And you need to fucking listen to me, Russell, you fucking Antipodean fucking kangaroo-loving fruitcake.

See this poster stuff.

That's fucking small fry.

That's whitebait, Russ, me old cobber.

The really horrible stuff, that's all still about to happen to you, right?

Right, are you coming in here so we can carry this on?

What, now?

If you can spare the time!

Uh, no.

No. I can't. I don't use lifts. I'm claustrophobic.

You're what?!

Not hugely. I can be in rooms.

You've seen that. I just don't do lifts. That's all.

But this lift, I mean, it's fuckng huge.

This is bigger than some rooms. This is bigger than some people's flats.

It's about not being able to get out.

Oh. Well, that's great.

That's fucking great.

That's another fucking thing right there.

Not only have you got a fucking bent husband and a fucking daughter that gets taken to school

in a fuckng sedan chair, you're also fucking mental. Jesus Christ, see you,

you are a fucking omni-shambles, that's what you are.

You're like that coffee machine, you know, "From bean to cup, you fuck up."

He SO is Russell Crowe.

Who?

Nicola. I did want to tell you that I did try to get a message through to Ollie.

I know. I've been doing this a long time now.

By which, I mean in an experienced firm hand on the tiller sort of way,

not in a clapped-out over the hill kind of way.

Yeah, I know. I've learned to look out for these sort of things.

I have developed a kind of sonar for them now, like a bat.

Glenn, do you want to maybe stay on?

I could use that sonar, batty man. Right.

Uh, forgive me, I think that's Jamaican slang for homosexual.

I was thinking that as I said it. I'm sorry. I didn't mean... No, no, no.

Right.