Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

For me?
Your statement needs to be official.
Oi, oi, Frankie.
Won't be able to find you.
...l am adding one to your number.
I am really worried about her. She needs a doctor.
- Are you going down? - Yeah.
- (exhales) - (birdsong)
- What did you use? - Peroxide.
Can we look on the positive side?
(pants)
I will see you later.
- (Geoff chuckles) - Bob and Sally. You don't know them.
(gasps)
Shit. I am in so much trouble.
Last night I even closed the door all the way and I didn't panic.
(sighs) God.
(softly) Right. Thanks.
- But I am not gay. - (players) Yeah, right.
Lizzie, I can't do this without you.
- (turns music off) - Frankie's sick.
I just thought if I was a blonde like Amber, then...
It should have you sorted in 20 minutes.
- They want me for the whole thing. - They can't prove anything.
It's like we have been together for ages.
But you're more like a gay friend than a boyfriend.
(Porn Kings: We're Watching You)
Can't be any worse than Wales, right?
Turn the light off.
Told you.
...the Web itself.
The missing part of my soul.
- How do you know all this? - Army cadets.
Liz. Liz.
Well, I have.
Let's see how he likes it.
Right now he's probably creating a very strong alibi.
Me My English teacher
- Never fear, Geoff's here. - What? (squeals and giggles)
What... what... what happened, what did I do?
It will drive her nuts.
- The fucking door won't open. - Get out of the way.
...will make any difference to Mike.
And whenever you feel ready, just start to speak. OK?
...pissing and moaning Dr. Horwood's run away with her child.
...Amber won't know where you are.
(shouting)
What's up, Liz? Something's wrong. I can't open the door.
How will you survive on gum for three days?
- (stifles laugh, retches) - This is shit.
I watched the world from the edges and learned not to dream.
(whimpers) Help...
(whispers) Frankie?
(rattle)
(pants)
Oh, so this is a game? Oh, that's great.
Haven't you noticed that suddenly everyone's a blonde with cherry lip gloss?
...and we could even ask Geoff... for you.
(Frankie sighs)
- Lizzie, it's the dehydration. - No. Mike... No, Mike.
Thanks.
(bleep)
(sighs)
- I am sorry... Mike... - What are you talking about?
- Frankie, speak to me. - (Mike) Oh, my God.
My arse. Tabloids are gagging for you.
But I couldn't tell you. How could l?
...took an unexpected turn today...
Hey, guys. Liz.
- You will jinx us. - How?
No, you didn't. (sobs) I did, it's my fault. I am sorry.