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You can download a PDF of the script here. Post shoot I've adjusted it to match the finished article more closely, though there are still significant differences. In particular, the act of cleaning, mentioned only briefly in the script, is utilised much more in the film.

INT. KITCHEN/LIVING ROOM - EVENING

We find the MAN preparing a candlelit dinner for two. A strange, uneasy MAN, compact and neat. His flat is modern, a little threadbare, but very tidy.

The MAN wears an apron, which is a rather odd. And he seems a bit obsessed with tidying up. Scrubbing, buffing, polishing.

He glances at the clock. It's 7.45pm. Magazines, cutlery, stationery, all are adjusted for maximum neatness.

The doorbell rings. The MAN jolts to attention. A glance at the clock reveals it's only 7.52...

Another mad scramble, off with the apron, straightening clothes and hair. The doorbell rings again. He's GOT to answer it.

INT. HALL

The MAN opens the door. The CLEANING LADY stands there. There is an awkward pause as they size each other up.

CLEANING LADY
Come on then.

This CLEANING LADY is TOUGH. Starched and white, with her hair scraped back. She carries a kit bag of cleaning products. Eyes like flint. She's through the door, pushing past the startled MAN before he can say anything.

INT. LIVING ROOM

They walk through into the living room. The CLEANING LADY runs her finger along a shelf as she passes. Rubs finger and thumb together and sniffs.

MAN
Excuse me...

CLEANING LADY
(to the room)
Right.

Standing in the middle of the room, the CLEANING LADY pulls on a pair of rubber gloves.

MAN
(louder)
Excuse me - !

The CLEANING LADY glances round, acknowledging him.

MAN
I don't need a cleaner.

CLEANING LADY
(sizing him up)
That's what they all say.

MAN
I think you'll find I'm very tidy.

The CLEANING LADY arches an eyebrow: that's fighting talk. She heads over to where the dinner table has been laid out.

CLEANING LADY
This is nice.

She picks up a fork, runs it over her lips, a strangely feral gesture. The man quivers slightly.

CLEANING LADY
Lemon juice?

MAN
And a soft cloth.

The CLEANING LADY runs her fingers over the smoked glass tabletop.

CLEANING LADY
Glass is tricky.

MAN
I make my own solution. Equal parts water -
(the CLEANING LADY joins in)
- vinegar and rubbing alcohol...

The CLEANING LADY nods to herself, impressed.

MAN
(more confident now)
Is there something else?
(he indicates the dinner table)
Because, as you can see, you know...

Chemistry is starting to build, a strange kind of flirtation between MAN and CLEANER.

CLEANING LADY
We haven't checked down there.

She glances down at the base of the sofa.

MAN
It's all clean down there.

CLEANING LADY
That's what they all say.

MAN
It's true.

CLEANING LADY
Go on then. Down you go.

MAN
Excuse me?

CLEANING LADY
Show me.

MAN
Alright. I will.

The man hesitates.

CLEANING LADY
Go on then.

Slowly, the MAN kneels. He looks up at the CLEANING LADY towering above him. Crouching down, the MAN takes hold of the heavy sofa. He lifts it, grunting with the effort.

The CLEANING LADY peers underneath. It is spotless.

CLEANING LADY
Very nice.

The MAN smiles, red-faced with exertion.

INT. KITCHEN

The CLEANING LADY breezes through into the kitchen area. She checks the drawers, the cupboards, the fridge. This kitchen is not just tidy - it is OBSESSIVELY tidy. Tins are stacked alphabetically, step-shelves within each cupboard mean that all labels can be displayed clearly. Knives and forks are wrapped individually in cloth.

CLEANING LADY
Now this is nice.

The fridge is filled with stacks of labelled tupperware boxes. Fruit and vegetables stored individually. One carrot in its own box. One onion. One fish finger.

CLEANING LADY
Very nice indeed.

The MAN's voice pipes up from somewhere offscreen.

MAN
Can I get up now?

CLEANING LADY
You can do what you like, dear.

The MAN gets to his feet, dusts himself off. He glances at the kitchen clock - the time is 7.57.

The CLEANING LADY examines the knife block. She draws out the sharpest, biggest knife. 14 inches of glistening stainless steel. She regards herself in the polished blade, and likes what she sees.

MAN
Right, this has been, well, interesting, but I think we should, you know, as you can see, the time -

The CLEANING LADY turns. The MAN sees that she is holding the KNIFE and falls silent.

A frozen moment - then she jabs the blade at him. An effortless, precise flick, right at his face. The man gasps, takes a step back.

MAN
Ruddy hell!

The CLEANING LADY holds out the blade. On it sits a nose hair.

MAN
I must have missed one...

The cleaning lady takes a cotton wool bud from her top pocket and dabs it at the man's nostril. The tip turns RED, soaking up a blood drop.

CLEANING LADY
What else can you show me?

INT. BEDROOM

The room is dark. The man is a grey shape perched on the bed. The CLEANING LADY is a silhouette framed by the doorway. She walks slowly round him, eyes glinting in the gloom. The scissors glint in her hand. She walks round the bed. Long moments of tension. She's behind him now.

The CLEANING LADY pushes down on the mattress, testing it. She pushes down slowly. The MAN slowly tips to one side, straightens up as she takes her weight off.

MAN
Now look here. I've let you in, I've showed you round, and, as you can see, everything is spick and span, so if you don't mind -

The CLEANING LADY has climbed on to the bed. She crawls across it till her head is right behind the MAN'S head. He's rigid with tension. She whispers in his ear:

CLEANING LADY
Mucky pup.

MAN
What?

CLEANING LADY
You mucky little pup.

MAN
No I'm not!

CLEANING LADY
Oh yes you are. You're filthy, you are. Filthy beast.

MAN
Don't be ridiculous.

The CLEANING LADY is so close, her lips are brushing the MAN's ear.

CLEANING LADY
You can't fool me. You're not fooling anyone. You're a hairy little smelly little mucky little -

MAN
Ahh!

The MAN swings round and grabs the CLEANING LADY by the throat. He pins her down on the bed, throttling her in time to his words:

MAN
I - am - a - tidy - man!

The MAN bears down, wide-eyed and maniacal. The CLEANING LADY flails as the life ebbs from her limbs...

At that moment - The doorbell sounds. There's someone at the door! The MAN comes to his senses. Looks around.

There is NOBODY THERE APART FROM THE MAN, kneeling on his bed, clutching at his scrunched up bedding.

The doorbell rings again. The man blinks. Where has he been?

INT. HALLWAY

The front door opens to reveal a smartly dressed, nervous looking DINNER DATE, clutching a bottle of wine.

We realise it is the same person as the CLEANING LADY. The MAN has been fantasising about his dinner date!

The MAN smiles awkwardly. He's sweaty and stressed, but holding it together - just about.

MAN
Sorry. Just doing a bit of housework...

THE END (Back to top)