[Shaun]

If not ever. And I know it's ironic I'm posting it here, but still:

Youtube video

Amy: Andy, would you come to my Hello wedding?
Andy: To your Hello wedding?
Amy: Yeah. [when Andy doesn't answer] Are you all right?
Andy: No. [sighs] What are we doing? Selling ourselves, selling everything. "Happiest day of my life. Oh, quick, I'd better do the invites and bake a cake -- and get a press tent. Must have a press tent. It's a wedding." You know, "I must see pictures of myself with other people I'm in a program with. Oh, and now I'm pregnant! Maybe we should televise the birth, get Ruby Wax to present it. Maybe it'll make Jimmy Carr's Hundred Greatest Caesarians." [to Amy] I'm not having a go at you. I'm just sick of these celebrities, living their life out in the open all the time. Why would you do that? It's like these pop stars who choose the perfect moment to go into rehab. They call their publicist before they call a taxi! And they come out and they do their second autobiography. "This one's called Love Me or I'll Kill Myself!" Oh, kill yourself then. [Maggie, watching at home lying on the couch, lifts her head up] And the papers lap it up. They follow us round, and that makes people think they're important, and that makes us think we're important. [Maggie sits up] If they stopped following us round taking pictures of us, people wouldn't take to the streets going, "Ooh, quick, I need a picture of Cameron Diaz with a pimple!" They wouldn't care. They'd get on with something else! They'd get on with their lives. You open the paper, and you see a picture of Lindsay Lohan getting out of a car, and the headline is, "Cover up, Lindsay, we can see your knickers!" Course you can see her knickers; your photographer is lying in the road pointing his camera up her dress to see her knickers! You are literally the gutter press. [loudly, into his microphone] And **** you that make us this show as well. You can't wash your hands of this. You can't keep going, "Oh, it's exploitation but it's what the public want!" No! [Maggie watches openmouthed] The Victorian freak show never went away. Now it's called Big Brother. Or The X Factor, where in the preliminary rounds, we wheel out the bewildered to be sniggered at by multi-millionaires. And **** you for watching this at home. Shame on you. And shame on me. I'm the worst of all, 'cause I'm one of these people that goes, "Oh, I'm an entertainer. It's in my blood." Yeah, it's in my blood 'cause a real job's too hard. I would've loved to've been a doctor. Too hard. Didn't want to put the work in. Love to be a war hero; I'm too scared. [Maggie starts to cry] So I go, "It's what I do." And I have someone bollocked if my cappucino's cold, or if they look at me the wrong way. Do you know what a friend of mine once said? They said I'll never be happy 'cause I'll never be famous enough. And they were right. And if you're watching this, I'm so sorry. You're my best friend. You're my only friend. [struggling not to cry] And you never did anything wrong. It was everything else. And I'll never do that again, I'll never treat you like that again. And it's eating at me -- you asked me a stupid question once, and I still could have answered it, and I didn't, 'cause I'm so -- I'll answer it now. I'd be the penguin. [Maggie laughs] 'Cause I could eat the flying fish. I know what you're thinking: why doesn't the fish fly away? Well, they can't really fly. Sort of glide and flap. They should be called glidey flappy fish. [Maggie laughs again] I'm so sorry.

It's also an incredibly moving moment. :|