Burning Man

Oh! Fuck it!

Do you want me to have a go?

I can go down on you if you like.

I don't think that'll help.

Where are you? Anyone home?

Get your fucking hands off me. I'm going, alright?

- Tom? - OK. This is Tom Keaton.

32 years old. White Caucasian male.

He's got severe lacerations to his face and abdomen.

- What have we got? - Extensive blood loss.

Blood pressure's 105 over 50.

Hurry. I don't want him bleeding to death.

- I've notified the bums unit. - Stay with us, mate.

Where's all this blood coming from? Stop.

How long has he been unconscious?

Since we cut him out of his car.

Get a fucking move on! You gonna go or what?

Retards! Everyone just...

Come on, you fucking dick!

Truly unbelievable! Must be fucking crazy!

- Maybe you need to see a therapist. - Don't!

Right. Mussels going in.

- Darren, those vegetables ready? - Yes, chef.

Right, take that salmon out. Get me a peach tart and a soufflé on six.

I'm going to need that tuna coz my liver's now getting cold.

Coming right up.

You selfish fucking arsehole!

I indicated right and turned left

You're alive.

Doesn't feel like it.

How's the hand?

Better.

- You're a natural healer. - I told you I'd look after you.

I think I'm going to need some ongoing treatment.

Um... Last night... was a freebie. OK?

I was very drunk and you were very kind.

If you'd like to see me again...

Salon Kitty Kat.

As a rule, I don't entertain in my home. OK?

Give me a fucking break, will you? Prick!

No, Karen. Not you.

Do I sound like I'm in a kitchen?

Karen, would you just listen to me?

I said I'll be there, so I'll be there. Alright?

Yes, I know how important it is.

Scotch and T-bones.

I'm also going to need a couple of kilos of calf's liver.

What are you talking about?

Look, I thought we had a deal, Karen.

Out of the way! Yes, I made a mistake.

I messed up the time. Let's just move on.

Well, why are you still giving me shit about it?

You know what? If it's gonna make you feel better,

I'll hand back my 'parent of the year' title.

Yeah! Why...

Why don't I just do it all?

Yeah, I'm here. I'm buying it right now.

- Allan. - How are you, Tom?

It's not gonna kill you to do the menus when I get back, Sally.

Of course, I know what time it is! Just... Fuck off!

What the fuck am I gonna need?

What? Karen.

Can I get two whole salmon,

ten kilos of the mussels, ten kilos of the baby clams?

- Sure. - I'm at the fish market.

Because I fucked up the ordering. Nice, ten kilos of those as well.

Tom?

You can go in now.

Karen, I gotta go.

Right. Mains on 12. Darren, those vegetables ready?

Yes, chef.

- Luke, there's food waiting. - Entrées away, table 9.

And a lamb, a poussin asparagus on 5, and a feuillete of berries on 4.

Get it together, Steve. Out of the way, move.

How are those vegetables on 12?

Need two bok choy, parsley purée and beef on 7.

- Yes, chef. - A couple of snappers for 11.

Compliments of table 8. They sent you this.

- Table 3's away. - Pretentious cunts!

Man on table 7 wants his duck cooked longer.

Fuck off!

Cooked pink, like it says in the menu. Did you tell him that?

- I told him. - What's his problem then?

- it's too rare for him, - Tell him to go to Red Rooster!

That's how we cook it, Dickhead!

Cheers, mate.

Well, that is delicious.

- Pretentious cunts with taste. - He doesn't want it.

- Give it here! - He says it's not cooked properly.

Right. Put on new vegetables, Chris. Do me another demi, Darren.

Fuckin' idiot!

Plate!

Never forget, Luke, the customer's always right.

Bon appétit.

I'd better go sort out tomorrow.

You want me to do the ordering?

It's Friday. You'd better get some extra fish.

Oh, God!

Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh! Oh!

Shit!

Oscar, stop screaming.

- OK. - What the hell!

Hey, what's wrong?

I can't sleep. I had a nightmare.

Can you come?

- Go on, hop back in. - You have a son?

- Dad? There's someone in your bed. - Oh, shit!

- Come on, I'll tuck you in. - This is unbelievable!

- Say hello to Miriam. - What the hell., .

- Who's she? - Back to bed.

I don't like her.

Nah, he's not. About 11:30. Thanks.

- Mr Keaton? - Sorry, I'm late.

Peter Gardiner, Welan Realty. We spoke on the phone.

- Tom. - Carol Wentworth. Nice to meet you.

What a beautiful home you have here.

- Thanks. - You lived here long?

- A while. - Yeah? Time for a change?

Something like that.

- So, shall we go in? - Yeah.

Look, you guys go ahead. Here's the keys. Take a look around.

Oh! Sorry, Tom... We can't...

We're not able to go in unaccompanied by the owner.

Do you want to sell the house or not?

- What about pasta? - Nah.

- Chicken? - Nah!

- Sausages then. - Nah.

- Stop saying 'nah'. - I want pizza.

You're not having pizza again for dinner, What about lasagne?

- Nah! I'm sick of that shit. - What then?

- I don't know, you're the chef. - Where'd you get that from?

Just take it off! You leave my things alone!

OK!

I'm sorry.

I just want you to eat some proper dinner.

Doesn't matter. I was bad.

You weren't bad. No-one was bad. Dad was bad.

Wanna hear something funny?

- it's a pretty good joke. - No.

I think you'll like it. You get to say 'penis'.

How long do we have to stay in that crappy motel?

Come on, mate. It's getting cold.

Why does Mum call it 'pitza'?

- 'Pitza'? - It's pizza.

Tom? I can see you.

I just had his teacher on the phone. Why isn't he in school?

Well, we didn't quite make it.

Dad can't do everything.

Remind me again, which one of you two is the eight-year-old?

Come on, sweetheart. Get your gear. You've got rehearsals.

I'm not going.

Get a fucking move on!

- Dickhead! - Hey! Come on.

- You do it. - Yeah, but I'm trying not to.

Not very hard.

- Dad? - What?

I want to stay with you.

- You do stay with me... most of the time. - Not since my party.

Come on, quickly. We've got lots to do.

- When are all the kids gonna come? - I told you, half an hour.

Why didn't you invite them earlier?

Stop complaining, Os, or I swear to God I'm going home.

Oh! Party sucks!

- That's it! Forget it. Party's canceled. - Get out, mate!

Sorry, mate.

Aargh!

Happy birthday, mate.

You think ifs funny, do you?

Let's all have a picnic! Chicken? Yes, please!

Salad? Lovely. Fuckin' jam rolls!

Fuckin' game of rugby!

Have a sit-down over there!

Fuckin' move! Fuckin'...

Are you out of your mind?

Hasn't he been through enough?

- Dad? - Is it funny now?

It was his birthday party, for Chris sakes! How fuckin' hard can that be?

Are you really up for this?

- I can cope. - Cope?

This is what you call coping? Jesus Christ! I just got you both out of jail!

Oh! Ha-ha! Very funny.

He's just a little boy...

..who desperately needs you to behave like his father.

Not some hooligan.

Don't you think it would be easier if he came to live with me for a while?

- No, I want him with me. - It's not about you, Tom.

You need to think about what's best for him.

Tom? Is everything alright?

Are you serious? We're having a family dinner.

Who is it?

- You want me to serve up? - Yeah, serve. I'll be right there.

Sorry. This probably wasn't such a good idea.

Lisa, it's on the table.

- Don't let it get cold. - OK, call me,

Can I get a rum and coke, a vodka tonic,

and a couple of disgusting fizzy fruit things?

I thought chefs were rich. Why don't you have a better cal'?

No!

Is Dad selling the house?

You selfish, fucking arsehole!