CLASSICAL MUSIC ...more.. ...11 and 53...John Hancock. ...Oaks? New proofs for the next quarterly. Now tomorrow you gotta be in at quarter 10, at lunch at the restaurant L'Cusha at 12, then its back to back meetings until 7, before your Herrenberg flight; check in is at 10. Presso. V5 powerpoints are on your lappy, design has made the amends, and notes are the amber coloured tabs. And please, try not to drink before the presentation. I'm not promising anything. That was a scotch. Contracts? Legal's spotted a fuck up in clause 35C. Well unfuck it, Teddy. Jesus. And new ones will be sent to while you're in the air. Gifts for our exotic friends from the East? For Mr. Quock, a ping iron golf club, and for Mr. Zheng,
a bottle of fourty-year Dalmore single malt. Washing? Dry cleaned and pressed. Soda water on it earlier would have helped. Oh, excuse me, princess. And Mr. Pickle Pants. Dr. Lewis said the seizure was probably brought on by a bad diet, and that he should stick to regular cat food
for the next six weeks. Did you get a second opinion? Dr. Greene would also concur, his condition
was brought on by a bad diet. Tish tosh. Well believe what you may,
but a collective two Phds in veterinary science both concluded that perhaps rum isn't congruous to Mr. Pickle Pants' continual lifespan. What do you think? I think that maybe regular cat food might be best for him right now. He is a drunk old prick, isn't he? With a proclivity for vomiting blood on my pants, yes. Well, then. That concludes today's affairs. Let's get drunk. You're already drunk. I'm coping, there's a difference.
PHONE VIBRATING Waiter, another scotch for me and a Tom Collins for my fine, feathered friend here. Um... Can you make that a double? Is it legal? No, it's nothing, it's something else. Well, is everything alright? Sure. Actually, no. I... CHUCKLES NERVOUSLY I promised I'd do something for Audrey tonight. Audrey, my girlfriend. You met her last month at the charity dinner. Oh, God; you don't mean goat face? Well, her christian name is Audrey, but yes, you have sometimes affectionately refer to her as... goat face. Teddy. She looks like a giraffe trying to solve
a complex sudoku puzzle. Put the poor creature out of her misery
and drop the facade. What facade? Look, there's no shame in it. We're a progressive company, and I don't judge you. As a matter of fact, our clients think that it's rather cute. What... facade? Darling, if you were any more in the closet, you'll be having adventures in Narnia. Our clients think that I'm gay. Well, you are a male PA. You enjoy squash, foreign films and Radiohead. I mean, what else are they supposed to think(?) I mean if it looks like strawberry tart and tastes like strawberry tart
and smells like strawberry tart then it must be strawberry tart. Good night, boss. Oh, come now, stay for one drink. Please, Teddy, stay. It's my birthday. Your birthday was three weeks ago. And you missed it. You owe me. No-no I cancelled date night with Audrey
to spend your birthday waiting in your penthouse, with your drunk cat, to ensure the gelato cake I had ordered in from Florence was exactly four degrees below melting temperature. I see that's where you went wrong.
You should have come out. I had a great time. I know you did because I was still there,
waiting at 5 AM when you stumbled home
rambling incoherently about how the- the jews will inherit the Earth. They are a resilient ethno-religious group. History has taught us that much. Please, Teddy, stay.
One drink, and then you can go back to goat face. We broke up. Oh, of course you did(!) A bottle of your finest bubbly,
the night just got interesting. Just think, Teddy. We can exfoliate together. We broke up because of you. CLASSICAL MUSIC FADES I- hmph. I don't follow. Of course you don't. So let's look at it from her point of view. I spend eleven hours a day, minimum, with you. And nights on this organizing your life, I know everything about you, your preferred lingerie brand, the fact the peanut butter makes your neck inflate and that the only film that can make you cry is The Lion King. Oh, I love the shit out of that movie. I know you do, because my whole world revolves around you. So, KNOCKS TABLE what else was she supposed to think? BACKGROUND CHATTER You and me. Yeah. Swapping bodily fluids. Yes. Hmpf SNICKERING LAUGHTER Oh, Teddy. Oh.. I'm a barron chasm where no seed can find perches. I'm like a... a dried-up old fruit like those things Italian suck on. Prunes. Exactly. God, you'd have to roll me in talcum powder
just to find a wet spot Again with the rolling you in talcum powder, all the more reason for her to think something was going on. Baloney. You know, the feelings I reserve you are not too dissimilar to what a child feels
towards their puppy when trapped under a car. It's... affection, riddled with... remorse. Tsk. Pity. Besides I've seen you in your squash uniform your package borders on cocktail sausage proportions. I mean, why would I ever want something inside me like this? You're absolutely right. Well, if that's everything, I have to go and move the rest of my stuff out. Stop being such a Sensitive Susan and have a FUCKING DRINK. Look. We can fix this. Might surprise you to know, but I know a thing or two
about matters pertaining to the heart. You can't love a 12-inch metal object
that requires batteries. And it's a- plug-in and you will refer to him as Sir Mortimer. Come on. Let's talk about your feelings. Let's not. Why not? Because. It's an exercise in futility. Whenever I share, you drunkenly ridicule me and then forget all about it the next day. Five minutes ago, you thought I was single
and in the closet. You don't know anything about me. Good night. You first came into my employ, you were dating a girl named Kate. Wretched thing that looked like
a horse having a seizure. But, well educated. I could see that's what you liked in her. She had a punch on for old books, but was a little boorish. Yet you being you, stood by her
and supported her through school till she left you for a douchebag. Creative director. Same thing. The next one was a pretty, young thing named Payton. Hate that name, sounds like lacquer for furniture. And I hated her, she was so demanding of you. I wished breast cancer on her. As I recall it all came to a spectacular end
at our Christmas party when you found her blowing Edwards in accounts. McCliskey. In acquisitions, actually. But goat-face... Yes, I do remember her at that charity dinner. MUSIC Two left feet, and a frock fashioned by some employee of the month in
a Vietnamese child labor camp. A smile forged in starlight. Betrayed by the contempt she held for me in her eyes. SIGHS What tales you must have regaled to her of my exploits. And I remember the way you looked at her... and she at you. And you both looked so happy. I never knew you could make someone laugh like that. MUSIC FADES It was my favorite pastime. I mean, sometimes I could make a laugh so hard that she'd be gasping for breath, This... uh... self-perpetuating HUUUH HUUUH CHUCKLES CLEARS THROAT Yeah, I'll miss the shit out of that. Did you ever have anyone like that? Once... long ago. What was his name? Edmond. Teddy, you should have seen him. Shoulders that could hold the world. (SEA) WAVES ROLL ON SHORE Such a... WAVES ROLL thirst for knowledge SEAGULLS SQUAWK WAVES ROLL He could drink the ocean. WAVES ROLL And hung like a horse, I suppose. CHUCKLES Well, to be perfectly honest with you, I never got that far. You're kidding. Oh, I tried to win his affections. but I was never unique or... interesting enough for him. Suppose he never really saw me in that way. I wish I could have found the right combination of... words and... actions, like some... magic spell, to make him see me in a new light. But I never could. I'm sorry. Oh, don't be. My love lives on in a tree. Hmpf. Our oriental friends believe that if you have a secret, one that you cannot tell anyone, you are to dig a hole in the ground, whisper your secret into it, and then plant a tree. It... unburdens ones soul. And then your... secret will live on in the veins of that tree. Sounds a bit sad. BURPS I think it's terribly romantic. You know I think the greatest tragedy in life is to love, yet not have that love returned. But what you have between you and goat face... thats... quid pro quo. So don't leave it to be buried in a pile of mud and sticks. Shilo. I don't need your pity. I've made my bed and I'll lie in it. You have the chance to have something I never could. So take out your tampon and stop being such a pussy. Tsk! I never gave your birthday present. You don't have to read it now. Save it, for later. But right now, I've got to use the commode. So... MUSIC Shilo, You were drunk at the time and probably don't remember, but you sat as you do most evenings. Alone with a drink. Lamenting how no one, ever saw
how special and unique you are. To that, I say this. 300 million sperm vie for a single egg. So, when you multiply those odds against your parents meeting, against your grandparents, and your great-grandparents before that. To distill form that is Shilo Dashwood; CEO, Lion King aficionado, drunk cat owner. The chances of her coming into being is nothing short of an improbability marvel. It's like... turning air into gold. It's magic. The universe is creative. We are living proof of that. We are the fingerprints the universe leaves most clearly. Happy birthday. Teddy. CLASSICAL MUSIC FADES It's the prose of a fruit cock, Teddy. But... Why, thank you. Oh, it's just something I read off
the back of a cereal packet. CHUCKLES And now... My gift. You're fired. Uh.. That's not a gift. Of course I will write the
letter of highest recommendation and ensure only the most
generous remuneration is secured through one of our partners and of course you can stay on
until right prospect comes up. But, some birds aren't meant to be caged. So fly, little one. Fly. Goat face needs you. Yeah, I'm sure she'll happily accept back
an unemployed fairy with a small package. I hear they're doing marvels in Switzerland
grafting hosecock to Koreans. To matters of the heart. And all that bullshit. Fuck its eyes. GLASSES CLINK PHONE BUZZES Legal. Hello. No, not good enough. We need them by tomorrow morning. Well, it'll be on your head that a 2.3 billion dollar deal went south. Tell Daniels there's gram of Bolivian marching powder in the second drawer of my desk. They'll power through the amends and be home in time to service their wives. (inaudible) I suspect.
Wow that's so ripped off, how isn't everyone mentioning it?
Gorgeous filmmaking but that is 100% a rip off. They have some gall for using the complete “turning air into gold” phrase