Virtual Sexuality (1999) Movie Script
Okay, here goes.
I'm Justine Alice Parker.
I live at 58, Zealand Road.
I've got 18 pairs of knickers,
14 pairs of shoes,
not including trainers.
I'm an Aries.
I'm a vegetarian.
Sort of.
And I'm a virgin.
Sounds so terminal,
doesn't it?
"Virgin."
So, I've got to make a choice.
I've got to choose a bloke to,
you know, do it with.
But, like, how do I know
which one?
If only blokes had barcodes,
it would be so easy.
You'd look at a guy
with your laser eyes,
scan his little black lines,
and, boing, barcode
tells you everything.
Otherwise, how do you know
which is Mr. Right bloke?
The big question.
Gender-wise, being a girl
is the best. No contest.
The wardrobe opportunities
are endless.
Girl mates can make you laugh
till your socks get wet.
I mean, blokes,
what are they all about?
Men are a mystery.
Like real lifeX-Files.
All that testosterone-y stuff.
They act like
ever-growing infants
most of the time.
Not like us.
We're totally more evolved.
Fran knows
everything about men.
She's going to do
a PhD in psychology.
Two fruit bars, please.
Fran says there is
a Mr. Right,
- one guy who's just, like, it.
The one, it's predestined.
Like those VideoPlus numbers
in the TV Times,
you type in this
really long number,
and boing, the machine knows
the very second to switch on.
It's like that with blokes.
Meet the right one,
and boing,
the lost jigsaw piece is found.
Suddenly, everything's yummy.
Dogs bark, bees buzz,
and the world has
switched to permanent chill.
If you're right and
there's no point in doing it
unless it's with
Mr. Barcode Jigsaw Piece,
then I run the risk
of never doing it.
I can be the world's first
104-year-old virgin.
You only lose
your virginity once.
So, you want
to do it right, right?
You want to be able
to look back when
you're ancient
and think, you know,
warm stuff about
the night you lost it.
Not, "Oh, shit. Why did I
do it with that creep?"
What?
We've only been going out for,
like, two hours and 24 minutes?
-Are you frigid?
-No.
-Lesbian?
-No.
Well, you know
what to do with this then.
I mean,
I don't want much.
Just a bit of romance.
Ciao, Ice Woman.
No. Bollocks.
Strike that. I want
a lot of romance. Loads.
I want the whole works.
I want Mr. Right Bloke
to come along,
sweep me off
my perfect size-fives
and whisk me away
in a magic carpet ride
of love and romance.
I want a moonlit serenade.
I want to look up
at a blanket of stars
and hear soft words in my ear.
I want to be
flown head-on into a massive
swirling vortex of emotion.
Such a great word,
isn't it? "Vortex."
You zapped his barcode
and it registered,
"No sale." No sweat.
You don't win the lottery
unless you scratch a few cards.
Maybe he's right.
Maybe there is something wrong.
I'm a 17-year-old virgin.
It's so much easier
if you're a bloke,
just orbiting the Earth
like a lunar module,
looking for a docking.
Maybe I should be
more like Hoover,
more willing.
Sure. Strap
a mattress to your back
and call yourself "futon."
Isabelle Jasmine Clarkson,
also known as "Shake and Vac,"
or simply, "The Hoover."
Oh, my God.
Isabelle may not be
the sharpest tool in the shed,
but what she
missed out on brains,
she made up in hormones.
She grew breasts at nine.
She's a walking, talking,
hip-swishing man magnet.
No man has
ever said no to Hoover.
Her technique, to give them
exactly what they want
and then some.
Oh, my God!
Number 14.
Oh, my God.
Yeah, Alex thingy.
Thorne. Sex on two legs.
Age 17, 5'10".
Virgo. Omnivore.
Half owns a Volkswagen
with elder brother, Mark.
Excuse me.
But he's, like,
big league totty.
I can't just walk up and say,
"Give me your love, baby."
We need a strategy.
- I know him.
- Who?
Anorak man?
Chas Lovett.
Went to juniors together.
His mom knows my mom.
He owns several anoraks.
Chas Lovett,
your time has come.
I'm in two minds, see,
to go techno, new millennium,
or play safe
with oldie-woldie.
Then, of course,
there's undersea.
I'm having this big
Jacques-Cousteau-
memorial notion.
What is that?
Chas Lovett.
Sadder than the sad people from Sad City.
Mom, Jackie,
into country and western.
Just delivering it.
Stepdad, Frank,
part-time inventor
and carnival float designer,
I won't have it under my roof.
You could keep it
in the shed, mate.
Masturbation,
particularly during adolescence
I can understand,
-condone even.
-You can damage your boy,
talking like that.
Greatest fear of living men,
prospect of your mother
knowing you enjoy
the odd Jodrell.
Not quite dork,
not quite nerd.
Nerdish. Into computers.
But sad. Surfs the inter-thing
and listens to Morrissey.
Very sad.
Does a paper round. Too sad.
Hi, Chas.
Hi, Justine.
Right. Sit down.
Take the weight
off your wigglers.
Here's what we want you to do.
The Virtual Reality
Expo's not nerdy at all.
It's something
you'd get off on, really.
There's all stuff you can do.
Simulated motor racing,
simulated airplane dogfighting,
- virtual reality kickboxing.
- Just stand over there.
Don't want these foxes
to think we're together.
Simulated
Tour de France, windsurfing,
clay pigeon shooting,
I think there's even
a sex machine.
-I know one's being
developed by a Swiss team.
-A real sex machine?
-Where you get inside,
they plug you in and...
-Yeah, yeah, I think so.
Well, get me a ticket.
Oi, Chas,
lend us your bike.
I can't. I need it
to get to college.
Apparently, they've
invented a sex machine.
Reckon it's gonna
make men obsolete.
So, if you want
to grab yourselves
some old style rumpo
before it goes
out of fashion...
Dad, why does it
keep doing this?
Okay, okay. Start again.
Now, remember
the sequence.
I've worked out
a way to remember.
Isabelle Clarkson
Gives Head Between
Maths Revision Seminars.
Ignition, clutch,
gear, hand-brake,
mix revs, and steering.
Isabelle gives what?
-Um...
-Look out!
Stop!
Geeky sounding guy just called,
says Saturday's fixed.
Oh, yes!
Hey. Hey, where are you going?
Hey, Justine, come back!
I'll drive. I can do it.
-She's useless.
-Lucy, get out.
What am I gonna wear?
What am I gonna wear?
Stop it! Stop!
Stop, Lucy! Stop the car!
Look out!
My body is my temple.
My aura is all positive.
My aura is all positive.
My face is my portal.
My face is...
I'm not happy
with my feet.
Hmm. I don't know.
Maybe.
What is it,
special occasion or date?
-Date.
-You want heels.
-Yeah?
-You want heels.
You want tilt.
Mmm, I don't know.
Statistics show heels
score, on average,
48% more than flats.
It's to do with calves.
A man is a wild animal,
right? Inside.
Back in time,
he was a hunter-gatherer.
So, he is triggered
by instinct.
Taut calves equals
fleeing beast.
Fleeing beast triggers
desire to pursue.
-He chases taut calves.
-Yeah?
Believe me, even if
you don't buy heels,
you wanna do calf raises.
Fifty at a time,
you'll be killer.
Mmm. Smell that.
-It's gorgeous.
-Perfume is a waste of time.
But what about pheromones?
Sense stimulation?
Yeah? How much have you spent
on perfume in your entire life?
I don't know, 100,
maybe 200.
Mmm. And how many guys
have ever said,
"Oh, Justine,
you smell wonderful"?
-None.
-I rest my case.
Big question,
with Alex.
The first kiss, the very first.
Tongue or no tongue?
Hmm. Big question.
Mmm. Mouth open or closed?
-A bit open.
-It's either open or it's not.
See, closed
is just too... cat's bottom.
-Open.
-Open is scary.
It's like I'm going
to eat him.
Later, honey.
Hi, Alex. I'm Justine,
Chas's friend.
Hi, Alex.
I'm Chas's friend, Justine.
Alex. Ah, good to meet you.
I'm Justine.
-Chas.
-Alex blew us out.
Why?
Got a date with Hoover.
Hoover?
Bitch.
I can't stand it.
It's all so...
Hello, darling.
No. No, this is not on.
You can't just do that.
You want to attract
a member of the opposite sex,
you have to work at it.
You have to plan, scheme, shop,
spend, pamper, preen.
You don't just
stand in the hole with
your ass hanging out,
and go, "Hello, darling."
It's not fair!
You know what, love?
Your legs will make
a lovely scarf.
I can hardly walk.
My calves are bloody murder.
You should have worn trainers.
...smart cards
for future events.
-Hi.
-Hello.
If you could fill in the index,
the address details go on
smart cards for future events.
Hey,
look at these. Excellent.
This is
the Virtual Beetle.
Ooh. This is amazing.
Helicharmers.
Oh, we'll come back for this.
Oh, I'm so bored.
Mind the hair.
Your pod
is locked and loaded
for warp thrust expulsion
into battle zone.
Now what? Am I supposed
to press anything or what?
Three, two, one.
Today's mission
is a dangerous one.
Immediate bank
to avoid collision.
Oh, shit!
You now have
total manual control.
All systems are
in your control, Captain.
Captain?
Beware.
Hostile bandits have laser lock on you.
Take immediate evasive action.
Heat seeking lasers
have lock-on.
Repeat, lock-on.
Evasive action essential.
Yes!
Hey, you were brilliant.
How did you fly
through those bridge spans?
If we start queuing now,
we might get on Shark Attack.
I'm gonna take my shoes off,
have a drink,
and then,
I'm gonna be sick.
Miss, miss. If you
don't mind my saying,
you look radiant. A vision.
Maybe you'd like
to be blond or redhead...
-Dye isn't going
to solve anything.
-Or have higher cheekbones,
bigger teeth, larger eyes,
fuller breasts.
-Hey!
-Maybe you'd like
a button nose.
Maybe you'd like
a punch in yours.
Let me introduce you
to Narcissus 1,
the complete three-dimensional
makeover machine.
By using
Pentium in-line interface
bi-conductive server strands,
Narcissus can recreate
spectrographic imagery
-with which
you can voluntarily...
-Shut up, Monica.
Look, love,
press that and it does that.
- Blond.
- Cool.
- Enjoy.
- Door closing.
We'll just cut the techno-crap.
Punters don't care that
you're the computer world's
answer to Anita Roddick.
Punters only think two things.
What can it do for me?
How much does it cost? Yes?
Miss. Miss, may I say
you're looking divine.
Scanning profile.
Please, stand still.
Place on the visor.
Welcome to Narcissus,
where all your
image dreams can come true.
Which feature
would you like to alter?
Ears, eyes,
nose, lips.
-Lips.
-Lips.
Voluptuous.
Nose.
Button.
Resize selected.
- Madam.
- Male.
Body toning selected.
Resize selected.
Oi, there. Clock this.
-Hello darling, all right?
-Hello, sweetheart.
Rugged.
Blue.
Ears. Butt.
Cute. Blond.
Photoreal.
God, you're beautiful.
Four fifty, sir.
Save? Delete? Copy?
Delete or copy?
Thank you very much.
- Copy.
- Copy.
Wait, wait.
Move along, move along,
there's trucks coming through.
Now, come on,
move straight down the street.
Get out of the way.
Come on now.
Chas.
Chas!
Chas.
What?
Chas!
Chas, what are you...
Get away. Get off, pervert.
Shit.
Oh, Jesus.
Oh, my God.
Oh, my God.
Chas?
Keep away from me, pervert.
You want my money?
Take it.
Chas, it's me.
Justine.
Look.
What have you
done with her, you bastard?
It is me, Justine!
I went into a machine.
Look, just...
put the spade down.
Jesus, will you
stop doing that?
-Help! Help!
-Chas, listen.
I'm Justine Alice Parker.
I live at 58 Zealand Road.
Little sister, Lucy.
Mom, Marion. Dad, David.
My best friend's Fran.
Johnny Depp, dream date.
I've got 18 pairs of knickers,
14 pairs of shoes,
not including trainers.
We went to Chisenhale
Primary School together,
and you stuck a drinking straw
down your willie
when you were six,
and Nurse Stevens
had to get it out, remember?
You do a paper round,
which, by the way,
is a very sad thing
for a 17-year-old to do.
And your mom used to
send you to primary
with a brown rice
and tofu lunchbox.
You started to build
your own bean curd mountain
behind the radiator
in Blue Class,
until you got discovered
by Ms. French
and Rentokil.
Enough?
What machine?
Narcissus something.
If he's gay,
how come he supports Arsenal?
If he's gay, why doesn't
he have gay friends?
Still, he hangs out
with that a-hole, Alex.
A mother's worst nightmare.
Don't kid yourself.
We don't know
who he sees out there.
- What am I gonna tell my mom?
- What am I gonna tell mine?
Please, just till
it gets sorted.
I'm just gonna hang this out.
Oh, and I just say,
"Hey, Mom, I want this guy
who dresses like Bjork on acid
and has serious gender problems
to snuggle down
in my top bunk"?
Do you, dear?
Oh. Hello, Mrs. Lovett.
I'm, um...
Jake.
Do you support Arsenal?
Thirty people have been
treated for minor injuries.
after the gas explosion
here at Earl's Court.
Electronic equipment
from the expo has been
severely damaged.
The cost could run
into millions...
With no machine,
how am I gonna change back?
Does this wear off?
I mean, does it have
a lifespan?
Can I ask you a question?
What?
Who was milk monitor
before you in
Ms. French's class?
You still think this is a joke?
This could be killing me.
Suddenly, I've got thighs
like Linford Christie,
and bulges in places
I didn't even have places.
And you think this is
all some trick?
Trina Salmon, okay?
Okay.
Otherwise known as Niffy.
You have to admit,
this is weird.
I'm in such deep shit.
I mean, look, what am I
gonna tell my mom?
Or Fran.
Still, one thing I will say.
But I'm not at all
happy about this.
I didn't do bad, did I?
I mean, if I met me,
and I wasn't me,
I'd be like, "Yes!"
I smell.
It's sweat, but it's
kind of... I don't know...
Yummy.
Wow.
Oh, my God.
Oh, my God.
Oh, my God.
Oh, shit, shit, shit.
I spoke to Fran.
Said you wouldn't be back.
Didn't seem worried at all.
And I've trawled the net.
No listing anywhere
for a Narcissus.
What's the matter?
Have you got
any self-help books
on the male anatomy?
What?
Nothing. No, nothing.
Got any clothes I can borrow?
Yeah.
Oh, is that your real dad?
Yeah. He died when I was five.
Oh, he looks a laugh.
You ought to polish
this silver frame, though.
It's a shame to let it
get in this state.
It's lovely.
How do guys
cross their legs?
They don't much.
It's weird stuff,
all that... tackle, isn't it?
Yours is all...
Well, you know, normal?
Yeah, I think so.
-Do you want to have a look?
-No.
God.
Could I... Can I see yours?
You know,
just so I can compare.
I guess not.
-Ever measured yours?
-Please.
I'm just curious, you know.
I mean, you read such a lot
about guys being obsessed
by size and everything,
and I just thought...
Well, looking at it...
Believe me,
I'm no expert or anything,
but, looking at it,
it seems kind of...
Well, it looks kind of...
Well, big.
Yeah.
I'm going to bed.
You ever have sex with a girl?
-Sure.
-Who?
Oh, you wouldn't know her.
Them.
What's it like?
I'm going to sleep.
Never mind, Mon,
you can mend it.
A couple of months
bent over a soldering iron,
soon put that right.
Anyway, it's not like
your social calendar's
exactly groaning, is it?
But he looked perfectly normal?
Went in a girl, came out a man?
Clothes were ripped, of course.
But the body looked intact.
His wedding tackle...
Did that look normal?
Half the executive dining hall
just landed on me.
People were
stomping on my head.
The chances
of checking his genitalia...
You're a genius, Mon.
Do you know that?
Ugly as shit.
But a genius.
His new friend spends
an awful long time
in the bathroom.
So? He's a bloke
who takes care
of his appearance.
Just because
he likes a bubble bath
or two, doesn't make him...
I couldn't borrow
a hair dryer, could I?
Of course.
Sorry, I've got no money.
Bye.
Dazzler.
Taylor.
Knobhead.
Spriggs.
Giblet.
-Carter.
-Sergeant Major.
We don't want mutoid.
You have him.
Nah. We don't want him.
Unless we're gonna
have his girlfriend, too.
Basketball's
like netball, right?
Well...
Oi, smeghead. What are
you waiting for, puberty?
Dribble it, you freaking girl.
Did you see Hoover?
What's that about?
Are you all right?
I'm such a sad case.
I mean, look at you.
You're a girl.
You've been a bloke
less than 24 hours,
and you're more
one of the lads than I am.
Already top jock
and Hoover's got
the hots for you.
Hoover's got the...
Really? You think so?
Shit.
I can't go in there.
-Can I?
-You've got to change.
God.
Wait till I tell Fran.
Once her mom's gone to bed,
dim lights, R Kelly,
and out with
her old man's Malibu.
Eh? Bung a few of those
down our necks and...
Jesus, would you
look at Carter's?
-Don't point.
-Yeah, but he's got no...
The inside's showing.
He's been circumcised.
Poor bastard.
You want to avoid trouble,
don't look, don't point,
and don't say anything
about other blokes' bits.
Oi, maggot dick!
-What's all that about?
-Nothing.
No, come on. What?
Alex's greatest pleasure
in life is,
A, making out
he's hung like a donkey,
and B, publicly humiliating
anyone who's not.
-And you're...
-I'm a late developer,
all right?
Anyway, size doesn't matter.
You should know that.
And often,
it's an optical aberration.
Some just look big.
Alex's isn't that much
of a deal, is it?
You got a problem, princess?
Just a little bit
of alcoholic lubrication,
and it was time
to unleash the python.
She couldn't resist it
for a nanosecond.
All over me like chicken pox.
I'll tell you, they don't
call her The Hoover
for nothing.
Hoover!
What goes down
in the trouser department,
apart from me?
Ever had a Jack Russell
try to do it to your leg?
I was a stallion.
-Hour after hour, pushing her
further and further...
-Go on, boy!
...till the very edge
of ecstasy.
I'm like, "Sorry,
did I miss something?"
And he's lying back,
basking in the glow of
his sad little fantasy world.
Believe me,
I've had more fun
with a spin dryer.
There's a sort of glow
a woman gets when
she's totally satisfied.
Sort of looks drunk,
intoxicated.
Eyes glazed with delight.
I felt sick, like I'd eaten
a dodgy pork pie.
I thought at least there'd be
a police incident unit.
You know, like on
Crime Stoppersor something.
There's not even
a copper standing guard.
-You're going in?
-I'm thinking about it.
Facing Mom's gonna be so weird.
-Tomorrow. Tomorrow night,
maybe we could...
-I can't tomorrow.
I'm babysitting, and Alex
is coming round
to watch videos.
Alex?
Yeah, he watches videos
every Thursday when
my folks are at Bonanza.
Someone's in my room.
It could be your mom
looking for clues.
No, it's more like Lucy
scoping something from
my wardrobe
for her Private Dancer tour.
Well?
I don't think I can face it.
Mom will go nuts.
Can you imagine,
"Hi, Mom. I'm back.
Oh, and by the way,
I now shave twice a day,
and I've got nine inches
of sausage stuck permanently
down my pants."
Nine inches?
Paradise, aren't they?
Secret's in the chili sauce.
-You've got it
all over your mouth.
-I'll do it.
-I'm going for a slash.
-I'll come with you.
Guys don't do this.
- What?
- Go to the bog together.
- Girls do it all the time.
- Precisely.
Next, you're gonna say
they don't talk when
they tinkle.
-They don't.
-What, not at all?
Well, maybe if it's your mate.
Not that you'd go in with him.
If you bumped
into him, you might.
About football.
But you
don't talk to strangers.
Not midstream.
-Never.
-Why?
Might get the wrong idea.
-What about looking?
-Definitely not.
What, no queuing,
no talking, no peeping?
You don't know
what you're missing.
Hoover. I mean, Isabelle. Hi.
I need some information
about a man.
Out of the way.
Ha,
you'd be lucky.
Get a proper job!
Oi, son.
What do you think you're doing?
Needs a good clean.
Don't be
a nincompoop.
This is a council vehicle.
I ain't gonna pay you
good money to clean it, am I?
Well, never mind.
You can have
this one on the house.
You know what, son?
Looking at your operation,
I'd say you've got
two major problems.
Location and motivation.
Come on, love,
back it up, back it up!
Now, think of yourself
as a midwife, right?
A pregnant woman
comes into your delivery room.
Vulnerable, ripe.
She's nervous, anxious, weary.
Inside there
is a tiny baby,
a fledgling.
Are you going to be the one
to bring it out of the darkness
and into the light?
With every pass
of your instrument,
you let rays flood
into the life of this
emerging infant.
You take away the darkness
and bring forth the light.
All right, mate.
Lovely job.
From the fruits
of one man's fierce struggle
against the elements
comes... gold.
No word from anorak city?
I'm gonna have to
see Fran tomorrow.
And Mom.
I'm surprised more people
aren't worried.
Um, Frans' been
asking after you.
She's obviously
getting Fran-tic.
No, you. You-you.
Not the other you.
Not Justine.
Fran's been asking about Jake?
I think she's got a friend
who wants to meet you.
She's bloody match-making?
I've gone missing
and she's trying to line up
the new me with some girl?
I wonder who.
Just imagine
the possibilities.
Sex-change operations
without the snip.
No-knife cosmetic surgery.
Reconstruct...
- Is that him?
- No.
Ours is taller, blond hair,
much cuter.
More blokes should be like you.
Alex is such a wanker.
He's a mate. Sort of.
How can you say that?
He treats you like shit.
You fancied him, remember?
Anyway, if he wasn't a mate,
everyone would treat me
like shit.
Breast implants,
they'd become antiques.
Silicone shares
would plummet.
All because
we could build breasts.
Big breasts.
Huge breasts.
Just like that.
Would you believe it?
Sixty-eight inch tits.
They reckon she
killed a bloke with them once.
Accidental like.
Oi, spaz, go nick
some of Frank's vodka.
That's ridiculous.
I mean, look, they're just
big bags of silicone jelly.
How can that be sexy?
You really are a bum bandit,
aren't you, Jakey? Huh?
I bet you've never
had your hands on a pair
of real tits in your life.
You'd be surprised.
Oh, yeah.
How many babes
you got naked with, then?
Lost count.
You're full of shit.
You couldn't handle
a real woman
if she came with
the instructions
printed on her ass.
And you couldn't
find her G-spot with
a map and a compass.
Okay, then.
So, tell me, Dr. Love,
-how many women
have you actually...
-Eighteen.
-All the way?
-All the way.
Down and dirty.
Done the business. Bosh.
Heh. I've even had Hoover.
Oh, congratulations.
I hear she's starting
her own newsletter.
Chas has
never had any girl.
Not in real life,
have you, Chas?
Of course, he says he has
because no bloke over 12
is going to admit
that he's a virgin.
Me,
I've had virgins, loads.
Done my share
of cherry picking.
-Had that Fran.
-Fran?
Mmm.
And her mate.
What's her name, Justine.
I had her, too.
Quiet ones
are always the best.
First date,
done her doggy style.
You don't know how close I came
to making a major mistake.
Probably would have
slept with Alex if he
played his cards right.
Why do girls
go for guys like Alex?
I guess
we're just programmed...
I've never had
a girlfriend, ever.
Not even kissed a girl.
Not properly.
You've just got to
keep zapping those barcodes.
Maybe I should try
and be more like Alex.
No.
He gets girls.
Lots of girls.
-I don't.
-You're different.
You're a nice guy.
-Nice guys don't get laid.
-Well...
-And I'm a geek.
-Geeky's good.
Geeky's very trendy.
Enormously cool guys
spend a lot of money
looking geeky.
-Jarvis Cocker.
-There's cool-geeky,
and there's geeky-geeky.
I'm only ever going
to be geeky-geeky.
-Are you positive?
-Without a shadow.
He is gorgeous.
Oh, he's perfect.
Better than perfect.
He's ours.
We're gonna
need to talk to him.
We're going to need
to kidnap him.
Oi, Jake!
-You're Jake, right?
-Fran!
How do you know my name?
I guessed. You're famous.
You're as beautiful
as everyone says you are.
Look at you
with the Hallmark tongue.
There's somebody here
I want you to meet.
Oi, cock, these lights change,
I may have to kill ya.
Go around, double back here.
Okay. I stop,
you get out, throw him in.
Simple. Operation Snatch.
I'm not sure.
I don't know if I can do this.
Okay.
Here's a little visionary motivation thing
for you to be thinking about.
You accidentally
made lover boy.
There's no reason,
once we've got
the technology straight,
you couldn't, on purpose,
make one for yourself.
Fran,
this is gonna sound weird,
but there's something
I've got to tell you.
It's about someone
we both know.
-Yeah.
-A mutual friend.
-It's just...
-Hi.
Stop!
Oh, no.
- Go on, get out!
Grab him!
-They've killed him!
Drive! Drive,
you bloody idiot! Drive!
Bastard!
Is he okay?
Someone call an ambulance.
It was instant,
like an emotional cattle prod.
First sight,
and my barcode went boing.
He's the one.
He's my jigsaw piece.
If God gave me an Identi-kit,
I couldn't build a better man.
Perfect. Makes my eggs ache.
I did tell you.
Fran has an eye.
Are you family?
-Not yet.
-Well, then, get out.
No visitors.
This is so amazing.
This is so bad.
There's two of us.
- There's two of you.
-She didn't disappear.
I didn't disappear.
I mean... So, who am I?
-What am I?
-RIT.
Reality Interface Transference.
Whoa, it's incredible.
It doesn't happen.
-It's just a theory.
-It's a nightmare.
I don't even know if I exist.
I'm not her changed into me.
But am I a part of her?
Can I go back
to being all of her?
Is she running around
with a big piece missing?
Listen to me, I'm already
calling her "her." She's me.
Now, she thinks
I'm just a bloody barcode.
He's like Brad Pitt,
Leonardo DiCaprio,
and that gorgeous goalie
from Portugal rolled into one,
to the power of ten.
Chas, you've got to help me
before those girls do
something stupid.
-We need a plan.
-Yeah.
Hey, spandex.
-Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.
-Red spandex.
-No, not red. Not red.
-It's got to be red.
No way!
Lovely ripe melons!
Come and get your melons!
I have never known
spandex to fail.
I mean, spandex never fails.
He's a Sagittarius, right?
So, according to this,
he likes his women
bright, engaging, vivacious,
curvaceous, and...
That's it.
What does that say to you?
He's desperate?
She's, like,
immune to rejection.
See, with a bloke,
when he gets the slightest
whiff of rejection,
then he's off,
tail so far between
his legs, he'll limp.
But a girl, it's like
lighter fuel on a barbecue.
A girl's not going
to take no for an answer
if she's sure that
she and he are meant to be
because she knows
he's not in touch
with his feelings.
See, Justine thinks she knows
more about me than I do.
She doesn't even know
that she is me.
Hoover's been asking after you.
Oh, Christ, this is horrible.
Yeah, right.
Two of the highest rated babes
in modern history fancy you.
Must be murder.
What do you mean, two babes?
Hoover and Justine.
Justine's a babe?
I'm a babe?
Where's
the bloody linesman?
White witchcraft
can only be used for good.
If the man whose love you seek
is meant for you,
white witchcraft
can open his eyes.
-But if he's wrong...
-He's right.
You'll need a lock of his hair,
and a jar of his
morning breath.
Lads' night out. I love it!
When are we gonna dance?
You know, you really should
wear your hair back.
A blob of gel
would make all the difference,
make your face look,
I don't know, so much more...
-Don't do that.
-Okay, okay, sorry.
Hey, Alex, when are we
gonna dance?
I don't think
his empty pint pot
is the same as
a jar of his morning breath.
I have
every faith this will work.
I have every faith
this will work.
Into a flame of beeswax
and myrrh that burns in
the oxygen of his breath.
Introduce strands of his hair,
and an image of myself
crafted in rice paper.
We just stand
and drink all night?
We don't dance?
When the slow ones come on,
then you can try and cop off.
Are you serious?
You ask a girl to dance,
and she says no.
Just say you weren't
really asking, you were
only taking the piss.
Dancing, you get your hand
on the ass of a girl,
if she don't move it,
you're in, guaranteed.
Don't offer
to buy her mates a drink.
They'll take advantage,
order double Malibus,
cost you a fortune.
Don't sing to the record.
Make sure she's facing
away from her mates.
Try talking dirty.
Have a wank before you dance,
else you'll get a stiffy.
This can work straight away
or there can be
a time trigger factor.
Look, it's working.
Go on, get in there, girl,
while he's under the influence.
Ask him to dance.
Go on, get in there, girl.
Hi, Jake, you wanna dance?
Sharon the sorceress said
my power might confuse him.
And she also said that
cat spittle was precious.
Look, I hate to be the one
who has to tell you this,
but sooner or later,
you've got to admit defeat.
Remember, you were going to
wait for a guy to whisk you off
on a magic carpet,
not go out and stalk one
with bags of compost
sewn into your knickers.
It's a very a rare type
of leaf mold, actually.
What is it about Hoover?
-Do you feel it
when she looks at you?
-She doesn't.
I had a lump in my throat,
and then I felt my willie
start to, you know...
It was like it had
a life of its own.
I could feel it pulsating.
Sharon said the dazed thing
was a really good sign.
-You just rang Sharon?
-Well, part of the deal
is a mid-spell helpline.
So, Sharon suggested a new
chanting and potion package.
In all those years
Hoover and I did
nutritional science together,
you know, I just thought
she was a pain.
I kept thinking of her
as a real waste of space.
Now, I just
keep thinking of her...
I keep thinking of her naked.
Jake's either gay,
or else he's got
the hots for Hoover.
She's certainly got
the hots for him.
Hoover has?
Nah, he's too classy
to fall for her methods.
She just offered to show him
the washing instructions
on her duvet.
He's way above all that.
No!
Oi, Alex, mate, there's
a bird outside who wants
to speak to you about me.
No girl's ever asked me
how to cop off with
another bloke before.
-Usually, they want
to cop off with me.
-I did.
I mean, I used to.
Then, I met Jake.
Oh, he's a right poof.
He's going out with Hoover.
No.
I need to know
what she's got I haven't.
Jake's going out with Hoover?
Bastard.
Why can she
get any bloke?
Who, Hoover?
Well, she's the Sierra Cosworth
of babes, isn't she?
High performance,
great handling,
universally recognized
as a goer of the first order.
She's got pedigree.
So, what, he thinks that Hoover
makes him look good?
Yeah, for sure.
Mister-Lover-Lover-
Stud-You-Like.
And me?
Rumor has it,
you're not out of the box yet.
What rumor?
Has Jake ever talked about me?
Did Jake say
that he thought
that I was virgin?
Well, I wouldn't like to say
exactly what he said, you know.
Code of honor and all that.
Do you think he'd fancy me
if I wasn't a virgin?
Well, basically,
it would depend on
who you've done it with.
You'd have to have
done the deed with a bloke
who had pedigree himself.
A bloke with caliber.
Go on, son, knob it.
Sorry.
Pina colada, passion fruit,
banana, Swiss chocolate,
rum n' raisin, smokey bacon...
Smokey bacon?
God.
What are you doing here?
-What are you?
-Oh, like it's
any of your business.
I just thought you should be
aware the whole sixth form,
most of the lower school,
Newsroom South East
know you're planning
to sleep with Alex.
Why should I be the only one
without a sex life?
-But with Alex?
-I thought he was your hero.
I thought he was
a big, big mate.
Good man, Chas.
Yeah, good man. Yeah.
Justine, it's just something
you shouldn't rush into.
Well,
by all accounts,
you certainly haven't.
You should take some time
to think about it.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
I've heard the speech
a trillion times
from my mom, from Fran,
the whole Moral Majority
conspiracy.
"You don't want
to look back and regret it.
Save it for someone special."
Blah, blah, blah.
If I listen to you lot,
I'll end up on Ricki Lake
in the "I waited so long
it grew over" show.
So, super stud,
I think I fancy
a French tickler.
-And a lube tube.
-Justine.
I know this is just some sort
of reaction thing to Jake.
Jake. As far as I'm concerned,
that boy's history.
What I need now
is a nurse's uniform,
some handcuffs,
and a cock ring.
-Blimey, what's a cock ring?
-Justine...
-Some lemon meringue
nipple arouser.
-Justine.
Jake is you.
You invented him.
He's your
perfect man, remember?
Remember the expo
you went to with me?
Oh, God. God, those
awful machines.
Those anoraks.
A sea of little anoraks.
Remember the Narcissus machine?
No, I don't.
-Sad boy stuff.
-You went into a machine,
designed your perfect man,
then something went wrong.
Look, what I do with my body
is my business, okay?
Just bug off!
Something went wrong
with the machine.
A bit of you broke off
and got stuck inside.
-Not something
you brought here, I trust?
-What?
Justine, I know you remember.
I know this isn't you.
We offer a free gift
for every purchase over 20.
Your choices are
a nipple piercing voucher
or a marzipan muff glove.
This bloody is me.
You know nothing.
You don't know me.
I'll make it
the muff glove, then.
Justine, what's happened to you
is called Reality Interface
Transference.
-Theoretically,
the pixelated...
-Oi, shut up! I'm sick of it.
I'm sick of your pathetic
Star Trekfantasy shit!
Grow up, for Christ's sake.
Even if you
just enter adolescence,
that would be a start.
It doesn't matter
what you say to me.
All that matters is
you don't go and do
something you regret.
Why should I listen to you?
I've made up my mind.
Chas, look around you.
Everybody's growing up.
It's scary, I know.
It's even more scary
when it's not happening to you.
Don't try and hold
everyone else back.
Look at yourself,
Chas. Your anorak,
your stupid computer games.
I mean, what woman
is ever going to want
to sleep with you, huh?
With Alex? Bad choice.
Bad choice? That's it?
Calm down. Don't get
so worked up.
I know Justine, remember?
She won't go through with it.
Her standards are way too high.
She wants wooing,
the whole
magic carpet treatment.
Alex isn't up for all that.
So why has she just bought
40's worth of condoms
and sex toys?
She's desperate,
wants to make you jealous.
Thinks shagging Alex will
make you want her.
-Dumb plan.
-Yeah.
Well, I've had it with you two,
both of you.
Now I wash my hands of it all.
If she wants to shag Alex,
she's welcome.
We've got to stop her.
You've got to stop her.
Somewhere inside, you are her.
You've got to know
how to stop her.
Jake...
Well,
a Liverpool scientist
believes that
a woman is
at her most alluring
when she's most fertile.
Justine! It's Alex!
Hubba, hubba.
Topmost totty.
Wow.
This is the most romantic night
of my entire life.
It's so perfect.
-I know.
-What?
It's too perfect, isn't it?
Every detail's too good.
No, no, it's magnificent.
You're magnificent.
It's just weird, that's all.
-It's like you've read my mind.
-Read my mind.
I have.
-It's like, you know
everything I'm thinking.
-Everything I'm thinking.
Even before
I've thought it.
It's like you've...
Been inside my head
and taken notes.
Who are you?
Justine, it's okay.
It's no big deal.
It's weird, but it's okay.
It's like what Chas
was trying to tell you
before you scythed through
his fragile manhood.
I am you.
You invented me.
I was trying not to hurt you.
I didn't know
what to do. I mean...
Well, how do you tell someone
something like that?
Oh, this is great.
This is so great.
At last,
I think I'm getting somewhere.
The man of my dreams
starts acting like one,
and then...
Shit, shit, shit,
shit, shit, shit!
Then, he goes and tells me
he's a product of
my imagination.
Shit!
Jake!
Where is he?
What's this?
An identity tag off
a computer arcade machine.
Who's Narcissus?
The wrong answer could cost you
the prospect of fatherhood!
An electronics company
who manufacture
a cosmetic makeover machine.
Makeover?
What you said about me
creating Jake was true?
Far as I know, yes.
You mean that Jake...
That thing is running around
with me... With my...
My what, my soul inside him?
This is all a plot, isn't it?
You and your
computer freak friends
get some sort of sick pleasure
out of making me feel like
Sigourney Weaver,
like some alien's
about to come
bursting out my bum.
I was gagging for him.
I really thought he was my...
I could have...
I would have...
If I had,
it would have been, like,
the worst sort of incest,
-It would have been...
-Look, we'll find
the Narcissus people.
-Then, we'll take Jake
around to them and...
-They've already got him.
I thought we were
just going to ask him
a few questions,
do a test or two.
There may not be time.
He could decompose,
dematerialize. Who knows?
What's that?
Dihydrothriptamazine.
Subconscious paint stripper.
We need to understand
how he's bolted together
if we're ever
to recreate the process.
It won't do any damage,
will it? Upstairs?
Science can be cruel.
But we need to assess
how much female
is left in his memory.
Though, to be honest,
it's not his brain
I'm interested in.
- Shit.
- What?
What's happening to me?
I'll get it sorted.
I promise.
I'm sorry
what I said about you.
I mean, stuff about...
You know, no woman ever...
I'll boot up and input
the serial number.
I didn't mean it.
I was just...
Once we've got
the number match,
we'll get an address.
Can I have a hug?
What?
Doesn't matter.
She's been up there
a long time.
It's gone very quiet.
He's got a girl in his room.
With a bag, a sack of condoms.
Flavored ones.
The obvious
parts of his body
that are not female
may or may not function
normally in a male sense.
Well, how are you
gonna test that?
Electrical impulses
of varying voltage.
Another spasm?
Jesus. God. Shit!
Shit! That felt like...
That was like... Someone...
That's their van!
You know, this is already
trespass with intent.
We could be
in a lot of trouble.
The images show
he has a recurring dream
about being
a female warrior called Marlin.
This is epic.
We are so in the big time.
There's some pretty
weird stuff about a pony.
Christ,
what are they doing to him?
To me.
I'll make a diversion.
You climb down the rope
and get him to the car.
I'm the school nerd, remember?
People make fun of my clothes.
Okay. Can you make a diversion?
Um, all right, all right.
Shit.
Wow! Nice diversion, Chas.
Oh, man.
- Who's that?
- The little maggot.
Ah-ha!
Those lovely horses...
- What's the matter with him?
- Totally off his face!
Okay. Okay. Keep calm.
Isabelle Clarkson Gives Head
Between Maths Revision
Seminars.
Ignition, clutch,
gear, hand-brake...
Oops.
- Gate, gate, gate, gate!
- I know.
Oops.
-I was a paramedic working on
a helicopter rescue squad.
-What's he on about?
Brad Pitt was the pilot.
We were maneuvering
-to touch down
on the helipad of an oil rig.
-What?
That's a dream.
That's my dream.
Me and Brad in
a 999-rescue chopper squad.
Oil from the rig erupted,
and started to gush out
all over the place.
This is so spooky.
Chas showed me
his greenfly larvae
under a microscope.
What?
You had a dream about me?
Oh, shit!
You had a dream about me?
I was a zookeeper and Chas
was a famous entomologist.
Whoa! Maybe I should drive.
-Why?
-It's bloke stuff.
My coordination is better.
Bollocks.
You're scared of
your dad's Volvo, remember?
Scared of bumping things.
That was the old me.
Bumping things is good.
Maybe we should have a frieze.
Sorry, sorry.
I don't know how we're
gonna get that machine into
the house. It weighs a ton.
We're never gonna be
able to lift it in.
Don't you think
we should slow down?
We could slide it in.
-Slide?
-Slide...
-Slow down.
-Like this.
So, what do you reckon?
It's really lovely.
Congratulations, Ms. Parker.
You have passed.
Oh, my God, I was having
the most amazing dream.
Where are we?
Where are my clothes?
Why am I naked?
Oh, goodness, so you are.
I hadn't noticed.
Probably
something for college.
Ooh, there's
a bit broken off.
- Hello, love.
- You all right, Chas?
Mmm. Frank,
any chance of borrowing
your soldering iron?
Yes, of course.
-Hello.
-Hello.
-Hello.
-Hi.
Hello.
Yeah, we've got a picture.
I'm so bummed out.
I thought I'd found the right one,
my barcode jigsaw piece.
Now I've got to
start all over again.
God, girl.
Will you give it a rest
with the barcode crap?
I mean, who says
there is a right one?
Books, films, poetry, history.
-Fran.
-Fran? Jesus.
Look, being
a bloke's a laugh-ish.
Though, God knows
I wouldn't want
to be one for long.
Being a girl
who lives a doctrine
according to Fran is insanity.
I think...
I think it's ready.
-Are you sure
you want to do this?
-No, I'm not sure.
All I know is
I'm a non-person.
I don't exist.
I just wanna go back
to being me before I forget
what being me feels like.
I'm going to miss you.
Not necessarily.
Pull the lever, eagle.
Lips.
Voluptuous.
Nose. Button.
Male.
Body toning selected.
Resize selected.
Rugged.
Blue. Blond.
Photoreal.
All right. All you've got
to do now is delete.
Save? Delete? Copy?
Oh, hold on.
This is madness.
You're the most gorgeous guy
I've ever met.
And what? I'm just
gonna stab a button
and get rid of you?
This can't be right. Surely.
I created
the most perfect looking guy.
You still don't get it, do you?
"Perfect looking guy."
There's no such thing
as the perfect guy.
Jigsaw piece, barcode,
any of that stuff.
It's all wrong.
And I'm only perfect because
this is what you want me
to look like.
You're not looking
for a partner.
You're looking
for an ego extension,
someone who meets
all your criteria.
Now, push the button.
It's taken me forever
to find a bloke I can
even just talk to talk to.
Talk to Chas.
I'm not a bloke, not inside.
I'm you, remember?
I like being you.
I just didn't know it
at the time.
That has to be another way.
Chas, push the button, please.
I can't.
I'm on the wrong circuit.
This is crazy.
If I get rid of you,
I'm right back where I started.
Exactly.
Only this time, you can be
the Justine you want to be,
not the Justine
you think you need to be.
Delete.
Come on, love,
we ain't got time
for you to hatch it.
Can I sit down?
Oh, yeah.
So, how're you doing?
I'm fine. Fine.
-Yeah. No. Good. I'm good.
-Good.
-And you?
-Yeah, I'm good.
Well, no. Fine.
Yeah, I'm fine.
Do you miss him?
Kind of. But I feel
like he's still here.
Do you know I mean?
That sounds stupid.
It's just...
I feel stronger, different.
Yeah, me too.
-You know, I did. I just...
-Oh, God. Um, look it's Fran.
All right. Yeah.
I'd better get off anyway.
Yeah, I just wanted to say...
Well, it's mad, really.
It's just that when I'm near,
when I see you,
I really like...
No. This is so stupid.
I just really like
the way you smell.
Hi. Hi.
What happened to his anorak?
I like the way you smell.
Can you believe
anyone would say that?
When you grow up,
don't ever, ever listen
to your big brother.
He'll be the sad bastard
everyone crosses the street
to avoid.
We're off to Bonanza.
Don't keep her awake too long.
And if Alex has to come around,
don't let him smoke
Frank's cigars.
Hey, love, have you
got my spurs on?
It's Thursday. Oh, no. Alex.
Hi. Alex couldn't make it.
Can I ask
your opinion on something?
Yeah.
The question is,
mouth open or mouth closed?
What?
Now, that is
lips slightly parted.
And this is mouth open.
I just want to know
which one's best.
What was the first one again?
Strange how
a little female attention
can make
all the difference to a bloke,
no matter how geeky.
Didn't take any time
before Chas did
the caterpillar thing.
You know, shrugged off
his ugly old cocoon
and blossomed into
a beautiful butterfly.
Or is it a moth?
Anyway, with a bit of practice,
Chas got really good
at kissing.
In fact, that boy
could snog for Europe.
And he got a lot of practice.
We lasted five months,
five great months.
After me, he practiced Rachel,
and Sarah, then Louise.
He even practiced
with slutty Tina.
Fran, bless her.
She devoted her energies to falling hopelessly in love
with totally inappropriate,
totally unavailable men.
And Hoover...
Well, Hoover just goes on
honing her craft.
As for Alex,
now, there's a turner.
Who'd have thought
my little sister, Lucy,
could tame the beast?
And me?
Yeah, well, I did
do it with Chas.
It was kind of about time,
and it was good.
No. It was lovely.
I mean, I didn't find
a mate for life or anything,
but that's okay.
Would've been
a bit boring if I had.
At least, though,
when I look back,
I won't be thinking,
"Oh, why did I do it with him?"
I'll be thinking,
"Chas.
Oh, what a sweetheart!"
I'm Justine Alice Parker.
I live at 58, Zealand Road.
I've got 18 pairs of knickers,
14 pairs of shoes,
not including trainers.
I'm an Aries.
I'm a vegetarian.
Sort of.
And I'm a virgin.
Sounds so terminal,
doesn't it?
"Virgin."
So, I've got to make a choice.
I've got to choose a bloke to,
you know, do it with.
But, like, how do I know
which one?
If only blokes had barcodes,
it would be so easy.
You'd look at a guy
with your laser eyes,
scan his little black lines,
and, boing, barcode
tells you everything.
Otherwise, how do you know
which is Mr. Right bloke?
The big question.
Gender-wise, being a girl
is the best. No contest.
The wardrobe opportunities
are endless.
Girl mates can make you laugh
till your socks get wet.
I mean, blokes,
what are they all about?
Men are a mystery.
Like real lifeX-Files.
All that testosterone-y stuff.
They act like
ever-growing infants
most of the time.
Not like us.
We're totally more evolved.
Fran knows
everything about men.
She's going to do
a PhD in psychology.
Two fruit bars, please.
Fran says there is
a Mr. Right,
- one guy who's just, like, it.
The one, it's predestined.
Like those VideoPlus numbers
in the TV Times,
you type in this
really long number,
and boing, the machine knows
the very second to switch on.
It's like that with blokes.
Meet the right one,
and boing,
the lost jigsaw piece is found.
Suddenly, everything's yummy.
Dogs bark, bees buzz,
and the world has
switched to permanent chill.
If you're right and
there's no point in doing it
unless it's with
Mr. Barcode Jigsaw Piece,
then I run the risk
of never doing it.
I can be the world's first
104-year-old virgin.
You only lose
your virginity once.
So, you want
to do it right, right?
You want to be able
to look back when
you're ancient
and think, you know,
warm stuff about
the night you lost it.
Not, "Oh, shit. Why did I
do it with that creep?"
What?
We've only been going out for,
like, two hours and 24 minutes?
-Are you frigid?
-No.
-Lesbian?
-No.
Well, you know
what to do with this then.
I mean,
I don't want much.
Just a bit of romance.
Ciao, Ice Woman.
No. Bollocks.
Strike that. I want
a lot of romance. Loads.
I want the whole works.
I want Mr. Right Bloke
to come along,
sweep me off
my perfect size-fives
and whisk me away
in a magic carpet ride
of love and romance.
I want a moonlit serenade.
I want to look up
at a blanket of stars
and hear soft words in my ear.
I want to be
flown head-on into a massive
swirling vortex of emotion.
Such a great word,
isn't it? "Vortex."
You zapped his barcode
and it registered,
"No sale." No sweat.
You don't win the lottery
unless you scratch a few cards.
Maybe he's right.
Maybe there is something wrong.
I'm a 17-year-old virgin.
It's so much easier
if you're a bloke,
just orbiting the Earth
like a lunar module,
looking for a docking.
Maybe I should be
more like Hoover,
more willing.
Sure. Strap
a mattress to your back
and call yourself "futon."
Isabelle Jasmine Clarkson,
also known as "Shake and Vac,"
or simply, "The Hoover."
Oh, my God.
Isabelle may not be
the sharpest tool in the shed,
but what she
missed out on brains,
she made up in hormones.
She grew breasts at nine.
She's a walking, talking,
hip-swishing man magnet.
No man has
ever said no to Hoover.
Her technique, to give them
exactly what they want
and then some.
Oh, my God!
Number 14.
Oh, my God.
Yeah, Alex thingy.
Thorne. Sex on two legs.
Age 17, 5'10".
Virgo. Omnivore.
Half owns a Volkswagen
with elder brother, Mark.
Excuse me.
But he's, like,
big league totty.
I can't just walk up and say,
"Give me your love, baby."
We need a strategy.
- I know him.
- Who?
Anorak man?
Chas Lovett.
Went to juniors together.
His mom knows my mom.
He owns several anoraks.
Chas Lovett,
your time has come.
I'm in two minds, see,
to go techno, new millennium,
or play safe
with oldie-woldie.
Then, of course,
there's undersea.
I'm having this big
Jacques-Cousteau-
memorial notion.
What is that?
Chas Lovett.
Sadder than the sad people from Sad City.
Mom, Jackie,
into country and western.
Just delivering it.
Stepdad, Frank,
part-time inventor
and carnival float designer,
I won't have it under my roof.
You could keep it
in the shed, mate.
Masturbation,
particularly during adolescence
I can understand,
-condone even.
-You can damage your boy,
talking like that.
Greatest fear of living men,
prospect of your mother
knowing you enjoy
the odd Jodrell.
Not quite dork,
not quite nerd.
Nerdish. Into computers.
But sad. Surfs the inter-thing
and listens to Morrissey.
Very sad.
Does a paper round. Too sad.
Hi, Chas.
Hi, Justine.
Right. Sit down.
Take the weight
off your wigglers.
Here's what we want you to do.
The Virtual Reality
Expo's not nerdy at all.
It's something
you'd get off on, really.
There's all stuff you can do.
Simulated motor racing,
simulated airplane dogfighting,
- virtual reality kickboxing.
- Just stand over there.
Don't want these foxes
to think we're together.
Simulated
Tour de France, windsurfing,
clay pigeon shooting,
I think there's even
a sex machine.
-I know one's being
developed by a Swiss team.
-A real sex machine?
-Where you get inside,
they plug you in and...
-Yeah, yeah, I think so.
Well, get me a ticket.
Oi, Chas,
lend us your bike.
I can't. I need it
to get to college.
Apparently, they've
invented a sex machine.
Reckon it's gonna
make men obsolete.
So, if you want
to grab yourselves
some old style rumpo
before it goes
out of fashion...
Dad, why does it
keep doing this?
Okay, okay. Start again.
Now, remember
the sequence.
I've worked out
a way to remember.
Isabelle Clarkson
Gives Head Between
Maths Revision Seminars.
Ignition, clutch,
gear, hand-brake,
mix revs, and steering.
Isabelle gives what?
-Um...
-Look out!
Stop!
Geeky sounding guy just called,
says Saturday's fixed.
Oh, yes!
Hey. Hey, where are you going?
Hey, Justine, come back!
I'll drive. I can do it.
-She's useless.
-Lucy, get out.
What am I gonna wear?
What am I gonna wear?
Stop it! Stop!
Stop, Lucy! Stop the car!
Look out!
My body is my temple.
My aura is all positive.
My aura is all positive.
My face is my portal.
My face is...
I'm not happy
with my feet.
Hmm. I don't know.
Maybe.
What is it,
special occasion or date?
-Date.
-You want heels.
-Yeah?
-You want heels.
You want tilt.
Mmm, I don't know.
Statistics show heels
score, on average,
48% more than flats.
It's to do with calves.
A man is a wild animal,
right? Inside.
Back in time,
he was a hunter-gatherer.
So, he is triggered
by instinct.
Taut calves equals
fleeing beast.
Fleeing beast triggers
desire to pursue.
-He chases taut calves.
-Yeah?
Believe me, even if
you don't buy heels,
you wanna do calf raises.
Fifty at a time,
you'll be killer.
Mmm. Smell that.
-It's gorgeous.
-Perfume is a waste of time.
But what about pheromones?
Sense stimulation?
Yeah? How much have you spent
on perfume in your entire life?
I don't know, 100,
maybe 200.
Mmm. And how many guys
have ever said,
"Oh, Justine,
you smell wonderful"?
-None.
-I rest my case.
Big question,
with Alex.
The first kiss, the very first.
Tongue or no tongue?
Hmm. Big question.
Mmm. Mouth open or closed?
-A bit open.
-It's either open or it's not.
See, closed
is just too... cat's bottom.
-Open.
-Open is scary.
It's like I'm going
to eat him.
Later, honey.
Hi, Alex. I'm Justine,
Chas's friend.
Hi, Alex.
I'm Chas's friend, Justine.
Alex. Ah, good to meet you.
I'm Justine.
-Chas.
-Alex blew us out.
Why?
Got a date with Hoover.
Hoover?
Bitch.
I can't stand it.
It's all so...
Hello, darling.
No. No, this is not on.
You can't just do that.
You want to attract
a member of the opposite sex,
you have to work at it.
You have to plan, scheme, shop,
spend, pamper, preen.
You don't just
stand in the hole with
your ass hanging out,
and go, "Hello, darling."
It's not fair!
You know what, love?
Your legs will make
a lovely scarf.
I can hardly walk.
My calves are bloody murder.
You should have worn trainers.
...smart cards
for future events.
-Hi.
-Hello.
If you could fill in the index,
the address details go on
smart cards for future events.
Hey,
look at these. Excellent.
This is
the Virtual Beetle.
Ooh. This is amazing.
Helicharmers.
Oh, we'll come back for this.
Oh, I'm so bored.
Mind the hair.
Your pod
is locked and loaded
for warp thrust expulsion
into battle zone.
Now what? Am I supposed
to press anything or what?
Three, two, one.
Today's mission
is a dangerous one.
Immediate bank
to avoid collision.
Oh, shit!
You now have
total manual control.
All systems are
in your control, Captain.
Captain?
Beware.
Hostile bandits have laser lock on you.
Take immediate evasive action.
Heat seeking lasers
have lock-on.
Repeat, lock-on.
Evasive action essential.
Yes!
Hey, you were brilliant.
How did you fly
through those bridge spans?
If we start queuing now,
we might get on Shark Attack.
I'm gonna take my shoes off,
have a drink,
and then,
I'm gonna be sick.
Miss, miss. If you
don't mind my saying,
you look radiant. A vision.
Maybe you'd like
to be blond or redhead...
-Dye isn't going
to solve anything.
-Or have higher cheekbones,
bigger teeth, larger eyes,
fuller breasts.
-Hey!
-Maybe you'd like
a button nose.
Maybe you'd like
a punch in yours.
Let me introduce you
to Narcissus 1,
the complete three-dimensional
makeover machine.
By using
Pentium in-line interface
bi-conductive server strands,
Narcissus can recreate
spectrographic imagery
-with which
you can voluntarily...
-Shut up, Monica.
Look, love,
press that and it does that.
- Blond.
- Cool.
- Enjoy.
- Door closing.
We'll just cut the techno-crap.
Punters don't care that
you're the computer world's
answer to Anita Roddick.
Punters only think two things.
What can it do for me?
How much does it cost? Yes?
Miss. Miss, may I say
you're looking divine.
Scanning profile.
Please, stand still.
Place on the visor.
Welcome to Narcissus,
where all your
image dreams can come true.
Which feature
would you like to alter?
Ears, eyes,
nose, lips.
-Lips.
-Lips.
Voluptuous.
Nose.
Button.
Resize selected.
- Madam.
- Male.
Body toning selected.
Resize selected.
Oi, there. Clock this.
-Hello darling, all right?
-Hello, sweetheart.
Rugged.
Blue.
Ears. Butt.
Cute. Blond.
Photoreal.
God, you're beautiful.
Four fifty, sir.
Save? Delete? Copy?
Delete or copy?
Thank you very much.
- Copy.
- Copy.
Wait, wait.
Move along, move along,
there's trucks coming through.
Now, come on,
move straight down the street.
Get out of the way.
Come on now.
Chas.
Chas!
Chas.
What?
Chas!
Chas, what are you...
Get away. Get off, pervert.
Shit.
Oh, Jesus.
Oh, my God.
Oh, my God.
Chas?
Keep away from me, pervert.
You want my money?
Take it.
Chas, it's me.
Justine.
Look.
What have you
done with her, you bastard?
It is me, Justine!
I went into a machine.
Look, just...
put the spade down.
Jesus, will you
stop doing that?
-Help! Help!
-Chas, listen.
I'm Justine Alice Parker.
I live at 58 Zealand Road.
Little sister, Lucy.
Mom, Marion. Dad, David.
My best friend's Fran.
Johnny Depp, dream date.
I've got 18 pairs of knickers,
14 pairs of shoes,
not including trainers.
We went to Chisenhale
Primary School together,
and you stuck a drinking straw
down your willie
when you were six,
and Nurse Stevens
had to get it out, remember?
You do a paper round,
which, by the way,
is a very sad thing
for a 17-year-old to do.
And your mom used to
send you to primary
with a brown rice
and tofu lunchbox.
You started to build
your own bean curd mountain
behind the radiator
in Blue Class,
until you got discovered
by Ms. French
and Rentokil.
Enough?
What machine?
Narcissus something.
If he's gay,
how come he supports Arsenal?
If he's gay, why doesn't
he have gay friends?
Still, he hangs out
with that a-hole, Alex.
A mother's worst nightmare.
Don't kid yourself.
We don't know
who he sees out there.
- What am I gonna tell my mom?
- What am I gonna tell mine?
Please, just till
it gets sorted.
I'm just gonna hang this out.
Oh, and I just say,
"Hey, Mom, I want this guy
who dresses like Bjork on acid
and has serious gender problems
to snuggle down
in my top bunk"?
Do you, dear?
Oh. Hello, Mrs. Lovett.
I'm, um...
Jake.
Do you support Arsenal?
Thirty people have been
treated for minor injuries.
after the gas explosion
here at Earl's Court.
Electronic equipment
from the expo has been
severely damaged.
The cost could run
into millions...
With no machine,
how am I gonna change back?
Does this wear off?
I mean, does it have
a lifespan?
Can I ask you a question?
What?
Who was milk monitor
before you in
Ms. French's class?
You still think this is a joke?
This could be killing me.
Suddenly, I've got thighs
like Linford Christie,
and bulges in places
I didn't even have places.
And you think this is
all some trick?
Trina Salmon, okay?
Okay.
Otherwise known as Niffy.
You have to admit,
this is weird.
I'm in such deep shit.
I mean, look, what am I
gonna tell my mom?
Or Fran.
Still, one thing I will say.
But I'm not at all
happy about this.
I didn't do bad, did I?
I mean, if I met me,
and I wasn't me,
I'd be like, "Yes!"
I smell.
It's sweat, but it's
kind of... I don't know...
Yummy.
Wow.
Oh, my God.
Oh, my God.
Oh, my God.
Oh, shit, shit, shit.
I spoke to Fran.
Said you wouldn't be back.
Didn't seem worried at all.
And I've trawled the net.
No listing anywhere
for a Narcissus.
What's the matter?
Have you got
any self-help books
on the male anatomy?
What?
Nothing. No, nothing.
Got any clothes I can borrow?
Yeah.
Oh, is that your real dad?
Yeah. He died when I was five.
Oh, he looks a laugh.
You ought to polish
this silver frame, though.
It's a shame to let it
get in this state.
It's lovely.
How do guys
cross their legs?
They don't much.
It's weird stuff,
all that... tackle, isn't it?
Yours is all...
Well, you know, normal?
Yeah, I think so.
-Do you want to have a look?
-No.
God.
Could I... Can I see yours?
You know,
just so I can compare.
I guess not.
-Ever measured yours?
-Please.
I'm just curious, you know.
I mean, you read such a lot
about guys being obsessed
by size and everything,
and I just thought...
Well, looking at it...
Believe me,
I'm no expert or anything,
but, looking at it,
it seems kind of...
Well, it looks kind of...
Well, big.
Yeah.
I'm going to bed.
You ever have sex with a girl?
-Sure.
-Who?
Oh, you wouldn't know her.
Them.
What's it like?
I'm going to sleep.
Never mind, Mon,
you can mend it.
A couple of months
bent over a soldering iron,
soon put that right.
Anyway, it's not like
your social calendar's
exactly groaning, is it?
But he looked perfectly normal?
Went in a girl, came out a man?
Clothes were ripped, of course.
But the body looked intact.
His wedding tackle...
Did that look normal?
Half the executive dining hall
just landed on me.
People were
stomping on my head.
The chances
of checking his genitalia...
You're a genius, Mon.
Do you know that?
Ugly as shit.
But a genius.
His new friend spends
an awful long time
in the bathroom.
So? He's a bloke
who takes care
of his appearance.
Just because
he likes a bubble bath
or two, doesn't make him...
I couldn't borrow
a hair dryer, could I?
Of course.
Sorry, I've got no money.
Bye.
Dazzler.
Taylor.
Knobhead.
Spriggs.
Giblet.
-Carter.
-Sergeant Major.
We don't want mutoid.
You have him.
Nah. We don't want him.
Unless we're gonna
have his girlfriend, too.
Basketball's
like netball, right?
Well...
Oi, smeghead. What are
you waiting for, puberty?
Dribble it, you freaking girl.
Did you see Hoover?
What's that about?
Are you all right?
I'm such a sad case.
I mean, look at you.
You're a girl.
You've been a bloke
less than 24 hours,
and you're more
one of the lads than I am.
Already top jock
and Hoover's got
the hots for you.
Hoover's got the...
Really? You think so?
Shit.
I can't go in there.
-Can I?
-You've got to change.
God.
Wait till I tell Fran.
Once her mom's gone to bed,
dim lights, R Kelly,
and out with
her old man's Malibu.
Eh? Bung a few of those
down our necks and...
Jesus, would you
look at Carter's?
-Don't point.
-Yeah, but he's got no...
The inside's showing.
He's been circumcised.
Poor bastard.
You want to avoid trouble,
don't look, don't point,
and don't say anything
about other blokes' bits.
Oi, maggot dick!
-What's all that about?
-Nothing.
No, come on. What?
Alex's greatest pleasure
in life is,
A, making out
he's hung like a donkey,
and B, publicly humiliating
anyone who's not.
-And you're...
-I'm a late developer,
all right?
Anyway, size doesn't matter.
You should know that.
And often,
it's an optical aberration.
Some just look big.
Alex's isn't that much
of a deal, is it?
You got a problem, princess?
Just a little bit
of alcoholic lubrication,
and it was time
to unleash the python.
She couldn't resist it
for a nanosecond.
All over me like chicken pox.
I'll tell you, they don't
call her The Hoover
for nothing.
Hoover!
What goes down
in the trouser department,
apart from me?
Ever had a Jack Russell
try to do it to your leg?
I was a stallion.
-Hour after hour, pushing her
further and further...
-Go on, boy!
...till the very edge
of ecstasy.
I'm like, "Sorry,
did I miss something?"
And he's lying back,
basking in the glow of
his sad little fantasy world.
Believe me,
I've had more fun
with a spin dryer.
There's a sort of glow
a woman gets when
she's totally satisfied.
Sort of looks drunk,
intoxicated.
Eyes glazed with delight.
I felt sick, like I'd eaten
a dodgy pork pie.
I thought at least there'd be
a police incident unit.
You know, like on
Crime Stoppersor something.
There's not even
a copper standing guard.
-You're going in?
-I'm thinking about it.
Facing Mom's gonna be so weird.
-Tomorrow. Tomorrow night,
maybe we could...
-I can't tomorrow.
I'm babysitting, and Alex
is coming round
to watch videos.
Alex?
Yeah, he watches videos
every Thursday when
my folks are at Bonanza.
Someone's in my room.
It could be your mom
looking for clues.
No, it's more like Lucy
scoping something from
my wardrobe
for her Private Dancer tour.
Well?
I don't think I can face it.
Mom will go nuts.
Can you imagine,
"Hi, Mom. I'm back.
Oh, and by the way,
I now shave twice a day,
and I've got nine inches
of sausage stuck permanently
down my pants."
Nine inches?
Paradise, aren't they?
Secret's in the chili sauce.
-You've got it
all over your mouth.
-I'll do it.
-I'm going for a slash.
-I'll come with you.
Guys don't do this.
- What?
- Go to the bog together.
- Girls do it all the time.
- Precisely.
Next, you're gonna say
they don't talk when
they tinkle.
-They don't.
-What, not at all?
Well, maybe if it's your mate.
Not that you'd go in with him.
If you bumped
into him, you might.
About football.
But you
don't talk to strangers.
Not midstream.
-Never.
-Why?
Might get the wrong idea.
-What about looking?
-Definitely not.
What, no queuing,
no talking, no peeping?
You don't know
what you're missing.
Hoover. I mean, Isabelle. Hi.
I need some information
about a man.
Out of the way.
Ha,
you'd be lucky.
Get a proper job!
Oi, son.
What do you think you're doing?
Needs a good clean.
Don't be
a nincompoop.
This is a council vehicle.
I ain't gonna pay you
good money to clean it, am I?
Well, never mind.
You can have
this one on the house.
You know what, son?
Looking at your operation,
I'd say you've got
two major problems.
Location and motivation.
Come on, love,
back it up, back it up!
Now, think of yourself
as a midwife, right?
A pregnant woman
comes into your delivery room.
Vulnerable, ripe.
She's nervous, anxious, weary.
Inside there
is a tiny baby,
a fledgling.
Are you going to be the one
to bring it out of the darkness
and into the light?
With every pass
of your instrument,
you let rays flood
into the life of this
emerging infant.
You take away the darkness
and bring forth the light.
All right, mate.
Lovely job.
From the fruits
of one man's fierce struggle
against the elements
comes... gold.
No word from anorak city?
I'm gonna have to
see Fran tomorrow.
And Mom.
I'm surprised more people
aren't worried.
Um, Frans' been
asking after you.
She's obviously
getting Fran-tic.
No, you. You-you.
Not the other you.
Not Justine.
Fran's been asking about Jake?
I think she's got a friend
who wants to meet you.
She's bloody match-making?
I've gone missing
and she's trying to line up
the new me with some girl?
I wonder who.
Just imagine
the possibilities.
Sex-change operations
without the snip.
No-knife cosmetic surgery.
Reconstruct...
- Is that him?
- No.
Ours is taller, blond hair,
much cuter.
More blokes should be like you.
Alex is such a wanker.
He's a mate. Sort of.
How can you say that?
He treats you like shit.
You fancied him, remember?
Anyway, if he wasn't a mate,
everyone would treat me
like shit.
Breast implants,
they'd become antiques.
Silicone shares
would plummet.
All because
we could build breasts.
Big breasts.
Huge breasts.
Just like that.
Would you believe it?
Sixty-eight inch tits.
They reckon she
killed a bloke with them once.
Accidental like.
Oi, spaz, go nick
some of Frank's vodka.
That's ridiculous.
I mean, look, they're just
big bags of silicone jelly.
How can that be sexy?
You really are a bum bandit,
aren't you, Jakey? Huh?
I bet you've never
had your hands on a pair
of real tits in your life.
You'd be surprised.
Oh, yeah.
How many babes
you got naked with, then?
Lost count.
You're full of shit.
You couldn't handle
a real woman
if she came with
the instructions
printed on her ass.
And you couldn't
find her G-spot with
a map and a compass.
Okay, then.
So, tell me, Dr. Love,
-how many women
have you actually...
-Eighteen.
-All the way?
-All the way.
Down and dirty.
Done the business. Bosh.
Heh. I've even had Hoover.
Oh, congratulations.
I hear she's starting
her own newsletter.
Chas has
never had any girl.
Not in real life,
have you, Chas?
Of course, he says he has
because no bloke over 12
is going to admit
that he's a virgin.
Me,
I've had virgins, loads.
Done my share
of cherry picking.
-Had that Fran.
-Fran?
Mmm.
And her mate.
What's her name, Justine.
I had her, too.
Quiet ones
are always the best.
First date,
done her doggy style.
You don't know how close I came
to making a major mistake.
Probably would have
slept with Alex if he
played his cards right.
Why do girls
go for guys like Alex?
I guess
we're just programmed...
I've never had
a girlfriend, ever.
Not even kissed a girl.
Not properly.
You've just got to
keep zapping those barcodes.
Maybe I should try
and be more like Alex.
No.
He gets girls.
Lots of girls.
-I don't.
-You're different.
You're a nice guy.
-Nice guys don't get laid.
-Well...
-And I'm a geek.
-Geeky's good.
Geeky's very trendy.
Enormously cool guys
spend a lot of money
looking geeky.
-Jarvis Cocker.
-There's cool-geeky,
and there's geeky-geeky.
I'm only ever going
to be geeky-geeky.
-Are you positive?
-Without a shadow.
He is gorgeous.
Oh, he's perfect.
Better than perfect.
He's ours.
We're gonna
need to talk to him.
We're going to need
to kidnap him.
Oi, Jake!
-You're Jake, right?
-Fran!
How do you know my name?
I guessed. You're famous.
You're as beautiful
as everyone says you are.
Look at you
with the Hallmark tongue.
There's somebody here
I want you to meet.
Oi, cock, these lights change,
I may have to kill ya.
Go around, double back here.
Okay. I stop,
you get out, throw him in.
Simple. Operation Snatch.
I'm not sure.
I don't know if I can do this.
Okay.
Here's a little visionary motivation thing
for you to be thinking about.
You accidentally
made lover boy.
There's no reason,
once we've got
the technology straight,
you couldn't, on purpose,
make one for yourself.
Fran,
this is gonna sound weird,
but there's something
I've got to tell you.
It's about someone
we both know.
-Yeah.
-A mutual friend.
-It's just...
-Hi.
Stop!
Oh, no.
- Go on, get out!
Grab him!
-They've killed him!
Drive! Drive,
you bloody idiot! Drive!
Bastard!
Is he okay?
Someone call an ambulance.
It was instant,
like an emotional cattle prod.
First sight,
and my barcode went boing.
He's the one.
He's my jigsaw piece.
If God gave me an Identi-kit,
I couldn't build a better man.
Perfect. Makes my eggs ache.
I did tell you.
Fran has an eye.
Are you family?
-Not yet.
-Well, then, get out.
No visitors.
This is so amazing.
This is so bad.
There's two of us.
- There's two of you.
-She didn't disappear.
I didn't disappear.
I mean... So, who am I?
-What am I?
-RIT.
Reality Interface Transference.
Whoa, it's incredible.
It doesn't happen.
-It's just a theory.
-It's a nightmare.
I don't even know if I exist.
I'm not her changed into me.
But am I a part of her?
Can I go back
to being all of her?
Is she running around
with a big piece missing?
Listen to me, I'm already
calling her "her." She's me.
Now, she thinks
I'm just a bloody barcode.
He's like Brad Pitt,
Leonardo DiCaprio,
and that gorgeous goalie
from Portugal rolled into one,
to the power of ten.
Chas, you've got to help me
before those girls do
something stupid.
-We need a plan.
-Yeah.
Hey, spandex.
-Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.
-Red spandex.
-No, not red. Not red.
-It's got to be red.
No way!
Lovely ripe melons!
Come and get your melons!
I have never known
spandex to fail.
I mean, spandex never fails.
He's a Sagittarius, right?
So, according to this,
he likes his women
bright, engaging, vivacious,
curvaceous, and...
That's it.
What does that say to you?
He's desperate?
She's, like,
immune to rejection.
See, with a bloke,
when he gets the slightest
whiff of rejection,
then he's off,
tail so far between
his legs, he'll limp.
But a girl, it's like
lighter fuel on a barbecue.
A girl's not going
to take no for an answer
if she's sure that
she and he are meant to be
because she knows
he's not in touch
with his feelings.
See, Justine thinks she knows
more about me than I do.
She doesn't even know
that she is me.
Hoover's been asking after you.
Oh, Christ, this is horrible.
Yeah, right.
Two of the highest rated babes
in modern history fancy you.
Must be murder.
What do you mean, two babes?
Hoover and Justine.
Justine's a babe?
I'm a babe?
Where's
the bloody linesman?
White witchcraft
can only be used for good.
If the man whose love you seek
is meant for you,
white witchcraft
can open his eyes.
-But if he's wrong...
-He's right.
You'll need a lock of his hair,
and a jar of his
morning breath.
Lads' night out. I love it!
When are we gonna dance?
You know, you really should
wear your hair back.
A blob of gel
would make all the difference,
make your face look,
I don't know, so much more...
-Don't do that.
-Okay, okay, sorry.
Hey, Alex, when are we
gonna dance?
I don't think
his empty pint pot
is the same as
a jar of his morning breath.
I have
every faith this will work.
I have every faith
this will work.
Into a flame of beeswax
and myrrh that burns in
the oxygen of his breath.
Introduce strands of his hair,
and an image of myself
crafted in rice paper.
We just stand
and drink all night?
We don't dance?
When the slow ones come on,
then you can try and cop off.
Are you serious?
You ask a girl to dance,
and she says no.
Just say you weren't
really asking, you were
only taking the piss.
Dancing, you get your hand
on the ass of a girl,
if she don't move it,
you're in, guaranteed.
Don't offer
to buy her mates a drink.
They'll take advantage,
order double Malibus,
cost you a fortune.
Don't sing to the record.
Make sure she's facing
away from her mates.
Try talking dirty.
Have a wank before you dance,
else you'll get a stiffy.
This can work straight away
or there can be
a time trigger factor.
Look, it's working.
Go on, get in there, girl,
while he's under the influence.
Ask him to dance.
Go on, get in there, girl.
Hi, Jake, you wanna dance?
Sharon the sorceress said
my power might confuse him.
And she also said that
cat spittle was precious.
Look, I hate to be the one
who has to tell you this,
but sooner or later,
you've got to admit defeat.
Remember, you were going to
wait for a guy to whisk you off
on a magic carpet,
not go out and stalk one
with bags of compost
sewn into your knickers.
It's a very a rare type
of leaf mold, actually.
What is it about Hoover?
-Do you feel it
when she looks at you?
-She doesn't.
I had a lump in my throat,
and then I felt my willie
start to, you know...
It was like it had
a life of its own.
I could feel it pulsating.
Sharon said the dazed thing
was a really good sign.
-You just rang Sharon?
-Well, part of the deal
is a mid-spell helpline.
So, Sharon suggested a new
chanting and potion package.
In all those years
Hoover and I did
nutritional science together,
you know, I just thought
she was a pain.
I kept thinking of her
as a real waste of space.
Now, I just
keep thinking of her...
I keep thinking of her naked.
Jake's either gay,
or else he's got
the hots for Hoover.
She's certainly got
the hots for him.
Hoover has?
Nah, he's too classy
to fall for her methods.
She just offered to show him
the washing instructions
on her duvet.
He's way above all that.
No!
Oi, Alex, mate, there's
a bird outside who wants
to speak to you about me.
No girl's ever asked me
how to cop off with
another bloke before.
-Usually, they want
to cop off with me.
-I did.
I mean, I used to.
Then, I met Jake.
Oh, he's a right poof.
He's going out with Hoover.
No.
I need to know
what she's got I haven't.
Jake's going out with Hoover?
Bastard.
Why can she
get any bloke?
Who, Hoover?
Well, she's the Sierra Cosworth
of babes, isn't she?
High performance,
great handling,
universally recognized
as a goer of the first order.
She's got pedigree.
So, what, he thinks that Hoover
makes him look good?
Yeah, for sure.
Mister-Lover-Lover-
Stud-You-Like.
And me?
Rumor has it,
you're not out of the box yet.
What rumor?
Has Jake ever talked about me?
Did Jake say
that he thought
that I was virgin?
Well, I wouldn't like to say
exactly what he said, you know.
Code of honor and all that.
Do you think he'd fancy me
if I wasn't a virgin?
Well, basically,
it would depend on
who you've done it with.
You'd have to have
done the deed with a bloke
who had pedigree himself.
A bloke with caliber.
Go on, son, knob it.
Sorry.
Pina colada, passion fruit,
banana, Swiss chocolate,
rum n' raisin, smokey bacon...
Smokey bacon?
God.
What are you doing here?
-What are you?
-Oh, like it's
any of your business.
I just thought you should be
aware the whole sixth form,
most of the lower school,
Newsroom South East
know you're planning
to sleep with Alex.
Why should I be the only one
without a sex life?
-But with Alex?
-I thought he was your hero.
I thought he was
a big, big mate.
Good man, Chas.
Yeah, good man. Yeah.
Justine, it's just something
you shouldn't rush into.
Well,
by all accounts,
you certainly haven't.
You should take some time
to think about it.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
I've heard the speech
a trillion times
from my mom, from Fran,
the whole Moral Majority
conspiracy.
"You don't want
to look back and regret it.
Save it for someone special."
Blah, blah, blah.
If I listen to you lot,
I'll end up on Ricki Lake
in the "I waited so long
it grew over" show.
So, super stud,
I think I fancy
a French tickler.
-And a lube tube.
-Justine.
I know this is just some sort
of reaction thing to Jake.
Jake. As far as I'm concerned,
that boy's history.
What I need now
is a nurse's uniform,
some handcuffs,
and a cock ring.
-Blimey, what's a cock ring?
-Justine...
-Some lemon meringue
nipple arouser.
-Justine.
Jake is you.
You invented him.
He's your
perfect man, remember?
Remember the expo
you went to with me?
Oh, God. God, those
awful machines.
Those anoraks.
A sea of little anoraks.
Remember the Narcissus machine?
No, I don't.
-Sad boy stuff.
-You went into a machine,
designed your perfect man,
then something went wrong.
Look, what I do with my body
is my business, okay?
Just bug off!
Something went wrong
with the machine.
A bit of you broke off
and got stuck inside.
-Not something
you brought here, I trust?
-What?
Justine, I know you remember.
I know this isn't you.
We offer a free gift
for every purchase over 20.
Your choices are
a nipple piercing voucher
or a marzipan muff glove.
This bloody is me.
You know nothing.
You don't know me.
I'll make it
the muff glove, then.
Justine, what's happened to you
is called Reality Interface
Transference.
-Theoretically,
the pixelated...
-Oi, shut up! I'm sick of it.
I'm sick of your pathetic
Star Trekfantasy shit!
Grow up, for Christ's sake.
Even if you
just enter adolescence,
that would be a start.
It doesn't matter
what you say to me.
All that matters is
you don't go and do
something you regret.
Why should I listen to you?
I've made up my mind.
Chas, look around you.
Everybody's growing up.
It's scary, I know.
It's even more scary
when it's not happening to you.
Don't try and hold
everyone else back.
Look at yourself,
Chas. Your anorak,
your stupid computer games.
I mean, what woman
is ever going to want
to sleep with you, huh?
With Alex? Bad choice.
Bad choice? That's it?
Calm down. Don't get
so worked up.
I know Justine, remember?
She won't go through with it.
Her standards are way too high.
She wants wooing,
the whole
magic carpet treatment.
Alex isn't up for all that.
So why has she just bought
40's worth of condoms
and sex toys?
She's desperate,
wants to make you jealous.
Thinks shagging Alex will
make you want her.
-Dumb plan.
-Yeah.
Well, I've had it with you two,
both of you.
Now I wash my hands of it all.
If she wants to shag Alex,
she's welcome.
We've got to stop her.
You've got to stop her.
Somewhere inside, you are her.
You've got to know
how to stop her.
Jake...
Well,
a Liverpool scientist
believes that
a woman is
at her most alluring
when she's most fertile.
Justine! It's Alex!
Hubba, hubba.
Topmost totty.
Wow.
This is the most romantic night
of my entire life.
It's so perfect.
-I know.
-What?
It's too perfect, isn't it?
Every detail's too good.
No, no, it's magnificent.
You're magnificent.
It's just weird, that's all.
-It's like you've read my mind.
-Read my mind.
I have.
-It's like, you know
everything I'm thinking.
-Everything I'm thinking.
Even before
I've thought it.
It's like you've...
Been inside my head
and taken notes.
Who are you?
Justine, it's okay.
It's no big deal.
It's weird, but it's okay.
It's like what Chas
was trying to tell you
before you scythed through
his fragile manhood.
I am you.
You invented me.
I was trying not to hurt you.
I didn't know
what to do. I mean...
Well, how do you tell someone
something like that?
Oh, this is great.
This is so great.
At last,
I think I'm getting somewhere.
The man of my dreams
starts acting like one,
and then...
Shit, shit, shit,
shit, shit, shit!
Then, he goes and tells me
he's a product of
my imagination.
Shit!
Jake!
Where is he?
What's this?
An identity tag off
a computer arcade machine.
Who's Narcissus?
The wrong answer could cost you
the prospect of fatherhood!
An electronics company
who manufacture
a cosmetic makeover machine.
Makeover?
What you said about me
creating Jake was true?
Far as I know, yes.
You mean that Jake...
That thing is running around
with me... With my...
My what, my soul inside him?
This is all a plot, isn't it?
You and your
computer freak friends
get some sort of sick pleasure
out of making me feel like
Sigourney Weaver,
like some alien's
about to come
bursting out my bum.
I was gagging for him.
I really thought he was my...
I could have...
I would have...
If I had,
it would have been, like,
the worst sort of incest,
-It would have been...
-Look, we'll find
the Narcissus people.
-Then, we'll take Jake
around to them and...
-They've already got him.
I thought we were
just going to ask him
a few questions,
do a test or two.
There may not be time.
He could decompose,
dematerialize. Who knows?
What's that?
Dihydrothriptamazine.
Subconscious paint stripper.
We need to understand
how he's bolted together
if we're ever
to recreate the process.
It won't do any damage,
will it? Upstairs?
Science can be cruel.
But we need to assess
how much female
is left in his memory.
Though, to be honest,
it's not his brain
I'm interested in.
- Shit.
- What?
What's happening to me?
I'll get it sorted.
I promise.
I'm sorry
what I said about you.
I mean, stuff about...
You know, no woman ever...
I'll boot up and input
the serial number.
I didn't mean it.
I was just...
Once we've got
the number match,
we'll get an address.
Can I have a hug?
What?
Doesn't matter.
She's been up there
a long time.
It's gone very quiet.
He's got a girl in his room.
With a bag, a sack of condoms.
Flavored ones.
The obvious
parts of his body
that are not female
may or may not function
normally in a male sense.
Well, how are you
gonna test that?
Electrical impulses
of varying voltage.
Another spasm?
Jesus. God. Shit!
Shit! That felt like...
That was like... Someone...
That's their van!
You know, this is already
trespass with intent.
We could be
in a lot of trouble.
The images show
he has a recurring dream
about being
a female warrior called Marlin.
This is epic.
We are so in the big time.
There's some pretty
weird stuff about a pony.
Christ,
what are they doing to him?
To me.
I'll make a diversion.
You climb down the rope
and get him to the car.
I'm the school nerd, remember?
People make fun of my clothes.
Okay. Can you make a diversion?
Um, all right, all right.
Shit.
Wow! Nice diversion, Chas.
Oh, man.
- Who's that?
- The little maggot.
Ah-ha!
Those lovely horses...
- What's the matter with him?
- Totally off his face!
Okay. Okay. Keep calm.
Isabelle Clarkson Gives Head
Between Maths Revision
Seminars.
Ignition, clutch,
gear, hand-brake...
Oops.
- Gate, gate, gate, gate!
- I know.
Oops.
-I was a paramedic working on
a helicopter rescue squad.
-What's he on about?
Brad Pitt was the pilot.
We were maneuvering
-to touch down
on the helipad of an oil rig.
-What?
That's a dream.
That's my dream.
Me and Brad in
a 999-rescue chopper squad.
Oil from the rig erupted,
and started to gush out
all over the place.
This is so spooky.
Chas showed me
his greenfly larvae
under a microscope.
What?
You had a dream about me?
Oh, shit!
You had a dream about me?
I was a zookeeper and Chas
was a famous entomologist.
Whoa! Maybe I should drive.
-Why?
-It's bloke stuff.
My coordination is better.
Bollocks.
You're scared of
your dad's Volvo, remember?
Scared of bumping things.
That was the old me.
Bumping things is good.
Maybe we should have a frieze.
Sorry, sorry.
I don't know how we're
gonna get that machine into
the house. It weighs a ton.
We're never gonna be
able to lift it in.
Don't you think
we should slow down?
We could slide it in.
-Slide?
-Slide...
-Slow down.
-Like this.
So, what do you reckon?
It's really lovely.
Congratulations, Ms. Parker.
You have passed.
Oh, my God, I was having
the most amazing dream.
Where are we?
Where are my clothes?
Why am I naked?
Oh, goodness, so you are.
I hadn't noticed.
Probably
something for college.
Ooh, there's
a bit broken off.
- Hello, love.
- You all right, Chas?
Mmm. Frank,
any chance of borrowing
your soldering iron?
Yes, of course.
-Hello.
-Hello.
-Hello.
-Hi.
Hello.
Yeah, we've got a picture.
I'm so bummed out.
I thought I'd found the right one,
my barcode jigsaw piece.
Now I've got to
start all over again.
God, girl.
Will you give it a rest
with the barcode crap?
I mean, who says
there is a right one?
Books, films, poetry, history.
-Fran.
-Fran? Jesus.
Look, being
a bloke's a laugh-ish.
Though, God knows
I wouldn't want
to be one for long.
Being a girl
who lives a doctrine
according to Fran is insanity.
I think...
I think it's ready.
-Are you sure
you want to do this?
-No, I'm not sure.
All I know is
I'm a non-person.
I don't exist.
I just wanna go back
to being me before I forget
what being me feels like.
I'm going to miss you.
Not necessarily.
Pull the lever, eagle.
Lips.
Voluptuous.
Nose. Button.
Male.
Body toning selected.
Resize selected.
Rugged.
Blue. Blond.
Photoreal.
All right. All you've got
to do now is delete.
Save? Delete? Copy?
Oh, hold on.
This is madness.
You're the most gorgeous guy
I've ever met.
And what? I'm just
gonna stab a button
and get rid of you?
This can't be right. Surely.
I created
the most perfect looking guy.
You still don't get it, do you?
"Perfect looking guy."
There's no such thing
as the perfect guy.
Jigsaw piece, barcode,
any of that stuff.
It's all wrong.
And I'm only perfect because
this is what you want me
to look like.
You're not looking
for a partner.
You're looking
for an ego extension,
someone who meets
all your criteria.
Now, push the button.
It's taken me forever
to find a bloke I can
even just talk to talk to.
Talk to Chas.
I'm not a bloke, not inside.
I'm you, remember?
I like being you.
I just didn't know it
at the time.
That has to be another way.
Chas, push the button, please.
I can't.
I'm on the wrong circuit.
This is crazy.
If I get rid of you,
I'm right back where I started.
Exactly.
Only this time, you can be
the Justine you want to be,
not the Justine
you think you need to be.
Delete.
Come on, love,
we ain't got time
for you to hatch it.
Can I sit down?
Oh, yeah.
So, how're you doing?
I'm fine. Fine.
-Yeah. No. Good. I'm good.
-Good.
-And you?
-Yeah, I'm good.
Well, no. Fine.
Yeah, I'm fine.
Do you miss him?
Kind of. But I feel
like he's still here.
Do you know I mean?
That sounds stupid.
It's just...
I feel stronger, different.
Yeah, me too.
-You know, I did. I just...
-Oh, God. Um, look it's Fran.
All right. Yeah.
I'd better get off anyway.
Yeah, I just wanted to say...
Well, it's mad, really.
It's just that when I'm near,
when I see you,
I really like...
No. This is so stupid.
I just really like
the way you smell.
Hi. Hi.
What happened to his anorak?
I like the way you smell.
Can you believe
anyone would say that?
When you grow up,
don't ever, ever listen
to your big brother.
He'll be the sad bastard
everyone crosses the street
to avoid.
We're off to Bonanza.
Don't keep her awake too long.
And if Alex has to come around,
don't let him smoke
Frank's cigars.
Hey, love, have you
got my spurs on?
It's Thursday. Oh, no. Alex.
Hi. Alex couldn't make it.
Can I ask
your opinion on something?
Yeah.
The question is,
mouth open or mouth closed?
What?
Now, that is
lips slightly parted.
And this is mouth open.
I just want to know
which one's best.
What was the first one again?
Strange how
a little female attention
can make
all the difference to a bloke,
no matter how geeky.
Didn't take any time
before Chas did
the caterpillar thing.
You know, shrugged off
his ugly old cocoon
and blossomed into
a beautiful butterfly.
Or is it a moth?
Anyway, with a bit of practice,
Chas got really good
at kissing.
In fact, that boy
could snog for Europe.
And he got a lot of practice.
We lasted five months,
five great months.
After me, he practiced Rachel,
and Sarah, then Louise.
He even practiced
with slutty Tina.
Fran, bless her.
She devoted her energies to falling hopelessly in love
with totally inappropriate,
totally unavailable men.
And Hoover...
Well, Hoover just goes on
honing her craft.
As for Alex,
now, there's a turner.
Who'd have thought
my little sister, Lucy,
could tame the beast?
And me?
Yeah, well, I did
do it with Chas.
It was kind of about time,
and it was good.
No. It was lovely.
I mean, I didn't find
a mate for life or anything,
but that's okay.
Would've been
a bit boring if I had.
At least, though,
when I look back,
I won't be thinking,
"Oh, why did I do it with him?"
I'll be thinking,
"Chas.
Oh, what a sweetheart!"