The Best of Maeve Wiley In Sex Education Season One
– Hot tubs aren’t really my thing. – What is your thing then? – Complex female characters. (upbeat rock music) Tell anyone and I’ll maim you. Fuck off, snowflake. – Ah!
– Hey, piss flaps. – Hey, Maeve, you look fierce. – You look like a Wotsit. Say that again. – Nice– (thudding blow)
Uh! Your buttons are done up wrong. – It’s a new look, it’s like an encore, but
with buttons done up wrong. – How fabulous. Don’t be late. – I said stop staring at it! – Sorry, it’s like a third leg. What are you waiting for? No.
– Sorry, sorry. – Why are your arms so freakishly long? – Ta’ra, lad. – See you later, pet. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. – Kelly Clarkson, “Poets!” – [Maeve and Otis] Nietzsche. – What do you think Woolf meant by the history of men’s
opposition to women’s emancipation is more interesting perhaps than the story of that
emancipation itself? – That men are dicks and selective castration
is their only hope. You know in rom-coms when
the guy finally realizes he’s in love with a girl and he turns up with a
boombox outside her house blasting her favorite song and everyone in the audience squibs, yeah, that makes me sick. What about me says school dance? – Don’t you wanna live happily ever after? – Please, do I look like I
have a Cinderella complex? – Maybe we could go on a date sometimes? – [Maeve] You wanted to
keep this a secret then and now you wanna go on a date, do you? – Yeah, yeah, I do. – That’s me getting a wig. – Maeve Wiley, this is for you. ♪ Baby, love really hurts without you ♪ – [Boy] Go on, Jackson. – Will you please be my girlfriend? – Dickhead. (cheering) – We’ve made sushi. Ooh, and I’ve just realized
it’s got shellfish in, you’re not allergic, are you? – Yeah, I’ll die. Just kidding. – Oh! – Have you considered the
possibility of adoption? – I don’t think anyone would
want a pregnant 17-year old. – Maeve, hi! Why are we in an abortion clinic? (light melancholic music) Oh! – He looks sweet. Don’t really seem like your type though. – He’s not. – A little bit of advice, lovey, if you want a happy life, you
keep the sweet ones around. – Don’t need a Mum, thanks. – Okay, Einstein. Just take my bloody hand. (sighing) Not as tough as you look. – It’s been a shitty day. – Hi. – You waited? – Of course. – Are those flowers for me? – Yeah, it seems a bit inappropriate now. – No, no, I like them, nothing says Happy
Abortion like a bouquet. – You really think so? Woo! What did you do, what the hell? – You look like the Cookie Monster. You’re compellingly odd, Milburn. Dropped something?
– No. – No, why are you ogling the ground then? – I’m not.
– You are. It’s unsettling. Speaking as a longtime member of the Moredale Social
Pariah Club, you’ll survive. Do you know how long I’ve
been called cock biter? Four years, do you know how it started? Simon tried to kiss me at
Claire Tyler’s 14th birthday, I said no, so he told everyone
I’d given him a blowjob and bitten his dick and that was it. This kind of thing sticks. You don’t know how lucky you are, she gets up every morning
to take you swimming, she goes to all your races,
she cries when you lose. – Yeah, why–
– Yeah, she shows you every day that she loves
you, what’s the problem? It might be annoying,
but at least she cares. – I really liked your essay.
– You haven’t read my essay. – No, but I did hear it. It’s very bleak.
– Depends on your perspective. – Only you could turn the topic of dreams into existential angst. – Pessimists outlive optimists. – I’m so sorry that I hurt you, you saw something in me
when no one else did. I’m a virgin.
– What? – I, I’m a virgin and I thought
you should know that I am. – Yeah, that’s totally cool, no judgment. – Cool.
– I’m dumping you for her. – She’s a slag.
– Yeah, you’re right, but so am I. – I’m not a slag.
– Neither, just sounded good. – Please tell us why you
should stay at this school. – I’m really smart, sir, I’d read all of Jane
Austen by the time I was 12 including her lesser
known work, “Lady Susan,” which is a severely underrated
piece of feminist literature. I can also gauge the
depths of Mr. Hendricks’ personal despair based on
his choice of Hawaiian shirt. I’m really smart. I just got unlucky in
the family department. – But you do have a dress, right? – Yeah, yeah, of course,
I’m not a troglodyte. (upbeat rock music) Shit. You tell anyone about this, I’ll kill you. I have a hatchet and I know a good place to hide a body, okay.