"Good work? You're going to turn him into another bloody Murdoch!"

[Someone is holding the communicator carelessly in one hand, as though they don't know it's on. The floor passes by slowly under the camera's lens. Whoever they are, they're walking hesitantly toward something. Bathroom tile appears, and then: the base of the toilet.]

Sweet wounded Jesus. I've died and gone to heaven.

[It's a boy speaking; his voice soft and high, his accent somewhere between Irish, British, and Pirate.

In other words: George Crabtree.]