So Alex, where shall we start?
Well, Helen, my landlady, Helen, said
you'd been a help getting her finances in order.
Helen's great, isn't she? Though I'd sleep easier
if she upped her critical illness cover.
Oh, me too. Many's the night I lie awake in her spare room thinking,
''If Helen gets cancer, will she be able to pay the mortgage?
''Where will I sleep?''
Anyway... She thought you might be able to help sort out my debts,
so I can think about renting or maybe even buying a place of my own.
Is that all?
Of course, we can handle all that bread and butter shit. That's a given.
But let's talk about your future, Alex. That's what I'm interested in.
What do you want to do with your life? Tell me the plan.
Oh, the plan?
Well, step one of the plan, obviously, was to walk out on my family
and have a semi nervous breakdown. Big tick, nailed that.
Step two, I'm thinking... just basically see what happens.
That's about as far as I've got with the plan.
Helen said that you were a joker.
Yeah? What else did she say about me?
She said you were emotionally volatile
and your life was total shit at the moment.
She's right.
Have you got critical illness cover?
Hi. I'd like the double chocolate triple layer celebration cake...
..to be collected next Wednesday...
Yeah, with the... with the butter cream filling
and the white fondant icing on top to read,
''Happy birthday, Helen''.
Great! My name is Helen Ryan.
No, it's a different Helen!
You're telling me you haven't got two friends with the same name?
Especially Helen.
That's been in the top ten most common names since the year dot, so...
thanks very much, Mum and Dad!
Yeah, I'll hold...
A decade from now, where do you want to be? Best case scenario.
Blimey, ten years. Well, kids happy and healthy, obviously.
Doing OK at work, I guess.
- Blah, blah. - Well, I always wanted to live in France.
Now you're talking.
Oh, well...what I really want, what I'd really like,
is to be in a relationship with, um...this, er, lady.
Or happily married to...her. Yeah! We'd live in a big house. By a river.
With my kids and my new wife and maybe a couple more kids of our own.
And we're gonna need a big car, like a Mercedes.
And, um, one for the nanny.
This is in France, right?
Yeah, but in London during the week, to be close to our work.
Um...are you expecting a raise?
Because I estimate you'll need to put around 3,000 a month aside
over the next ten years to pay for that lot.
The nanny doesn't need a Mercedes. She'll be happy with a hatchback.
(Alex) Hi, babe. I'm home!
lronic, obviously.
Now, where's me fookin' dinner?
I'll just get on with cooking it, shall I?
Was it all right? Had to make do with tinned water chestnuts.
They'd run out of fresh at the oriental supermarket.
Are you kidding? If I'd known you were that good at cooking,
I'd never have chucked you.
Just my luck. The whole course of my romantic life
altered by a lack of access to kitchen facilities.
Then again, at least you'll be available for some platonic chefing on my birthday.
Don't panic! Nothing fancy.
Just a dinner for four or five of my only friends.
I'm not gonna be around on your birthday.
You'll have to up your game a bit.
I'm not having my mates fobbed off with tinned...
What do you mean?
How do you even know when it is to know you're not around for it?
That might have been a clue.
That was a joke.
- Yes, of course it was... - Yeah.
A jokey way of saying,
''Alex, here's shitloads of time to make yourself available for my birthday,
''and think about what you're gonna get me.''
What are you gonna get me, by the way?
You'll have to wait till your birthday.
When you're not even gonna be there to give me my present?
I want to be there. I want to celebrate it with you,
but I've gotta go to Manchester for work that night.
Nothing I can do. You of all people should understand that.
I do. Obviously.
Bloody hell, this is my fucking birthday we're talking about!
It's one of the most important days of the year.
For me. Do you think I wouldn't be around for yours?
OK, when's my birthday?
I don't fucking know. But when I find out,
I'll make damn sure I'm around for it.
It was three weeks ago.
It wasn't. What did you do?
I was here with you. Enjoying a meal, having a few glasses of wine,
watching the telly, happy that no-one else knew what day it was.
OK, two things. One - at least I was around for your birthday.
I made sure you had a good time without even knowing I was doing it,
which is amazing of me. Two - you're weirder than I thought you were.
I'm just different. I don't see my birthday as a big thing.
No, you see it's a hush-hush thing. An undercover thing.
There's something a bit pervy about the way you celebrated your birthday.
Like going out in public and no-one knowing
you're not wearing any knickers.
Hmm. Was it really like that? I don't think it was.
You know what I mean.
I don't, but you've clearly done the knickers thing, though.
Have you? Are you doing the knickers thing now?
I never used to make a big deal about my birthday, if you must know.
It was Pete who made a big thing. Pete who ordered the cake.
He blew up the balloons and bought the special croissants
from the deli I like for my birthday breakfast.
This time last year,
I did not think I'd be getting my birthday dinner catered for
by my former fuck-buddy.
I didn't think I'd be going around ordering my own cake.
I never thought I'd be blowing up my own fucking balloons!
I'm fed up with everything being shit.
When is anything ever going to start being good again?
Oh, listen. I'll get the special croissants from the deli
for your birthday breakfast, how about that?
Really?
Course.
I'd blow up the balloons but it brings on my asthma.
What's all this about you organising a surprise birthday party for Helen?
- Hi, Sophie. How are you? - I'm fine, thanks. Are you fine?
Malcolm's fine too. Great. Pleasantries out of the way.
Are you or aren't you organising a surprise party for Helen?
I are. I mean, I am.
The only thing I've organised so far is a rather brilliant lie
that I'm gonna be in Manchester for work that night.
What makes you think you're the right person to organise this, Alex?
Rather than some other person...
say.
I mean, you haven't talked to Helen's family about the party,
haven't checked if her goddaughter is free to attend.
Or her goddaughter's parents.
Do you want to come to the party?
Even though it's on way past your bedtime?
Oh, that's great! Glad you can make it. What about your mum and dad?
This isn't a joke, Alex.
I don't know if you realise, but this is Helen's first birthday since Pete died.
I do realise that.
I realise it so much it might be the reason I decided to have the effing party.
Does she even want to have a party?
This is going to be a sad evening for Helen.
I'll be quite sad too. Malcolm's bound to be a bit down.
- Well... - Yes, you will be down!
And the baby always picks up on what we're feeling.
Helen did definitely say she wanted to do something on her birthday,
and didn't say she wanted to do something miserable.
Maybe a happy evening would be better? Put a brave face on it,
think about the future...
Who knows? In ten years' time, things may look very different
for Helen and me!
- Helen and you? - Yeah.
Or no.
Helen and me...separately.
Well, whether... whether we're together or not.
Which we definitely won't be, because we're just good friends.
Maybe you should organise Helen's party.
Do you think?
All right, then.
Right. So here's a list of people from our family, Pete's friends, etc,
- I know Helen will want to be invited. - Do you really know that?
Yes. If I'm in charge of food and drink, decorations and music -
Malcolm will make one of his party tapes on the computer -
if I do all of that, then all you have to do, Alex,
seeing as you're such a brilliant liar, is come up with an excuse
to keep Helen busy while we get the flat ready for the party.
Helen? Would you do me a favour? Doctor Two Scenes has written a script
and he'd like to have a drink with you one night next week to talk about it.
What, your client, Doctor Two Scenes?
No, some other Doctor Two Scenes. You know the one I look after
who only ever has one or two scenes in each episode of Holby City
but fancies himself as a screenwriter? It's not him.
God. What does he wanna talk to me about his stupid script for?
- You represent writers, don't you? - Writers, not bit-part actors
whose biggest contribution in ten series has been to say, ''Pass the forceps.''
That's not actually true.
No, but it's almost true. It's not far off.
Don't take the piss out of Doctor Two Scenes.
I'm not. I'm taking the piss out of you for being his agent.
Thanks very much.
Come on! We always take the piss out of you
for representing Doctor Two Scenes. It's what gets us through the week.
- It's what gets you through the week. - And me!
I'm always up for a bit of Doctor Two Scenes-based banter.
Anyway, he's got the day off from Holby next week...
He's pretty much always got the day off from Holby!
Go on, then. When do you want me to meet Doctor Two Scenes?
Uh, well, he's going to be up in town next Wednesday night.
Wednesday night, my birthday? Thank you very fucking much.
I'm not suggesting you spend the whole evening with him. Just have a drink.
Then go to that birthday dinner you're having with all of those friends of yours.
Which is what I will be doing. With some of my closest friends in the world.
- Yeah. Yeah, I know. - Yeah.
Dan, would you like to have dinner with me for my birthday?
Why would I do that?
You don't like me and I've never wanted to fuck you.
Well, I've never wanted to fuck you either, mate!
Yeah, all right. I'll meet Doctor Two Scenes on my birthday.
It's time to move on. I need to be open to meeting new people.
Even if they are really, really very, very minor celebrities.
So are you going to read Doctor Two Scenes' script, then?
Il Dottore will be thrilled.
How long is it?
- It's not long. - Is it two scenes long?
You guessed it!
How will I recognise Doctor Two Scenes?
Oh, you know, surgical greens.
Carrying a stethoscope...
Look, I make good money out of the doctor, guys! For this company.
I mean, his commission pays your frigging salary, Emma!
Well, a bit...a bit of it... Your Christmas bonus.
Oh, wow!
Wow! Thank you, Alex!
I can't believe you went to all this trouble for me.
Did I miss anything?
Orange juice, check.
Champagne, check. Special croissants...
Bit disappointed you didn't blow up the balloons.
Yeah. Remember it brings on my asthma. Can't breathe, feel like I'm suffocating.
Ah, maybe next year.
Mm.
Anyway, plane to catch. I'll see you tomorrow.
Happy birthday, Helen.
I'm really sorry you're not doing anything.
- With anyone. Except Doctor Two... - Just go, all right!
Go to fucking Manchester and see your fucking client in her fucking play!
You can leave my present, though.
Oh, I haven't got you a present. I can pick something up at the airport.
Like from Tie Rack. Not many people know this,
but they do have a women's collection.
A little present on your special day, darling.
Oh, Stephen... that's really very, very...
A cheque for 5,000.
That's right, fruitie.
And if you're prepared to bend the new receptionist over my desk
and spank her lovely arse while I whack one off,
I'll even make it out to you.
No, thanks.
The receptionist is only getting two and a half
and she's the one taking the pain, to be fair.
Still no.
What's that?
A 20 quid book token. Happy birthday.
Emma?
I know it's not your birthday, but I refuse to let that small detail
get in the way of you making a bit of extra cash.
I've still got that lawyer's number on speed-dial...
Have a nice day. Lesbian.
Helen?
Doctor Two... I mean... Sorry.
Please, don't apologise... When you're in a hit show like Holby,
people often confuse you with your character.
Comes with the territory. You get used to walking down the street
to shouts of, ''Pass the forceps!'' ''Trust him, he's a doctor!''
''Where's your stethoscope?!''
We do that one.
How do you mean?
Well... You know, we say that.
We say that in, um... in the doctor's surgery that I go to.
We, um... We sit in reception and the doctor comes out
and all the patients call out, ''Where's your stethoscope?''
Sometimes it's around his neck, so obviously, it's not that funny then.
But, um... And he's not really an actor.
Well, not...not really, he's just not.
''You can fill out my prescription any time you like, love!'' Do you get that one?
No...
Well, um, what did you think of my script?
Heart Murmurs.
Well... Er, Roger...Comerford.
A film about an actor who's the star of a hit hospital drama series.
I'm just not sure if it's...
A tad too autobiographical?
Well, it's not really, is it? Because you're not really the star...
Do you mean because I've made the character a great salsa dancer?
- Mmm. - Actually, I do teach that.
Thursday nights in Colchester, when I'm not filming Holby.
Right.
So that's every Thursday, then?
When I'm not filming Holby, yeah. Excuse me, do you do bitter lemon?
Just up, up, up, up!
Yes, there.
Excellent.
Helen is going to love the birthday banner Peta made for her!
Yes, she is, you clever girl.
Clever girl!
- Urgh. That is rough as arseholes. - Wine boxes are cheaper, Malcolm.
- And naffer. - What?
Nothing.
I can't believe you did this for me!
Of course, if you hadn't done this, I would have had to kill you.
You didn't tell me the doctor taught salsa dancing? I love to salsa dance.
- I didn't tell you because I didn't know. - I teach it in Colchester.
Thursday nights, unless I'm filming Holby.
So that's every Thursday night, then?
Unless he's filming Holby, yeah.
Never mind... All right, everybody!
Doctor Two Scenes here is going to teach us all salsa.
He's going to give us a salsa dancing lesson.
What does she mean, Doctor Two Scenes?
Oh, yeah... Um...
It's the... The first rule of show business, Roger.
Never keep your audience waiting.
Oh. Er...
OK, everyone.
We're going to start off by dancing some salsa rueda.
Which basically involves me giving you some very simple moves,
or shines, as we call them, while you rapidly swap partners.
I think I'm going to be rather good at this.
What the fuck's critical illness cover?
Your boss just offered me 5,000 to do something really disgusting.
Just ignore him. He doesn't mean any harm.
For five grand, you could at least give it some thought.
Stand away from the wine box, please, Malcolm.
I have an apology to make.
I didn't think it was a good idea for you to have this party, Alex.
But I was wrong.
Because it was a lovely idea.
Perfect.
Pete and I are very grateful to you.
Good.
Although Pete probably isn't grateful, is he?
He's probably really pissed off.
Another bloke, even a nice one like Alex, making moves on his fiance.
Throwing the party for her so he can get into her knickers...again.
Stand away from the wine box, Malcolm.
Yes, Malcolm. Alex and Helen are just friends.
Yeah, that's us.
You haven't got into Helen's knickers?
- God, no. - Told you.
Of course he has. You know he has.
Actually, do you know what?
I have got into Helen's knickers and I would like to get into her knickers again.
In the nicest possible way,
on a regular basis, for the rest of our lives.
Look, I'm giving her this for her birthday
and I wrote the quotation from one of the poems in the front.
She'll love it.
She'll really love that.
You fucking fianc�-thieving cunt.
Hey, hey...
No, Malcolm! You're a bit militant this evening.
I don't know what's got into me.
Oh, yeah, I do. About two litres of this fucking awful plonk.
When will you realise, wine boxes are naff!
And mothers who try to turn their daughters
into mini clones of their dead brothers are just a little bit scary!
Pete is everywhere.
God's everywhere, not Pete. Pete's dead and he's not coming back.
No. Pete is here.
He's here in the flat now, watching everything you do.
He'll be watching every single time...
you fuck that little floozy!
He'll get a bit bored, don't you think?
I mean, one shag's the same as another, after a while,
from a spectator's point of view, surely?
Why aren't you dancing?
I'm a crap dancer.
I've been embarrassing myself at parties for years now.
Where's Sophie?
She had to leave.
Well, she didn't have to leave,
but after she'd punched me in the face, it was probably a good time to go.
She probably had to get back for the babysitter.
No, Peta was in her carrycot in your room.
My little goddaughter was here
and I was so fucking drunk, I didn't even realise.
What's wrong with me? I hate myself.
Come on everybody, salsa!
Helen, look, I want to give you this book for your birthday.
I wrote something in the front. It got ripped up by Sophie, but...
- I put it back together. - Oh!
It's blank!
- Is it? Oh. - Yeah.
- Sorry. Try that one. - OK.
''First published in 1925.''
No, fuck it. That's... Never mind.
- OK! - ''We shall not cease from exploration,
''and the end of all our exploring, will be to arrive where we started,
''and know the place for the first time.''
It's from a poem called Little Gidding by TS Eliot.
I've known that quote for years,
but the truth is, I've never really understood what it meant till now.
What does it mean, then?
Oh, er... Well, I guess what he's trying to say, what I'm saying,
is that I've fallen for people, I've been in this situation before...
TS Eliot's the Cats guy, right?
Yeah. That's him. He co-wrote the song that gave Elaine Paige
one of her few appearances on Top Of The Pops.
- I knew it. - Yeah...
Move to France with me.
What...?
You and me live in a chateau and eat French food and...
Drive a Mercedes, yeah.
Mercedes isn't French.
No, but they're incredibly reliable.
They just go on and on. You can't beat a Merc.
OK, great! I'm totally up for that.
Apart from the reliable German car bit, cos they're...
You're my best mate, Alex.
And I'll never forget what you did for me tonight on my birthday.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to have sex with Doctor Two Scenes.
Because he may be a very, very unsuccessful actor,
but he's a fucking great salsa dancer.
Morning.
Excellent party. Thanks so much for inviting me.
Hey, Doc, where's my medication?
Oh, she wants some paracetamol.
Helen's great, isn't she?
Oh!
Alex?
I've been thinking about this whole salsa thing.
Do you think there's any chance of getting me on Strictly Come Dancing?
Or a DVD.
Dance With The Doctor.