Jeremy: Go on, stab my stuff. Fork it to smithereens. [Mark starts frantically stabbing Jez's shopping bag with a fork] Yeah, that's it! Go on, really go for it. My stupid, bloody, special, date dinner. All stabbed to shit just like I deserve. Oh, nice one. Equals pequals.
Mark: Then why the fuck did you tell me it was yours? Did you get mixed up? Did you mis-remember? Because I really think I would tend to remember something like this.