‘What? You found a job and you didn’t tell me?’
‘Sorry, mum. I waggle my fish supper in the faces of drooling, emotionally repressed twatcakes for €5 notes. Happy now?’
I dunno. It’s just that the craft is particularly poor: The direction, the dialogue, the bit where you supposedly think the mum is pissed off, but no; we live in modern times, so she couldn’t care less that her daughter works in the sex trade…
Am I supposed to buy a car because of that?