>She is 18 years, 5 months and 11 days old.
- Faron.
- Mr. Griffiths.
I seem to be more affected
by Baby Diego's death than I realized, sir.
If you wouldn't mind, I'd appreciate it
if I could finish my day's work at home.
...generation needs
to reject family and society.
- He's my dentist.
- She's my house cleaner.
- He's the waiter.
- She's my cousin.
They are illegal immigrants.
To hire, feed or shelter
illegal immigrants is a crime.
It's your life.
It's your choice.
Hey, amigo!
Jasper!
Good to see you. Come on.
You know who did it?
Islamic? Fishes? Fuck knows.
I'll bet it was the government.
Every time one of our politicians
is in trouble, a bomb explodes.
It's the second time in a month.
- You okay?
- It was horrible.
I'm glad you don't take
cream or sugar, amigo.
Losing you and Baby Diego
on the same day would be too hard to bear.
Well, that was even worse,
everybody crying.
I mean, Baby Diego, come on.
That guy was a wanker.
Yeah, but he was the youngest wanker
on Earth.
Pull my finger. Quick, quick!
Jasper...
Fucking hell! That's disgusting!
Illegal immigrants. Taking them to Bexhill.
Poor fugees.
After escaping the worst atrocities
and finally making it to England,
our government hunts them down
like cockroaches.
- Any girls?
- No.
What about the one we had lunch with?
Lauren?
Lorna. That was ages ago.
- I liked her. What happened?
- She decided to renounce.
Renouncers? Are those the ones
that kneel down for a month for salvation?
No. They're the Repenters.
The Renouncers flagellate themselves
for the forgiveness of humanity.
Oh, right.
Dating ain't what it used to be, is it, amigo?
- What'd you do on your birthday?
- Nothing.
Come on. You must've done something.
No. Same as every other day.
Woke up, felt like shit,
went to work, felt like shit.
That's called a hangover, amigo.
At least with a hangover, I feel something.
Honestly, Jasper, sometimes...
You could always come and live with us.
Yeah, but if I did that,
I wouldn't have anything to look forward to.
Look who it is. It's Theo.
- Hey, Janice, how you doing?
- It's Theo.
Your rebel with a lost cause.
She loves this color.
Don't you, darling? You love it.
"Is there a chance it will not work for me?
"There have been no cases
of anyone surviving
"who has taken the preparation."
Daddy government hands out suicide kits
and anti-depressants in the rations,
but ganja is still illegal.
Most of my weed goes to Bexhill now.
This bloke buys it from me
and smuggles it in.
Guess what he does? His real job?
Immigration cop.
Bravo!
One of the many perks of having
a refugee camp in the neighborhood.
Come on, taste that.
Cough.
- Cough?
- Cough.
You taste it? Strawberries.
This is Strawberry Cough.
So, Human Project is having this dinner
and all the wisest men
in the world are there...
"Human Project."
Why do people believe this crap?
You know, even if these people existed
with these facilities in secret locations...
Fuck me, that's strong.
Even if they discovered
the cure for infertility, it doesn't matter.
Too late. The world went to shit.
You know what?
It was too late before the infertility thing
happened, for fuck's sake.
I was just trying to tell a joke, man.
I'm sorry. Go on.
- No, I'm not telling it now.
- No, come on, Jasper.
- No. Fuck it. I'm not fucking telling you.
- It's all right. Go on.
Okay. The Human Project
gives this great big dinner
for all the scientists and sages in the world.
They're tossing around theories
about the ultimate mystery,
why are women infertile?
Why can't we make babies anymore?
Some of them say it's genetic experiments,
gamma rays, pollution. Same old, same old.
Anyway, in the corner,
this Englishman's sitting.
He hasn't said a word.
He's just tucking into his