Squinters

Thanks again for giving me a lift.

Hey, um, instead of petrol money,

do you accept compliments?

Mm, sure. I could do with a compliment.

OK, um...

You smell like hand sanitiser.

Your eyelashes are like...

..that of a cow.

You've got a car.

OK, I think I'll just take the petrol money.

OK. Alright. Actually, forget it.

It's nice to have the company. Just get your old job back.

Mm, yeah, well, that's easier said than done,

since, uh, the last time I left the job,

my parting words to my colleagues were something like, uh,

"Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.

"You're cool, fuck you."

Although, I was the Christmas party photographer last year,

and, uh, I gotta say, these pics are... radioactive.

I'm talking sex, drugs, misuse of office stationary.

Do you know that photocopier on the second level?

Yeah.

Well, so do Sharon and Ian from accounts.

Oh, gross! Very intimately.

They fucked on it.

How does an educated man with a boyfriend

lose his entire redundancy to a lonely-hearts scam?

Oh, I don't know, the Queen.

What's with the bloody... why are you doing posh voice...

..your... your posh lawyer's voice with me?

I don't care. It's not intimidating...

Well, how'd you lose all your fuckin' money?

To a bloody online, sexy, hot Malaysian man, OK?

I couldn't help it, I was all lonely.

I bloody find vulnerability sexy.

He wasn't afraid to ask for money. I gave him money.

So, you're back to no relationship.

Yes. No money and no prospects.

No, I've got prospects. I know what I'm doing.

Look at this... Really?

Alright, check this out.

There.

Forklift licence. Forklift licence.

I'm trying my best. I'm doing manual labour.

Alright, well, as long as the, uh, homophobia in the warehouse

isn't gonna rattle you.

Well, no, that's you assuming there's homophobia in the warehouse.

It's nothing like that. Warehouse men hang tight with other warehouse men.

We're men. I love men. Men love hanging with men.

Men who love other men - not like the way I love men -

but men who be with men would rather be with men who are warehouse men.

It's just man on man, bloody talking about man things.

Oh, bloody... what's going on with the footy and sport and cricket,

and bloody, "Oh, what's going on there?

"Oh! Touched you on the goolies." "Oh, it's only footy. That's fine."

So, basically, it's just like a Mardi Gras, is it?

Well, without a bloody... without the trough boy. But, yes.

Anyway, I've got to bloody pick up Rach tonight,

because, you know, she doesn't have a car.

You know why she doesn't have a car? 'Cause she's bloody broke.

You know why that is? Cause we don't have money till the will.

Yeah, well... Do we Aunty Al?

Your mother made me promise,

no money until you two have got your shit together.

I need my 'getting my shit together' money.

That's what I need to get my shit together.

The money from my bloody dead mummy.

That shit's over.

Even if I wanted to cheat on you, no-one would be interested.

And why is that?

Because there's been a massive downturn in women checking me out

ever since I stopped wearing the high-vis.

It's all in your head, Macca.

Well, what can I say?

Chicks dig safety.

How else did I get laid that night I wore a traffic cone on my head?

'Cause I make bad choices.

Come on, babe.

Everyone knows fluorescent orange gives women an oestrogen spike.

Have you been drinking?

You know drinking inhibits sperm production?

I have not been drinking. Good.

'Cause I'm due to ovulate on Tuesday,

so don't masturbate till then either.

The doctor said the bigger the payload,

the greater the chance of getting pregnant.

Yeah, look, I read somewhere

that there's a risk of creating a lot of old sperm

if you go a few days without clearing the tubes,

and old sperm could very well create an old baby.

I don't want my kid listening to Phillip Adams,

and writing letters to the editor.

Mate, do you want a baby? Of course I want a baby.

Then don't wank till Tuesday.

But how am I gonna relieve stress? I can't drink, I can't rub one out.

Meditate. That relieves stress.

So does wanking, and it's less boring.

Do you know what's boring?

Me leaving the job I loved to look after a bunch of corporate ants.

I... I didn't force you to do it.

We decided together

that I would have more of a chance of getting pregnant

if I wasn't spending 16 hours a day chasing meth heads.

I made that sacrifice.

But if you want to continue drinking, smoking pot,

masturbating and not meditating,

you go for it.

Because the sooner you die, the sooner I can find someone

who takes getting pregnant seriously.

Sorry.

Nah, you make a good point.

Hey, uh...

..let me know if you ovulate when we're at work

because, um, I know some sweet little spots in the warehouse

where we might be able to get up to a bit of nonsense.

It'd have to be standing up, but still...

OK, then.

I might call you if something happens.

Really? No!

How good is this, hey?

You're pregnant, you're middle-aged, you're going back to your old job.

Hashtag winning.

Oh, and look at you, sis.

You're hashtag single, hashtag childless,

hashtag borrowing my car to do Uber.

No, actually I love giving Mentos to drunk strangers.

Love it. Love answering their questions.

"Why are you driving an Uber?"

"Oh, because it didn't work out as a Victoria's Secret model.

"What do you reckon?!"

So the, uh, personal training?

Sorry to hear that.

Here I was, thinking your job

was all high fives, and protein shakes.

That's 'cause you never ask me about my personal training.

Well, when have you ever asked me about bubble wrap?

Bubble wrap isn't your dream.

Well, it might be. I liked popping it as a child.

Maybe it grew from there.

Besides, you wouldn't know, 'cause you never asked.

You just decided that the woman with the kids

couldn't possibly have any dreams.

Is bubble wrap your dream?

No!

Jesus...

So... how's Gordon?

Gary! Gary.

Gary! Gary. I love him, yep.

He won't let me meet his parents.

What do you think that's about?

I don't know.

I'd love to meet his big, black, beautiful family.

Or 'mob' as they like to be called.

Do you... have you been calling them 'mob'?

Are you... calling them 'mob'?

Yeah. They prefer that.

Ooh... Yeah, no, can't see what the problem is there.

Just don't go falling in love with me

like the last person you carpooled with.

I'm sorry, I probably shouldn't joke about that.

Might still be sore after the affair.

Oh, Paul didn't have an affair.

He, uh... he left me to go save the ocean.

Yeah. That's an affair.

He left you for the ocean.

The ocean is his mistress -

cruel, unforgiving mistress -

and... he's probably dead now.

Hey, no chill out, OK? It's OK.

Anyway, it's better being left for the ocean than, like, Tara from HR.

I know, right? Mm.

Guys go nuts over her. What is her sorcery?

Blonde... hair.

Ah, yes. She could not be a brunette.

Nuh, she so wouldn't cut it.

Guys are such morons when it comes to that.

Mm.

You could put a blonde wig on a friggin' fencepost,

they'd still want to fuck it.

Splinters and all.

So, what are you gonna do, now that your small business has failed?

Ah... (LAUGHS) D...

It didn't fail. Mm.

Uh, it more kind of struggled to find its place

within the yoga wine bar community.

And you owe Simoni $20,000.

No, I... we, collectively, through no fault of my own,

yeah, we owe the bank $20,000, give or take.

And you're on the run from the debt collectors, so...

OK. (LAUGHS)

Cool it with the questions, Your Honour.

It's more... I'm just not engaging with conversation with them,

and I am living with my parents...

..under a new false name.

Mike Mleh.

M-L-E-H.

To be clear, I... I thought my job

was just to get the new American CEO from, like, point A to point B -