State of the Union

Gomorr... Gomorrah'd.

She got Gomorrah'd.

Fucking thing.

Mm... Oh, I needed that.

- Who is it today? - Arachne.

Looks like you're getting on OK.

Yeah, not too bad. I'm just...

I hate having to do the crossword on a bloody A4.

It's always wet or bumpy.

Why have you printed it out?

Why aren't you doing it in the newspaper?

You've got our newspaper.

- Are you serious? - You know you have.

It's not our newspaper, is it? It's just a newspaper.

Why don't you buy another one?

You know that they cost two quid now, don't you?

That'd be four quid a day.

Except it's not four quid a day because we're separate people.

We don't live together. Might as well add up

all the money your friends spend on the Guardian

- and say it's 50 quid a day. - More like six.

Oh, for God's sakes. You've got hundreds of friends.

Lots of friends.

Now, look, how about this?

If you move back in, don't buy a second paper.

Oh, my God, how is this about our marriage?

How come every conversation ends up at our marriage?

I thought that a stupid printout of a crossword was safe ground.

- You've never heard of subtext? - Yes,

but I think you're reading too much into it,

as my mother used to say when I talked to her about Bob Dylan.

- Was she right or wrong? - She was wrong. I'm right.

Sometimes a crossword is just a crossword

and it's hard to do when the paper gets wet.

This conversation could have gone an entirely different way.

For instance?

You could have not mentioned the wet paper.

I wouldn't have, had I known

that complaining about the wet paper...

I know it's not a frivolous complaint.

If I had known that complaining about the wet paper

was gonna turn into the opening scene of a Bergman film.

Shall we just start this again?

- That's better. - Now the fucking ink's blotchy.

Oh, Jesus Christ.

- Have I gone wrong already? - Yes.

How?

I wanted you to ask me what sort of day I've had.

How was I supposed to know that?

What sort of day have you had?

- It's too late now. - Oh.

Have you noticed how we only seem to be able to talk

about the last few seconds?

That's not true. Is it?

Yes. We start talking and then somebody says the wrong thing.

Then we spend the rest of the time

talking about the wrong thing somebody said.

Happens in here, it happens in counseling.

We always come out in exactly the same place we went in.

Or a little further back, usually.

- Well, how do we stop that? - I don't know.

What happened last week?

I can't remember. I remember...

we were having a conversation about our future spouses,

which we both rather enjoyed.

Then what? Oh, she asked us how the week had been.

Yeah, she always does that.

Yes, and then...

Did we have the argument

about the cost of the cat's anti-depressants?

Or was that the week before?

Oh, my God, it was Call the Midwife.

Oh, yes.

- That didn't get us very far. - I thought it was useful.

In what way?

Well, she interrupted you a couple of times

to let me finish. You never let me finish.

So it taught me the value of counseling in safe spaces.

I only interrupt when you talk about Call the Midwife

because there's no end to your loathing.

You know, I quite enjoy it. I find it rather relaxing.

- Well, you shouldn't. - I shouldn't?

Why can't you find the films of Preston Sturges relaxing?

- Can I make a confession? - Within reason.

I don't really like black and white movies.

I mean, I can see that they're good, some of them.

But I just... There's something about them

that feels a bit like eating your greens.

- The Palm Beach Story? - Yes.

- Maltese Falcon? - Yes.

- Jules et Jim? - Yes.

I feel... I'm worried. I'm worried here

that you're gonna name every black and white film ever made

and I'm gonna say yes to all of them.

Oh, my God, I just... I had no idea.

I'm just not a critic. You know? I like what I like.

You like what you like?

Oh, man.

I just never thought I'd end up with someone

who would say that and mean it.

I mean, what does that make me?

I don't know. Maybe you're reading too much into it.

But this is the trouble. Marriage is like a computer.

You open it up to see what's inside

and then you're left with a million little bits.

Yeah, but how about this? We shove the big parts back in,

chuck all the small ones away,

close it up and get on with things.

- But it won't work. - It won't work

but it will look like a computer.

You're after marriage that looks like a marriage

but won't function?

It might be better than the one I've got.

At the moment I have a husband who won't sleep with me

and lives somewhere else.

I might as well tell everyone I'm married to Brad Pitt.

OK, well, good luck getting him

to watch Call the bloody Midwife.

He doesn't have to watch it.

He just has to not bang on about how much he hates it.