"Yes, take your unresolved sexual tension somewhere else!" Bernard yells after them. "Christmas decorations should be banned before the twentieth anyway, they encourage singing, it's antisocial, and fairy lights, you know, your dog could chew on them and BANG, he's electrocuted, and then what will the poor little boy make of that, huh? So... so you don't come crying to me when your tree is a crispy mess of death and disappointment and he knows you're not Santa because you didn't shave!"

Bastards!

He goes to the bar and demands a new bottle of wine, and a replacement shirt, which he requests to be put on Fran Whateverhernameis' tab.