Fooze: Ball or treat?
Come on, Bruv... choose.
-Lydia: That's stupid. -(whining)
-Yes, Bruv. Master of his own destiny. -(door opens)
-He is not, though, is he? -Uh,
-Bruv chose the ball. -Lydia: Yeah,
from a list of two options that you gave him.
-(baby babbling) -Hm.
-Customer: Can I have a coffee? -No, we're closing.
Customer: Please, just five minutes.
Um, I should go bounce
'cause there's this thing I've gotta do.
-See ya tomorrow, Fooze. -Legendary.
Come on, Bruv.
Cute baby.
-(Bruv barking) -No, Bruv! Bruv.
(eerie music playing)
Here you go.
It's the end of the day, so whatever.
Don't go.
I've got to close the kitchen.
♪ ♪
(choking)
♪ ♪
(dishes clinking, shattering)
(radio blasting rock music)
(bell dings)
Be with you in a sec!
(choking)
(sinister vocalizing)
♪ ♪
(chuckles)
♪ ♪
(truck backing up)
-(metal crashing) -(gasps)
(babbling)
(door buzzes)
(clattering)
Why have I got 17 missed calls from you?
-Did you get my voicemail? -No one listens to voicemail.
What's going on?
Why is there a baby here?
Right?!
I need coffee.
Don't touch it.
I've had the weirdest 24 hours, Reets.
It's been a madness.
(grinding coffee beans)
(eerie music playing)
(grinding stops)
Skinny or full-fat?
Reets?
(baby babbles)
Reets? Rita!
-I told you not to touch it! -What--
This was a bad idea.
You know what, Reets?
I've got this. You should just go home.
Why don't I take him out for a walk?
You can wash, have a nap.
That's not a good idea.
We'll have a fun time together, won't we?
Yes! Yes, we will.
Spend some fun time with Auntie Rita.
It's good to get some practice in before mine comes.
What?
You can trust me with your baby.
This isn't my baby, Reet.
-(chuckles) Okay. -No, not okay.
It's not my baby.
Well... it is.
Are you all right?
If you're struggling,
there's no shame in admitting it.
-We are all here for you. -Stop, stop, stop, stop.
(slowly): This isn't my baby.
This isn't funny, Tash.
No, I know it's not.
-Do you want me to call anyone? -No, because I called you.
I just meant, like...
Go on...
Go on, just say it. I'm not annoyed.
You should call your sister.
Whew. Better out than in.
I think Bobbi would be a good person to have around.
Cool. I don't.
Okay, we're going for a walk.
You need a shower.
No, Rita. It's not safe.
-Give me the baby. -Every time I let myself
-get sucked up into your drama. -Give me the baby.
-You drag me over here in a total state,
-and then don't want my help. -Rita, give me the baby.
In case you haven't noticed, I've got a lot...
-Rita, give me the baby. -...on my plate, too.
-Rita, give me-- -You're being mental!
Give me the fuckin' baby!
I'm sorry, Reets, about all that.
I don't know why I flipped. I think it's just, you know?
'Cause I'm fine. Batshit, but fine.
-Maybe, you sh-- -Sorry.
Says... are you free on Friday
for pizza and Jagermeister?
Oi, get your own best mate.
Listen, I'll call Bobbi. Promise.
You know what?
I'm just gonna wait with you till she comes.
Seriously, can you just fuck off?
Okay.
Yeah.
(dramatic sting)
Are you fuckin' with me?
(baby murmurs)
(line ringing)
-Mags. -Mags (on phone): Hey.
Mags... stupid question.
I don't have a baby, do I?
-Mags? -Mags: I thought you were calling to apologize.
-What? -Mags: About poker night.
-Friday? You were an asshole? -Yes! Poker night.
I didn't have a baby on poker night, did I?
'Cause I don't have a baby... right?
Mags?
Mags: I honestly don't have time for your weirdness today.
Look... I'm going to the park later.
If you're puttin' him down for a nap,
we could meet up in an hour.
Tash?
Natasha?
(eerie music playing)
I know I'm not your mum...
and you know I'm not your mum.
And I don't know what your game is,
but I'm not playing it.
You are not gettin' inside my head.
(baby murmurs)
♪ Into my head ♪
All right.
Let's have a look then.
How many Lydia McNaish-Wilcoxes can there be in Bexhill?
Yes!
Home time, you little cunt.
(engine starts)
♪ ♪
(tires screeching)
(percussive music playing)
♪ ♪
(eerie music playing)
-(door opens) -(gasps) Awesome baby.
Babies are sick.
-I'm-- -Before they've developed frameworks
for organizing concepts,
they experience the world as raw data.
Awareness in its purest form.
-I'm-- -This baby is literally jammin'
with universal consciousness right now.
-Have you smelled his head? -Yeah.
It is the best smell in the world.
-You should smell it. -I have, thanks.
-(Bruv barking) -Hey, Bruv. No, man.
Compadre, that is not how we do.
-(Bruv growling) -Bruv.
Bruv, man.
I'm really sorry. He usually loves babies.
Bruv, come here.
Here, Bruv. Get the ball.
Get the ball, Bruv.
Go on... Yeah, good boy.
I'm a friend of Lydia's.
Yeah, they just told us this morning.
Lydia was a empress. May she rest in power.
I got promoted, but the truth is, management sucks.
I just feel like I'm kinda part of the problem now, you know?
Okay. Just, like, looking for... her family.
I've got something of hers that I need to return.
She didn't really speak to her family.
-(door opens) -Yeah, they were really bad racists.
Natasha: Okay, what about a partner?
Nah, she was married to her books.
This is actually urgent. I'm looking for someone.
Anyone... Like, immediately.
Your baby pooped.
(sniffs)
The changing room's at the back.
Well, I can't do it. I haven't even got a nappy.
I've got a spare one.
(baby whines)
Hey.
What's the protocol here?
Can I change your nappy?
Okay, I suppose you'll let me know.
Okay.
(baby fussing)
We good?
No funny business, yeah?
'Kay.
(sniffs) Okay.
You're a boy.
All right, welcome to the gender binary.
Uhh!
Ah, ah. Oh, oh.
-Ah, ah, ah. -(guttural breathing)
Ah, ah... Oh.
(Natasha groaning)
(baby laughs)
Well, if you think it's so funny, do it yourself!
(baby babbling)
He's just a baby. He's just a baby.
(knocks on door)
Fooze: Is everything okay?
My sister's baby...
she needs changing, like, 25 times a day.
Yeah! She's a real poop machine.
-I've changed a baby's nappy before. -(Bruv whimpering)
You know, my niece came out really white as well.
Happens.
Here you go.
-Yeah, yeah. -(Bruv whimpering)
Hey, Bruv, man.
His mother rejected him as a pup,
so he gets mad separation anxiety issues.
You're afraid I'm gonna leave you, aren't you?
Yeah, Bruv, I'd never do that.
Here... ball. Get the ball.
Yeah, last time I saw Lydia was, like, a month ago
before that crazy shit went down.
What crazy shit?
Fooze: A customer choked to death on a cookie.
Lydia found her. Totally bleaked her out.
She stopped coming to work,
stopped answering her calls,
cut off all her friends.
Next thing you know, she--
Fuck!
Well... you know.
You still got shit on your hands, you know?
(eerie music playing)
Whoa, same babygrow.
Wild.
-It wasn't Lydia's baby. -Sorry?
Why didn't you tell me that the woman had a baby?
I don't know... I forgot.
Whoa.
-'Sup. -What 'bout that baby?
Is that the same baby from the CCTV?
♪ ♪
Come on, Fooze. I need you to remember.
Fooze: I'm sorry. Can't help you.
-(Bruv growling) -Natasha: Yeah, you can.
Listen... that woman came in with a baby, right?
Fooze: Think so.
Natasha: What do you mean you think so?
-We just watched it on the video. -(barking)
It was wearing the same babygrow.
-(honking) -(tires screeching)
Forgive me, queen. Grindstone calls.
-Natasha: No, wait-- -Bruv?
Bruv?!
Bruv?
Yo, where's my homeslice?
-(cars honking) -Bruv?
Bruv!
(honking)
-Bruv! -(tires screeching)
Fooze: Fuck!
Bruv!
♪ ♪
Bruv!
Bruv.
Truck Driver: I'm sorry.
He just-- He just ran out!
Super fucked up!
You can't just kill a dog.
(baby giggles)
How many people have you done this to?
(discordant music playing)
(dramatic sting)
♪ ♪
Keep your head straight... It's just a baby.
(baby crying)
(crying continues)
(turns music on)
("Bye Bye Blackbird" by Etta Jones playing)
♪ Gonna pack up all my care and woe ♪
♪ Here I go, singing low ♪
♪ Bye bye blackbird ♪
♪ Where somebody waits ♪
No bullshit. I mean it.
I'm only feeding you to keep you quiet.
Don't get any ideas.
♪ Bye bye blackbird ♪
What'd ya think? Should have more garlic?
Nah, you're right.
♪ Oh, what hard-luck stories ♪
(sniffs)
(door buzzes)
(eerie music playing)
Mama. Mama.
Mama...
(tires screeching)
(line ringing)
Bobbi (on phone): Hello?
Is that you, Natasha?
Natasha?
(call ends)
(wind blowing)
♪ ♪
(baby crying)
(heavy breathing)
Fuck am I doing?
(dramatic music playing)
♪ ♪
(crying)
(music ends)
(crying)
(baby crying)
♪ ♪
(shushing) It's okay.
Let's go back to the car. Shouldn't have left you.
-I'm sorry. We're good, we're good. -(crying)
Mrs. Eaves: I think we need to talk.
♪ ♪