Tamara Drewe

This programme contains very strong language

BIRDS TWITTER

MOOING

MOOING

'And love slipped the bonds of restraint.

'His touch

'was like a cosmic, "Yes".'

'"Fuck you," screamed Kelly.

'"Fuck you to hell."

'Scott stepped back from the cell door as the gob of spit flew.

'"Fuck you."'

'This matrix is what Hardy meant by "the ache of modernism".'

Crap.

'Inchcombe knew too well the dreadful mundanity of murder.

'But Patel was stricken.

'Inchcombe realised

'his lack of feeling was almost...'

Pathological.

"I've been wearing the wrong size all my life," says Katie.

"I was always popping out. Turns out I'm a 30 GG," she says.

"Now my bras finally fit."

SHE LAUGHS

"Though Simon prefers me without one."

SHE SIGHS

We could go round mine, if you like.

And watch your dad farting into a sofa?

A taxi?

In Ewedown?

-Come on.

-Where are we going?

Nowhere.

-Glen, can I tempt you?

-Oh, wow, thank you.

I often take something snacky to Nicholas this time of day.

-I know how the brain needs feeding.

-Mm.

So, how you settling in?

Great.

The last writers' retreat I was at, I kind of froze my balls off.

Screeching fire doors and curried lasagne,

and a needy poet, from whom I still bear the scars.

Well, we try to keep it peaceful here.

-Far from the madding crowd.

-May I?

-Oh.

Well, it's paradise.

In Ewedown? What the f... are you doing there?

I haven't told her yet.

Why not? You keep saying you want to be with me.

Well, I can't tell her just like that. It's 25 years.

-'A marriage.'

-Ah, come on, Nicholas.

Or I'm going to get in a taxi and find your farm...

-No.

-..come up there and I'll drag you out.

-No.

-'Don't.'

-I want to be with you. I thought you'd be pleased.

Well, of course I'm pleased.

Nadia, go to the pub and stay there. I'll come when I can.

Are you going to tell her?

Just give me a couple of hours.

Cock pie.

-How's the worker?

-Good, actually.

Just about to embark on forensics.

Well, give me your pages and I'll get started.

Reckon I might pack it in a bit early today.

Need to think about my blood smears. Might take a drive, have a pint.

Stir the old grey matter up.

Who were you talking to just then?

Judy. She said the Impala contract should be through in a day or two.

I could come with you.

-What?

-For a drive.

-I don't know when we last went out.

-Mm. This is absolutely yummy.

-Or we could go into Hadditon, get a meal?

-Yes.

But what about the guests?

-Mary's got Casey to help.

-I'm supposed to be thinking,

-you know, about...

-You can run it by me.

I'm good at forensics.

GROANS SOFTLY

MOOING

MOANS SOFTLY

Andy, can I tempt you?

Oh, we've got a new academic. Glen, American.

He's working on Thomas Hardy.

Said he might have some farming questions.

-Needs an expert yokel, does he?

-Would you mind?

Oh, and the writers are eating al fresco tonight.

Could you check there's no bird shit on the seats? Sorry.

You OK?

Yes. Nicholas and I are going out to dinner.

MUSIC: "The Fear" by Lily Allen

Now!

-TYRES SCREECH

-Fucking bingo!

SHE SIGHS

What a dump.

Yeah. We could walk up the garage.

Oh. I'm supposed to be helping my mum up at Stonefield.

-They keep you busy.

-Yeah.

You never stop, you.

Bet them writers are wankers.

It was called from Hearth To Heath,

The Doomsday And Revelation In Victorian Verse.

What was it about?

You know, pale poets on laudanum and dark towers and sunless seas.

-A little Sturm und Drang in a teacup.

-Did it sell?

Of course, my kind of books aren't about sales,

that's not why I write, so...no.

-So, what are you working on next?

-Thomas Hardy.

Is there anything left to say about that maudlin bore?

Excuse me,

but there's nothing dull about Hardy - that is a misconception.

At least you've been published. I'm seething with envy.

-I'd love to be published.

-I publish myself on the internet.

Oh, do you earn money doing that?

No.

-What do you write?

-Lesbian crime.

I'm here picking up tips from the master.

MOBILE BEEPS AND VIBRATES

-Beth?

-Yeah?

-Why don't I just pop out on my own?

-Well, I'm ready now. Come on.

Is that...

I mean, are you wearing that?

Oh.

It just looks a bit...

hot.

You know, Hadditon's always packed with pissed Londonites on a Friday.

I doubt we'd get a table. Let's do it properly next week.

Make an occasion.

I'm always taking you for granted. I'm vile, I know.

You should kick me, really.

Who is she?

What?

Oh, come on, Beth.

Tell me who.

Look, it's nothing.

It's been once or twice, that's all. It's just...

Beth, it's not anything.

-Who is she?!

-So, she's on her way in, the bride and groom...

-Just a researcher on Radio 4.

-What's her name?

-Nadia. Nadia Patel.

-Patel?

She's in your book.

No. I met her when I was on Desert Island Discs.

-You put her in your book.

-Just the name.

-That was a year ago.

-Yes...

-So, "once or twice"?

I was going to tell you. SHE LAUGHS WILDLY

-In the book, from your woman...

-Shh!

-Beth...

-I've had enough of this.

-Beth, I'm a ruin, I know,

but I've been in a real state about this.

-I didn't want to hurt you.

-Ohhhh!

How could you lie to my face?

Can we talk calmly? There are people out there.

-You looked me in the face and lied!

-For God's sake,

we're surrounded by novelists.

-You bastard.

-Beth...

we're like a pair of compasses...

-don't you dare.

-..joined solidly at the top,

but with the ends able to roam in freedom.

PHONE BEEPS AND VIBRATES

That's her, isn't it? Are you keeping her waiting?!

We've talked about the creative mind,

and we agreed it needs a certain freedom to explore.

I can't live like this any more! It makes me feel worthless!

-Calm yourself down.

-Go set up home with Patel!

-Will you please...

-Do you love her? Is she young?

-For heaven's sake.

-Is she?!

-HE SHOUTS: Yes!

If you leave here tonight to be with her, don't come back.

Beth, you're making fools of us both.

Liar!

DOOR SLAMS

I didn't know they provided material too.

Beth does everything for him, you know.

Types his manuscript, deals with his agent,

makes his female characters convincing.

She even came up with the name Dr Inchcombe.

No wonder he's bored.

I hope she takes him to the fucking cleaners.

ENGINE STARTS

At the end of the day, this is why I'm glad I'm single.

SHE SNATCHES HER BREATH

Will she take him back? That's the question.

-Would you?

-Well, I'd be torn.

-He's far too up himself.

-Yeah, but what about their farm?

Splitting up all this? Must be worth a fortune.

'Nadia Patel.

'"Gazelle eyes. Tantric sex."'

She's very rash, making him choose.

-Why would he choose me?

-SHE SOBS

-I thought you weren't going to come.

-I was busy. Rowing with my wife.

-Where are we going?

-Home.

-To your farm?

-HE LAUGHS INCREDULOUSLY

-We could have gone on just as we were.

-Yes.

-But you said you wanted to be with me.

-Yes.

In London.

Now and then.

Big glass of Rioja, please. And I need a room.

Sure. How many nights?

Don't know. Just one?

Are you here for the writers' retreat?

No.

But I'm a writer. Well, journalist.

I don't mean to pry. I'm just really nosy.

I'm from here. Sort of.

Well, it's a nice place.

I love it. I keep meaning to leave, but hard to get away.

My mum's house is just up the road.

-You're not staying with her?

-She's... She died.

Have that on me.

And...here's your key.

Up the stairs, right in front. You can't miss it.

Thanks.

-Didn't think I'd see you tonight.

-Bit of an atmosphere at Stonefield.

Tell me everything.

Marriage. Remind me never to try it.

Andy...

you're just a sex object. No-one would have you.

SHE SIGHS

COCK CROWS

So, the Hardiments have lived here for centuries, huh?

No. About 20 years. Still strangers by local standards.

DOOR SHUTS

Andy, come look at Ingrid. I... think she's coming into heat.

She's very nice, Beth.

Yeah. I owe her a lot.

Husband's kind of a sleazebag, huh?

We'd say prick here, actually. Or wanker.

That's good. We might even call him a fuck.

That's good too.

COCK CROWS, CHICKEN CLUCK

-Can I help?

-It's going rotten underneath.

-Can I have a look at Ingrid?

-it's...it's falling apart.

Come on, I can do that. Beth...

He won't last five minutes.

'Oh, Jesus. He's been translated into Icelandic and Swahili.

'What an output.

'I need my book to be a success.

'I need a tiny reward for all my endeavours.

'I need a dump.'

OUTSIDE DOOR OPENS

-Beth.

-No, don't touch me. Don't you dare.

-I'm sorry.

-Not good enough, not any more.

-I'm sorry.

-You do what you like and then you're sorry?

I hate myself.

-I hate myself.

-Where were you?

I drove her back to London. Took all night.

-You drove her home?

-I finished it. She was in a state.

-So, it's over?

-I'm sorry.

I don't know why I'm like this. SHE WEEPS

I couldn't manage without you.

THEY BOTH WEEP

-I've got to go to the bottle bank.

-OK.

-Let's talk later.

-Yeah.

-The goat's come into heat.

-Has it?

I love you so much.

Me too.

I've just seen the Hardiments kiss and make up.

-The hat's on.

-Looks like she's taking him back.

When the hat's on, it means don't speak.

So, peace is restored.

-ALARM BLARES

-Oh, for fuck's sake!

I don't like cows. They exude bovine malice.

These girls are killing machines.

-They don't like Americans either.

-Very funny.

-ALARM CONTINUES

-It's Winnards Farm.

Lady there died a while back. Place is empty.

-Think it's being robbed?

-Nah.

Probably just kids.

Nothing to do around here except make trouble.

What if it's bad guys?

Don't you have a blunderbuss or a fowling piece or something?

HE LAUGHS

Used to belong to my dad, this place.

-Really?

-But it all went tits up.

The land was flogged to a consortium and the house sold to Londoners.

-The Drewes.

-So, this is your ancestral pile?

Was.

Born in that room up there.

You must have been pretty resentful.

Oi! This farm's mine, big nose.

POUNDING AND GRUNTING

Hey, what are you doing? Who are you?

Andy, you moron. It's me.

Tam?

I didn't even recognise you.

Well, you won't do it that way.

Then help me.

Used to do some work for your mum.

Been keeping an eye out since she died.

What kind of work, graphics?

-No, I do horticulture now.

-You're a gardener?

-HE SIGHS

-Wow.

This is a great old house.

Thanks. Do you want to buy it?

I'm not the property-owning type, no.

I prefer my life to fit in hand luggage.

That why you're back?

-To flog it?

-Yep.

Make a nice second home for some banker wankers.

Look, Andy, if you want it, why don't you just make me an offer?

Because, sadly, I'm still prey to the economic forces

that threw the peasant classes off the land.

Unlucky.

Tam.

What the fuck have you done to your nose?

Oh, come on, Andy. Aliens came and took it.

She's completely different.

What was she like before? What's the story?

-There isn't one.

-Oh, come on.

It was nothing. Decade ago. Just a teenage thing.

You should find someone you're in love with.

-Stupid prick.

-You saying you love me, frosty tits?

-You first.

-You're the girl, you say it.

I love you.

Fuck off. I love you!

Romeo and Juliet, huh?

Something classy in the wood shed, huh?

THEY GIGGLE

BELL RINGS

-Would you do him?

-No.

-What about him?

-He's gay, you dobbin.

-So?

-Oh.

Swipe.

Ben Sergeant. I'd walk through fire to do him.

-The drummer?

-He's not just the drummer.

He writes all the lyrics. It's his band. He's the fucking genius.

Not Steve Culley, or any of these wankers. It's Ben.

OK, yeah. I...I'd do Ben.

I want to be her, in that dress, with him licking my teapot lids.

Yeah, me too.

So, has the muse shone on you, Greg?

I've been pretty distracted most recently

by those delicious cookie things Beth brought around this afternoon.

Oh, yes. Of course, we call them biscuits here.

And by the place itself, the people.

I sometimes wish I could get distracted.

Ten-page-a-day man, rain or shine.

Wow. That's scary. Ten pages a day, how do you do that?

Oh, Greg...

-Glen.

-I wouldn't presume to give an academic tips.

Matter of fact, I read one of your books, another distraction.

I thought it was decent stuff.

Well, how do I do it? I just get on with it, Greg.

"We call them biscuits here."

-To the muse. OTHERS:

-The muse.

However you find her.

Cheers.

Who's that?

That's Tamara Drewe.

-No, it isn't.

-I met her with Andy.

Good God, what's happened to her?

She had a nose job, Dad.

-She's completely different.

-That's what Andy said.

-Poor Tamara.

She's such a sad girl.

She used to come help you wash the car, didn't she, Nicholas?

When she was a teenager.

She liked a bit of family after her dad left.

-Tamara Drewe that writes a column in one of the Sundays?

-Used to.

-Writes for The Independent now.

-Oh.

She spent weeks going on about her nose job.

-Was her old one an awful conk?

-Yes.

She's poured herself into those shorts.

Hope they don't give her thrush.

Hello. Sorry to intrude.

-Hi, Tamara.

-Poppy.

-How are you?

-I love your new hooter.

Thanks. It's not actually new, it's just smaller.

Tamara.

So sorry about your mum.

-Thanks.

-Are you staying down for long?

-I'll have to.

-There's so much to be done.

-Well, let us know if we can help.

Could you spare a pair of strong arms?

-I've got a skip coming tomorrow, and...

-Nicholas?

I'm available.

-I do skips.

-Nicholas?

-CORK POPS

-Oh, bug...

Oh. Erm... Thank you, everyone.

You're very kind.

Is Andy around at all?

Oh, I can't spare Andy.

He's making a new coop for my Buff Orpingtons.

SHE LAUGHS

We'll soon have that dry, don't worry.

She's had Glen down there helping her all morning.

I hope she realises he's here to work.

Can't believe what a difference her nose makes.

I think it's a mistake. Taken away all her character.

-Come on, she looks ten times better.

-Huh.

And she knows it. I found those shorts really irritating.

Going around with half her bum hanging out. I mean, why?

-To annoy people like you.

-Hmm.

I might get a pair myself.

-Of course you wouldn't.

-Why not?

Because you're not desperate, are you?

There was always something desperate about Tamara Drewe.

Why did you change your face?

Changing my face is the best thing I ever did.

I don't care what anybody else thinks.

-You think it would work for me?

-Maybe, if you did the wrinkles too.

-Oh, you're just coming on to me now.

-SHE LAUGHS

In your column, you write about yourself. Does that come easily?

Not easily. It just feels right.

My first novel is definitely going to be autobiographical.

Your first novel? You're going to dash one off, just like that?

Ideally, I'd like to make it into fiction before I'm 30.

Then maybe a swimwear collection, chat show, pasta-sauce range.

What?

Life sure comes easy for the beautiful.

You know, before I had the nose job,

I had no problem being taken seriously.

Maybe when they removed that bit of cartilage,

they pulled out my brain by mistake.

What do you think?

Thank you.

She's single, you know.

Well, it's not exactly a relationship.

-We have an occasional thing. Zoe doesn't want to be...

-Not Zoe.

Tamara.

You should get in there.

Marry the girl. Then you could live in your ancestral home again.

Nah. Not her type.

Andy, you know, the trouble with you is that you think like a loser.

I know this because I'm the loser

that all other losers come to for tips.

I am a loser's loser.

I'm a pedigree loser.

Had a graphics business, went bust. Then with my great business acumen,

I invested in a polytunnel full of ganja.

Spent six years stoned out of my box.

I'm only just getting it back together.

Besides...even if I was the last man in the world,

Tamara Drewe wouldn't have me.

Why not?

I dumped her.

-Oh, you are a loser.

-I was 20.

And my mates thought I was cradle-snatching.

-And they used to call her Beaky.

-Beaky?

Beaky?

HE GROANS

TAMARA: 'Boys know nothing.'

I've been reading Inchcombe's Dose. The bit where Dr Inchcombe

finds himself having thoughts about the dead guy's daughter.

You describe her light smattering of freckles and her striking profile.

So, who did you base her on?

Have you noticed me?

Because I've noticed you.

You're making yourself ridiculous.

Nichol-arse!

A man can dream, huh?

No.

HE SIGHS DEEPLY

Oh, write, you numbskull.

How's Thomas Hardy?

I'm wasting my sabbatical.

-Oh, dear.

-I've been writing this book for ever.

Don't know why I can't finish it.

Two years behind on my delivery date,

and Fantail could ask for their chicken-shit advance back.

I can't write. I'm fucking constipated.

It's a disaster.

Crikey.

CAR HORN TOOTS

Oh. Sorry, Glen. I've got to grab Andy before he rushes off.

Tamara's asked him to do up her house.

Why? She knows how hard he works for me.

Is this all his fan mail?

Yeah. I do a couple of sessions a week to keep on top of it.

Pretty good at forging Nick's signature.

Why don't we have a proper chat about it?

-Always used to help Nicholas...

-You'd do that? You have time?

I'll just, um...

Tam?

Tam?

Tam?

Got some colour charts for you to see.

What colour do you think it should be in here?

Well, I was thinking, um...

..this one for down here.

And, um...

-..this one for the bedroom.

-OK.

So, what do you have to do to get a cup of tea around here?

Make it. Tea, sugar, fridge.

I'm off to work.

ROCK MUSIC PLAYS

Oi!

-This is our village! Our fucking field!

-Go on.

-Get off!

-Come on, bastard. Let us in!

Kiss your mother with that mouth? Fuck off.

Get on, shove it.

ROCK MUSIC

# This is a call for a domestic dispute

# She's got me in the corner and she's putting the boot

# This is a call for a domestic dispute

# She's got me by the collar and she's going to shoot

# This is a call for a domestic dispute

# There's gonna be a party in the back of the boot

# This is a call for a domestic dispute

# You'd better get a move on cos she's going to shoot

-# When I'm alone at night

-Alone at night

-# Watching the satellite

-Satellite

# I'm so scared that you will find me... #

FEEDBACK SQUEALS

Swipe is fucking finished! Steve Culley is a...

-FEEDBACK SQUEALS

-Fuck off!

-Fran has been shagging that tosser!

-Steve, stop it!

-Come on, then.

SHE GROANS

-I'm Tamara Drewe.

-What?

I'm supposed to be interviewing you, for The Independent.

It was scheduled for later, but...

is now a good time?

-CROWD CHANTS:

-Swipe! Swipe! Swipe! Swipe! Swipe! Swipe!

Swipe! Swipe! Swipe!

-They should let us in for free.

-Too right.

They come here, drink our water, use our fields.

And they leave all their crap in our drains.

Nice girlfriend, mate.

Ben. Ben!

-What are you doing?

-That's Ben from Swipe!

And he's got his dog. Ben!

Ben! Ben!

That's Boss.

Up.

Boy. Come on.

-Hi, Boss.

-There.

-Not allergic, are you?

-To indie drummers?

Maybe.

Who the fuck's she?

I've seen her up at Stonefield. She's got a nose made of plastic.

So, who are your influences?

Everyone asks that. What do you want me to say?

Phil Collins? Animal from the Muppets?

-This your house?

-Yeah.

-Do you want to buy it?

-No.

I want something else.

How come she gets Ben? I've loved him since March.

-Would you like a beer?

-Yeah.

-Maureen Tucker.

-Who?

Moe Tucker. The Velvets. Five-foot-nothing.

Used to stand up to play.

Put the snare drum on its side and whacked it with mallets. Mentalist.

You write a lot of songs. That's rare for a drummer.

Well, everything you've heard about drummers is complete shit.

-You mean they don't spontaneously combust?

-No.

Only sometimes.

TAPPING

DRUM "ORCHESTRA"

Any more questions?

ROCK MUSIC PLAYS FROM FESTIVAL

SHE GIGGLES

IMITATES GUNSHOTS

COCK CROWS

-MOOING

-Jesus. Oh, my God!

Hello.

Who are you?

You know anything about this dog, Tam?

You want some breakfast, Tam?

Tam?

MOANING

SCREAMING

-How goes the opus?

-Fine, Nicholas, just fine.

-It's his most obscure novel, The Well-Beloved.

-Mm.

Most people have never even heard of it.

It's about a young guy of 20

who falls in love with a beautiful young woman.

Then when he's 40, he meets the woman's daughter

and he falls in love with her. And finally, when he's 60,

-he meets her granddaughter.

-Oh, he doesn't.

-Yeah. Falls in mystical love.

-SHE GIGGLES

Hardy was the same in his life too.

Even as he aged, he only had eyes for young women.

It's like, in one essential way, he never grew up.

-In his trousers.

-Yeah.

He was still at it in his 80s, you know.

Snow on the rooftop, fire in the cellar.

Why won't it come for you, Glen?

The way you talk about it is so engaging.

-Do you want to try?

-Well, there's an academic style, you know?

Who are you writing for? Who's your ideal reader?

Cos if you wrote the way you spoke, you'd make me want to read Hardy.

-Really?

-Yeah.

If you wrote like you were talking to a friend. Try it again.

ENGINE TURNS OVER

Oh.

-Oh!

-SHE GIGGLES

No, no, no. It's not as if I'm avant-garde.

-I simply pander to popular taste.

-Your books are far more than that.

Just airport fodder. I think I write them in my sleep sometimes.

I wish I wrote so well awake.

Your prose is so economical, so vivid, like the greats.

-Like Raymond Chandler.

-Oh, come on.

-Graham Greene.

-I'm just earning a crust.

You created Inchcombe. If only he were real.

-He's my kind of man.

-Yes.

Sophisticated, jaded, but so vulnerable.

Cynical, but a man of total integrity.

But my books don't say anything remotely profound.

I can't pretend to be an intellectual,

not like the professor here,

illuminating our ignorance with his critical glow.

I love prose. I turn a decent plot. That's pretty much it.

-Excuse me.

-People like crime fiction,

because no matter how violent or shocking, it comforts them.

Secretly, Nicholas hates all this.

These crime weekends really take it out of him.

Let me help.

Oh, well, they need dusting with this.

I went to my room today

and I wrote for three hours. The time, it just vanished.

That's great. That's brilliant.

I feel like a man who's just passed a gargantuan stool.

Oh, super.

Oh...

Sprig of mint on top.

..Of course, my life isn't like that, so I just make stuff up.

The real secret of being a writer is learning how to lie,

because that's what storytellers are, thieves and liars.

"The basis of all excellence is truth." Samuel Johnson.

GUITAR PLAYS

# I met a girl on a farm

-# Her name was Tamara... #

-Ben, I'm trying to write.

# I wanted to write her a song but one thing caused me alarm... #

Please, Ben, it's a new story.

# Her name didn't rhyme with anything

# Not a single thing that I wanted to sing... #

-It's about my mum and dad.

-# All she wants to do is type

# It's making me want a little bite

# So cook me pasta carbonara

# Cos I'm ravenous, Tamara

# Then shag me wearing your tiara. #

SHE GIGGLES

DOG SNIFFS AND BARKS

Oi!

-HE WHISTLES

-Andy.

Let me dog in, will ya?

Cheers, mate.

-He must like kissing plastic.

-He doesn't really love her.

He's just on the rebound from losing Fran.

Numbing his pain with loads of empty rampant sex.

What he really needs...

-Is a 15-year-old from Ewedown?

-So? Stranger things happen.

He's only ten years older, and that's nothing.

-If he met me, if he just met me.

-It'd be love, right?

Yeah. But I'd settle for sex.

Coo-er, in your parents' bedroom?

I suppose being an exhibitionist is part of his job,

strutting about on stage.

He doesn't strut. He's a drummer.

He sits on his ass.

He's very good-looking, isn't he? Poppy YouTubed him.

We both got quite hot and bothered.

-Is that his car? The yellow Porsche.

-Yep.

Yeah, a bit brash, vrooming through the village.

Fancy our Tamara bagging a bona fide rock star.

She was such an ugly duckling. She must be thrilled to bits.

COCK CROWS

TYRES SCREECH

We're not open for another hour.

Good.

HEAVY BREATHING

I mean, she used to be so funny. So human.

What does she see in that London knob?

He even wears fucking make-up. How did she get so shallow?

Andy, are you really going on about her now?

-Oh.

-Where are your manners?

I'm sorry.

Bide your time, you big prick.

MOANING AND GROANING

Oh! Oh! Ben!

TAMARA MOANS

MOOING

DOG WHINES AND GROWLS

DOG BARKS

Come here, you wretched beast!

Stinking animal!

Filthy hound!

Fuck soup.

-Here.

-What's this?

What does it look like?

Ben.

Which finger?

Wherever you want.

That one's nice.

Stick it on that one.

MOOING

-Those girls could have aborted.

-Calm down, Penny. I'll sort him out.

It beats me why you people want to live in the country.

-You've no sense of responsibility.

-It's not our dog.

Hello, Penny.

-How's tricks?

-Oh, Nicholas.

-You're looking good.

-Terrific coat.

-Oh, what, this old thing?

-You look like royalty.

Well, I try. Can't wait for your next book.

Inchcombe's such a saucepot. Giles always says,

"What are you reading, Penny?

"You've got steam coming out of your ears."

RAUCOUS LAUGHTER

What's the ring saying, Ben?

"Hello, I'm a ring. Will you marry me?"

What?

I didn't know.

Didn't know what?

That you're in love with me.

The ring is saying, "I'm platinum with a long guarantee.

-"Will you marry me?"

-SHE GIGGLES

Yes.

PHONE RINGS

-What?

-'Oh, is Tamara there?'

-She is being proposed to.

-SHE GIGGLES

POUNDING BEAT FROM CAR STEREO

CAR HORN BLARES

Shh. There are writers here trying to write.

HE GROANS

Hello.

Oh, this is, uh, a Buff Orpington. He's a bit peaky today.

They're not great layers, but they're very decorative.

We're fully organic here.

Though I like to think our champion product is the written word.

The famous Ben. COCK CROWS

Swipe, eh?

No, Swipe's over. I thought the whole world knew that.

It wasn't on Newsnight, no.

Ben's engaged to Tamara.

Isn't that lovely? He'd just popped the question when I rang.

And she said yes?

-We're delighted for you both.

-DOG BARKS

Why is he on a fucking chain?

He was out of control.

How would you like to be chained up?

He was chasing livestock. He could have got shot.

They shoot him, I'll fucking shoot them.

Unbelievable.

Here, pooch.

I think the word is gobshite.

I hope he makes her happy.

It's hard for girls when their dads walk out.

Gives them bad taste in men.

What's that supposed to mean?

Oh, just saying Tamara's father left when she was a girl and...

That is ten-pence psychology.

You don't know what you're talking about.

Poor little man.

"My Buff Orpingtons. Oh, the written word."

-What a fucking freak.

-It's a shame the ring doesn't fit.

Why didn't you bring one of mine along when you bought it?

I didn't know you then, did I?

So, when did you buy it?

Was it for someone else?

You bought it for Fran, didn't you?

So?

It's yours now.

She never wore it. She didn't want it.

Did you ask her to marry you?

Just as a gesture, when she started seeing Steve. That backfired.

Look, it's you I want to marry now.

Fuck the ring. It's just a consumerist piece of zinc.

What matters is that I love you.

Do you?

Yes.

With my whole heart.

And all the other stuff.

Like me brain, me entrails.

Me pancreas.

It all wants to marry you.

Hmm?

She wondered if you had a delivery date in mind. I said Easter-ish.

Oh, mind that cocoa, it's hot.

There's a few invites. You just tick the ones you want to go to.

Oh, and Tim wants to know

if you'll do your Christmas signing in Hadditon.

I know he's always ungrateful, but I think it's so important

to keep these little bookshops open, don't you?

Mm-hmm.

OWL HOOTS

Come in soon, my love.

Look at that cellulite.

She been sitting on a bead car seat or what?

"Her latest tattoo count was nine,

"including a Sumatran tiger and 'eternity' written in Sanskrit."

She'll be getting a bar code done next, right across there.

And Judy Garland's face right on there.

Nice baby, though.

I'd like one that colour.

Oi! Shut the fuck up!

That Ryan's a dick.

-I think he's cute.

-No, you don't. Would you snog him?

Maybe.

Be like having a slug in your mouth.

-BRAKES SCREECH

-Shit.

THEY LAUGH

Shut up, fat arse! It ain't funny.

-Ben.

-Ben?

Come on, let's do some messing.

CHATTER

What about you, Glen? Sorry. Where will you be?

In London with a collection of spare academics.

We'll be decking the halls in our own erudite way.

I'll miss our chats.

Yeah. I've been in a state of writerly bliss these past weeks.

-I hope I get to come back.

-Oh, me too. We'd love to have you.

-You know, these are the best mince pies I've ever had.

-Aw!

If it were possible to have an orgasm from food,

these mince pies would do it.

Golly.

She keeps this here for Andy.

-What if she's got an alarm?

-Soon find out.

-What if they come back?

-If you're too chicken, go home.

-What the fuck are we doing here?

-It's kind of research.

I want to write about them. They're funny.

Come on, Ben.

2001 was the best year. I just sold my last three cases.

-It's a perfect wine for the price.

-Besides, I want to show you off.

What am I, arm candy?

More like arm fungus with that face.

I got her this gorgeous Rajasthani Ghagra skirt.

Divine. She'll probably loathe it!

-But if she does, I'll have it.

-Glen.

-Hi.

-Meet Ben. Ben, Glen.

-Hi, Ben.

-Ben's my fiance.

-You're getting married?

-Uh-huh.

-OK. Beautiful dress, magazine photo shoot.

Everything the aspiring novelist needs.

-I knew you'd be pleased.

-Have a mince pie? No.

Congratulations.

-Can we get the fuck out of here?

-Wait.

In field of Tares, you made Fred a corporal,

but there's no such thing in the Royal Artillery.

They call them bombardiers.

-Oh, thank you for that.

-Very good.

Sorry.

-Hello.

-Tamara.

Would you make that out for Ben?

-To Ben.

-My fiance.

We're getting married in the summer.

So I hear.

My heartiest...

commiserations, Tamara.

Merry Christmas...

Nichol-arse.

Casey, look.

The sticks.

No, don't touch.

Pour Homme.

SHE GIGGLES

Smells like men.

Live the dream, Case.

Live the dream, Jode. His boots!

# This is a call for a domestic dispute

# She's got me in the corner and she's... #

Ben.

Oh, my God.

Look...

stop going on about it.

I've invested a lot of time into this house.

-Why don't you sell it, then?

-Because I've started writing.

You can write anywhere.

Yes, we've done it!

THEY GIGGLE

No, Ben, this is proper. It's not just stuff for the paper.

It's about my teens, and it's actually working for me here.

I'm glad it's memory lane for you, but it's doing my fucking head in.

I want some London. Some noise, some urban.

I've had enough.

Are you with me or what?

-Of course, I'm with you.

-It's depressing here. It's boring.

And every time I look out the window, I see Andy Cobb's arse.

What's that about?

GEESE SQUAWK

Oi!

Tammy says you got Christmas geese.

Yep.

We're leaving, thank fuck.

-Well, give us one, then.

-Right now?

Yeah.

That one's spare.

-Help yourself.

-You having a laugh?

-What?

-It's fucking alive.

I suppose you'd better kill it, then.

How?

Gently put its head down there.

Quick in the back of skull with this. Pluck it while it's warm.

Little pot to catch all the blood.

You enjoy that?

No.

But in my low-wage economy, this flock's worth a lot.

You are one sick fuck, Andy.

-Grow up.

-What, mate?

I said...

grow up.

Little drummer boy.

Tam phoned this morning.

Told me to finish the house.

Goes on the market in the spring, and that's it. Over.

Why does the asshole always get the girl?

Come on, or you'll miss that train.

DRUM BEAT

PHONE RINGS

Andy.

So, what about this shed? Am I dismantling it or mending it?

Hang on.

I don't know. The shed. What do you think?

I recommend preserving it.

Really?

Always useful, a good shed.

Well, then, keep it.

Oh...

Classy job, Uncle Andy.

It's, like, transformed.

Ben won't like this.

Bit boring.

Bit old folks.

I like those curtains. And I like that.

No, don't like those lamps, or that paper.

I'd have gold leaf embossed all round there,

and a wall of flamingo.

-Ben would like that.

-That's a lovely chair.

What's under here?

SHE TURNS ON COMPUTER

I'd have a bead curtain.

And the bathroom needs to be darker, like deep chocolate or velvet plum.

And I'd bathe in scented oils.

And then I'd be ready for Ben.

It won't just be a shag, Case. It'll be an event.

I'll be wearing, like, a gossamer shirt and a bra set, Prada.

And he'll be wearing a black T-shirt.

And it'll be all taut over his buff bod.

And underneath, Calvin Klein boxers, black.

And he'll have a tattoo of my name, and lush pecs.

And I'll smell of Allure by Chanel.

And he tries to resist me but I'm a vision.

And it will be like, ah...

But also respectful.

And my V plates will melt into nothing.

Are you listening?

-I like this.

-What?

There's this bit where Tamara's dad takes her out for dinner,

and she thinks it's some big treat, but what he's doing, right,

is telling her that he's leaving them, and she...

right, she's gutted.

She yaks up her food into her napkin and puts it on his plate.

-So?

-It's painful.

But funny. It's about her, Plastic Fantastic.

-Jode, she's sad.

-Sad?

She's a lucky cow.

I've been re-reading Inchcombe Etherised,

one of Nicholas's early books.

There's a character, Theo, who's an adulterer.

And Theo has a list of golden rules called Lulling The Spouse.

"To allay suspicion," he says, "you must first arouse it."

Nicholas rang me earlier to say he was going to be late home.

Yeah, I just bumped into Raoul and Celia.

I said, "Oh, that's nice."

And thought, "Have you?"

And I couldn't shake the suspicion.

-So after an hour, I phoned Raoul.

-PHONE RINGS

Hello? Yeah, he's right here.

And he put Nicholas straight on the line.

Hello.

He's been telling the truth a lot recently.

Is he lulling me?

I might remind him that in Inchcombe Etherised,

Theo's wife runs him through with a carving knife.

KNOCKING

-What are you doing?

-Just messing.

I got three Valentines.

One from Mum, one from that peanut Ryan,

and a mystery one from Ben.

I sent you that.

Is that theirs?

It's my mum's. They don't drink this shit.

Come upstairs and look at what I'm doing.

I've got into her e-mails. We have to get Ben to come back.

I'm sending him a Valentine.

-No, you're not.

-From her address.

Then he'll think it's from Tamara, dipshit.

But I know it'll be from me.

Subject - hot love.

Oh, God. Jody.

Contacts. Where are you, Ben?

Look, there's that bloke my mum works for, Nicholas Hardiment.

Let's put him on. Who else?

-Uncle Andy.

-Andy Cobb.

Come to Winnards Farm.

I'll give you

the biggest shagging of your life.

Love, Tamara.

Kiss, kiss, kiss.

-Don't ever, ever send that.

-I just did.

What the fuck is this?

"Come to Winnards Farm...

"..and I'll give you the biggest shagging of your life."

"I'll give you the biggest shagging of your life."

DRUM BEAT

Are you listening to me? Ben, will you stop drumming?!

I didn't write that e-mail. Why don't you believe me?

When Fran started fucking Steve Culley,

at least she had the decency not to tell the whole world.

What's that supposed to mean?

She must want a foursome or something.

You fancy a foursome with Nicholas Hardiment?

Bugger that. What was she thinking?

Well, maybe she's trying to make you jealous.

Or maybe she's trying to make the boyfriend jealous.

Or maybe she's just trying to give him a really big hint

that she's not getting enough.

Or maybe she's just a bit kinky. Or maybe she's crazy.

Or maybe she was off her face.

She was pissed.

'I wasn't pissed or depraved or anything.'

It's OK. It's OK.

'Can you go and look at the house? Just make sure no-one's been in.'

-No problem.

-'Thanks.'

Ben's really pissed off.

-He's massively got the hump.

-Have I?

I've just asked Andy to have a look at Winnards.

I've got to go, I'm sorry.

-Are you a fucking idiot?

-What?

Are you thick? Isn't it obvious who wrote that e-mail?

-That tosser Andy Cobb.

-Andy wouldn't do that.

Going through your stuff. Probably got your pants on right now.

-Don't...

-I bet it was him who nicked my black T-shirt.

-Of course he didn't.

-Jump to his defence.

He hasn't done anything.

-Boss. Boss!

-DOG BARKS

What are you doing?

You know Fran's having a baby.

She wanted to see me. I wasn't going to, but now...

Why not?

Come on, Boss, let's go for a crap.

Come on, Mum, she's just stirring shit. Tamara's always done that.

-Yes, but why?

-You know how subversive she is.

She once sent me a Valentine from Prince Harry and I believed it.

It's her sense of humour. She likes causing trouble.

At school, she used to give us first-years tips on how to shoplift.

She taught you how to shoplift?

Mum, she's marrying Ben Sergeant.

Why would she look at an old git like Dad?

Hmm. I just don't get the joke.

And why is your father on the e-mail? And Andy?

It's so tasteless. Help me out with these, would you?

-I have to work on my thesis on the Taliban.

-Taliban, I know.

What do you make of that e-mail from Tamara?

Don't make any sense.

That London boyfriend's trying to fuck her up. That's my theory.

She could do so much better.

I couldn't agree more.

-It's Ben.

-Who's the daddy?

"Steve Culley and Fran Redmond announced they were expecting.

"But in a Valentine-tryst shocker,

"Fran is snapped with ex Ben Sergeant.

-"Ben and Fran, we say, 'Get a room.'"

-He's back with Fran?

After you sent that e-mail, Jode.

No way. No way.

There's Plastic.

-Oh, my God, what have I done?

-What have you done?

What if Ben's dumped her?

What if he never comes back?

I'll never see Ben again and it's all my fault.

-What's all your fault?

-None of your business.

I'm bloody sick of you looking like a wet weekend.

-Who's Ben?

-No-one.

-What have you done?

-Nothing.

-You in trouble?

-No, leave me alone.

You take care with boys, Jody. You know what can happen.

What can happen?!

What can ever, ever happen in a place like this?!

Hello. I thought you were in London with Ben from Swipe.

-I'm looking for Andy.

-Well, he's not up at Stonefield.

So, where's this shag you've been offering me?

-Fuck off.

-Come on. I saw that e-mail.

Well, I didn't send it. And I wouldn't shag you

if you were the last man left after a nuclear winter.

I'll come round tomorrow, then, about three?

Drop dead, you smug prick.

-Watch out.

-HORN HONKS

SHE SOBS

Yeah, I'll probably stay at the library another hour or two.

..Yeah.

Yeah, just checking some law reports.

You're a marvel.

OK.

KNOCK ON DOOR

Hello.

So.

Nicholas.

You can tell me to leave.

You can throw me right out.

Just say the word, and I'll go.

SHE EXHALES DEEPLY

Do you smoke after sex?

-I don't know, I've never looked.

-SHE GIGGLES

I used to watch you out of my window,

helping your daughter skateboard up the lane.

Bit of an obvious crush, wasn't it?

Is that why I'm here? To expurgate the crush?

I don't know.

Or as revenge on your ex?

I don't know, Nicholas. Why ARE you here?

I should have thought that was obvious.

SHE LAUGHS

Since you climbed over that stile in the summer...

..I haven't thought about very much else.

-When can we do this again?

-What about Beth?

-Beth and I have this kind of open...

-Bullshit.

-Thursday?

-Isn't life complicated enough?

Don't put me in your column.

In your dreams.

-SHE CHUCKLES

-'Structure can be so sterile.'

I always think of it as a three-dimensional form...

-Oh.

-Oh, here he is.

Oh, poor you. Was it awful? I was starting to worry.

Terrible. Didn't move till well past Chiswick, but look.

-I popped into Fortnum's.

-My favourite teas.

-Ah...

-SHE GIGGLES

My goodness, you feel like my buzzy toothbrush after I've charged it up.

-You should go to London more often.

-Well, maybe I will.

Sorry, everybody. Traffic was a pig. Do carry on. What have I missed?

Well, I'm trying this magic realist bit at the end of chapter three.

-Oh, that sounds very innovative.

-Oh, you think so?

Yes. I think I've always been waiting for the magic realist crime novel.

Wuthering Heights, it's kind of Angel of the North.

ANIMATED CHATTER

So after two years of radio silence, I contact my editor,

and she loves, I mean, she loves the chapters I did in the fall.

Oh, Glen!

I tried writing at the library

but I could feel that awful paralysis descending again.

I missed everything that I've been, you know, finding here.

Oh, my God.

It's so beautiful.

-Well, I'm very glad you've come back.

-In a few solid weeks...

Holy cow!

-Idiots!

-Ha-ha!

Morons!

Ha-ha!

Hey, writers, let's egg the self-regarding sacks of shit.

It's half term, they're just bored.

There's this theory that Hardy gave his wife syphilis, you know.

No evidence, but the symptoms fit. Poor woman,

she starts to get eccentric and then she moves her bed up to their attic.

Bastard.

Meanwhile, Hardy falls in love with a woman 39 years younger than him.

-I don't believe it.

-Yeah, he was 65 and she was 26.

-Geoff.

-Glen.

-Henry James?

-Thomas Hardy.

That's it, a Hardy book. Coming well?

-Yes, actually.

-He gave his wife syphilis.

Jolly good.

Oh, he...

He's completely distracted. He's up and down to London all the time.

This latest Inchcombe's taking everything he's got.

It's really preying on him.

Is it any good? Because I keep changing things and...

Shh.

It's brutally candid.

You lay yourself completely bare.

SHE SNIGGERS

It's a bit over-written. It needs a good edit, but...

..it's very moving.

Thank you.

So,

have I done my duty?

Admirably.

Now do I get my treat?

You are so cheesy.

BELL RINGS

Zero Ben sightings in two whole months.

Last time I saw Plastic, she looked like a minger.

All red-eyed and gutted.

Ben's a love rat.

You've got to face it, she should move on.

She's probably topped herself.

-I would, if Ben dumped me.

-Jode, don't say that.

What if she's done something?

Like got in the bath with her heated tongs?

Like taken a stack of pills.

Think she might be lying there, all choked in vomit and drug froth?

That'd be dire.

-If we find her, we'll get in the papers.

-Oh, my God!

Rock chick dead at Winnards Farm.

What's Uncle Andy doing here?

Arse biscuits.

No answer.

She could've been there days. She could be all putrid, like, rancid.

Oh, no, going to chuck.

-All bloated and all greeny.

-Uncle Andy'll find her by the smell.

Ugh. Shh.

Andy.

-Oh, bollocks, she's alive.

-Haven't seen you for a while.

Thought you might be ill or something or depressed.

-I've had my head down, writing.

-Come for a drink.

-Let's lighten up.

-I'd love to, but...

I'm kind of on one with my writing, and...

Can we do it soon, though?

I really would like to. Just not right now.

Sure.

What is he doing here?

Oh, he just came by on the off-chance.

Off-chance of what?

Something about the roofing for the shed.

-Do you think he's in with a chance?

-No way.

Why not? He's fit. I'd do him.

Jody, he's my uncle.

She'd be mad not to have him. Bet he goes like a train.

SHE SIGHS

Let's go, my knickers are wet.

Wait, wait.

Oh, my God!

Nicholas, go.

"Prolific author of intelligent crime novels."

Fucking D-list. How could she do that after Ben?

-He's not even a proper celeb.

-Maybe she's numbing the pain.

Trying to tear love...

Shut up. She's just a slag. She went out and pulled a married man.

Like that bitch that went off with my dad.

I know who I feel sorry for.

Then there'll be the divorce and acrimony,

-and Beth's world will fall apart.

-Yeah.

But maybe one day, she'll put the bitterness behind her

and find a new love.

Don't be daft. She's old, you sop.