You look like shit.
And you stink of wine.
I lost the book.
They took it.
There's no way out.
I get really scared when you're drunk.
I need you to be normal.
You know, not trying to be something all the time.
It's hurting the both of us.
Okay.
I'll go full normal.
- Promise. - No, don't promise. Just try.
Well, this is awkward.
It'll be a good bonding experience. Might even be fun.
Road trip with a drunk driver and a deviant.
- What a way to spend the day. - Look, you're the one who called me,
begging for her address, and I ain't letting you go alone.
I know you and me have had our ups and downs, Lenny,
but if Costello's in trouble, I know she'd want to see you.
- Beats wanking all day. - For you to go away.
Tits really aren't my thing.
- Still a full-time prick, Florian? - Hoping to go part-time soon.
Let's go.
Word of warning, I piss excessively.
- We'll have to make stops. - Same. I got a baby on my bladder.
Good. Just what I need. An odyssey of a hundred piss stops.
Morning, Si.
All right? What are you wanting? A loan?
I was wondering if I could get my job back.
Yeah, got something you can have.
Have that.
- You couldn't hack it. - Look, you're right. I was out of line.
I like honesty, sometimes.
I'm just a girl, standing in front of a debt collector,
asking him to give her a shitty job.
Please?
You are desperate.
Yeah, go on then.
- So, when do I start? - You already have. Get in the van.
Cheers.
You know what your problem is? You're a big gesture man.
Great fun on a Friday night in a members' bar.
You can cut a man dead in 16 words or less.
Yes, I'm the very best in the game, Lenny.
But on a Wednesday morning,
when Iris needs her lunch making or the U-bend is blocked...
you're next to useless.
And you stole Costello's money so she couldn't leave you.
- That's abuse. - I was very unwell, Gloria.
And I've just left a psychiatric facility,
you do know what that means, don't you?
What?
Slate is wiped clean. The past is a foreign country.
Children, I need a hose break.
Catholics have confession, us rich have therapists.
All is forgiven. There you go.
You have never taken responsibility for anything, have you?
God. The drunk driver has a conscience, does she?
- The hole's too small. - Dream on.
Good knocking. A natural.
Gary Wilson?
- Yeah. - You owe us 7,455 pounds.
How are you planning on paying us today?
You should have got your foot in there.
Knock again. Showing you a little bit of disrespect there,
so, bit more knocking.
Open up, Gary. It's time to pay, mate.
Don't stop. Got to flush 'em out.
What the fuck are you doing?
What are you looking at? Do you want a slap?
Not for minimum wage, no.
Come on, Gary!
Go on, then.
Get in the house, and grab what you can, will you?
Don't you dare! I don't hit women, but my missus does!
- Yeah, I'd like to see her try, mate. - Come on, then.
- No, I'm not getting involved. - Looks like you're on your own, mate!
All right! He's had enough. Just...
All right, let's go.
I'll be adding this to your debt.
- Are you all right? - I'm fine.
- I've got a tissue. - I don't need a tissue. Need no tissue.
We need to have a little chat, don't we? About your conduct.
That's what we need to do.
Unzip me, darling.
I know this journey's hard for you. Today is sure to end in fireworks,
but I admire how you never take the easy way out.
Can I ask you something?
Am I allowed to answer honestly?
I know how savage you can be when offended.
- That's not true. - I once said,
"You stopped Costello living a full life."
You gave me the silent treatment, six months.
Do you think it's possible to be happy?
Fucked if I know.
But if you find someone, anyone,
anything that makes you...
even remotely close to happy, grab onto it.
Never let it go.
But be on guard, my friends.
Time slips away so fucking fast.
Yes.
One minute you're pulling out your own cock to take a piss,
the next moment, someone has to do it for you.
All right, put some of that on it, it'll sort it out.
Ta.
Well, I've seen the sky on fire. Whole cities burned to the ground.
But that was bleak.
That's the sort of shit that makes you sound like an incel, Simon.
You know, you're like, supposed to be me wingman? Me backup?
- Why'd you get in that fight? - Because it's a jungle out there, innit?
And I want to be king of it.
Didn't look like king of the jungle when that woman was slapping your head.
Yeah, listen, I'm gonna have to let you go.
What for?
You can't sack me for no reason.
- You want a reason? - Yeah.
How about you're a crap debt collector?
I'm starting to think you're not gonna shag me.
Eight pound an hour we agreed, yeah? You did about what, 50 minutes?
There you go. Seven pounds, yeah? And can I have the tie back?
- Fucking... - Thank you. Good.
Good luck.
- Fucking hell, Lenny! - Fuck you! It's my medication.
Makes me lose control.
Out.
- I'm stuck. - Oh, my God.
One day, you'll both be old fucks too.
- Good afternoon. - Good afternoon.
Do you rent rooms by the hour?
No, sir.
It's 70 pounds. Not for the hour, but for the whole night.
- What's your name? - It's Ben.
Let me level with you, Ben. I think we can all smell it.
Ain't me.
Yes, it's me, Ben.
I'm just a sick, old artist who's soiled himself on the road of life.
Will you be wanting the breakfast buffet?
No, darling.
We won't be wanting breakfast, buffet or otherwise.
He just needs to shower off the shit.
- That was nice of you. - I'm not a monster.
Oh, my God.
- You okay? - Oh, my God. Oh, my God.
Feel it. Feel this.
- Is that a kick? - Or is it wind?
As if I'd let you feel my wind.
She's real.
Man, I actually give a fuck.
Yeah, well, I think giving a fuck about something is underrated.
Do you think I'm good...
as a dad?
As a human, you're intolerable. As a dad, you give it your best shot.
Hi, Grey. Do you think you could possibly pick up Iris
from school today?
And then bring her back to yours, maybe give her some dinner?
Sure.
Yeah, I wouldn't usually ask, but...
You all right?
Touch it.
It feels just like the real thing.
How much would you pay for something that feels
and looks just like the real thing?
Nothing, 'cause it's not real.
- Who's gonna know? - Everyone, Grey.
People that have real 2,000-pound handbags don't live here.
I was thinking we could sell them to your famous friends.
- I would give you a cut. - What famous friends?
- Your famous writer friends. - I don't know any writers.
I thought you were signed to a big publisher.
Not anymore.
You said you were big time with your Magnums.
- Yeah, that dream's over. - Back to Cornettos then. Oh, well.
Most books are shite anyway.
Just got to get on with it now?
I can't just get on with it.
I deserve to be something, don't I?
- Yes. - Yeah.
Yes, you do.
But you're not the first person on an estate to get fucked over.
Everyone's got ambition, darling.
My mom, me...
my little girl.
She went off, looking for something better.
Left me to raise Tennessee.
Said he was better off with me.
Some people just aren't cut out to be parents.
Could Iris stay here tonight?
Yeah.
I just need to...
you know...
- Get pissed. - Yeah.
- She'll be all right. - Yeah, I know she will.
Thank you, Grey.
What do you think we're gonna find when we get there?
At Costello's?
Well, you never know with her, she's probably fine.
True.
She is the most self-centered person I've ever known.
Yeah, I used to think it was because she was alone in the world, but...
actually, maybe, that's the reason she is alone.
Hi, Selby. It's me. I need you to do something for me.
Iris is at 104 Sunset Park, Somerset.
Fuck!
You gonna be okay with seeing her? You've just got out of hospital.
We're both here with you.
It's okay.
Well, this kindness from you is really rather touching,
even if it is fake.
It's very much appreciated.
Shit, Lenny.
What's wrong with him?
- Lenny, Lenny! - Shit!
- Shake him for fuck's sake! - Lenny!
- Lenny! Wake up! - Lenny! Lenny!
- Fuck me, he's dead. - Fuck.
We're stopping. We'll stop, we've got to stop.
Oh, my God, he's got a hard-on.
They always do at the end.
I've always got a hard-on.
You have one new message. First new message.
Hi, Selby, it's me. I need you to do something for me.
I need you to collect Iris for me and I need you to look after her for me.
Because I can't and you can.
What's wrong?
What's happened?
Because I try and I try, and I'm just...
not good enough.
And she deserves so much better than me.
So, that's it, really.
Time to write my own ending.
I know I'm a bad mom.
- Costello Jones? - 107 Craybridge.
Up? Gloria, up.
- Costello? - Is she in there?
- Costello? - Wake up!
Hey, hey.
How many have you taken?
Get up. How many?
Not sure.
Make her chuck up, just in case.
Where's Iris?
Come on, we've done this before, haven't we?
You're fucking disgusting.
It's gonna be okay. Get it all out.
I go to a mental asylum for five minutes and this happens.
You're a silly bitch.
- What are you? - I'm a silly bitch.
Maybe this is who I'm supposed to be.
And I should just accept it.
Who am I to think that I could be something?
It's just arrogant, isn't it?
Problem is...
you don't know your place.
But...
that's the best thing about you.
A wise, old man once said...
"Find what you love and let it kill you."
I think that's good advice.
Who said that?
I don't know. Some old cunt.
I wanna sit on your lap.
- Are you all right? - Yeah.
- Fine. - I'm sorry.
You are everything.
- You are everything. - Stop. Stop. Stop.
- Stop. Stop. - Everything.
You staying here?
Don't know.
- You going back to hospital? - No.
I'm only 36. Too young to be perfect.
Probably just do a law conversion.
- But you're a nutjob. - Yeah.
No, you're right, better suited to politics.
Become an MP, respectable man.
PM within a year.
You know, I wasn't really trying to die, don't you?
Suicide note and the pills would suggest otherwise.
Yeah.
Fair.
She needs you.
I...
sort of do too.
-"Sort of"? - Yeah, sort of.
Sort of.
Henry Miller was 44 when he first got published.
Bukowski was 55.
So, there we are.
Do you think we're bad for each other?
Junk food's bad for you.
But I fucking love it.
Well, I could stay here with you, maybe?
Just for a while.
Do you really think things could be any different?