Oh, I'll get this. Or am I being old-fashioned?
Oh, no, I like it, you can be as old-fashioned as you want.
You know, you go out with guys my age,
the bill comes, and they're like, "We're totally splitting this,
"and I never had the dough balls. "
Are you going to Glastonbury?
What? Er, no, I can't...
Oh, it's a real bummer, but I'll probably have the kids that weekend.
Getting divorced really fucks with your festival-going.
Oh, my God, take your kids to Glastonbury.
- Loads of older people do it. - Do we? They?
Oh, I probably won't.
The little one only likes High School Musical and The Stranglers.
- How sweet! - Sweet, yeah, he is, yeah.
Also mildly disturbed... um...
thanks to me and my record collection,
and, er... my hellish arguments with his mum.
Thank you.
- I really thought you guys would get on. - So did I.
I really thought she was young enough to be impressed by you.
Isn't that the problem?
When you said you'd bribed that airhead to go out with Alex,
I did think, that's just wrong.
- That is just wrong... - I mean, Alex and a 22-year-old!
It just feels a bit... a bit... um...
Howard Marshall?
That 90-year-old stiff that was married to Anna Nicole Smith?
- That's a bit harsh. - Thank you.
- Michael Douglas. - That's more like it. It's hard though,
you know, because a woman of Alex's own age, a proper person anyway,
is just not gonna go for him.
Course not.
Guess what? Mr Zeta-Jones here can hear you.
The former sex addict is actually present.
I mean, not me, I'm not a sex addict.
Well, you know, to be clear...
In fact, to be honest,
the last year with my ex - pretty much the opposite,
but I was quite depressed and I think that did affect my libido...
- What you doing for Valentine's? - Don't know.
- I hate fucking Valentine's. - So do I.
- It's a fake tradition. - I agree.
It's a conspiracy by people who sell cards and flowers and chocolates,
and... oooh... lingerie.
I guess I could give in to consumerism, and get you some...
crotchless panties for Valentine's!
That black satin bustier?
Sure. By all means, spend a lot of money you don't have,
on underwear you'll never get to see me in.
All right, forget the frillies.
What are we gonna do that night? Dinner, or the pictures?
We're not gonna do anything.
We've got to do something, otherwise we're gonna look really sad.
I am really sad. That is exactly what I am.
This year, as far as I'm concerned, romance is dead.
Just like my fianc�.
I'll say to you what I've said to everyone else
who's asked me out for Valentine's Day -
"Thanks very much, guys, but I'm in a meeting with my accountant. "
- I don't get it. - You don't have to.
Is he a really good-looking accountant?
Yes, he is that rare thing - a seriously hot 64-year-old financial adviser.
I have money stuff to sort, and I thought, what better night to do it?
Or what weirder night to do it.
Not for me, buster, I'm just pretending it's not happening.
I'm a Valentine's denier. I don't want a boyfriend, or a date,
I could just as easily have arranged to go to the dentist.
Actually, no, I couldn't - my dentist is fucking gorgeous.
So, I've got a meeting with my money man.
Colin's practically a pensioner, he lives with his mummy,
he's as uninterested in February 14th as I am.
Maybe I should have dinner with my accountant.
As long as she's old, unattractive - is that how it works?
Not for you. You'll have a Valentine's date, with a bit of luck.
I knew you'd come round.
Not with me, fool! No...
Look what Auntie Helen's cooked up to help you out with your love life.
Boyfriendswithbaggage. com. I nicked a photo from your office,
and I posted your details.
It's for people who've knocked around a bit,
people who have been through the shit - victims, survivors,
mainly middle-aged, but...
Great, so you've introduced me to a bunch of 40-something fuck-ups?
- I can't wait to open my inbox. - Just trying to help.
You know, I thought, if I can't face being your girlfriend,
the least I can do is sort you out with someone who can.
I can find my own girlfriend, OK? There's plenty more fish in the office.
Evening classes are good for pulling.
You can meet girls playing... badminton.
You've got 48 chat starters.
48 women have sent you a message after reading your profile.
Halle-fucking-lujah!
Right, let's check out the groupies.
"Divorced, but hot. " That's supposed to me, is it?
I don't know, you had to put a username in -
it just seemed to sum you up - on the one hand, you're divorced,
not great, but crucial information for any potential love interest out there,
but, on the other hand, you're hot, which is good.
Thank you.
I mean, "Divorced, but quite hot" just didn't really have a ring to it...
"Divorced, and reasonably hot" just seemed a bit...
"Divorced, but has own teeth!"
Yeah, maybe I should stick your photo up here.
"Horny Helen. " "Helen wants cock. "
Or I know, "Bereaved, but gagging for it. "
That should be enough to pull in the punters.
No, thanks, I've had it with dating. I thought I'd see how you got on first.
What? So I'm some sort of dating guinea pig?
I meet someone decent and don't get murdered in my bed
by some internet-junkie axe woman, and you'll give it a go?
That's about the size of it.
You haven't got a bed to be murdered in, have you?
You'll need a bed if you're gonna have a girlfriend, Alex.
Anyway, I've got a bed now,
and a room of my own - moving my stuff in tonight.
You're joking? You've got an address and a postcode and everything?
- Yep. - Who's your landlord?
What?
Who's your flatmate, who are you shacking up with?
Oh, it's a guy I met at work called...
Who?
All right, Muff Chops?
I'm out tonight, you'll have to let yourself in.
Hello.
Thank you.
I'm off to my Boarding School Survivors Group,
you should come, you faggot.
No better place to pick up posh, but exquisitely damaged, totty.
I'll bear it in mind, thanks.
And about exquisitely damaged totty, I wanted to ask your advice.
Oh, sure, always happy to help.
Not you, you bum fiend, I'm not that fucking desperate!
Now, Helen,
you're a girl, you know what girls like.
Some girls, fairly... fairly straight girls,
really boring girls, who don't like to be tied up,
or have sex for money, maybe not the kind of girls you're talking about.
- Those are the girls I'm talking about. - You're kidding?
No, you see, I've done something bad,
something I promised myself I'd never do again.
I'm really thinking this is one to have a manly chat with Alex about...
or maybe the police.
I've fallen in love.
Seriously, it's a disaster.
First time in aeons I haven't fucked on the first date!
Aw.
Well, set up that second date as soon as possible,
and this time make sure you nail her, you pansy!
You want a good slapping?
This is not the usual type you pick up down at the Survivors Group, she's...
SIGHS You know what boarding school's like?
No, I went to a mixed grammar. We were home by half three.
Sacred Heart Convent School.
Although I did go on a geography field trip in Year Seven
where I really missed my mum, does that count?
It's ten years' separation from your loved ones.
I mean, a lot of girls leave... deeply neurotic,
sexually confused, mad as a box of snakes.
I mean, they're obviously my favourites...
Until I met Lizzie.
Lizzie's different. She...
She wants to take things slowly.
She's gentle, affectionate, asks me about my children.
I mean, usually I dump someone for that kind of behaviour,
but with her, I actually find it endearing.
I'm in uncharted waters here, Helen.
So, tell me, what do women want if they don't want anal?
Oh...
That old chestnut.
Well, you don't have to tell me now. Have a think about it. Make a list.
I'll be back about 11.
Bed's made up, food and wine's in the fridge,
porn mags and DVDs are in the cupboard next to the plasma screen,
unless you want anything specialist, in which case, wait till I'm back,
cos I keep the hard stuff locked up.
Aw! If I'd known that's what you were after as a lodger,
I'd have turned my spare room into a dungeon for you.
Thank you, but apart from the masturbation facilities of my new gaff,
I've got my own en suite bathroom - I couldn't be more at home.
Oh, about girlfriendswithstretchmarks. com, or whatever it's called,
I've decided I've dated enough freaks offline,
I don't need to pick up any more in cyberspace, so...
I'm going celibate, like you.
All righty, then, happy wanking!
Jesus!
Helen? What's the name of that website again?
Oh, boyfriends with baggage, i think.
I need a girlfriend, I need to move in with someone,
as soon as frigging possible.
- Yeah, all right, calm down. - That's fine for you to say.
You're not renting a room off the presenter of How Clean Are My Sex Toys?
They can't all be losers,
there must be someone worth getting married to for a few years.
Yeah, I wouldn't get my hopes up!
- Oh, my God! - What?
Sarah Stevens!
i met her at the reunion - she's left me a video message.
Bollocks, bollocks.
Bollocks! What is it, is that Stephens with a P-H, then, is it?
Hey, Alex.
Oh, how's it going?
Not great, I guess,
or you wouldn't be trying to pick up pussy on the internet!
But then, neither would I.
Um... so...
No, actually, I'm not, not trying to pick up pussy, obviously.
No, I'm trying to pick up cock.
In fact... do you remember this, you stud?
Dr Dorian's Book of Lovemaking!
Fancy that thing with chapter seven?
- I think we've seen enough... - No, we haven't!
No, we haven't.
She's a game girl, Alex, what's chapter seven?
You can all fuck off now, show's over.
No, it's not, she's just gone for a pee! See, and what's chapter seven?
We'll look it up on Amazon.
- Fuck off! What are you doing? - I'm looking it up on Amazon.
It's out of print probably, after all these years.
So what's chapter seven?
I can't remember. We split up halfway through chapter six.
Spanking? Water sports? Adult baby minding?
- It definitely wasn't that, was it? - I don't know, you tell me.
What about Sarah, eh? She never used to knock it back like that.
She's having a hard time, she's been scarred by experience.
I dare say even you weren't bursting into tears
every five minutes at uni like you do now.
There was a lot of pressure on that course,
I'd never been away from home, I missed my friends.
So what if I've always been sensitive? At least I'm not an alcoholic.
I am not a fucking alcoholic, OK?
I'm an everyday drinker.
That's two categories down from alcoholic, ask the Government.
30 units a week is just... hazardous.
I was talking about Sarah.
Oh, right. No, she's not an alcoholic.
Trust me, you get as paralytic as that, you're definitely a part-timer.
Right, where were we? I'm divorced, like you.
Unlike you, no children involved, apart from my ex-husband.
I got the house, he got gonorrhoea from screwing his personal trainer.
Is going on a date with Sarah really a good idea?
Even if she is quite fit.
I mean, what if her ex gave her gonorrhoea as well?
Who cares, Alex? She's an owner occupier, she's your kinda girl.
If you have to contract a little old STD
in return for a mortgage-free roof over your head,
well, it's a small price to pay.
Sarah? Hi!
Stick those in the post. And those.
Valentine's cards for the 33 actresses I do represent,
and the 227 I don't, but fucking well want to.
Lizzie says there's nothing so romantic as a man in a suit,
so I'm wearing my charcoal grey Armani
and a cheeky little thong underneath.
Lucky Lizzie.
She's arriving at eight tomorrow, so you'd better not be here, fanny wipe.
Oh, don't worry, Alex has his own Valentine's dinner tomorrow night.
Round about now, he and Sarah will have left the restaurant
and be at her extremely des res working their way through
the delights of chapter seven, whatever they are.
And your aged accountant will be casting his eye over your assets,
so we're all in for a lovely evening.
Aah.
Put the kettle on, you knob jockey.
So, how am I doing on ambience?
Oh, well, candlelight's good.
Music ditto. Poached salmon with hollandaise sauce done to perfection.
Thank you.
- I'm just not sure about the wank mags. - Huh?
I'm sure Lizzie would be happy to glance through Elle,
but she could probably do without Big Titted Mamas.
I think it's time to bin the porn.
I couldn't!
That one was Daddy's.
And the Shaven Havens was left to me by Great-Uncle William.
I don't think you understand -
generations of my family have jizzed up over those jazz mags.
Yeah, could he take you to your own table, maybe?
Preferably in a totally different restaurant.
Give me a break, I didn't know you were dining here.
- Yes, you did. - Yes, we did.
We?
It's only because they care about you.
- No, it isn't. - No, it isn't, but I do.
And I brought you and Sarah together.
I should at least get to have a gander.
My accountant's 20 minutes late, I don't wanna sit on my own.
Not on Valentine's night in a restaurant full of couples. Look like a loser.
You are a loser. While the whole world falls in love,
you'll be talking tax allowances with an OAP!
Talking tax allowances, or sorting out the total fucking mess
the man I was gonna marry left me in when he dropped dead at 34.
I really am a cunt, aren't I?
Well, you're a nice cunt.
- I'm one of the good cunts? - I wouldn't go that far.
I don't know much about dating, but when your lonely heart turns up,
the last person you had sex with shouldn't be there,
eating the sodding bread sticks.
- They're tasty though, aren't they? - Get my ex-wife along, compare notes.
That's a great idea, give her a call, see if she's busy.
Actually, is she though? Busy?
I don't mean she should come here, but I wonder if she's got a date.
- Do you know? - No, I don't know.
It's weird.
All those Valentine days you spent together, now here you are with me,
who let you shag me by mistake, about to go on a date with
your binge-drinking ex-girlfriend.
It's turned out well, thank you for pointing that out.
- I wonder if your ex is seeing anyone? - I don't know and don't wanna!
- You must! - No, I don't!
I couldn't give a toss who my ex-wife may or may not be fucking.
Hello, Sarah!
I was just having a work argument with my work colleague Helen.
About who your ex-wife may or may not be fucking?
That's show business!
I was just going to my empty table over there,
to wait for Colin, my elderly accountant,
who I think is standing me up.
- Don't go, wait with us. - Thank you.
It was me who put Alex's details on Boyfriends With Baggage,
so I sort of brought you two guys together.
Oh, really? Thanks, although I guess I don't know yet
whether I should thank you or not.
- Well, I think you do know. - Just wait and see.
Nothing to lose. Well, he hasn't.
Gosh, isn't that an accountant walking through the door, Helen?
Somebody doing an accountancy A- level, perhaps. More wine?
No need to ask you.
Oh, my God, did you see my video message?
- No, no, no. - Yes.
Oh!
I thought it was great. We all did, both of us.
- I never get that drunk. - What did I tell you!
I woke up the next morning feeling seriously ill and I thought,
"Oh, my God, only somebody completely desperate
"would respond to that message. "
And you were right! No, no, no, I'm not desperate,
I, I had 39 chat starters.
Oh, I had 132.
My friend Bob who's on baggage. com got nearly 200
and he's a coke-addicted self harmer.
No, he's a very good-looking coke-addicted self harmer
with loads of money and a holiday apartment in Paris.
Wow, really? Do we have Bob's mobile number?
I'm joking, I'm joking! All I need is a user name.
I got 48, but then the webmaster did that thing where they...
delete some of them for being inappropriate.
- No, he doesn't. - Helen told me.
They have this facility on the website where they read the messages before you
and get rid of any from the nut jobs and stalkers. Isn't that right, Helen?
I didn't say that, I don't remember saying that...
Sorry, I've been using that website for nearly a year,
and they haven't filtered anything offensive out of my inbox.
- I'm just gonna... - Helen, what...
What have you done with my chat starters?
The thing that gets you...
when you're used to the... noise and the chaos of family life,
and then you come home every day, and all you can hear is silence.
I just want someone I can...
grow old with.
Oh, Lizzie!
I know we're not gonna fuck,
but all this talking about your feelings stuff is really rather haunting.
If there's any chance of a quick tug while you stick your finger up my arse,
me and my cock would be very, very grateful.
No, thank you.
No, thank you!
I think the lady really doesn't want one.
- Thanks. - No problem.
Those guys get on my nerves, to be honest. Hi, I'm Raz.
Hi.
Now, I haven't got long, but we should at least have a drink.
Er... I don't think so, sunshine! I don't care how fit you think you are,
I'm in a meeting with my accountant.
I am your accountant. You're in a meeting with me.
I'm sorry about that message.
But then I guess that's what I like about getting older -
I'm not so uptight.
Well, I am so uptight, I think I'm up tighter than ever.
Oh, God!
You and me and our sex book, eh?
Yeah, well, was it really our sex book?
I seem to remember that you paid for it. I think I'll have the scallops.
You insisting we work our way through it in chronological order.
What? That was you.
I thought it was sweet, to be honest, a little bit anal perhaps.
But not anal, cos that's chapter seven
and we split up at the end of chapter six cos you were afraid of doing it.
What? We did not split up cos I was afraid of doing anal.
No. No, no, no, you are not the kind of accountant I wanted at all.
Didn't you get Colin's message?
His mum was ill and he had to go home, so he sent me instead.
Couldn't he have sent someone more his own age
or more female with less... nice eyes?
Oh, wait a minute, you're married, that's not so bad.
And I'm gay, if that helps at all? I'm married to a man.
Oh, well, even better.
Oh, God!
Oh, shit! I thought this was gonna happen.
Come on, Alex, snap out of it. You can't keep doing this.
He did this to me, you're lucky you've got your clothes on.
He was talking about his kids? I don't think he's ready for dating.
Alex, you're not ready for dating!
He wasn't talking about his kids, I just told him about
a good friend of ours from university
who died from stomach cancer last month.
She had three kids under five.
Will you fuck off?
Oh, that's terrible.
Oh, God!
It was all going fine until she wouldn't pull my plonker.
I was so bursting with jizzle,
when she went to the loo I nipped to the kitchen.
She caught me having an emergency wank into the remains
of Alex's hollandaise sauce.
Hi.
What a night, eh?
- Are you all right? - Why wouldn't I be?
Well, you know, Sarah, she's not really one of us, is she?
What a shame she's not part of our elite band of fuck-ups.
I had a really good night, I'm seeing her at the weekend.
Oh!
Great.
I am onto you, by the way.
I know what you're up to.
I read all those chat starters you deleted from my inbox,
pretty much all of whom I was interested to see were absolutely gorgeous.
Yeah, which is why I deleted them, Alex, because, you know,
there's no point in you going out with women who are out of your league.
It'll only make you unhappy.
Just like I did.