Mitchell: Hey George, you wanna watch The Real Hustle?
[Mitchel turns on the TV]
George: Oh I'd really like that, Mitchell. Women, you think you're such authorities, like the way you deal with emotions is the only way.
Mitchell: It's not on.
George: Uh yeah it is, at like 10:30.
Mitchell: No, they've moved it.
George: What, no, you're kidding me. No, I was looking forward to that.
Mitchell: 10:30, Thursday, that's Real Hustle time. A fucking child knows that.
George: Could I not just have one good thing in my life?
Mitchell: It just drives me insane when they move stuff around.
Mitchell: Don't I deserve it? Don't I deserve one bloody crumb of happiness?
Mitchell: This is so... what, we're supposed to check? Every week? Like we don't have anything else to do? Is it our responsibility? I mean, why is it down to us to...
George: I saw a preview, they were going to do a call about cash points.
Mitchell: Really?
[George nods]
Mitchell: I would've loved that. You bastards!
[Mitchell throws the remote across the living room and storms off into the kitchen while George sobs on the couch. Mitchell returns wearing a pair of Marigolds]
Mitchell: Here, I'll do the washing up! Is everyone happy now!