"PHONE RINGING" "Am I dreaming?" "Is this another of my acid flashbacks?" "I fear not." "Grace." "That thing we never speak of that we hoped would never happen has occurred." "Aargh!" "Morning." "Nice tits." "Low self-esteem." "Morning, bender." "2.1." "You've done well." "I have writer's block." "I said it." "Well, in my head, but that's a start." "There you go again." "Making me want to punch you." "I didn't get to that point." "The mortgage would be on a university." "Er... yes." "Do you have a tent?" "No." "I'm not wearing pants." "It's not a sexual thing." "It's about flouting society's norms by going commando." "Lady with the sunglasses and arms folded, with the very nice breasts." "Unfold your arms." "Do not be afraid of those breasts." "Unfold your arms." "Now swagger to my office, please." "Swagger." "Thank you." "Quicker." "Just one letter from high up, and your budgets are slashed." "Well, government is indeed a bitch." "Well, I ought to be getting off, Mr de Wolfe, so..." "I must say, bank manager, your briefing has not warmed me." "Yes, well, it is always difficult delivering bad news, so..." "You've done it with great skill." "Oh, thank you." "Thank you very much." "Skill, of course, being a rare African bum disease." "What?" "I said that you have done this with great skill, and you agreed." "Yes, thank you." "No, no, you misunderstand me, Bank Manager." "Skill is both a rare African bum disease and a crystal-clear admission of being a complete and utter gaylord." "What?" "So, goodbye, gaylord." "PHONE RINGS" "Grace, er... two things." "Firstly, I need to trim 25% off the workforce today and, secondly, would you contact Tropical Diseases?" "There's something rather nasty in the stationery cupboard." "Hello?" "Hello!" "Hello!" "Mr de Wolfe, release me, please." "Re..." "lease me." "Oh, I say!" "I say!" "I say!" "WHISTLE BLOWS" "'Whoever invented the gym skirt should be given a knighthood.'" "WHISTLE BLOWS" "God, they're all horribly flexible." "Wow!" "I wish I could jump like goal attack." "That's my position." "And I could do with those legs." "What I could do with those legs!" "Mr de Wolfe?" "Mr de Wolfe?" "This is extremely... (CLEARS THROAT)" "This is extremely..." "Extremely." "(MUTTERS)" "I'm a professional..." "Individual." "Ooh!" "Ooh!" "Miss Moffatt, come to apologise?" "Very noble." "I'm not talking to you." "Who did you just say that to?" "Myself." "You're not talking to yourself?" "That's right." "Didn't say it to me." "Can't have said it to yourself." "I sense a paradox looming." "Do you want me to punch you again?" "I said, do you want me to punch you again?" "Oh, sorry, you are talking to me now?" "I expect you get punched a lot." "No, actually." "Although I did once get bitten on the testicle." "Don't you care that I'm angry with you?" "We're destined to clash." "Words and numbers, you see." "Like fire and ice, order and chaos." "Occasionally, one of us gets the sweaty upper hand, but we're locked in writhing sexy mortal combat for ever." "Nothing to worry about." "I'd rather you punched me back, rather than keep talking." "Words are my punches." "They also work nicely as an extension of my cock." "(BANK MANAGER SHOUTS)" "(DE WOLFE MUMBLES)" "Mr de Wolfe, I..." "De Wolfe, I..." "I have a dia..." "A dia..." "Nobody out here, nobody out here." "Mr de Wolfe." "Help!" "Help." "Passers-by!" "Passers-by..." "If you could put me through." "Thank you." "KNOCKING" "Help!" "Help me." "Can you help me?" "I need the..." "Help me, please." "I..." "Ssh, ssh." "Help!" "I'm begging of you now." "Ooh!" "Oh!" "Oh!" "Oh!" "You've lost a..." "Sorry." "Oh, don't worry." "Oh, thanks." "You're very fast." "Ooh!" "(BOTH LAUGH)" "You're very papery." "Did you see my pants?" "Um... no." "You did, didn't you?" "Yes, yeah, I did." "Right." "Sorry about that." "It's fine." "I've seen pants before." "Well, bye, then." "Bye." "As the eccentricity is 0.8, this means the conic section will be an ellipse." "The general formula for an ellipse with centre x0, y0 is, of course... (HUMS A TUNE)" "Any questions?" "Yes." "Peter." "Do you have a yacht?" "A yacht?" "I heard that you got a 2 million advance for your next book." "Where did you hear that?" "(OTHERS LAUGH)" "It's for people who are sexually attracted to the wealthier woman." "That might explain why I haven't heard of it." "I can assure you, Peter, that I am neither minted nor anything else, and any second book might be a long way off." "Who's up for it?" "Hands down." "I forbid you to order it." "Right, we should stop there for the day." "Morning, mathletes." "What's the square root of 43 billion?" "What happened to your eye?" "It's all right, my eye socket is fine." "I won't have to go to hospital." "What happened?" "I walked into a door." "She definitely didn't hit me." "Shall we go outside?" "Yeah." "This is a bloody bluff, isn't it?" "I think I might have nail varnish bits in my eye, little bits..." "Hello, mate." "Got your ice pack." "It's a frozen pizza." "I know, it's the best I could do." "Hey." "Hi." "Imogen, this is Flatpack." "Flatpack, say hello to Imogen Moffatt." "Hello." "I've seen her pants... paper." "Have you?" "Imogen is the Maradona of maths." "Oh, cool." "You play football?" "I think he was using Maradona in a wider sense." "Oh, she cheats at maths?" "Probably." "Right now, Imogen has a blockage in her writing pipe." "It's temporary." "You wouldn't know about that because it assumes you've had some flow in the first place." "Right, so it's a mental block." "I get those." "Yours is more of a permanent basic condition." "Do you do any sport?" "She watches netball." "I'm not that fit." "He is not a complete dog." "Maybe I could take you running." "Endorphins stimulate the brain, helps you think." "Really worked for you, didn't it?" "Take me running?" "Ridiculous boy." "Why not?" "She doesn't want to go running." "I'd like to go running." "Cool!" "What?" "!" "OK." "Maybe later?" "I'll track you down, if you like." "Yeah, thanks." "I'll dig out some trainers." "You'll get all sweaty!" "We'll have a shower afterwards." "Will we?" "Great." "No, me and Imogen will have a shower." "Imogen and I." "No, she'll find that odd?" "You won't have been running." "Oh, no." "Grace, can I count on your discretion?" "As you know, today I have to lose 25% of the staff." "Fire 25% of the staff?" "Yes." "I am going to be doing a thing, I'm not sure what yet, whereby that 25% will receive either a little visit from me, or a jumper." "The sacked ones will receive a visit from you, or a jumper?" "Yes." "I'll tell you later which." "Oh, and Grace, you will not be receiving a jumper." "Thank you." "It's not favouritism." "It's a size thing." "I don't think the one-size-fits-all jumper is going to work for you." "Actually, you know what?" "Forget the whole jumper thing." "I think that throughout the day," "I will just be telling people who has got the sack." "(CLUNK)" "Um..." "I dropped my chisel-pointed marker." "Did you hear anything?" "Yes, you're going round telling people who's got the sack." "Race." "Places." "Pardon?" "Who has got the sack race places for the annual sack race." "Those places are much coveted." "Aren't they, Grace?" "No." "Lie." "Yes!" "So, that's what you heard - which of the staff have got sack race places, and which will be staying to watch the sack race." "Sack race?" "Yes, yes, yes, yes." "Yes." "Sack race." "Well, it is time for practice." "It's just your bog standard academic sack race, the sort that you get in any university." "You do believe me, don't you?" "Yes, I do." "Good." "Grace." "Grace." "Just to confirm, I can sack anyone I choose?" "Within reason." "Excellent." "So, I can sack anyone I choose." "(SOUNDTRACK DROWNS SPEECH)" "The VC is sacking people with tattoos?" "The VC's sacking everyone called Hughes." "The VC's sacking those with big shoes." "I heard you're sacking all the Jews." "Shitting hell!" "How did that get out so fast?" "You really are sacking Jews?" "No." "I'm sacking all sorts." "Inter-faith sacking?" "Regardless of race or creed." "There are other rumours." "Barbra Streisand is a family friend, nothing more." "I've been talking to that man in accounts who looks like a terrapin." "He says we have a massive budget shortfall." "Is that right?" "Rumour mill." "Pepper mill." "Mill On The Floss." "Milli Vanilli." "Thanks for being honest with me." "To be sure, Professor Queer, there must take place a winnowing." "Yeah." "We must blow away the chaff." "That's all right." "I can presume I'm staying." "If by "staying", you mean probably getting the Ronny Chop, then, yes, you are staying." "Let me put it another way." "Ip dip, sky blue Granny sitting on the loo" "Singing songs, dropping bombs Out goes you!" "Oh, look who it is." "It's you!" "But surely I have ippy dippy immunity?" "I'm a senior professor, part of the fabric." "To put it another way, we must be environmentally proactive." "What, recycle your beard trimmings?" "No, I was thinking more about wild deer." "I'm not teaching deer." "Culling." "To protect the wider environment." "How are you gonna cull the staff?" "High-powered rifle or bore them to death with campus policy?" "I need to eradicate 25%." "That's a lot of deer." "It's a lot of %." "I looked it up on a calculator just after I'd spelt boobies upside down." "Almost anyone can get sacked." "Almost anyone?" "I never said almost." "You haven't ringed off anyone." "Absolutely not." "Imogen Moffatt?" "Oh, yes, her." "You've ringed off the Moff?" "!" "Of course, she has a bestseller, she brings in money." "Oh, and that, er... postgrad boy." "Flatpack?" "Oh, he's a star." "A shining beacon who brings people to the university." "He can't read or write." "All he brings in is mice and the odd squirrel." "His scampering around on the athletics field brings the sort of meaningless trophies to Kirke that I dream of." "Right." "So, Flatpack and I are safe?" "The boy's position is safe." "Flatpack and I are safe." "The boy's position is safe." "Flatpack and I are safe." "The boy's position is safe." "Flatpack and I are safe." "The boy's position is safe." "(GUFFAWING)" "Guards!" "Surround the perimeter fence!" "Figure of speech." "Obviously, there are no guards... yet." "(GUFFAWING)" "LOW CHATTER" "What did the horse's mouth want?" "We were arguing about you, actually." "He said he thought you looked like a hairy toothpick." "In your defence, I said you were more like an albino stick insect." "Now, listen up, you slippery man-tart, word on the street is there are going to be job losses." "Is that right?" "Cos if it is, you are gonna be out!" "You don't normally make it up to street level, but if you've heard that through your tiny little weedy rat ears, then it must be right." "Don't make me do the ball twist." "All right, he's letting people go." "Release my fragile nipples, please." "(GRUNTS)" "Next time you want to sleep with me, ask someone else." "No, no, no." "Do you need some help?" "It's the, er... overpayment thing." "Remember when somebody paid everyone twice?" "Don't beat yourself up about it." "Well, who else am I supposed to beat up?" "Hm?" "Hm?" "True." "Look, could you just let me sort it out now?" "Can I make a suggestion?" "No, you can't." "I'm just trying to help." "With respect, this an accounting problem." "I am an accountant." "You are not an accountant." "I'm not quite sure what you are, but I'm pretty sure you're not qualified to give financial advice to someone who's studied accountancy for several years, all right?" "Why don't you just not pay everyone next month?" "Good, huh?" "You think I hadn't thought of that?" "Had you?" "What do you think?" "Had you?" "Well..." "You know, course I had." "Had you?" "Yes!" "Okey-dokey, are we ready to get sweaty?" "Oh, God, is there a moustache?" "Oh!" "Here we go." "Touch the floor." "Touch the sky." "Touch the floor." "Touch the sky." "Keep up." "All right, mate." "(LAUGHS) What?" "No, no, no, it's nothing bad, it's just I can't believe I'm going for a... a jog with one of the top brains in the country." "(PANTING) Don't be stupid." "Sorry." "I'm trying not to be." "(PANTING)" "So, your first book, how long did that take you to write?" "(PANTING)" "(PANTING) You can't talk, can you?" "You'd prefer it if we were walking, wouldn't you?" "Ow!" "Ow!" "Are you OK?" "Does it..." "Shall I..." "Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow." "Well, it's just..." "No, it's unusual to get a stitch in the bosom." "Grace over-ordered on paperclips and the VC is making her wear them as a cloak." "Ah, the bipedal catastrophe." "Well, not any more, I think you'll find." "Yeah, I saw your e-mail." ""Ooh, I know." "We just won't pay people next month." "That'll sort it."" "Have you ever heard of EU employment law?" "You can't just not pay people." "I'm just not gonna be allowed to forget this, am I?" "I'm sure that in a couple of months we'll be able to look back and share a laugh over a couple of pints." "That's great, because I really..." "Oh, you're not gonna forget this, are you?" "Of course I'm not gonna fucking forget it!" "(EFFEMINATE VOICE) But guess what, double-trouble dolly." "(NORMAL VOICE) Today we have got to ponder massive cuts." "How?" "How?" "How?" "What are you doing?" "I'm tickling my chin to stimulate my thoughts." "Try it." "Try it!" "(CLICKS FINGERS)" "Stimulated?" "No, not really." "How about now?" "OK." "Yeah, yeah." "Thoughts starting to stimulate now." "Mm, new thoughts, new thoughts." "Have you tried the all-day breakfast in a can?" "No." "Have you tried a peanut butter and jam sandwich?" "No, I don't like mixing sweet and savoury." "Have you tried sacking someone?" "Nope." "Think again." "Me?" "Sack someone?" "Eureka!" "I knew this brainstorming would get us somewhere." "I shall inform the board of your suggestion." "Why can't you do it?" "I'm not asking you to actually sack someone." "I'll do that meinenshelfen." "No, I just want you to choose." "Hobson's choice, Sophie's Choice, James Joyce." "And now I give you Jason's choice." "(GERMAN ACCENT) In this building we have three women called Grace all working here." "Three." "Anybody can see this is greedy." "How many women called Grace do you think a business like ours can sustain?" "It's just a name." "Two is the answer." "Two." "Well, what if I say I just won't do it?" "Well, what if I just say, have you seen the size of my legs?" "I could kill a man with one of these, especially if I held it by the foot and wielded it as a hefty club." "Do you want that to happen?" "No, no, and that's not gonna happen." "Because even if you could pull off your own leg, which you can't, you'd either bleed to death or..." "or fall over." "So, if you won't sack someone..." "I must deploy the ultimate sanction." "I will shrink you." "You can't." "Please don't shrink me." "CRUNCHING" "OK, OK." "So, I'm more expendable than my assistant." "Interesting." "A journey into unchartered fucking irony." "Please, please, please, please, please." "Yes!" "KNOCKS ON DOOR" "Phillip!" "How are you?" "Good." "If you could pack your bags and never ever come back to the university, that would be excellent." "Thank you so much." "That's right, fired." "Stop crying." "Big baby." "Are you all right?" "Oh." "Ah." "I've just been up to see the big bad de Wolfe." "Oh, no." "What did he say?" "I am so sorry, mate." "He thinks you may be an expense I could do without." "Oh, man." "Oh, man." "I know." "It's so unfair, isn't it?" "It's a kind of last in, first out thing sort of thing." "Oh, man." "Although he was also concerned about your limited vocabulary." "It's just..." "Hm?" "Oh, man." "I couldn't have put it better myself." "Unless I was awake." "Oh, dear." "I'm sorry." "I'm even sorrier, mate." "Yeah." "Yeah, no, thanks, you know, for trying to cheer me up, but, you know, I'm obviously..." "I'm running into a headwind here, and... it looks as if someone's stolen my spikes." "Yeah." "Although that..." "that metaphor doesn't... really work." "Your finishing line looks like it's only about a yard away so it doesn't really work, does it?" "I thought it was a great metaphor." "Oh, did you?" "I suppose you know more about English than me, you being a successful author and all?" "Well... probably." "Yeah?" "Well, yeah." "Really?" "Well, OK, here's a metaphor for you." "Go on." "You're like a... a..." "You're like a..." "Go on." "No, um... you're like a festering frozen maggot-ridden pus..." "You're... you're like a great big rotten apple." "Yeah." "Now, that is a metaphor." "No, actually, it's a simile, actually." "It is I, the Grim Reaper." "Turn that frown upside down, fuck off out of the university and never come back again." "Very nice to have seen you." "Enjoy the rest of your day." "Don't forget to leave your security badge." "Ooh." "(CHUCKLES)" "I'm going this way, actually." "Shall I just follow you round there?" "LOW CHATTER" "PHONE RINGING" "What's that?" "It's, um... it's private." "Ooh, is it a love letter?" "No, no, no." "It's someone's CV." "They're funny, aren't they, CVs?" "People make up so much bullshit on them, don't they?" "Well, I'm hoping one of these three has." "Why these three?" "No reason, forget that." "The... the whole staff are equally at risk." "Risk from what?" "PHONE RINGS" "The thing... the thing is, um... with these cuts, people are gonna get fired if it's proved they lied on their CVs." "Oh, God." "What?" "It's just the poor people, the ones that have lied on their CV." "Well, yeah, I know." "But, look, it's fine for people like us." "We were 100% honest, right?" "I, for example, do sing male alto up to the second F above middle C." "Do you really think they're gonna check?" "Well, they can come to choir practice any Tuesday, fine by me." "No, do you really think they're gonna check everyone's CVs?" "Eventually, yeah." "Hey." "You could come and witness the old high F on a Tuesday, if you like." "Or you could listen to me singing in the shower any time." "I mean not... obviously..." "You wouldn't be in the shower as well." "Just, you know, nearby somewhere." "Oh, those poor people." "Um... they wouldn't need the certificates for the qualifications they'd put down, would they?" "Pretty sure they would, yeah." "Oh." "Oh, God." "What's wrong?" "It's just period pain." "It's really bad." "Can I get you anything?" "Just some water." "There you go, water." "And some raisins?" "Raisins?" "Yeah, they're like little dried grapes." "OK, yeah, sure." "Oh!" "I'll just nip to the shop." "Thank you." "And thanks for saying I could be nearby when you have a shower." "Ow!" "Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit." "Maths GCSE." "What was I thinking?" "Grace, I am looking at the word flidoid." "'Yes, sir.'" "Is that one of the ones we can write off as deliciously un-PC?" "'Not really, sir.' Right, I did wonder." "Wog?" "'No.' (TUTS) That's a shame." "Let him write his own leaving card." "SHARPENER WHIRRING" "(HUMS TUNE)" "And it's that easy to make things go away." "Grace, would you send in the next pencil, please?" "Ah, Professor Justin Hawley-Harewood." "Hello." "Will this take long?" "Only I do have a seminar to prepare." "Of course." "Semantics And Signifiers In Early Mid-Period Medieval Literature." "Correct." "How those long afternoons must fly by." "Now, Professor Hawley-Harewood, whilst it isn't entirely about student numbers," "I see from this printout that next year your course has just 12 applications." "That's clearly an administrative error." "No." "You have just 12 double-O student applications." "Now, I don't even know what a double-O student is, but I suspect you should have quite a few more of them." "And also there is a black mark against your name," ""Sounds like a ponce."" "That should be 1-2-0-0 - 1,200 applications." "Not 12 double-O." "I am so sorry, Professor Hawley-Harewood." "I was probably reading the wrong column, and those notes, they're not about you." "Oh, no, there we go." "It's an easy mistake to make." "The next staff member down has a very similar name to you." "I saw the name." "Sue Chong." "Sue Chong." "What a poncey name." "(ORIENTAL ACCENT) Oh, me." "Airs and graces." "That's offensive." "Look how small that is." "I did that." "It started like that." "Would you like that?" "Going-home pencil?" "I'll leave it there." "Yes, actually, I will." "It's awful, isn't it?" "The not knowing." "The sitting around." "The waiting, wondering whether we'll still be in a job." "It's all right for you." "What?" "No, we're all in the same boat." "You don't think I'm just like you?" "We're in the trenches together, fighting uncertainty." "A stupid book doesn't give you some sort of magic immunity." "Congratulations from the VC." "Oh." "It's actually my birthday." "Forgot." ""A little token just to say your lovely book means you can stay."" "OTHERS GROAN" "I'm sorry, OK?" "I hope theyarefired, bunch of moaning Marys." "What is the highest mountain in Australia?" "Mount Dingo." "No." "I can offer it." "Mount Neighbours?" "No." "I really think you should take this a bit more seriously." "Oh, do you?" "Trust me, you don't want to come last." "It was actually Mount Kosciusko." "So at the end of the geography round, the scores are four to you, four to you, and you have three." "Wow." "Who founded Kirke University?" "(LAUGHING) Mr Kipling!" "Wrong." "Captain Kirk." "LAUGHTER" "Kirk Douglas!" "Ermintrude." "You're not allowed to answer again!" "You're not allowed to answer twice!" "What is the point of all this?" "It's just..." "It's fun." "Come on, let's do the quiz, shall we?" "She hasn't got four." "Yes, she bloody does!" "Hiya!" "Ooh, you must be thirsty." "Um... can I have a word?" "Sure." "How's the team sheet looking?" "Still no place for a wing attack?" "I've been getting fit." "Yay!" "You're my first reserve, I promise." "Um... hey, you know you wrote that book about maths?" "It was about zero, actually, but yes." "Right, yeah." "Um..." "I've got a question." "Oh, excellent." "What's the question?" "Have you got GCSE maths?" "Well, I'm a mathematics lecturer, so..." "I know, but can you do GCSE maths?" "I do pure maths, applied maths, philosophy of maths, discrete maths..." "Is that a no?" "No, it's not a no." "You can say if you want to, cos loads of people haven't got it." "Oh, I have done it." "OK, it just seemed like you were stalling." "No, I wasn't stalling." "I got GCSE maths." "I got an A star." "No need to show off." "I'm sorry." "You're right." "You don't get to be a mathematics lecturer without GCSE maths." "I just thought maybe you didn't do that type of maths." "It's not a type of maths." "It kind of is." "Actually, it isn't." "I've been reliably told that it is." "I'm reliably telling you it isn't." "Look, supposing that you even do know what it is, could you teach it to me?" "Well..." "Please." "My schedule's really horrendous, so..." "OK." "It's just that Debbie's been really shit at wing attack and if I could just..." "I'm sure I could shuffle things around." "Yay!" "Good." "And is GCSE a type of maths?" "Yes, that's right." "I remember now, it's a type of maths." "Duh!" "See you later." "Bye!" "Don't think about it, don't think about it, don't think about it." "I am so sorry." "He thinks you may be an expense I could do without." "Don't think about it, don't think about it, don't think about it." "don't think about it, don't think about it, don't think about it, don't think about it, don't think about it, don't think about it, don't think about it, don't think about it," "don't think about it, don't think about it, don't think about it, don't think about it, don't think about it." "Sounds like you're thinking about it quite a lot." "Don't listen to her, don't listen to her, don't listen to her..." "WHISTLE BLOWS" "Man in the blue shirt, by the K." "Do you want to leave the university or stay, sir?" "Stay." "Fine." "Then would you canter back to here like you're on a horse?" "Canter." "Canter faster." "Canter faster." "Good, you can stay." "WHISTLE BLOWS" "Stridy man in pink." "You are obviously a strider." "Keep that march up." "Keep that march up." "Yip-gatcha-gaka!" "Yeep-atcha!" "Yeep-atcha-kaka!" "Yeep-kaka!" "Keep marching, sir." "Keep that stride up." "Have I gone power-mad?" "Yes, I have!" "What's the problem?" "Has it gone?" "What?" "Your special gentleman." "Has it been stolen?" "Has a passing magpie seen it wriggling and snatched it away?" "Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall." "That's what it used to look like down there." "Hairy and dishevelled but still charming." "A lady might want to spend time with it." "Now look at it." "No." "No, not now I've got grey pubes." "I'm sure they're not that bad." "Maybe not yet." "Maybe at the moment it's like George Clooney down there." "One or two grey hairs, distinguished." "Maybe I'll get used to it." "Big mistake, cos one day I'll look down and find Miriam Margolyes in my pants." "I'm never getting old." "See you later!" "OK." "Hypothetical situation." "There are three little female kittens in a basket floating down a swollen river, and you're able to reach out and save two of them." "How do you decide which one to leave?" "Leave it to die, you mean?" "Possibly." "For the record, I reckon you're not to blame either way." "Let's say you've been put in an impossible situation by... an evil madman." "But that's not the issue." "Which one would you leave?" "What do they look like?" "Well... one of them's a little black kitten, kind of sleek, and one of them's quite a big kitten." "Well, not big." "Sort of plump." "No, not plump, big-boned, well fed." "And the third one?" "The third one is..." "I don't know." "Slightly butch." "A butch kitten?" "No, forget that." "How can a kitten be butch?" "Anyway, good." "Good, good, good." "Um... thanks for your help." "Lots to ponder." "Bit like deciding who gets the sack, isn't it?" "(ALL) What?" "Isn't it?" "No!" "Just shut up, you idiot!" "What is his problem?" "Surely he's an angry gay." "LAUGHTER" "(SOBBING) Oh!" "Redundancies?" "No, the VC's therapist." "Don't suppose you've heard anything?" "Me?" "No." "Bloody worried." "Trying not to show it." "It's hard." "Massive Sword of Damocles hovering over your head." "Over all of us, yes." "Bloody nightmare." "(LYDIA) You!" "Oh, hi, Lydia." "Not you." "You!" "Me?" "Yes." "Thanks for this." "Bloody good book." "OK." "You lent it to me." "13 years ago you lent it to me." "Did I?" "OK." "Yes, it's a bloody brilliant book." "Good, glad you enjoyed it." "That was nice of him." "Shit off, Moffatt." "So you'd like to talk about it, I suppose?" "Er..." "OK." "What did you like about it?" "That it was bloody good." "I've already said that, cock-faced fool." "Lovely." "Would you like to ask me for another one?" "You can read mine if you like." "Shit off, Moffatt." "But..." "But what?" "Fuck." "Cos I can't do this." "Fuck." "Are you trying to be nice?" "OK, then, yes." "You've got it out of me." "Well bloody done." "I'd like another fucking book." "Of what sort?" "In the same vein as that one, please." "OK." "Actually, exactly like that one." "Why don't you just read this one again?" "Why would I want to do that?" "You often get more out of it the second time round." "I read Persuasion once a year." "Shit off, Moffatt." "OK!" "Well, give me that one, fuck-face." "Magic word?" "Magic..." "I think we're getting somewhere with you." "Soon you'll pass as a human being." "Shit off, Moffatt." "More book club this time next week?" "Shit off, the both of you." "Remaining lecturers." "If you wish to keep your job, when you hear the whistle, please move to a new coloured disc." "WHISTLE BLOWS" "Quickly." "If you're on the green disk, I'm afraid you're fired." "You two have clearly made brother-and-sister love, and that sickens me." "Bye-bye." "New colour!" "WHISTLE BLOWS" "Ugly Betty, if you could fuck off back to Mexico, that would be useful, thank you." "Yellow and lilac." "You look like a pil-lock." "Bad choice on the shirt there from your husband." "If you would leave campus, thank you." "WHISTLE BLOWS" "That's right, Gorbachev fuckachev." "Take your social studies with you." "Professor Quink on green." "Ah, you are a fine specimen of striped, bald, backpack-wearing liberal." "Get out!" "WHISTLE BLOWS" "New colour." "Anyone in beige slacks, off." "Off you go, beige, off you go." "Let's leave the Indian MILF just there." "You can stay, sugarplum." "WHISTLE BLOWS" "Excellent running, SuBo." "âª I dreamed a dream I'd lost my job. âª" "Barrel-bodied woman, discharged!" "Oh, God." "This is a nightmare." "DOOR OPENS" "Hello, mate!" "Ah...!" "Nicole, what are you doing here?" "I bought you a pint." "Are you crying?" "No, it's..." "What's the matter?" "The Vice Chancellor is trying to destroy me." "Nicole, he... he said I've got to do an awful thing, and he said if I don't he's going to shrink me." "(SIGHS) I don't want to be shrunk." "He's not going to shrink you." "I'm not so sure." "You're a man, Jason." "(SIGHS) I am, aren't I?" "Course." "You're a lovely man." "An accounts man." "Yeah." "I don't need to take this shit." "Bosses shrinking me!" "I'm Jason Armitage, ICA." "Exactly." "And, listen, Nicole, thank you." "This is actually a really lovely pint." "And I'm actually not going to drink it cos I get a beer rash." "But I'll..." "Don't then!" "I'll just mime drink." "Oh, OK." "For you." "I can see your colostomy bag." "It's unsightly and so are you." "Take your African beads and fuck off." "Please leave the premises." "Even though I'm smiling, this is not a joke." "I am smiling, but I'm also letting you know that your days at Kirke are over." "My life's over if I have to leave here." "What am I gonna do?" "You could join the circus." "What would I do in a circus?" "Oh, come on, a guy like you?" "Candyflossiteer." "Yeah, I suppose so." "Or do that thing where you hang upside down wrapped in a big coloured sheet, you suddenly unravel yourself and it's just wrapped round your ankle." "But that's a girl's thing." "You can't afford to be picky when your future's in tatters." "True." "I'll have to wear one of those high-cut sparkly swimsuits." "Oh, God." "I'll have to prune my pubes." "You could be a clown." "But I'm not very funny." "Exactly." "Oh, I could be a sad clown!" "Yeah." "Although I'm too good-looking." "Oh, dear." "Well, you can be a sad clown, but they could put you on the high wire, so no-one could see how gorgeous you are." "I've got to know where I stand." "Just feel for the wire with your ballet pumps." "About my position here." "It'll be fine." "Trust me." "God." "Shitter." "I'm gonna confront him." "No!" "God, no." "God, no, no." "He hates confrontation with any form of athlete." "It makes him feel tubby, and when he gets tubby he gets vicious." "He's been known to bite." "I'll take my chances." "I mean, I've got to face him, man to man." "Listen to me, listen to me." "Breathe." "Breathe." "You are not a man." "Oh, look, fitty." "Leave the premises." "Bollocks." "(VC) Three." "Two." "One." "Just tell me it isn't true." "Ihave to know one way or another." "All right." "I am your father." "What?" "Sorry, is it not about that?" "You're my father?" "OK." "I want you to forget everything that I've just said." "It was a slip of the tongue and completely untrue anyway." "Now, what seems to be the problem?" "Don't do this." "It's not gonna help." "I have to know!" "Ow!" "What was that for?" "I'm saving your career." "Thanks, mate." "Just leave it to me." "Go and clear your mind." "Shouldn't take long." "OK." "(WHISPERS) It's not his fault." "He's stressed." "Stressed?" "He's like a finely-tuned machine." "What have you done to him?" "He can't be stressed!" "It's better you don't know." "Tell me." "OK, OK, OK, OK." "He thinks my position's in danger." "He's upset." "He sees me as a kind of mentor." "It's not my fault." "He's like a puppy." "By Christ!" "It's Helsinki next week." "I know, I know." "He's in with a shot of... (BOTH) Commonwealth qualifying standard." "Look, his brain's a complete mush pile." "Worse than usual." "OK, now, let me get this straight." "He knows you, and he still wants you here?" "He says if I go, he goes." "Oh, well, in that case, you can both tie a spotted handkerchief around the end of your dick and fuckle off." "What?" "Yeah, you and the spiky shoed limpet-boy can both fuckle off... back to the English Department because your jobs are safe!" "You're going through to the next round." "OK, OK, if you're sure." "Sure?" "I couldn't do it without yous two." "Good." "You're my conjoined-twin superheroes." "And in that I do not mean that he is in any way Siamese." "WHISTLE" "Moving on!" "FLUSHING" "Oh, yeah." "So, um... apparently, er..." "you're the depressive one, yeah?" "No." "What is it about, then?" "I don't really know." "That's the thing with depression." "I've never been depressed." "But I was once perturbed, which I've heard is really similar." "Anyone threatened to shrink you?" "No." "Anyone threatened to smash you over the head with their leg?" "No." "So, you don't know what depression is, mate." "Just leave me alone." "(VC) 'How many women called Grace 'do you think a business like ours can sustain?" "'" "(GRACE 2) 'Bit like having to decide who gets the sack, isn't it?" "'Surely he's an angry gay.'" "I've done it." "I've come to a decision about who loses their job." "Oh, brave sparrow." "It's me." "I can't choose any of them." "They all need their jobs." "If I go, it's for the best anyway." "I cocked up the money." "I'm a fairly average accountant at the best of times." "I..." "I go off and shout in fields." "My girlfriend pinches me in the night and then pretends to be asleep." "I'm the one who should be let go." "I'll go abroad and teach foreigners to speak English." "Shh, shh, shh, shh.Shh, shh." "Why is Mr Nakashima asleep on your sofa?" "He's dead." "What?" "Did you kill him?" "No, he choked to death on a fish bone." "Myself and the office manager often shared a trout lunch on a Tuesday." "Well, have you called an ambulance?" "Very much so." "So, bruv, you know what this means, innit?" "No." "Someone higher made your choice for you." "God culled, so you don't have to." "I would have preferred a Caucasian for my quotas, but I think God's probably racist." "We are all saved." "Apart from Mr Nakashima." "He is dead." "Run along." "Death becomes you." "Wax on." "Wax off." "Hm." "It is bony, isn't it?" "Here's another one." "Um... could you do a handstand on the bar?" "Yeah, think I could." "Could Professor Beer?" "No." "(GIGGLES)" "So this is where you are." "Not in all the other places I've been looking." "I've been looking in all sorts of places." "It's bad news, isn't it?" "I've started packing so..." "Well, I had a little chat with the VC." "Oh, dear." "What's that supposed to mean?" "Nothing." "No, come on." "Let's all put our trust in Mr I Will Always Look After Number One." "Oh!" "Do we have to be so formal, little Miss I'm Very Quick To Judge People I Hardly Know?" "I know enough." "Do you?" "I fought for that boy, pleaded his case." "Did you?" "Yes, I did." "I didn't want him to have to wear a sparkly swimsuit and shave his groin." "You didn't say that, did you?" "I said he was crucial to me, too good to lose." "Bottom line is, if he goes, I go." "You said that?" "I wasn't going to tell you." "It's times like these you findout who your friends are." "You certainly do." "Well, what did he say?" "Is Flatpack staying?" "Flatpack's position here..." "Flatpack's position here..." "Flatpack's position here is..." "Join us after the break." "No!" "All right, he's safe." "Yes!" "Oh, thank you!" "Little hug?" "Come on, come on." "Well, could you do a handstand on the bar?" "Me?" "Probably not." "Flat could." "Could you punch a hole through that wall?" "That wall?" "Erm..." "Flat could." "All right, no." "But I can crack a walnut with my arse cheeks." "Don't you risk getting bits of shell in your pants?" "And all the bits you want to eat, aren't they damp with bottom juice?" "Little bit." "Can still bloody do it." "(VC ON TANNOY) Purple, I'm afraid, has been banned now on campus." "If you could leave." "You make me want to vomit." "Sorry, Grace." "Er... where were we?" "I'd gone from a small boy whose thighs rubbed together when he ran to a veritable colossus." "No, not that bit." "I was just reminiscing." "(SIGHS)" "I must have done 25% by now." "Grace, how will history judge me?" "As a doer or a poo-er?" "Yeah, you're hated." "All good in its own way, Grace." "But sadly that doesn't translate into figures, the only language those Whitehall mandarins understand." "Grace, come on, what's the bottom line?" "4.3%." "Maybe a little bit more." "You mostly sacked visiting relatives." "Oh, and a lost rambler." "Little baby Jesus Christ." "They will skin me and wear me like a sari." "Oh, not the end of the world." "No, true." "It is worse." "Right, I'm off." "They're burning your effigy and, er..." "I want to get down the front." "What are you knitting, Grace?" "Oh, a lover." "Do be careful, wool can chafe." "PHONE RINGS" "RINGING" "STOPS RINGING" "PHONE RINGS" "PHONE RINGS" "PHONE RINGS" "PHONE RINGS" "RINGING STOPS" "RINGING" "RINGING STOPS" "PHONE RINGS" "RINGING STOPS" "RINGING" "Grace." "'Yes, sir.'" "Pardon?" "'Yes, sir?" "'" "Grace?" "'Hello?" "'" "Grace?" "'Yes, sir?" "'" "Hello, Grace?" "'Yes, Vice Chancellor." "Yes!" "'" "Grace?" "'Yes!" "'" "Grace?" "'Yes!" "'" "Grace?" "'Yes!" "'" "Grace?" "'Yes!" "'" "Grace?" "DRILLING" "If you're using an instrument, please take care." "Thank you." "Thank you very much indeed." "I'm so sorry." "(SNIFFS)" "Oh, hello." "All right?" "Yes, nice to see you." "Yes, I was just attending to one of my clients and..." "In there, was you?" "(LAUGHS UNCERTAINLY)" "You're gonna come out of the closet, you want to look after yourself a bit better." "That's true, that's true, to a degree." "Yeah." "Um... yes." "Er... well, it's nice to see you." "You too." "You walking to the bus?" "If you want to join me." "That'd be very nice." "After you." "Well, no, you go ahead." "Thank you." "A gentleman." "Yes." "So have you been in there long?" "Well, not too long." "It was a little too much for my liking, but..." "I know, but a man gets a bit of a sweat on." "BOTH CHUCKLE" "Subtitles by Red Bee Media Ltd"