What are you got your nose in there, Matt?

It's quite worrying, actually.

It's a legal letter.

Oh, yeah?

It says, I've got to sign it, and I hear by surrender all right to be paid by the show.

Don't get any pension or anything like that.

I'll never get paid again for working on it.

Right. I mean, it just sounds like one of those unfortunate things. I just get it signed and just like get on with your life.

Yeah. It says that you'll get everything. So now you'll get paid a technicality, to be honest. That's probably just something they have to put in. I mean, it's got a logo. Lawyers Inc. looks the business. Why don't you sign that? Get it off your desk worry that maybe someone who works on the show is trying to swindle me.

But you're the only person who stands to benefit.

Okay. Okay. Okay.

I didn't want to say anything.

But when Phil Wang filled in for you, he was shifty.

Phil fucking Wang.

Okay. was shifty. Phil fucking Wang. 1995,

Margaret's flat, Upper Grovenor Street, London.

Margaret peers out of her living room curtains,

looks up and down the rain-slicked street.

It's dark. The weather is atrocious, and he's late.

She glances over at the clock, then back at the street.

Something must have happened. He's been spotted, or changed his mind. Margaret jumps as she hears a gentle knock.

She rushes down the grand stairwell,

...