Cucumber

Will you marry me? - No.

Henry, can I ask you a favour...? - Not now.

Settled down, have you?

Yeah.

Have you done it yet?

This is Henry from work.

You always did that.

Never had affairs, just obsessions.

Lance Sullivan, Head of Corporate and Education.

Hi there. Oh, careful. - Sorry...

Could you what? - Borrow it. The essay.

He just stole from me.

I wasn't going to steal it.

We could go back to our house. No hassle. Just sex.

With the both of us. And then... you can stay the night.

Lance, we should stop!

There is a... man in my house...

There's no need to hurt him!

can I stay?

Every happy couple has a secret.

They try to ignore it, they turn a blind eye,

but every happy couple is in danger,

because every happy couple has a mobile phone.

I've invented a test.

I call it the Henry test.

It works like this.

If you think you're happy in your relationship,

then take your partner's phone right now.

Then read the last 20 texts.

That's all. That's the test.

Just read your beloved's last 20 texts.

What the hell's this? What the hell is this?

Think you're happy?

Then pick up their phone. I dare you.

The Henry test starts... now.

We're off, then! The key's on the kitchen table!

We'll see you later, yeah? - OK.

And don't go in my room and wank over my pants, OK?

OK!

No TV.

What? - Oh, my God, Henry.

I got called in early, cos the police are here.

They're with HR.

They said that he's dead.

Sunil Merchandani is dead. He killed himself.

Yes, I know. I spoke to them last night.

Now, listen, I need a favour.

What did they say? What happened?

He killed himself because of that essay,

and, technically, you reported him so

that makes you a murderer.

Now, tell Sascha I'm not coming in today.

I'll keep my head down.

What was he? A Hindu? - I don't know.

Probably. Why?

Is that bad for Hindus, suicide?

No, it's great. They love it.

But is it like a mortal sin?

Yeah, listen, if Lance calls,

you don't know where I am, OK?

Why? Where are you? - You don't know!

Oh, my God. It's like the Millers.

My little contribution, that's all. You're early.

Canteen. Mail room.

Maintenance. Cutbacks.

Your lot reduced our shifts.

They said in work you killed someone, that he's dead.

Are you hiding here cos you're on the run?

Look, OK, it's not quite like that. He was a friend of mine.

As a matter of fact, I was the very last person he spoke to.

And he was Asian. You're like a racist murderer.

Scotty, Henry.

She's the one I told you about. She can fix your room.

I've seen you at work. Hello. - Don't murder me.

I won't. Don't worry. - Have you been in my room?

No. - I would, if I were you.

I told you, no wanking.

Oh, that is brilliant, Henry! - I got some stuff.

I didn't realise you haven't got a freezer.

You've only got that little compartment.

So, you'd better eat some of it.

Scotty, do you want to take some? - I'll have the burgers.

Eat the food of a murderer. Oh, my God, look at the booze!

Did you find out about the rent? Jesus!

What are we? Asda?

Look at the booze!

It's just a gesture. - How much are you on a year?

50,000? - Fucking hell!

I'm on seven quid an hour. Dean's on 6.80.

And those are the hours that stop at three

so don't expect me to be impressed.

Did you find out about the rent?

Did you find that document?

What's your e-mail? - I'll need the password.

Can you AirDrop? - Yep.

Gimme.

Dean said your windows need fixing.

I'll board 'em up for tonight but I've got to go at six.

I work the night shift at Pito's.

How many jobs have you got?

Four. So, how did it end, with the dead man?

Did he say, "I'm gonna kill myself now"?

No, just, "See you tomorrow."

If he'd told me, I could've helped.

I could have called the police.

Now he's gone, I get left with all the guilt.

I'm like another victim.

There. That's the only document we had off Roderick.

Oh, I asked him about rent books. He just laughed.

OK, cos I'm gonna need to know exactly who owns what.

This is just a list of specs.

I know, and you promised to sort it out.

Cos this rent is a miracle.

There's got to be something wrong.

I don't care if we're squatting,

but if he's money-laundering,

I don't want to be anywhere near it.

You only pay 400 a month, though. - I know.

So, how could that be money-laundering? It's such a small amount.

That's not how money-laundering works, is it?

Is it?

That's up to you.

You said you'd find out. - OK. I will.

We're only letting you stay

on that condition. - I'm delighted.

Good.

When I say no wanking, I mean it.

OK. Got you.

I really mean it, Henry.

Not a single toss.

Be fair. I'm only human.

No, cos I know exactly how it works.

You'll go to bed tonight and wrap yourself up warm,

and your hand will sneak down into your middle-aged underpants,

and you'll think about this flat, and me,

and your nice TV,

and you'll imagine,

"One night, Dean will go out.

It'll just be me and Freddie watching TV."

OK, I promise...

I don't even watch TV. I'm not 35, for God's sake!

But you'll just imagine us, sitting there, all nice and cosy.

With alcohol. There's wine.

You'd imagine wine,

red wine,

and I say...

"Oh, this is so kind of you, Henry, buying all this stuff,"

and you say...

"It's just a gesture,"

and then I stretch,

or, no, I spill my drink, or...

I've strained a muscle in my thigh,

or...I know,

it's a massage.

You're like, "Let me give you a massage,"

and it's got to be shoulders.

Yes, that's brilliant,

because then you have to stand behind me,

cos even in your own fantasy,

you make sure that I'm not looking at your 46-year-old face?

And I'm just going, "Oh. Oh, my God, that feels so good.

You're so experienced.

Henry. Oh, don't stop, please! Oh!"

And you can imagine this,

in so much detail, and you're in that bedroom wanking away

until the top of your little bald head pops off,

and I'm not having it, OK?

You're not casting me.

This face is mine. It's copyright to me.

It's not to be used for masturbation

without my express permission,

and that permission you do not have, Mr. Best.

Literally, do not wank, using me.

It is forbid...

And this is turning you on, isn't it?

Oh, yeah.

You see!

Hello! I was just passing.

Well, that's not true, but...

I'm kind of busy, OK? I'm working from home.

It says congratulations.

Although the congratulations can be removed, if needs be.

It's on a plaque, made of icing. You can eat it.

Is Henry in? - No.

His car's still there.

Your family's so fucking clever, isn't it?

Anyway, I thought it was a bit odd when you didn't text back.

Not Henry. He's useless.

But you always text back within 20 seconds.

The thing is, he panics.

There you go, my sweetheart. Won't be long, OK? That's it.

If you ask Henry to paint the wall,

then the first thing he does is think of reasons why not,

even if he wants to paint the wall.

So, God help us with marriage.

Adam's in the car.

He got excluded, so he's grounded and offlined.

I can't leave him at home. He'll turn the router back on.

Tell your Uncle Lance what you did.

He went online, called the deputy headmaster a Nazi.