søndag 14. februar 2010
"Well, tell me, Fred. What the fuck was it like? Hang on. No, don't answer that shit."
Freddie: Your 15th birthday party.
Cook: What?! Where was I?
Freddie: Drunk. You had six coconut daiquiris. And anyway, I was last man standing, and I was still fucked off my head.
Cook: So you fucked my mum?!
Freddie: It wasn't like that!
Cook: Well, tell me, Fred. What the fuck was it like? Hang on. No, don't answer that shit.
Freddie: It was just a blow job.
Cook: Oh! What a relief, man! Thank goodness!
Freddie: I'll make it up to you.
Cook: How are you going to do that, Freddie? I let you take the one fucking girl I've ever loved, man. Is there anyone else I care about that you want to slip one to, mate?
Freddie: I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
Cook: It's fine. Sorted. Everything's cool.
Freddie: Effy loves me. How can I...
Cook: Stop talking about it!
Freddie: You smashed JJ, Cook.
Cook: I... I didn't.
Freddie: He loves you, Cook. Well, that's all. And I love you too. Whatever you're doing, you can stop. All you got to do is stop.