A Long Way Down

1

Anyway, to cut a long story short,

I decided to kill myself.

That's the trouble with

suicides, I've learnt.

You can't cut the long story short,

because it's the long story

that people are interested in.

Especially if you're me,

which, regrettably, I was

and still am to this day.

So, forgive me if you already

knew this, but I'm Martin Sharp,

the man who had everything.

One wife, two children, three dogs,

at least four People's Choice awards,

and five mornings a week on the most

successful breakfast show in Britain.

Huh, they were even

offering me Mondays off.

So far, so good.

I had reached middle age

unscathed, with money in the bank.

Until I met Susie Jenkins at a

launch for a new men's moisturiser.

- Happy New Year, mate.

- All I can say in my defence, Your Honour,

is that she looked 25 to me.

But she wasn't.

Cue, in chronological order,

tabloid frenzy, a short

prison sentence, divorce,

disgrace, demolition.

Doors closing.

New Year's Eve is supposed

to be a pause for breath,

a punctuation mark.

Well, I had come to a full stop.

Really.

Why wouldn't I want to throw myself

off the top of a tall building?

Oh! Oh!

Excuse me.

Excuse me.

Hi.

Um, I'm not entirely sure

how to phrase this, but...

Are you going to be long?

- What?

- I wasn't sure whether to wait my turn, or...

I hadn't considered the wire. I'd

really like to borrow your ladder.

Maybe I should

just wait. I'll wait.

Are you just going to

stand there and watch?

No. No, of course. You'll be wanting

to do it on your own, I'd imagine.

You imagine right.

I'll go there.

All right.

I'll give you a shout

on the way down.

Right.

Oh, jeez!

I can't.

Maybe you should go first.

I would want to be on my own.

- Completely.

- Understood.

Twenty minutes, then

I want my spot back.

- Right.

- OK.

- Ooh!

- Oh!

Maureen.

Martin.

Are you from...

- Oh, I... I recognise your face.

- Oh, do you?

Were you married to

someone in a pop group?

No.

- Were you on TV?

- Maureen, perhaps this is not

the best time to talk about this.

- Out of my way, f***ers!

- No, stop, stop!

No! No!

- Maureen, a bit of help?

- Who the f*** are you?

- What do you want me to do?

- Sit on her legs.

You're getting a thrill out of

this, aren't you, you pervert?

- Oh, my God.

- What?

You're Martin Sharp. You

are a pervert, officially!

That's it! Rise and Shine

with Martin and Penny!

Just let me go...

- No, just...

- Wait!

Hi.

Erm...

Any of you guys order a pizza?

Well, shall we do introductions?

I'm Jess.

Everyone calls me Jess.

I... I'm Maureen.

- I'm, uh... I'm JJ.

- I'm...

- Martin Sharp.

- Yes.

It's very exciting to have a

celebrity in our suicidal midst.

- This feels wrong.

- Mmm.

All right, well, we could just

do a "one, two, three, jump!"

Whoa!

I wouldn't have minded if it had

been the proverbial cry for help,

but, believe me, you don't cart

a ladder up 15 flights of stairs

on a freezing cold New Year's

Eve unless you're serious.

Nice to meet you.

It was just another debacle.

Another cock-up.

I'd have believed you if you'd

told me half an hour before

that I'd end up on my car,

but not in it.

And I absolutely knew, with

every fibre of my being,

that I wouldn't be seeing any of

those freaks and misfits again.

I didn't know what they

were doing up there.

And I didn't want to find

out, thank you very much.

I had no interest whatsoever.

Oh, f***.

Do I regret stopping

to pick her up?

Well, that really is along story.

- Want a lift?

- No, no.

The bus will be along

in 15 minutes.

Get in the car, Maureen.

Oh!

I did like your television show.

- What are you doing?

- Aw, it's a bit early for a reunion, isn't it?

Get in the car.

We're taking you home.

So this is...

Jolly.

OK.

One word answers.

Everyone has one word to explain

why they were up on the

roof in the first place.

For example, Martin might say

- notoriety.

- Mmm-hmm.

- Maureen might say loneliness.

- I'm not lonely.

- Tell that to your cats.

- I don't have cats.

I was up there because I felt...

- Helpless.

- Helpless?

That's a very good adjective.

Are we not fitting into your

pre-ordained boxes, Jess?

Actually, you fill your

one marvellously, Martin.

Was prison fun?

You really believe you have an

answer for everything, don't you?

I really believe that you

are a miserable bastard.

Actually, right now, a miserable

bastard is exactly what I am.

Have I not been hiding it well?

- Pizza boy.

- JJ.

Why might pizza boy want to die?

What would be your reason, Jess?

My reason would be love.

Chas. Chas the d*ckhead.

He spurned me.

I'm a spurned woman.

Cancer.

I was up there because

I have cancer.

I have inoperable cancer.

We have a winner.

That's f***ing brilliant.

Very impressed. Is it

an embarrassing cancer?

Brain.

CCR.

- I'm sorry, JJ.

- Yeah.

I think colon would

have been better.

Ooh, we're here.

What, here? You live here?

No, but Chas is likely to be here

and I've got a couple of

things I want to say to him.

Good luck with your next attempt.

See you in the afterlife.

Yep, good night.

Unhappy little thing, isn't she?

I should have known.

The most popular place

in London for suicides

on the most popular

night for suicides.

I should have known.

- I wouldn't be alone.

- I don't know why she thought I have cats.

And she certainly

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