INT. SPOON LIVING ROOM - EVENING
JANE IS SAT ON THE SOFA
WATCHING THE NEWS, DRINKING A
GLASS OF WINE.
ROBERT ENTERS DRINKING FROM A
CAN OF BEER AND JUMPS ON TO THE
SOFA. THE RESULTING TIDAL WAVE
NEARLY CAUSES JANE TO SPILL HER
DRINK.
ROBERT LIFTS HIS SHIRT AND
PROCEEDS TO PICK AT HIS BELLY
BUTTON.
JANE:
Do you have to do that?
ROBERT:
Do you know what the Norwegian for belly
button fluff is?
JANE:
(sarcastic)
No, but I'm sure you're going to enlighten me.
ROBERT:
Navlelo.
(playing with the fluff)
Nav - le - looooooooooo.
JANE:
Have you been reading your '1000 Things Lads
Should Know' toilet paper again?
ROBERT:
It's very informative.
(mouthing the words)
Nav - le - looooooooooo.
JANE:
You do realise you're meant to absorb it
cranially not rectally?
ROBERT:
Were there any phone messages?
JANE:
I don't bother to check these days. The only
people who leave messages since I married you
are double glazing salesmen.
(to herself)
They don't know any better.
ROBERT LEANS OVER TO THE PHONE
AND PRESSES THE REPLAY BUTTON
ON THE ANSWER MACHINE.
ANSWER MACHINE:
You have one new message.
THE MACHINE BEEPS AS ROBERT
TAKES A GULP OF HIS BEER.
ANSWER MACHINE: (cont'd)
(Mark's voice)
Hey, you geriatric's colostomy bag.
ROBERT SPITS HIS BEER OUT ALL
OVER THE TV. JANE JUST STARES AT
HIM IN DISBELIEF.
ANSWER MACHINE: (cont'd)
(Mark's voice cont'd)
Happy birthday for tomorrow, you wrinkly old
git. I thought I'd come and visit you on your
death bed since it's been nearly three years
since I last graced you with my presence. I'm a
bit snowed under with work so I don't know
what time I'll be there, but it'll be sometime
tomorrow. Later, smelly arse.
THE ANSWER MACHINE CLICKS OFF.
JANE:
Was that your brother?
ROBERT:
(shock)
He's coming here.
JANE:
Perhaps we should rehang the jubilee bunting
outside the house again, make him feel
welcome?
ROBERT:
He's coming here.
JANE:
Yes, yes, it's not the first time you had a visitor.
Although it is a rare occasion. Even the
Jehovah's Witnesses know to avoid this house
now.
ROBERT:
It's not my fault they don't have a sense of
humour.
JANE:
It's not every house they come across a naked
man covered in blood, holding a dead chicken
and a carving knife, asking them if they know
any virgins.
ROBERT GOES BACK TO HIS CAN OF
BEER, LOOKING FURTIVELY AT JANE.
ROBERT:
If he asks, you're a fashion model from the
Czech Republic.
JANE:
What..?
ROBERT:
My brother... You don't understand what he's
like.
JANE:
I better he's from the sane side of the family.
ROBERT:
Please, you have to help me?
JANE:
I don't have the necessary qualifications.
ROBERT:
He's so competitive and always trying to get one
over on me.
JANE:
Well, just remember to play nice.
ROBERT:
I'm serious I need you to cover for me.
JANE:
(to herself)
Don't I always.
ROBERT CALMS HIMSELF AND TAKES
ANOTHER SWIG FROM HIS CAN.
AGAIN HE SPITS HIS BEER OUT OVER
THE TV.
ROBERT:
(registering with shock)
It's my birthday... tomorrow!
JANE:
That's the thing about birthdays, they come
around once a year whether you like it or not.
(knowingly)
How old are you, I forget?
ROBERT:
Thir... thir... thir...
JANE:
Ah yes, your thirtieth.
ROBERT:
(screaming)
Noooooooooo! I'm too young to be thirty.
JANE:
Just try and do it quietly.
INT. SPOON BEDROOM - MORNING
ROBERT'S EYES ARE WIDE OPEN IN
ABJECT TERROR, HIS FINGERS
GRIPPING THE DUVET IN WHITE
KNUCKLED FEAR. JANE SLEEPS
PEACEFULLY NEXT TO HIM.
THE RADIO ALARM CLOCK EXPLODES
TO LIFE SPEWING FORTH MUSIC,
JOLTING ROBERT OUT OF BED. HE
LANDS WITH A THUD AND HIDES
UNDER BED.
JANE:
(eyes closed, smiling)
Happy birthday, dear.
INT. SPOON BATHROOM - MORNING
THE BATHROOM CABINET CLOSES
AND WE SEE A SHELL-SHOCKED
ROBERT STARING BACK AT US FROM
THE CABINET'S MIRROR. HE PUSHES
BACK ON HIS NOSE FORMING A PIG
SNOUT AND INSPECTS HIS NOSE
HAIR.
HIS FREE HAND COMES INTO VIEW
HOLDING A VERY LARGE PAIR OF
SCISSORS. HE TRIES TO MANOEUVRE
THE SCISSORS IN TO POSITION TO
TRIM HIS NOSE HAIRS. IT'S NEVER
GOING TO HAPPEN.
HE OPENS THE CABINET AGAIN.
WHEN IT CLOSES ROBERT, IN THE
SAME POSE, BRINGS UP HIS FREE
HAND WHICH NOW CLUTCHES A PAIR
OF TWEEZERS. HE GRABS A HAIR
AND PULLS.
THE HAIR IS FIRMLY ROOTED AND HE
ONLY SUCCEEDS IN PULLING HIS
FACE INTO THE MIRROR, NEARLY
KNOCKING HIMSELF OUT. HE LETS
OUT A GIRLY SCREAM AND HOLDS
HIS BRUISED NOSE.
RECOVERING, ROBERT OPENS THE
CABINET AGAIN AND REMOVES A
TUBE OF HAIR REMOVAL CREAM,
CLOSES THE CABINET DOOR AND
READS THE INSTRUCTIONS.
ROBERT:
Painless hair removal. Sweet!
ROBERT SQUIRTS THE HAIR
REMOVAL CREAM UP ONE NOSTRIL
AND THEN THE OTHER.
HE PAUSES, THINKING FOR A
MOMENT, AND THEN PROCEEDS TO
SQUIRT THE CREAM IN HIS RIGHT EAR
AND THEN HIS LEFT.
ROBERT GRINS SMUGLY AT HIS
REFLECTION AND BEGINS TO INSPECT
HIS RECEDING HAIRLINE.
HIS NOSE STARTS TO TWITCH. HE
GIVES IT A LITTLE SCRATCH. THEN
HIS EAR. THEN THE OTHER EAR.
ROBERT SCREAMS IN PAIN AND
PLUNGES HIS HEAD INTO THE WATER
IN THE SINK. HE STILL SCREAMS, THE
BUBBLES RISING.
INT. SWEETHEARTS, RECEPTION - DAY
GEMMA SITS AT HER DESK TYPING
AWAY AT HER COMPUTER.
THE OFFICE DOOR OPENS A CRACK
AND ROBERT, BARELY
RECOGNISABLE WITH HIS HEAD
COVERED IN EAR MUFFS AND A
SCARF, SHOOTS A QUICK GLANCE
INTO THE OFFICE. SPOTTING GEMMA
ROBERT WHIPS HIS HEAD OUT AGAIN.
GEMMA HOLDS OUT ROBERT'S POST
WITHOUT LOOKING UP FROM THE
COMPUTER.
GEMMA:
Morning.
A DISGUISED ROBERT DARTS
THROUGH THE DOOR, GRABS HIS
POST AND HEADS TOWARDS HIS
OFFICE.
GEMMA: (cont'd)
Nice ear muffs.
IGNORING HER ROBERT IS IN HIS
OFFICE, SLAMMING THE DOOR SHUT
BEHIND HIM.
A FEW SECONDS LATER JANE
ENTERS THE OFFICE. GEMMA IS
ALREADY HOLDING UP HER POST
AND A MUG OF COFFEE, WHICH JANE
COLLECTS.
GEMMA: (cont'd)
What's up with the elephant man?
JANE:
Premature middle age.
JANE ENTERS HER OFFICE.
INT. ROBERT'S OFFICE - DAY
ROBERT THROWS THE POST ON THE
DESK AND REMOVES THE EAR MUFFS
AND SCARF TO REVEAL...
...LARGE RED SORES AROUND HIS
NOSTRILS AND EARS. HE TOUCHES
THEM TENTATIVELY AND WINCHES.
HE PICKS UP THE POST AND THROWS
EACH ONE INTO THE BIN AS HE
LOOKS AT THE ENVELOPE.
ROBERT:
Happy Birthday, mother & father.
(binned)
Happy Birthday, brother.
(binned)
Happy Birthday, Mr. Tax Man.
(binned)
THE PHONE RINGS AND ROBERT
PICKS IT UP TEMPORARILY
FORGETTING HIS SORE EARS. HE
LETS OUT A LITTLE YELP OF PAIN
BEFORE TAKING THE CALL.
INT. / INT. ROBERT'S OFFICE/MARK'S HALL -
DAY (INTERCUT)
ROBERT:
(on phone)
Sweethearts dating agency, Robert Spoon
speaking.
MARK:
(on phone)
Happy birthday, you emaciated monkey's
scrotum.
ROBERT:
Err... thanks.
MARK:
Did you get the card?
ROBERT:
(looking at the bin)
Yes, it was nice. Thank you.
MARK:
The big three-oh, how does it feel to be another
year closer to incontinence pants?
ROBERT:
The same as it did yesterday, only a little more
tender.
ROBERT SELF-CONSCIOUSLY
TOUCHES ONE OF THE SORES.
MARK:
If you oil up that Zimmer frame I'll take you out
for a beer or two when I come tomorrow.
ROBERT:
(relief)
I thought you were coming today?
MARK:
Busy at work. It's going to be tomorrow morning
at the earliest.
ROBERT:
(almost pleading)
Really, you don't have to.
MARK:
How else am I going to get you a birthday beer?
The Royal Mail don't deliver pints. Besides I want
to come and meet that lovely wife my big brother
has been boasting about for the past couple of
years.
ROBERT:
(panic)
You really want to meet Jane?
MARK:
Jane..? I thought you said her name was
Denisa?
ROBERT:
Denisa..?
MARK:
Yeah, the Czech fashion model. You lucky
bastard.
ROBERT:
You can't meet her!
MARK:
What?
ROBERT:
She's dead.
MARK:
Dead..?
ROBERT:
Yeah, she died. An accident with a... some hair
crimpers.
(affecting deep hurt)
I don't like to talk about it.
MARK:
I'm sorry, bro, I had no idea. So who's this Jane?
ROBERT:
(mouth before brain)
My wife.
MARK:
You remarried? How long?
ROBERT:
Two years...
HE REALISES HE'S PUT HIS FOOT IN IT
AGAIN AND SLAPS HIMSELF ON THE
FOREHEAD.
MARK:
Two years, but that was when you married
Denisa?
ROBERT:
(thinking quickly)
I met her at Denisa's funeral. Married her a few
weeks later; whirl-wind romance, you know the
thing.
MARK:
(shocked)
Right. So what's this Jane like then?
ROBERT:
She's fantastic, you'd love her. She's even got
her own business.
MARK:
Doing what?
ROBERT:
A dating agency.
ROBERT REACTS AS HE REALISES
WHAT HE'S JUST SAID.
MARK:
A rival to yours? What's it called?
ROBERT DESPERATELY LOOKS
AROUND HIS OFFICE FOR
INSPIRATION.
HE LOOKS AT HIS DESK.
ROBERT:
Err... Des... Err... Des...
HE NOTICES AN AD IN A MAGAZINE
FOR ANTIPERSPIRANT.
ROBERT: (cont'd)
...perspiration... Desperation.
MARK:
That's a funny name for a dating agency.
ROBERT:
(recovering)
Well, you know, doesn't have a clue... poor
dear. I try and give her a few tips but you know
women; they always think they know best.
Demon in bed though.
It's all I can do to drag my self out of bed in the
mornings, but someone has to be the bread
winner, you know what I mean.
MARK:
Well it's good that you support her.
ROBERT:
I do my best. What can you do..?
MARK:
Anyway, bro, I'll be there tomorrow sometime.
ROBERT:
I'll see you then.
MARK:
Oh, by the way... the little lady's brewing our
first child. Baby's due in June. See you
tomorrow.
MARK HANGS UP. ROBERT LOOKS
DUMBSTRUCK, AS HE TOO HANGS
UP.
HE THEN PROCEEDS TO BANG HIS
HEAD REPEATEDLY ON THE DESK.
ROBERT:
Shit! Shit! Shit!
INT. SWEETHEARTS, RECEPTION - DAY
GEMMA IS STILL TYPING AWAY.
ROBERT'S OFFICE DOOR BURSTS
OPEN AND HE SHOOTS INTO JANE'S
OFFICE SLAMMING THE DOOR BEHIND
HIM.
AFTER A FEW SECONDS THERE IS AN
ALMIGHTY SCREAM OF A WOMAN IN
PERIL AND ROBERT IS
UNCEREMONIOUSLY EJECTED FROM
JANE'S OFFICE.
ROBERT TRIES AND FAILS TO LOOK
CASUAL, LEANING AGAINST THE
WALL.
ROBERT LOOKS AT GEMMA AND
SAUNTERS SUSPICIOUSLY AROUND
BEHIND HER PRETENDING TO LOOK
OUT OF THE OFFICE WINDOW.
GEMMA STOPS HER TYPING.
GEMMA:
What?
ROBERT:
Hmm... nothing.
GEMMA RETURNS TO HER TYPING.
ROBERT: (cont'd)
I was just wondering, you're a mother aren't
you?
GEMMA:
No, I found Holly at a bring and buy sale.
ROBERT:
(incredulous)
Really?
GEMMA FLASHES HIM A DON'T BE
STUPID LOOK.
ROBERT: (cont'd)
Well, err... you love... your daughter, don't you?
GEMMA:
Yes, when she's not dragging home undesirable
boys from preschool, for no holds barred
Playdoah sessions.
ROBERT:
Do you ever think of having another child?
GEMMA:
Another round of vomiting, urinating every time I
laugh, stretch marks that wouldn't look out of
place on a whale and gaining enough weight to
be mistaken for the Isle of White...
ROBERT LOOKS AT HER AS IF SHE'S
GONE MAD.
GEMMA: (cont'd)
No, I won't sleep with you, Robert.
ROBERT SINKS TO HIS KNEES,
BEGGING.
ROBERT:
Please? I need to conceive a child by the end of
the day.
GEMMA:
Try Tescos, I hear they're stocking them now.
ROBERT:
It won't take long.
GEMMA:
Promises, promises. Why don't you try your
wife?
ROBERT:
She doesn't understand me.
GEMMA:
I don't think even God understands you, Robert.
ROBERT:
I'll take you for a meal?
(after thought)
I'll even pay for it?
GEMMA:
How could a girl resist such charm.
ROBERT JUMPS UP AND PUTS HIS
ARM AROUND HER, SMILING.
ROBERT:
So, that's a yes then?
GEMMA RETRIEVES SOMETHING
FROM HER DESK DRAW.
GEMMA:
Go away before I make you wish you'd never
asked.
SHE PRODUCES A LARGE PAIR OF
SCISSORS AND SNIPS THEM IN FRONT
OF ROBERT'S FACE.
ROBERT VISIBLY WINCES, BEFORE
EXITING THE FRONT DOOR IN A
HURRY.
INT. FRANCISCO'S - DAY
FRANK:
Turkey baster.
ROBERT:
Sorry?
FRANK:
A turkey baster.
ROBERT:
Have you been at the wine again?
FRANK:
You said you wanted to get Jane pregnant, then
use a turkey baster. I have one in the kitchen
you could borrow.
ROBERT:
As generous, and yet quite disturbing, as your
offer is, I still prefer to do it the manual way.
FRANK:
That's how my father got my mother pregnant.
ROBERT:
What!?
FRANK:
(indicating the kitchen)
The turkey baster.
ROBERT:
THE turkey baster?
FRANK:
Family heirloom.
ROBERT PULLS A VOMIT FACE.
ROBERT:
And you still use it?
FRANK:
(offended)
He washed it out afterwards.
ROBERT:
It's a wonder the environmental health inspector
hasn't made a career out of you.
FRANK:
That's how I'm going to conceive a child too.
ROBERT:
Enough with the turkey baster.
(to himself)
I'm never going to eat here again.
FRANK:
How you going to get Jane off of the pill?
ROBERT:
The pill?
FRANK:
She is using contraception?
ROBERT:
I don't know I never asked.
FRANK:
You could always substitute them with
smarties?
ROBERT:
Hide her pills and replace them with multi
coloured sweets?
FRANK:
Yeah.
ROBERT:
Don't you think she would notice they tasted of
chocolate?
FRANK:
You could always say they were a new
flavour.
ROBERT IGNORES FRANK.
ROBERT:
It's no use, I'm never going to get her pregnant
before Mark gets here.
FRANK:
Why don't you borrow a child?
THIS IDEA BRIGHTENS ROBERT UP.
INT. SWEETHEARTS, RECEPTION - DAY
GEMMA AND JANE SIT SHARING A
COFFEE.
GEMMA:
Robert was acting strange earlier... well,
stranger than normal. Not that he is normal.
JANE:
His brother Mark is coming to visit him. Sends
him into a panic every time.
GEMMA:
You'd think he'd be happy that someone actually
wants to spend time with him.
JANE:
Sometimes if he's getting a little frisky and I'm not
in the mood, I just casually mention Mark's name
just to watch Robert twitch. More entertaining
and cheaper than the pill.
GEMMA:
Doesn't he get on with his brother? This is
Robert I'm talking about, what am I saying?
JANE:
He's got it into his head there's this big rivalry
between the two of them. It's been like that ever
since Mark stole Robert's first girlfriend. They
were only eight. Enticed her away with a
sherbet dip and his best conker.
GEMMA:
He was in here earlier asking if he could borrow
Holly for a few days.
JANE:
Dear God, I hope you told him to get lost?
GEMMA:
I want my daughter to grow up in a sane
environment. It's bad enough that she has see
her father once a month. So why the sudden
interest in children?
JANE:
His brother's wife is pregnant and of course he
couldn't let his bother get one over on him.
GEMMA:
And now he's trying to get one over on you.
JANE:
Which means I'm going to have to put up with
him pawing at me.
GEMMA:
I thought he was a two minute wonder?
JANE:
That's a blessing but it's the thirty minutes of
begging before I let him, that I detest. And he
has the audacity to count it as foreplay.
GEMMA:
The charmer.
JANE:
Anyway, Robert's got as much chance of
getting me pregnant as he's got of getting the
Pope to sponsor Durex.
GEMMA:
Just keep your legs shut, Jane.
JANE:
Still... maybe I can have some fun with him.