Love Actually

— I know I should be thinking about Mom all the time and I am, but the truth is I'm in love. I was before she died, and there's nothing I can do about it.
— Aren't you a bit young to be in love?
— No.
— Well, okay, well... I mean, I'm a little relieved.
— Why?
— Because I thought it would be something worse.
— Worse than the total agony of being in love?
— No, you're right. Total agony.

— What is this we're listening to?
— Joni Mitchell.
— I can't believe you still listen to Joni Mitchell.
— I love her and true love lasts a lifetime.

— I've just worked out why I can never find true love.
— Why is that?
— English girls. They're stuck up, you see. And I am primarily attractive to girls who are, you know, cooler, game for a laugh. Like American girls. So I should just go to America. I would get a girlfriend there instantly. What do you think?
— I think it's crap, Colin.
— That's where you're wrong. American girls would seriously dig me with my cute British accent.
— You don't have a cute British accent.
— Yes, I do! I'm going to America.
— Colin, you're a lonely, ugly asshole, and you must accept it.
— Never. I am Colin, God of Sex. I'm just on the wrong continent, that's all.

But wouldn't it be great if number one this Christmas wasn't some smug teenager but an old ex-heroin addict searching for a comeback at any price? All those young popsters come Christmas day, they'll be stretched out naked with a cute bird balancing on their balls and I'll be stuck in some dingy flat with me manager, Joe, ugliest man in the world, fucking miserable because
our fucking gamble didn't pay off. So if you believe in Father Christmas, children, like your Uncle Billy does, buy my festering turd of a record.

— But, Christ, he might be injecting heroin into his eyeballs for all I know.
— At the age of 11?

— So what's this big news then?
— We've been given our parts in the nativity play... and I'm the lobster.
— The lobster? In the nativity play?
— Yeah. First lobster.
— There was more than one lobster present at the birth of Jesus?
— Duh.

— I've just split up with my boyfriend, actually, so I'm back with my mom and dad for a while.
— Sorry.
— No, it's fine. I'm well shot of him. He said I was getting fat.
— I beg your pardon?
— He said no one's gonna fancy a girl with thighs the size of big tree trunks. Not a nice guy, actually, in the end.
— You know, being prime minister, I could just have him murdered.
— Thank you, sir. I think about it.
— Do. The SAS are absolutely charming. Ruthless, trained killers are just a phone call away.

Imagine your husband bought a gold necklace and, come Christmas, gave it to somebody else. Karen... Would you wait around to find out... Good night. Night, darling. Happy Christmas. Would you wait around to find out if it's just a necklace or if it's sex and a necklace or if, worst of all, it's a necklace and love? Would you stay? Knowing life would always be a little bit worse? Or would you cut and run?

You know perfectly well that any bar anywhere in America contains 10 girls more beautiful and more likely to have sex with me than the whole of the United Kingdom.

Well, girls love musicians, don't they? Even the really weird ones get girlfriends.

Stateside I am Prince William without the weird family.