- Sold my book. - How?
Discovered on a Bloomsbury slush pile by some dickhead called Barnaby.
- Barnabys are the worst. - He's my new editor.
Got in touch after that pashmina video went viral.
I believe Salinger was discovered the same way.
All I did was shout at some posh bitch.
Now, everyone thinks I'm the Joan of Arc of the council estate.
- You deserve this. - Still potless.
Council are sending us to Somerset.
- Tell 'em to fuck off. - Yeah, I did.
They can't force you out.
If I don't take it, then we're intentionally homeless.
Oh, Lenny, I am gonna miss you, my favorite pervert.
But we'll be back next spring when the book's out.
I bet you can't believe it's really happening.
I've been burned by posh pricks before.
I won't believe it's real until it's on sale in Foyles.
And when it is out,
I'm gonna ride the tube day and night until I find someone who's reading it.
Because that's how you know you've really made it.
And I'm gonna go up to them,
pull the book down and say, "I wrote that, I did."
They are going to think that you're mad.
Be a great fucking day. Back in the city because of my book.
You know, Barnaby reckons it's gonna be big.
- Bigger than Dickens? - Yeah.
Basically Oliver Twist, but with big tits.
You're a real artist.
All you can ask for in life is one moment of perfection.
Because it doesn't last. It's not meant to.
Remember that.
Mom. Lenny, go. Run, run, run.
Just like real life, you get what you want
- then someone comes to ruin it. - Hey, excuse me?
Who the hell do you think you are? Hey! Excuse me?
So, you got my letter then.
Broadband's slow. Food's microwaved.
And the only other homosexual here has had a cold sore
for the last two weeks, so it's not ideal.
Here's your shit.
You look good.
Still got a way to go.
"Fiscus Publishing signs new novel from authentic,
working class, single mom."
She'll hate that.
Well, she no longer needs me then.
Won't be long before the money's rolling in.
Come on then, you ever fucked in an asylum?
- They've sent us straight to hell. - Be grateful you got a place.
Where are all the people?
It's in the middle of nowhere.
Lots of people come out to the countryside
- to finish their book. - Yeah.
Rich ones, retreating to daddy's holiday cottage.
It's pretty peaceful, though.
It means we can be wild!
All right, all right.
Auntie, stop it.
I don't wanna live in peace.
I want to shout at people who don't know how to use escalators correctly.
Watch this bend, watch this bend.
Okay, stop it. I don't wanna die here, I wanna die in the city.
- One more, just to upset Mom. You ready? - Don't stop, Auntie G.
- No, God! It's the police! - What?
- Brilliant. Oh, great. - What?
- Are they following us? - Yeah, they're following us.
- It'll be... it will be fine. - Fantastic. Well done.
You're over the limit.
- How many have you had? - Only a couple last night.
Fuck!
Am I being arrested?
Where are you taking her?
- Minehead. - I'm sorry.
- No! What the fuck is wrong with you? - Yeah, all right,
calm down or I'll arrest you too.
- Sorry, what for? - Public nuisance.
There is no public. Where the fuck is the public?
We're in the middle of fucking nowhere!
Last warning.
Will Auntie G be all right?
She'll always be all right. She's got a family to bail her out.
I promise you, I will write us out of here.
First hardcover, then paperback...
Audible, Sunday Times bestseller, Man Booker,
and then Richard and Judy's Book Club.
Then I'll sell the TV rights to the highest bidder.
I'll write the adaptation because that's where the real money is.
- We'll be all right. - Yeah, but can we live...
in a place with high ceilings in Belsize Park?
Yeah, sure.
What the hell?
God.
And it's back...
thanks to you.
Glad to hear. Though, can't take all the credit.
Costello no longer needs me...
which made me feel worthless...
so I fucked Fen.
Did you know, Kenneth, I had my first buggering...
and my first heartbreak on the same day?
We had fagging at boarding school.
It's where a young boy acts as a servant for one of the older boys.
Sounds totally normal.
I mean, I enjoyed it.
Bed-hopping in dorms, mutual masturbation.
Meaningless, functional.
I mean, all powerful men do it.
- Do you honestly believe that? - Yes, Kenneth, I do.
You take a dry cock in your asshole, you can definitely take a grilling
from Andrew Neil.
What was his name?
The boy who took your virginity.
Oliver. Straightened out now, of course.
Married, kids, member of parliament.
How did he break your heart?
No. He didn't break anything. But, ten minutes after we'd finished,
my housemaster requested a chat.
My father had made yet another attempt on his life.
And this time, he'd succeeded.
And that was both...
the horniest and the saddest day of my life.
Do you want to play a game?
Good. Need to teach you the rules first.
Uber won't touch the place.
No Deliveroo, no Ocado, not even Aldi. None of them can handle Sunset Park.
Thank you so much for this, this is so kind.
Yeah, well, it's a pound each for the ride.
Fifteen to deliver the junk to your door.
Okay.
- Can I pay you later? - Are you working?
I've got an interview with a debt collector on the estate.
Go on, then. I'll risk it. In you get.
You're going to enjoy Sunset Park.
- Only pedo-free estate in the country. - What's a pedo?
You'd know if you met one.
Right!
- What's a pedo? - Don't ask.
- Off into the sunset. - Okay.
Four players, north, south, east, west. That's it.
I just think you and Costello seem unlikely friends.
And then we build the wall.
That depends on your view of the world, doesn't it?
I tend to think you meet a better class of person
- in the gutter than in the drawing room. - Why is that?
Does it make you feel powerful?
No.
You have money, you can leave any time. Costello can't, Iris can't.
How many times have you left Iris now?
I didn't choose to leave. I love Iris.
Yet, you sabotaged your relationship with her
before she has a chance to reject you. It's what you do.
You're wrong. You're wrong. You know nothing about me.
I know you're a privileged little shit.
God! All I wanna do now is kiss you.
Knock that shit off!
Have I broken you, Kenneth?
Not even close.
Your game has rules and so does mine. You don't do that in here.
Yes.
Well, I didn't smash your face in. That's...
I mean, that's gotta be growth.
Do you want me to leave?
Sit the fuck down.
We haven't even started yet.
Here we are, ladies. Sunset Park.
And you're welcome to it.
Right, this is you up yonder.
Last woman there died.
Brilliant.
Are you all land-lined up, then?
Place is a dead zone.
- No TV signal. You're off-grid. - Check your mobile. No signal.
Fucking hell.
Hey, kiddo. More newbies. Show them 107.
My name's Tennessee. Welcome to hell.
- It ain't so bad. - Hi, I'm Iris.
It's all right, isn't it?
Sit yourself down. Get comfy.
So, why do you want to be a debt collector then?
Honestly? Desperate.
Youâ€™ve come to the right place.
What about other hustles?
Most people these days, you know, got hustles.
- In between hustles. - All right.
Well, I googled you. Nothing pervy.
Saw your working-class hero speech.
I thought I was watching a fucking Ken Loach film.
What about...
this Battered Bitches thing?
Yeah, that hasn't aged well.
Internet says you're a bit of a dick, darling.
Are you bit of a dick?
Yeah. Sometimes.
"Sometimes." That's honest.
Got a criminal record?
- Couple of cautions. - What? Theft, drugs?
Assault, criminal damage.
Could come in handy around here.
And you look strong. Like a big tree.
You're trouble, but I like it, so start tomorrow.
- I've got the job? - Oh, yeah. There's your clobber.
All right, thanks.
- So, is this your mom's salon? - I'll see you tomorrow then, yeah?
Nine o'clock.
Hello.
One hundred and four, that's me and my nana.
One hundred and eight is Ferryman.
Spice Boy lives there.
And Tony the murderer, he lives there.
Don't worry. He's never killed no one.
He's just a plumber and a terrific karaoke singer.
I'm making a film about him.
You're a weirdo, Tennessee, but luckily, I like weirdos a lot.
Aye, thanks.
And apparently, Larry David lives in number 98,
but I don't think it's him.
I just think it's a bald man who shouts at people.
- Who's Larry David? - Absolute lunatic. Google him.
You got a fella then?
Inappropriate.
Not really, I was just sayin'. I'll take you out some time.
What makes you think I'd go out with you? You got a mirror in your house?
Yeah. Got three actually, darling. One of them, lovely antique.
Well, you might wanna take a look in it sometime.
Pretty sure I'm a few rungs above you on the fuck ladder, mate.
You miss 100% of the shots you don't take. I had to take mine.
See, you gotta do something every day that scares you.
Today, it was asking you out. Tomorrow, I'm booked in at jujitsu.
See, it's important to keep your mind busy,
when everyday you've gotta look the worst of humanity in the eye.
- Yes? - Have you got the money or what?
I told you, I have nothing. I can't even top up the meter.
Yeah, well, you can't hide away forever.
The more time I spend coming back here, the worse it's gonna get for you.
So, get it sorted.
All right, you can do the next one.
I can't do this, Simon.
It ain't for me.
I thought you were desperate.
Look, if it's not you knocking on her door,
it'll be someone else knocking on yours.
Yeah, well, they're not knocking today.
Don't worry, love, I'm not a debt collector anymore.
If you need leccy,
we can pop to the Londis and I can top you up, yeah?
And I'll just wait here.
Big spender. Cornettos are cheaper.
Don't do Cornettos no more.
About to be a published author, I only eat fucking Magnums now.
What's the book about?
Four webcammers, living in a battered woman's refuge,
undertake a jewelry heist.
Guess what it's called? Diamond Beavers.
Autobiographical?
No, who do you think I am, Grey?
All sorts around here. So, it's fictional?
Yeah, I'm a satirist. Just because I'm not posh,
everybody takes what I say literally.
No, but some of it is true, we did live in a refuge.
According to the internet, women like me must only speak the truth.
The internet's not a real place, is it?
Feels real. Full of cunts and cry babies.
Now, tell me it's not worth paying a bit extra for your ice cream.
I remember my first weeks out here.
Lonely, eh?
Feels like I'm living on the moon.
Well, you're welcome around ours.
Can I use your internet?
I've got to send some new chapters to my editor.
Thank you.
So you've forgiven her now, have you?
Yeah. I miss her. Don't you?
- Yeah, can I talk to her? - Yeah.
Gloria? It's me.
I thought you were Sky.
- He's still calling you? - Miss you, Auntie G.
Iris. I miss you, baby.
- Are you pissed off at me? - No. Not anymore.
Dad's basically got me on house arrest.
How's you? And the baby?
I wasn't trying to harm it, you know?
I was just so scared. Still am.
Anyway, I've had a scan. She's good.
Wait, she's good?
- It's a girl. - Call her Iris.
I don't know what to call her, but I'll see what her face suits, innit?
What's it like up there?
Reckon I can get some good stories out of this place.
Can I talk to her?
Wait. Come visit.
I can't drive, can I?
You okay?
Your pashmina video keeps coming up on my feed. It's huge.
I can't believe someone posted the Battered Bitches video.
Don't read the comments.
Bunch of masturbators and bedroom activists.
Those mental bitches, they're on a witch hunt.
You need to deal with them like you did Stacey Backshaw in the London Dungeon.
I'd love to.
- Can I talk to her now? - Iris wants to talk to you.
Okay, G. So, will I be its aunt or its cousin?
And can I babysit? And everybody here is a freak.
Perfect for you then.
Coming.
Hey.
- My nana's at bingo. - Wow.
She used to work in a place called the video shop.
You go in, choose a film,
borrow it for one night only then take it back.
Crazy. What, so you couldn't keep it?
Yeah, people were savages in the '90s.
So is this one of those videos playing now?
It's by my favorite director, Dario Argento.
The maestro of blood and boobs.
- Can we watch it? - Yeah.
If you're into the hellish side of life, you'll love it.
You write shit about me online...
but I tell stories, so here's a fucking story for you.
It's 1999, everybody thinks that the world's about to end.
Bruce Willis is busy seeing dead people and I'm 13, yet to be kissed.
- Gross. - I'm a freak.
Well, that's what Stacey Backshaw calls me.
She also calls me Fatty Fishy Fanny.
She was in my year. That sort of girl that peaks at 15.
So, anyway, I'm on the 176 bus, heading towards Tottenham Court Road.
And Stacey is sat next to me and she says...
"Marty Castle thinks you're proper fit."
And then she says,
"He wants to meet you after school. Outside the Imperial War Museum,
and he wants to kiss you by the big guns."
Now, this kid, Marty, I mean he was proper fit,
like the David Beckham of Walworth Road.
So, anyway, cut to me, standing by the big guns,
and Marty Castle's face is close to mine.
And as he moves in for a kiss,
he shouts and says...
"I don't kiss big pigs."
And I turn around and Stacey,
and the rest of the 176 bus are laughing at me.
And I feel like a fucking fool.
That's what you lot are. Stacey Backshaws.
And you know what? I took care of her.
I actually beat the shit out of her at London Dungeons.
Oh, my God. She's doing a Britney.
And I'm gonna say this, because I can, because I did live in a woman's refuge.
A lot of you bitches need a proper beating.
- And I would love to dish that out. - She is doing a Britney. I love it.
Anyway, huns, you do you. I'm gonna carry on writing
and telling my stories. And just so you know, I see you. Cunts!
Barnaby? Hello?
- Can you hear me? - Yeah.
You're about to fuck me, aren't you? I know when someone's gonna fuck me,
'cause my mom fucked me and not just in the Phillip Larkin way.
Look, we've got a situation.
You're a very talented writer, but my hand's been forced.
We need a voice who represents the working class.
With so much doubt surrounding your authenticity,
there's no way we can publish Diamond Beavers.
Please don't take this away from me.
Costello, you've brought this on yourself.
- I tried to help you. - I've got nothing else.
Is there something I can say for you to stop doing this?
First, you do Battered Bitches,
then you offer to dish out a beating to those critical of you.
It's just... It's kind of not how authors behave.
I thought you wanted authentic working class,
- I guess not. - I'm sorry.
- Can I use your landline? - Aye.
Takes a while.
Today, we've come
to one of the Peak District's most popular auctions,
many bargains to be had.
- Yes, hello. - Selby, it's me.
Why you whispering?
I don't know.
- You okay? - Yeah, it's weird here.
I mean, it's all right. Yeah, it's good actually.
Mom's lost the book deal.
She's drinking, she's talking to the internet.
Can you visit?
Yes, where are you?
- Somerset. I've got to go. - I'm home.
Iris? Iris?
Oh, hi Iris. Are you staying for tea?
Where's your mom?
A beer. There you go and a loaf of bread. Four pounds, got it?
All right. And what about you, flower?
- Have you got any red? - Any red?
I've got all the red in the world.
- Yeah, I'll get two bottles. - Two, is it?
That'll be five pounds each.
- Cheers! - Thanks a lot, love.
What about you guys?