Oh, don't look at me like that. I just produce the show and the maids. If you want to hate anyone, it should be whoever signed you up for Manny or Nanny in the first place.

Fuck you. When I get out of here, I'm gonna wring your neck!

Come now. That isn't language befitting a maid. Try this instead. "Va te faire foutre! Quand je sors d'ici, je vais te tordre le cou!" … No? What a shame. I had high hopes for you. Thought you had the makings of a winner. That delicate bone structure… those pouty lips… You’ll make a stunning woman either way. But not, I fear, a very good maid.

You're insane! Let me out! You bastard!

Me? Insane? Don't you have a shred of empathy? Think about it from my perspective, please. You should appreciate how easy you have it - all you have to do is lie back while we pump you full of hormones and implants. Meanwhile, I have a show to run. Every year! Week in! Week out! Fifty-two sorry chumps plucked from the street out of obscurity and turned into marketable, fuckable maids for your 15 minutes of fame. Look at all the blood, sweat, and tears I put into your body - that pretty face, those perfect breasts. Just so you can be beautiful before your adoring audience? And do you ever thank me? No! Meanwhile, our competitors are breathing down our neck. 'Pussy Or Sussy' is almost neck and neck in the ratings.

You expect me to be grateful?

Yes! I'm on your side. I want you to win. And I know you can. Whether you win back your manhood is up to you. But if you won’t play at all… well. Maybe you’ll end up in the blooper reel. The DVD extras. And, of course, there are always men willing to buy nameless, uncooperative maids who refuse to play the game. Now, are you going to put the lotion on your skin, or will you get the hose again?