PROFESSOR T: 76%, ladies and gentlemen.
For the less mathematically inclined amongst you,
that is equivalent to three of every four biological males,
as well as six of every ten biological females
who have, at some stage in their life,
for one reason or another, fantasised about committing murder.
For women, it is members of their family or, more particularly,
their spouse's family who are most at risk
in their deadly imaginings.
For men, however, it is more likely to be someone at their workplace
who provokes these homicidal thoughts.
Sorry I'm late, Professor.
HE YELLS, GUN ZAPPING
Please.
Of course, only an infinitesimal proportion of those of us
who have contemplated an unlawful killing
proceed to turn thoughts into deeds.
Which begs the obvious question -
what distinguishes the very few who do
from the vast majority who do not?
In a nutshell, is there such a thing as the DNA of a murderer?
We're all of us busy people, officer, that's no excuse!
I've got a serious criminal matter to report.
Perhaps I can be of assistance, sir? And you are?
DS Lisa Donckers.
A Detective Sergeant? That's right, sir.
Well, I'm gonna need to speak to someone more senior than you.
OK.
The first one arrived at my husband's place of work
three days ago. The second one came this morning.
Although the postmarks are the 2nd and the 6th.
Shows you can't even rely on the Royal Mail
to deliver a death threat promptly these days.
We'll send them for fingerprinting.
And you've no idea who may have sent these, Mr Davies?
That's a stupid question.
It's the first thing I would've mentioned if I did.
Is your husband in the public eye?
You know, the sort of person who might become a target
for cranks or trolls? He runs an artisan bakery.
I mean, I say run, but it's me who does all the books
and handles all the orders.
He just chats bloody sourdough all day. DS Winters.
All right, Mr Davies...
we'll give it our top priority. Thank you.
"Top priority?"
It was the only way I was ever gonna get rid of him.
I could see you struggling in here, boss. I came straight in.
Just bear that in mind, maybe mention it to Christina.
Thank you, Winters.
Oh, dear. Are we going back to doing that?
May I suggest you see it as an endearing little ritual?
Right.
Can you control your thoughts, Jasper?
Of course. Then don't think of a white bear.
HE SCOFFS Wegner's bear, 1987 -
by supressing a thought, it becomes inevitable.
Look, this is not a game of chess.
You know, it's not-it's not psychological one-upmanship.
I can't help you if you're determined to anticipate
and forestall every reasonable line of inquiry.
And I cannot be blamed if your methods are predictable.
Well, your disdain for them - and for me - is obvious.
I wonder if you'd be happier with a different therapist...
A male practitioner, perhaps.
I fail to see how your biological sex is relevant.
Like you fail to see the patterns of your hostility
towards women in general?
I'm not hostile towards women, merely neutral.
SHE CHUCKLES
You sound like you're Switzerland!
I mean, neutrality does little to help human relationships
prosper and endure, Jasper.
You need to discover and start expressing some positive sentiments
towards the women in your life.
Malcolm, I'm wondering why you left it up to your husband
to report these death threats.
It suggests you're not taking it seriously.
That's probably because I'm not.
Why would that be? Get death threats every day?
Look, it's probably just one of my friends.
You know, a bit of banter. Funny kind of banter.
Funny kind of friends. Oh, all right, not FRIENDS, then.
Er, acquaintances.
Look, I'm a member of the local baking club.
Won Star Baker at our recent awards night.
There's been some sniping that I should be disqualified
for being a professional.
That, and a nasty rumour that my sourdough is artificially enhanced.
I figured it was just one of the baked goods nuts
trying to warm me off.
There are ways that don't involve a colossal waste of our time.
No other issues or disagreements that you can think of?
Er, we're in a legal dispute with our neighbours.
FORMER neighbours, I should say. But that's been going on for years,
and the solicitors are handling everything.
SHE CHUCKLES That beard!
See you Friday.
Is it personal or professional? Hm?
You always dawdle when you've got a question to ask me.
I was admiring the notice board. You keep it very... symmetrical.
And I was wondering...
given your recent foray into online dating,
whether you wouldn't mind advising me
on arranging an intimate evening with...
...a member of the opposite sex. Let's see.
Salsa with Estevan tomorrow,
couple's massage with Klaus on Wednesday.
Ah, yes, 8pm Thursday, I'm free for dinner.
Ooh, er, I am so sorry, I did not mean...
You weren't seriously thinking of inviting DCI Brand to dinner
without rehearsing it properly?
Rehearsing?
It's in your diary.
I can't believe Rabbit is making us follow up on this.
Oh, you've got better places to be, do you? I do, actually.
Hello.
MAN: Debbie, some idiot's parked in front of our drive again!
That idiot would be me, I'm afraid, Mr Sanderson.
I'm DS Winters, I'm with the Cambridge Police.
This is my colleague, DS Donckers.
They've been asking about Malcolm, hon.
Oh, you've got to be kidding me!
DOOR SLAMS
Seems like we touched a nerve.
You'll have to excuse Steve, officer.
He's a Teddy bear, really.
But Malcolm... that is a sore subject.
There's been some kind of legal dispute we're led to believe.
Oh, it goes a long way back before that.
They were in business together for a few years -
they ran a small delivery firm.
After Steve was discharged from the army.
Broke two bones in his back. He's never been right since.
So what happened? Oh, well, Malcolm was always a sweetheart.
Unlike his other half.
We've had the pleasure of Aiden's acquaintance. Yeah.
Steve and Malcolm were chalk and cheese
but they hit it off from the moment we bought this place.
Workmates, best mates.
Till Malcolm told Steve he didn't want to do deliveries any more.
Just like that. No warning.
Did you ever get to the bottom of what happened? Not really.
They stopped talking after that.
Next thing we know, they're suing us over a fence.
About a year later, they moved out, started renting the place out.
Do you know how they could have afforded that?
Well... you didn't hear this from me...
'That was a stroke of luck.'
'A stroke of luck? More like a bloody miracle!
'Malcolm's never been known to bet a penny in his life.'
A bit suspicious, don't you think? What is?
Someone who makes a big thing of never gambling would win tens,
maybe hundreds of thousands on some lottery.
We've only got the neighbour's word for it.
Who knows what goes on behind the net curtains?
In case you've forgotten, Dan,
it's not Malcolm Davies we're supposed to be investigating.
It's whoever's been sending death threats.
Steve Sanderson seems to have plenty to feel aggrieved about.
We all have plenty to feel aggrieved about.
Hm, is that what you'll tell Rabbit? When he asks how the case is going?
No. I will tell him to stop wasting our time on petty domestics.
Where are you going? Home, to see my dad.
Are you coming?
Yes. Obviously I'm coming.
DOG WHINES
I don't do performance art, darling.
No point standing there rubbernecking.
If you've come to borrow the dog again, the answer's no.
I'm afraid Kafka's all at sixes and sevens.
I came to see how you were.
What do you want, Jasper? I do not want anything.
I merely wondered if these bulldog clips might be of use to you
in your artistic endeavours.
A gift, for me?
Miss Snares was throwing them out.
Well, it's like my birthday, Christmas and Mothering Sunday
all rolled into one!
Do not confuse sarcasm with wit, Mother.
Don't be so touchy, darling.
I'm delighted with them. Truly, I am.
I was interested to observe if you might think so.
If this is the result of your therapy,
then it's definite progress.
Only next time, pearls and champagne, please?
PHONE VIBRATING
Hello. 'Sorry to wake you, Donckers.'
Oh, it's no problem, boss.
You better head in ASAP, there's been a development in your case.
'What now? Did somebody poison his cat?'
Malcolm Davies has been found dead.
Oh. Jeez.
Can you get a message to Winters?
Yeah, I'm sure I could track him down.
He's certainly the quarrelsome type.
He put up a fence between the properties
without consulting his neighbours, while they were on holiday.
The Davies' claimed it was on their side of the boundary.
Won a restraining order. Sanderson countersued.
It's been grinding through the courts ever since.
He's ex-military, and reputedly has a temper.
We've seen that first hand. He fits the profile.
And yet, here you are.
The dispute's been dragging on for years.
The Davies' moved out a while back.
It doesn't seem like a trigger for slashing someone's throat.
For individuals with extreme personality traits,
no trigger is too small or trivial to be discounted.
But in a case of premeditated murder,
whilst you piece together the how, where, when, what and why,
you must always be mindful of the "who".
Who amongst the suspects displays the personality type
that would enable them to kill with calculation?
Anti-social, paranoid, remorseless,
convinced the world is against them.
Turns out Malcolm Davies was a witness in a murder trial
eight years ago.
His evidence was key to the successful prosecution
of Larry Buckland for the murder of his boss, Sunil Mehta,
who owned a boat-building business.
Larry was sacked for fighting with an employee,
and heard making violent threats against his boss.
So how was Malcolm Davies connected?
Poor bloke just happened to be making a delivery
on the night in question. He testified he heard raised voices
and saw Buckland leave Mehta's office.
He found Mehta bleeding to death -
stabbed in the neck with a short blade,
something like a letter knife.
And it was Buckland's threats that convinced them it was premeditated?
That, and 170 grand missing from the safe.
So we could be looking at payback, then.
Maybe, but I'm assuming Buckland is still inside? He is.
But guess where his wife and son are now living.
They're renting Malcolm and Aiden Davies' old place,
moved in a few weeks ago.
I'd say we get them both in for questioning.
Really? It's a total coincidence?
You can see why we might find it difficult to believe, Mrs Gilmore.
No more than I did when I found out.
Malcolm came round to fix the door on the washing machine.
Mum recognised him right away.
Took him a little longer to place us.
Looked like he'd seen a ghost. I don't believe in coincidences,
just like I don't believe in ghosts, Jonah.
Why would I lie?
We've moved half a dozen times in the last eight years.
I was just grateful to find somewhere.
I can imagine.
I only dealt with the letting agent. If his name was on the contract,
I certainly didn't see it before signing.
You'd have thought your landlord
might have done a bit more due diligence.
Except I've gone back to using my maiden name.
You'd have had no way of knowing our connection to Larry.
Where were you last night between 8pm and 12 midnight?
SCOFFS
At home,
doing a college assignment, watching TV.
Anyone who can vouch for you?
My mum was out watching a film with a friend, got back late.
Mm-hm.
SCOFFS
You know, I'm not my dad.
Whatever it is you think you know about him, it doesn't apply to me.
"The sins of the father are to be laid upon the children."
Shakespeare, The Merchant Of Venice.
If you say so.
It must have been painful for you
to be associated with your father's crime
from such an early age.
To be labelled the son of a killer wherever you went, whoever you met.
You have no idea.
Well, if you have nothing to hide, I'm sure you won't object to us
conducting a search of your property, will you?
Oh! I didn't expect to see you here.
And yet this is exactly where I hoped I might find you.
You were looking for me, were you? I have something to ask you.
Well, can it wait? I'm running late.
It can wait. OK.
Fancy tagging along?
I have rather a lot to catch up on.
MUSIC: 'La Musica' by Vichenzo Orru
LOUD CHATTERING DROWNS OUT SPEECH
Dan.
Donckers.
Look what the search turned up.
We found that knife in Jonah Gilmore's shed,
and it looks a good match with the wounds on Malcolm Davies' neck.
Has it been fingerprinted?
Not yet, but my bet is that he'll have wiped them off.
He's not that stupid.
Although evidently stupid enough in your estimation
to hide the murder weapon in his garden shed?
If they weren't a bit stupid we'd never catch 'em.
He has a motive and no alibi, Jasper, unlike his mother.
Plus what looks likely to be the murder weapon found on his property.
There's nothing for you to solve here.
I have scrutinised the reports
of the psychologists who assessed Jonah in the years since the trial.
He is said to be well-adjusted, conscientious, trusting.
Anything but vengeful,
despite the trauma of his father's conviction at such an early age.
So what are you implying, Jasper?
That Jonah Gilmore does not have the DNA of a murderer.
SHE CHUCKLES
Someone is communicating intimate sentiments towards you, I surmise.
Jasper.
So, er...
So what is it that's, erm...
that's so important that's made you want to stay here all afternoon
to talk to me in private?
I wish to ask you to dinner.
If you toy with his affections,
my wrath is a terrible thing to behold.
I-I...
I don't think that would be a very good idea, Jasper.
On the contrary.
My therapist believes that encouraging positive interactions
with women will help with my phobias.
SHE LAUGHS
I think your chat-up lines might need a bit of work, Jasper,
but yes, of course, if it's-it's part of your treatment,
of course I'll come.
Hm.
Screws in here, how much do you think they get paid?
Are you thinking of changing career, Dan?
Thanks for seeing us, Mr Buckland.
You've heard we've taken your son Jonah into custody, I take it?
My wife phoned last night.
HE LAUGHS
What?
You lot.
You're a bloody joke.
Not content on one wrongful conviction,
now you're going for the full set.
And you're still saying you're innocent.
I've been saying it for eight years, mate.
Buckland admits he'd had a skinful.
Decided it was a good idea to go and ask for his job back.
And he accepts he lost his temper when Mehta refused to reinstate him.
Beat him senseless, in his own words.
But he's adamant he didn't stab anyone.
And I am yet to find anything to prove that he did.
Rather you than me, Professor.
Well, it looks like you could use a hand
with this haystack, Professor. Oh.
Wish I knew which particular needle we were looking for.
Anything unexplained or inconsistent
with the known facts of the case, Detective Sergeant.
There's a Steve Sanderson in reception for you, Winters.
Says he wants to make a statement about Malcolm Davies.
Oh, fancy sitting in, boss?
More than I fancy that bloody great pile of paperwork.
I will observe, if I may.
Great (!)
Thank you for your cooperation.
Unlike the other day, from what my colleague tells me.
When you came knocking,
I didn't know he was gonna wind up dead, did I?
Or maybe you did.
We'll check out your alibi, Mr Sanderson, but I have to be honest,
we can't yet eliminate you from our investigation
cos of your long-running dispute with the deceased.
Well, that's all over.
Aiden knocked on our back door the night after Malcolm was killed.
He told us he wanted to settle as soon as possible,
was willing to pay for the fence to be built in the original place,
even offered to cover all of our legal costs.
We figured it must have been the shock of Malcolm's death
that made him act so out of, erm, you know, out of character.
Yeah, he said he'd just come round
from squaring it off with his tenants.
He'd even been taking a look at the site in the garden in the dark.
It took us till three in the morning, but look what Dan found.
It was right at the bloody bottom.
This was taken at Sunil Mehta's office by forensics
after he was stabbed.
A delivery box from Mr Mehta to A Cockett
dated five days before Sunil Mehta was murdered.
Guess who A Cockett turns out to be?
Aiden Cockett.
Freelance accountant, AKA Aiden Davies,
who has taken his husband's surname
but still uses his birth name for professional purposes.
It was a simple matter of looking at his website.
If Aiden Davis was Sunil Mehta's book-keeper,
Malcolm may well have known about the money in the safe.
Which gives him a motive for murder.
And if Malcolm Davies murdered Sunil Mehta,
that suggests a motive for Jonah Gilmore to murder him in turn.
I cannot believe your impertinence.
I made it perfectly clear about my professional connection
to Sunil Mehta with the investigating officer at the time.
We can only apologise, Mr Davies,
if you think we're going over old ground,
but it was new information to us. And it was a different complexion
on your husband's association with the case.
I expect more than a mealy-mouthed apology, Detective.
I shall be making a complaint to your superior officer.
You're wasting my time raking through stone cold ashes
when you should be focusing on tracking down
my poor Malcolm's killer!
Do you mind?
Perhaps I might impose on you
to take us through the events of the night of your husband's murder.
I've been through it countless times.
And no doubt it sounds a little more implausible with each retelling.
A nanosecond in your company, Mr Davies,
is ample time to ascertain that you are not the personality type
to let the family budgerigar, let alone your spouse,
go out in the middle of the evening
without telling you precisely where they were going
and who they were meeting.
I suspect that your husband left home to meet Jonah Gilmore
on the night of his murder.
What is more, I suspect that you are fully aware of that fact.
Which bit didn't you understand, Jonah?
"It may harm your defence if you fail to mention
"when questioned something which you later rely on in court."
Look... I should've said something.
I was in shock...
about the knife turning up in our garden.
I thought if you knew I was supposed to meet him that night,
well, then... case closed.
It's certainly looking that way.
I didn't... kill Malcolm Davies.
That's exactly what your dad said about Sunil Mehta.
Maybe cos he was telling the truth?
When Malcolm showed up at our house, I took it as a sign.
It was time to do something to prove Dad's innocence.
I started going to his shop.
Weekends, lunch times, pestering him to see if he remembered something
about the night of the murder, anything.
And how did Mr Davies react?
Well, he just ignored me at first.
And then he got agitated, very agitated.
Said he'd evict us if I didn't stop.
So you backed off?
Sort of.
Look, I was thinking of giving it all up, to be honest,
and then he asked me out for a drink,
out of the blue.
On the night he was murdered? Yeah.
I waited over an hour, some bloody pub in the middle of nowhere.
He never showed up.
Should be easy enough to check out.
There'll be CCTV cameras at the pub where they arranged to meet.
Penny for your thoughts, Jasper.
They're worth a good deal more.
I was musing on the criminological significance
of our inherited biology.
It is not a fashionable view to hold.
Nevertheless, it is one to which I subscribe
with unshakable conviction.
We cannot escape the destiny imprinted in our genetic code,
ladies and gentlemen.
Whether foisted on us by nature
or fostered there by nurture.
Some of us are predisposed to criminal violence, even murder,
by the twisted molecular complexities of our DNA.
The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, in other words.
Precisely so, in more prosaic terms.
A jury won't buy it.
Dad's a convicted murderer, so son must be too.
I would advise against seeking to prosecute Jonah Gilmore,
Detective Inspector.
He's most assuredly innocent of the murder of Malcolm Davies.
Just as his father, Larry...
is innocent of the murder of Sunil Mehta.
There is only one man in these photographs
who fits the profile of a murderer.
You see, inherently quarrelsome
and paranoid people like you, Mr Davies,
do not become peacemakers overnight.
Aiden knocked on our back door the night after Malcolm was killed.
He told us he wanted to settle as soon as possible.
He said he'd just come around from squaring it off with his tenants.
He'd even been taking a look at the site in the garden in the dark.
I suspect you were hiding the knife in the shed of your tenants,
Jonah and his mother, when Mr Sanderson saw you.
So you distracted them with your uncharacteristic offer
to settle your legal dispute and pick up the bill.
Your neighbours are guileless and good-hearted, Mr Davies,
but I believe the worst of human nature.
We use darkness to cover our transgressions.
So he planted the weapon we found.
The knife that killed his husband. Yeah.
So if that's true, then...
Then he must have killed him.
But why?
'Your husband had not been himself for weeks.'
He was overcome by guilt,
not at having bent the rules in a baking competition,
but at being confronted every day by the son of a convicted murderer.
A man he knew was innocent.
You're suggesting my client's husband killed Sunil Mehta?
I'm asserting that he lived for years with the knowledge
of who did without saying anything.
Malcolm was not a murderous type, was he, Mr Davies?
Everybody said so.
Oh, Malcolm was always a sweetheart. Hm.
But you most certainly are.
RAISED VOICES
'It was you and not your husband who was present
'when Larry Buckland left Sunil Mehta's office.
CLATTERING
'It was you who saw the opportunity to take the money from the safe.'
I'm sure it was easy enough to bully Malcolm
into claiming he returned the files
and saw Larry Buckland leave the scene.
There never was a win on the Lottery.
You gave him the money to open the artisan bakery
he'd always dreamed of to soothe his ticklish conscience.
And it worked...
...for eight years.
Until by a remarkable twist of fate,
he was confronted by the son of the man whose life his lies had ruined.
Poor Malcolm.
You were worried he was gonna crack, confess everything,
so, you told him to arrange a meet-up
and you went along to keep him on track.
You told him to stop along the way, didn't you, Mr Davies?
Why are we stopping here?
To talk through what you were gonna say.
This is all your fault.
YELLS
Aiden! Aiden!
SILENCE
Do you have a shred of evidence to support this story, Detective?
You have less than 11 hours
to charge my client
or to let him go.
He's right, of course. We don't have enough to charge him.
We'll look again at the murder weapon
now we've got his fingerprints, but I don't hold out much hope.
SHE SIGHS What about the car?
It's his husband's vehicle, his DNA will be all over it.
The professor has an idea.
Jasper? Let me talk to him.
Perhaps his own lies in conjunction with the evidence
will uncover the truth.
Surprisingly commodious...
...though I might not think so if, like you,
I was destined to spend the next 30 years in one.
It is switched off, Mr Davies.
There is no way of proving that the conversation
we are about to have actually occurred.
You can continue to make no comment
on the criminal acts that led to your arrest,
as is your right under the law.
And you may be fortunate.
The police could fail to find sufficient evidence
to make the case against you.
It is more likely, however,
that they will uncover what they need
to link you to the scene of your husband's murder.
A sharp object forced into human flesh at close range
produces what is known as blood splatter...
...a sanguineous miasma of tiny droplets
that leaves thousands of microscopic stains
on anything it comes into contact with.
Who knows? With advances in forensic science,
they may even find a trace of Sunil Mehta's blood
on that charming paper knife you keep on your desk.
Then there is the money,
and your implausible story of a lottery win.
It should not take much to disprove it.
You would make a fascinating case study
for my students, Mr Davies.
Disagreeable, litigious, quick to take and give offence,
unburdened by moral scruples.
I do not need Eysenck to tell me that you are a neurotic extrovert,
capable of icy self-control and great calculation.
And calculation is what is now required.
Should you stick with your current strategy,
say nothing and hope for the best?
Or twist, and plead guilty to the manslaughter of your husband?
As your former neighbours have testified,
you have proved you are able to impersonate someone
with agreeable personality traits.
It should not be beyond you to convince a jury of your peers
that you were psychologically terrorised by your husband
to stop you revealing what you knew about his involvement
with Sunil Mehta's murder.
If that is the case, Mr Davies,
then you acted in self-defence.
Thank you.
DOOR SHUTS
For the record, can you confirm that to your certain knowledge,
your husband Malcolm Davies
is guilty of the murder of Sunil Mehta...
...and that he gave false witness
at the trial of Larry Buckland eight years ago?
Mr Davies - for the record, please?
Yes. "Yes" what?
My husband killed Sunil Mehta.
And did you, Aiden Davies,
in fear of your own life and the lives of others,
kill Malcolm Davies on the ninth day of this month?
Yes.
I killed my husband.
SNIFFS
Of course, what Aiden failed to calculate
is that sending death threats to your own husband,
someone you later confess to killing,
suggests premeditation on his part.
It will definitely make it more difficult
to plead manslaughter rather than murder.
Or to persuade a jury to acquit him.
I think we've got him.
Has the paper knife been sent to forensics yet?
Just now, Ma'am. They think there's a good chance of DNA.
You never know, we might even get him
for Sunil Mehta's murder as well.
Great work, Donckers.
Mostly the professor's, Ma'am.
Lisa? Yeah?
I'm, erm, thinking of putting you forward for promotion.
There have been times when your constant need to question
has seemed a little bit like insubordination,
but I think more recently, you've...
...been making the right call more often than not.
Ma'am?
Well, like today, and on the Tidswell case,
when you worked so well with Professor Tempest
to get the investigation back on track, despite my orders.
You know, this isn't, erm... This isn't for public consumption,
but DI Rabbit has put in a request for leave of absence
while he sorts out the child custody arrangements
for his granddaughter. Mum's the word, Ma'am.
So I'll be looking for a temporary head of department.
You've passed your inspector's exams,
and I think you'd make an excellent candidate.
You know, change can be challenging, Lisa...
...especially for those we're closest to.
Something to think about, maybe. Of course.
Are you going somewhere, Ma'am?
I'm, er, on a dinner date.
It's just an old friend.
SPEAKERPHONE: 'My darling boy.' Mother.
'The great giver of gifts.
'To what do I owe this latest honour?'
I was wondering if you could advise me
on the best way to open an oyster?
'With a knife, Jasper.' Yes, I surmised as much.
'Could I trouble you to be a little more specific?'
It's all in the wrist, darling. Prise and wiggle.
'Wiggle and prise.'
You didn't take me literally, darling, did you,
when I had my little joke about pearls and champagne?
Of course not, mother.
Then you must be going to all this effort for someone else.
'I hope you've thought this through, Jasper.'
You know what they say about oysters.
DOORBELL RINGS
Showtime!
A gentleman always takes a lady's coat.
And you should offer champagne as an aperitif.
Of course.
Would you like a glass of champagne?
Sparkling water, please. I'm driving.
Ah.
BOSSA NOVA PLAYS
You do not like oysters?
I'm a little surprised you do.
It is part of my exposure therapy...
...to systematically desensitise by embracing phobic stimuli.
Right.
Besides, I am reliably informed that they are...
Nutritious and utterly delicious.
SHE SLURPS
SHE GROANS WITH PLEASURE
SHE CHUCKLES
You can't go wrong with them.
Jasper.
What's the idea behind all of this? What's it all about?
Do you think that I have a problem with women, Christina?
SHE GUFFAWS
I think you have a problem with everyone you've ever encountered.
SHE CHUCKLES
I think that's a question for you and your therapist.
Mm-hm.
Ah, ah!
No shop talk.
I... found these old photographs.
I wondered if it might bring you pleasure to see them.
SHE LAUGHS
SHE CHUCKLES
You could make a woman very happy.
I've been trying to find a time to tell you.
I've started seeing someone.
I need not ask whom.
Simon is very thoughtful and very considerate. I...
I think you might like him.
Simon is an unknown quantity, and you cannot possibly know him.
I believe you to be foolishly infatuated.
You are not in a position to lecture me on my private life.
And you are definitely not qualified to make that kind of a statement.
Good night, Jasper.
That's Aunty Charnette.
And her daughter Laura-Leigh.
Charnette.
Yeah, Dad, your sister.
And that's you and Mum, looking about 15.
And there's me.
The proudest day of my life.
What about your wedding?
The proudest day of my life.
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