Jeremy Makes It

Jeremy Makes It is the eighth episode of the British sitcom Peep Show. It originally aired on November 19, 2004. Lines in parentheses represent internal monologues spoken by the characters via voice-over.

[A gathering of people in an outdoor courtyard]

Toni: So, stop all the clocks, Toni and Tony are getting remarried!

Tony: Sure, we made a few mistakes first time, but now we've got the chance to make them all over again!

Toni: Already with the jokes. At least one of us is serious about giving us a fucking go! [Toni storms off]

Super Hans: So long, Toni. You did, didn't you?

Jez: Oh, yeah. And you did, obviously.

Super Hans: Ooh, yeah. Spicy!

Jez: Clinical, more like. [notices Super Hans preparing a pipe] What you got in there?

Super Hans: A bit of crack.

Jez: Crack? Crack, Super Hans?

Super Hans: Relax, it's not Blue Peter. Just a nice relaxing smoke of crack.

Jez: Oh, my Lord! Oh, my fucking life. It isn't? It bloody is! Gog!

Super Hans: Gog?

Jez: Gog. At school, if you had to sneeze you'd run up and do it in his face. Gog!

Gog: Jeremy. What are you doing here?

Jez: Wouldn't you like to know, you big prick! So what are you doing?

Gog: Just running the business, you know hiring, firing and perspiring.

Jez: Business! Look at you, with your wine and your jacket, just like a real person! Remember when we made you wank off Perchy's dog for a fiver? What are you doing, really?

Gog: Like I said, business. Going public in April. User names. And I’m overseeing the edit on my first short. Honda are very interested.

Jez: What, so you're actually successful?

Gog: Looks like it, yeah. Just come back from three hours trying to find som music for our soundtrack that doesn't completely suck arse.

Jez: But, Gog, I'm music! I make music!

Gog: Right. Well, maybe we should meet up, have a chat some time.

Jez: Of course we should meet up some time and have a chat. Look, here's Super Hans. We can do the music, can't we, Super Hans?

Super Hans: Tell you what, that crack is really moreish.

Mark: (Saturday shift! I thought we had people in Ireland to do this for us. Lovely trustworthy voices.) …if I can call at a more convenient -- ok, bye. (Mmm, Sophie, with her lovely soft face. Jeff! Can't believe they're doing the Stockport contract! Perfect excuse for him to get her round to his place, and I'm stuck with the new guy.

Jeff: See you later, gays!

Mark: What?!

Jeff: See you later, guys. Soph, see you at my place. 33 Ringfield Road. You bring the vino. I've got the massage oil!

Mark: (He hasn't got any massage oil. He's trying to make me obsess about massage oil. And it's worked. Break with the newbie will be a pain fest, trying to chat. Maybe I'll say I'm very upset and go and sit on the loo and just never explain.) [Daryl crumples up a piece of paper and throws it at Mark, hitting him in the head.] (Huh? Oh, God, he's taunting me! I should've made him a cup of tea when I had one.) [Daryl makes a funny face and smiles at Mark] (Hurrah! It was a joke! A hilarious joke!)

Daryl: Sure you don't need a loan? Maybe for some therapy to help you shpeak pwoperly. Huh? Ok, bye. He'd already hung up.

Mark: Oh! Right!

Daryl: I don't know about you, but I'm so bored I could eat a fucking stapler!

[Mark is looking down and a handful of crumpled papers that he is preparing to throw at Daryl, who is barricaded behind water jugs]

Mark: (This is crazy. I should be working, but I'm not.) Ha-ha! I see you!

Daryl: I'm Barnes Wallis, you're the Ruhr!

Mark: (I'm the Ruhr and no-one's actually said the word "Dambusters"! This is bloody brilliant! I'm having fun! And I'm not thinking about Sophie!)

[Daryl and Mark stand outside of Ian Krauss’s office door]

Daryl: Go on.

Mark: I can't!

Daryl: Just imagine it's lan's cock.

Mark: [Mark laughs hysterically as he tacks a sausage to Ian Krauss’s office door] (I've got a friend! I've made a friend! Maybe there's nothing wrong with me and I'm just a normal human being!)

[At Gog’s apartment, Gog and Jez sit listening to Jez’s track]

Jez: (I can't believe I'm pitching to Gog. I hope he doesn't know it was me who did the shit in his mum's airing cupboard. Please like my music, you lanky wanker! Please, please let me do the music for your Honda film.)

[Gog picks up a remote and turns the music off]

Gog: Want another beer?

Jez: Sure.

Gog: Follow me.

Jez: He hates it. He bloody hates it.

Gog: These are my guys. They had to pull a latey, so I was all “do it round my place, I’ve got a fridge full of beers.” Plus, this way I get to keep an eye on, which is cool!

Jez: Very cool. So, about the track?

Gog: Hey you know what I fancy right now? A kebab. Will you go down and get me a kebab?

Jez: You want me to—

Gog: I want a kebab.

Jez: What, really?

Gog: No! Why, were you going to go and get me one?

Jez: No!

Gog: I can't believe you were going to get me a kebab!

Jez:  I wasn't!

Gog: Well, I want one now.

Jez: Right. Really?

Gog: No! I'm shitting you, Jez! Jesus!

Jez: Right, so, about the soundtrack. Can I do the soundtrack?

Gog: I'm talking to a number of people, Jez. But if I do pick you, what I want is something classic. Remember the theme tune from Jaws? Well, I don't want anything like that, obviously, I want something completely different. I want something that when people hear it, they'll immediately go, ‘yeah’.

Jez: Right. (What shall I write? Can't just put "Not Jaws". Do pretend writing.)

Gog: Are you pretending to write?

Jez: No.

[At JLB Credit, Mark, Alan Johnson, and an HR rep sit at a table with the sausage from Ian Krauss’s door at the center.]

Mark: It's really, I honestly didn't see anyone. (Shit, what if they bring in forensics?) [Mark picks up the sausage and sets it down again immediately.] Oh, hell, I probably shouldn't have done that, should I? My prints'll be all over it now.

Johnson: Yeah, well, it's very embarrassing. And since lan Krauss is of German extraction, it has to be treated as a racial incident.

Mark: Ian's a--? A racial incident? But why?

Johnson: Oh, come on, Mark. Germans? Sausages? Do I have to spell it out? The sausage-munching bosch. Fritz, the bratwurst guzzler.

Mark: Of course. Horrible.

[At Mark and Jez’s flat, Mark and Daryl sit in the living room watching tv]

Daryl: And they're treating it as a racial incident? Bloody hell, next you won't be able to get a black coffee from the coffee machine.

Mark: Exactly! And they'll have a bloody EU banana-straightening machine to straighten all the bananas!

Daryl: Hey, there's already a banana-straightening machine. It's called woman. I mean you take that Sophie, right, going over to Jeff's like that right in your face. You’ve got the admit, that is the behavior of a world-class bitch.

Mark: Heh heh, yeah! (Go on, say it. I'm gonna say it!) Yeah, I suppose she is a bit of a… bitch.

Daryl: Too right. Ask Clarkson. Clarkson knows.

Mark: Good old Clarkson.

Daryl: People like fast cars, they like females with big boobies and they don't want the euro and that's all there is to it.

Mark: I'm not that hungry. Do you want anything? [hands Daryl a Chinese takeout menu]

Daryl: Don't really fancy a Chinky. Have you got a pizza menu?

Mark: About a million!

Daryl: I'd like to see 'em run like that carrying real Sten guns.

Mark: Yeah? Do you know about--?

Daryl: Just re-enactments. It's cool, we do like WW2 stuff. Can be a hell of a laugh, you know, just guys together.

Mark: Re-enactments? (They probably sound more fun than they really are. Like Laser Quest.) Another beergee?

Daryl: Lock and load!

[Mark enters the kitchen to see Super Hans using his crack pipe]

Mark: (God, what is he taking? Better not disturb him, he might attack me and be sick, ugh) Jeremy?

Jez: What?

Mark: What's Hans doing?

Jez: He's honking on his crack pipe.

Mark: Crack?! I've got company!

Jez: Oh, relax! "Oh, I'm Mark, I'm in the '80s, I'm dying of heroin in a puddle in the corner in an advert!" Drugs are fine, Mark, everyone agrees now. Drugs are what happen to people, and that's fine, so shut up.

Mark: Look, I don't want to make a scene but I really—

[Jez receives a text notification and pulls out his phone]

Jez: A- ha-ha-hah!

Mark: What?

Jez: It's Gog, I got the commission!

Mark: Well, congratulations.

Jez: Shove it up your arsel Shove it up your arsel I've got a commission! It's big and it's fat and it's going right up your white-bread arse!

Mark: Jez, for God's sake, I'm pleased for you!

Jez: Oh yeah sure you are, so pleased that I've gone straight to the finish line on my enormous bike, while you're still jogging along for miles in the rat race with you and all the other rats.

Mark: Exactly. I think it's great.

Jez: Great! So you won't mind if I take you out for an incredibly expensive meal to celebrate.

Mark: I'm not that hungry.

Jez: Bollocks. We're going.

[At an Indian restaurant, Mark and Jez sit at a table while Daryl walks away to pick up drinks]

Jez: Why did you have to bring Daryl? He's a bit boring, isn't he?

Mark: Boring? What, cos he doesn't go around with a haircut and an iPod and piercings and a strap-on?

Jez: Strap-on?

Mark: It's an example.

[A waiter brings food to the table]

Jez: Uh sorry, excuse me, I ordered three pilau rice and three peshwari naans.

Mark: It's all right, Jeremy, it's all right, I changed the order, there's always rice left.

Jez: It's not all right. Bring us three pilau rice and four peshwari naans, please. I've shared enough rice with you, Mark. I'm in the big league now.

Mark: Four naan, Jeremy? Four? That's insane.

Jez: So, what am I going to pay you to do in my band?

Mark: That's very kind of you Jez, but you don't want to overstretch yourself.

Jez: Bollocks. I'm a very generous guy. Daryl's bringing his cor anglais, Nancy's singing, what are you going to do?

Mark: Heh, well, we did once talk about me doing a kind of Jean-Michel Jarre thing on the keyboards.

Jez: Mm-hm. Or, I was sort of hoping you'd say you want to be the manager. Yeah? You could order me around, which you'd enjoy, but I'd be your boss. Could be kind of confusing, in a good way.

[Daryl returns to the table with beers]

Daryl: Three more beers for the Three Musketeers, eh? [they stack fists in the center of the table] Ooh! Aaaaah!

''[Mark, Jez, and Daryl are in the back of a cab. Daryl holds an orange road construction cone]''

Daryl: Aah Ey, check this out, right? Sexy girl walks past, it's like--- [he tilts the cone up to simulate getting an erection]

Mark: [Mark grabs the cone to speak through like a bullhorn] That's not funny, Daryl. Repeat, not funny!

Jez: Oh, come on, lads, let's lose the cone. I'm a somebody now, there's no need for a cone.

Mark & Daryl: Ooh!

Mark: Too good for the cone, are we? We're having a laugh, Jeremy, a bloody good laugh! Bet we're having a much better time than Sophie is right now.

Daryl: Ey! Course we are, mate, course we are! I'll tell you what. I'll tell you where we should go now.

[The cab idles at the curb as Mark and Daryl creep across a suburban lawn in the dark]

Mark: What are we gonna do?

Daryl: Fuck him up!

Mark: We should check the doorbell's working nice and loud, yeah?

Daryl: Or, or we could make a special delivery for Jeff Heaney. [grabs rock from ground]

Mark: Daryl, what are you? [Daryl hurls the rock at the house] No! Don't! Oh fuck! [An unknown man appears at the broken window] Oh piss. [At the window above, Sophie and Jeff appear together] Oh crumbs.

[In the sound recording booth, Mark sits with the sound booth worker while Jez, Super Hans, Nancy, and Daryl prepare to record]

Jez: (What am I gonna tell Gog? What happened to all the time? Where did all the time go? We had loads of time!)

Super Hans: What we need to do is create a powerful sense of dread. [Holds down on one key on the keyboard.] See, the longer the note, the more dread.

Jez: (God that's terrible. It's worse than Daryl's bloody cor anglais. Oh they're useless. I wish they were all robots. I wish I was a robot. Maybe I could punch through a wall.) Yeah, ok. Right, ready? One, two, three, let's go!

Nancy: [singing] Watch out, they're gonna get you, they're gonna get you, baby, they're coming after you, watch your back, they're gonna get you, they're comin' after you-ou.

Jez: Look, no, all right? That's not shit, but just no. [Super Hans lights up his crack pipe] Hans, you realize we've only got 39 minutes left.

Super Hans: Oh, right so now we're working it's not ok for me to smoke my crack?

Jez: Yes, exactly. Exactly.

Super Hans: What, so next you're gonna boot me out for not wearing a jacket and tie?

Mark: Jez, is there anything I can--?

Jez: It's under control, Mark, ok, everything’s under control, will you please get back behind the glass?

Mark: But, as your manager, I just—

Jez: Just get back behind the glass. There is a very clear, if invisible line, here be beauty, there be pie charts. Ok?

Sound booth worker: Look, I've been here since eight, I'm just going to go grab a coffee.

Super Hans: Yeah well, if you're leaving now, don't even fucking dream of coming back!

Jez: Oh, God!

[Daryl and Mark are in uniform at a military reenactment scene]

Daryl: I mean, obviously, a band isn't an army, but you need some organisation.

Mark: Exactly my feeling. Exactly.

Daryl: I mean, democracy's all very well, but it's weak and it's decadent. You need a strong leader.

Mark: Uh…

Daryl: I'm in character.

Mark: Oh! Uh, yes, yes, right. Yes. The Fatherland needs the Fuhrer. (Oh God, I'm even boring when I'm a Nazi.)

Daryl: Jesus! Classic rubbernecker. Absolutely no interest in military history. Might as well be checking out fucking seed drills in a farm museum.

Mark: Still, it's nice to get out of the city, isn't it?

Daryl: Oh yeah, it's nice to get away from it all, isn’t it, the work, the smog, the graffiti.

Mark: Yeah, the traffic, the noise, the hassle.

Daryl: Car alarms, the cashpoints, the blacks, the Pakis, the Jews.

Mark: Oh uh, yeah, yeah. I mean, that's what we all want, a racially pure nation.

Daryl: Exactly. I mean all we're saying is England for the English, right?

Mark: You mean Germany for the Germans? You mean-- this is -- are we--?

Daryl: Rights for whites. That's not too much to ask, is it?

Mark: Is this real now?

Daryl: We're on the same wavelength, right? Everyone thinks it, the difference is, we're not afraid to say it.

Mark: (Oh, shit. Oh, bollocks. Of course, I can't just make a nice, normal friend. Oh, no, that would be far too simple.)

[A reenactment actor dressed as a German officer approaches]

Daryl: [Daryl gives a Nazi salute] Heil Hitler!

Mark: [Mark waves] Uh, heil.

Reenactment actor: You're not supposed to do that, Daryl! You know you're not supposed to do that!

[At Mark and Jez’s flat, Mark and Jez sit in the living room talking]

Jez: Yeah I was really, really, really pleased with the track, you know, once we got that weird hiss off. I mean, you'll never get it off entirely, but, you know.

Mark: Uh-huh. (I've got to cut the link. Daryl is definitely beyond.)

Jez: So, rest of the money should be rolling in soon, which is just as well!

Mark: Uh-huh. (Or maybe I'm just overreacting. Maybe everyone does it now, and it's cool and Ali G and I'm just an old stick-in-the-mud, as usual.)

Jez: Mark, like I said, sorry if I was a bit of a cock-muncher down the studio.

Mark: Fine. It's totally fine, mate. Honestly. Listen, I might pop -- just pop down the uh, Chinky. Do you want anything?

Jez: From-- uh no I'm all right, thanks.

Mark : What about from the Paki shop? Do you want anything from in there?

Jez: The "Paki shop"?

Mark: Yeah, I don't normally go there. They've always got that wog box on.

Jez: Mark, what the hell are you talking about?

Mark: Yeah. That's not on, is it? What I said, it's not all right, is it?

Jez: Well, no.

Mark: And obviously you don't think there's a global Jewish conspiracy controlling everything?

Jez: What, you mean, am I a racist?

Mark: Yeah. If you think that and say those things, you're a racist, aren't you?

Jez: Well yeah.

Mark: As it turns out, Daryl is a racist.

Jez: You're sure he's a proper – you know, it wasn't just racist horseplay?

Mark: No, because I was in the tent with him for ages and we talked for a long time, and it was mostly on racial classifications - head measurements and so on.

Jez: Wow.

Mark: I feel terrible. Do you think I should confront him?

Jez: You mean you didn't confront him?

Mark: Yeah, no, naturally I confronted him, but maybe I should confront him again, more.

[The doorbell rings, it’s Daryl]

Mark: Tell him I'm not here!

Jez: What? Why?

Mark: Because I didn't confront him, all right?

Jez: [opens the door] Oh, hi, Daryl.

Daryl: Hey, Jez. Is Mark around?

Jez: No, he's gone out, to get a Thai curry. (Because that's what we eat nowadays while you're chomping on your racist carrots.)

[At a restaurant, Mark is seated at a table with people from work]

Mark: Hope Jeff's neighbor got the check for the window. So sorry. What happened was we were passing and I said, "Let's see if they're in, throw some stones at the window and Daryl thought I said "a stone," and the stone he picked was a brick and well he got the wrong window and you know the rest.

Daryl: Sorry I'm late, everyone. Hey, Mark, my man!

Mark: Hi.

Daryl: Hey listen, is your mobile broke? I've not been able to get you for days.

Mark: Hey, they do chicken wings! I love chicken wings.

Sophie: So, Alan, why have you got us all down here?

Alan: Well, I noticed a bit of static back in the office. Just thought we should come down here for a bit of a bonding sesh.

Sophie: Oh, right, great.

Alan: So, anyone see the game last night?

Sophie: Uh, no.

Jeff: I did. Thierry Henry made Savage look like a right carthorse!

Daryl: Brilliant, wasn't he? When are people finally gonna admit that you lot are just better at sports and that’s a simple fact?

Mark: (No no, not here. No, this can't happen!)

Alan: "You lot"?

Mark: He means guys like you who are French. He thinks you're French! I keep telling you Daryl, he's not French! Come on, let's get you a drink.

[Mark and Daryl leave the table and head to the bar]

Mark: Listen, mate, while we've got a minute - the thing is I'm busy, you're busy, I just think maybe we should stop seeing each other so much.

Daryl: What, stop being mates?

Mark: Yeah, you know, you say potato, I say tomato - let's call the whole thing off.

Daryl: But, but why?

Mark: Well, it's the 21st century, no one actually likes each other anymore, so let's just leave it at that shall we?.

Daryl: But I do like you! I think you're fucking great!

Mark: Yeah, well, I'm sorry, but I don't have time. Ok? There's no time. So let's just forget anything ever happened, ok? (It's OK, he doesn't have any feelings. Racists don't have feelings, they're subhuman.)

[In Mark’s bedroom, he plays Tetris on his computer]

Mark: (Yes, little Tetraminos, you fit neatly together and dissolve because everything is simple in Tetris world.)

Jez: Uh, Mark? I've got a massive, massive favor to ask you.

Mark: Uh-huh?

Jez: Yeah. It's, um -- the thing is, Gog, he's got some reservations about the track and he's holding out on the four grand till we get it right.

Mark: Uh-huh.

Jez: But the thing is, I've basically been very, very foolish, and I've spent all of our advance on drugs and shoes, and I really need to borrow quite a lot of money to go back into the studio and I was thinking I mean, you are the manager.

Mark: Ok, how much?

Jez: Brilliant! Now, the favor –

Mark: That's not the favor?!

Jez: Uh no. You see, the thing is, Gog he's really not very keen at all on any of the track except, as it turns out, for the cor anglais. He wants much, much more cor anglais.

Mark: No, Jeremy. You know what Daryl's like.

Jez: No, sure. Yeah. Absolutely. Of course. But look at it another way - we've all got our foibles. I mean, I, for example, hate mozzarella.

Mark: It's not the same.

Jez: It is kind of the same. I mean, aren't we supposed to be living in a multicultural democracy? And isn't that the point? You know, the Jews and the Muslims and the racists all living happily together, side by side, doing and saying whatever the hell they like?

[Back in the recording studio, Daryl is playing his cor anglais while Mark, Jez, and Super Hans observe from the sound room]

Mark: (Cor anglais, of course. Probably plays it in the BNP jazz combo.)

Jez: Brilliant, fantastic. What did you think, Hans?

Super Hans: Crack. Just gimme crack.

Jez: Well, I loved it. If you want to print one of those out, or whatever.

Mark: Jeremy, don't just go!

Super Hans: I'll suck for crack!

Jez: Yeah come on Super Hans, let's get you some crack! Tell Daryl we're very grateful.

[Mark is left alone in the sound room, with Daryl on the other side of the glass]

Daryl: Great to hear from ya! You got over whatever brain attack you had in Frankie and Benny's then?

Mark: [locks the sound room door] (I'm safe. In my cubicle, I'm safe.)

Daryl: So are we off for a pint, or what?

Mark: Uh, Daryl, listen, the truth is I can't be associated with you any more, because you're a racist.

Daryl: What? Yeah, but I thought we were on the same wavelength! You know, the sausage, the euro, Clarkson.

Mark: There's a difference. Daryl, you can't hate people because of their ethnic background!

Daryl: Oh, right. Political correctness gone mad.

Mark: No! I hate political correctness gone mad more than anyone! I don't want to teach the world to sing, that would be horrible, but slavery? The Holocaust? That's just not on! Whereas, I Have A Dream, South Africa, Benetton, it's -- you've got to say, fair enough. Yeah?

Daryl: Yeah. Ok, no. Fair enough. You've talked me round.

Mark: I have?

Daryl: Fuck off! Thought police!

Mark: (Well, there he goes. The first friend I've made since Nick Bickford in '96. And I'm pretty sure Nick didn't really like me.)

[Mark, Jez, and Super Hans walk down the hallway in Gog’s building]

Mark: Do we have to do this? We're not going to hurt him, are we?

Jez: You want your money back, don't you? He's refusing to pay up, Mark. He’s refusing to like the track.

Mark: I told you you should've had a proper contract!

Jez: How are you feeling, Super Hans?

Super Hans: Fine, totally fine.

Mark: You've kicked the crack?

Super Hans: No, except now I bang a load of Valium up me arsehole for the comedown.

[Jez rings Gog’s doorbell, and Super Hans tosses Mark a baseball]

Mark: What's this?

Super Hans: Cover. In case the cops turn up. Just a bunch of mates playing a lovely game of baseball.

[Gog opens the door]

Gog: Oh! Jeremy. Right, so, what, you've had more thoughts about the track?

Jez: Yeah, we have, actually.

Gog: Ok, great.

Jez: Yeah. We thought we might smash your brains in with a baseball bat.

Mark: I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

Jez: See, we want our money, and we're feeling a little bit clumsy. [pushes mail off of the counter onto the floor] Whoops.

Gog; Look, Jeremy, I've told you, it's out of my hands now. The Honda people are very hard to please.

Jez: Oh, Honda, Honda, Honda. Fuck Honda.

Super Hans: Nice packet of Crunchy Nut you've got here. Pretty expensive, as I recall. [pours cereal onto floor]

Jez: Not so rich and successful now with a piece of wood in your face, mmm?

Super Hans: Oi, Jez! [tosses him a piece of fruit, which he smashes with the bat]

Mark: Look, Jeremy, we can come back again, he's got the message. You're gonna pay, aren't you?

Gog: No.

Mark: All right then, we've got our answer. Let's go!

Super Hans: We've got to hurt him on principle. Hit him with the fucking bat, Jez.

Jez: Why do I have to? Why don't you do it? Punch him with the glove.

Super Hans: Punch hi-- I can't even make a fist!

Mark: This is the whole point about contract law, the whole point of a contract is to make sure this kind of thing never happens!

[Gog’s phone rings]

Jez: Don't answer it.

Gog: What if it's Honda?

Jez: It's not going to be Honda.

Super Hans: Could be Honda.

Jez: All right, but a word out of place and you're getting the bat.

Gog: Hello? Honda! Oh, really? Oh well, that's great news. I'm so pleased. Dave, call the police! There's people here, they're trying to kill me, they're trying to— [Super Hans and Jez muffle Gog with the baseball glove while handing the phone off to Mark]

Mark: Hello uh, Dave, it's Mark here. I'm an old friend of Gog's. Don't worry, we're not trying to kill him, it's just he's never had sushi before, he thought we were trying to poison him. It's all right, Gog, you're not meant to cook it, it's supposed to be raw! Can -- can he call you back?

[At JLB Credit, Sophie approaches Mark’s desk]

Sophie: Hey, Mark. What's the big stink?

Mark: Daryl's getting the sack. Apparently he was a massive racist and not even his best friends knew. Someone reported him.

Sophie: Right!

[Daryl sees Mark on his way out, and approaches his desk]

Mark: (Oh, shit! He knows, he knows it was me. He's got a pipe bomb in his trousers. Don't bomb me, you wouldn't bomb a whitey!)

Daryl: Don't worry, I'm not going to embarrass you, all right? I'm going now. I just wanted to say I don't care what happened, I still think you're a bloody good guy. Oh, and I took the rap for the sausage as well, so you're in the clear there. So, well, I'll see you around, mate.

[Mark waits until Daryl is well out of earshot]

Mark: Yeah, and good riddance, you -- you fucking Nazi!

''[End credits. End of “Jeremy Makes It”]''