Do that, then... You know me, Jack, constantly trying to get in your pants. What can I say?
Yeah, I met Jules, Jack, remember? Went to your house for dinner- the pasta, found out you were Sir Bob Geldof... of all things. I thought you said you were musically hopeless?
And you have very shitty timing to pull a building down on yourself, you know that? Ray and I are getting married this week, and you're going to be laid up in some godforsaken hospital. Just stealing the thunder once again.