You chase, I'll pick up the pieces.

- I don't feel like it.

Come on.

You want to watch that, Rich.

That's what happens when you have

too much high-class fanny.

He's been gorging himself

on Europe's finest.

- I'm going to get the Entonox quick!

- What's that?

Entonox. Laughing gas. Saint Nitrous.

Patron saint of pastry chefs.

Richard, don't. It'll make you feel...

James, leave him alone.

- Ssh.

- James.

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