It's the morning after the night before, and Linda's clearing up. Lots of food's still on the table because nobody turned up. Gail calls up to check how things went and apologise for being too busy to come. Afterwards she calls Frank who calls Jerry. None of them made it either. We're talking to New York's home office set here, laptops à go-go, busy busy busy. Still there's something which might drag them away from their keyboards. Gail wants to set up Jerry with her friend Barbara, but she needs Frank to call Jerry to get them together. Oh yes, and Denise calls up Martin, because she found out he made a donation to the sperm bank, and she's having his child. Maybe they could meet up, if he can get out the door, or even get off the phone. And so it goes on and on. Seventy minutes of phone conversations, cordless and mobile, call-waiting and 'Call you right back.' After about three minutes, though, the joke runs dry, the gimmickry (death on the phone, a birth on the phone) grates, the irony flattens out, and the constant yabbering of a bunch of thespian also-rans is enough to set you screaming.