For a man with an internet history as exotic as Simon's
emergency family meetings were never good news.
- We've been waiting for you, Simon. - Sorry, I was busy! I have a life, too!
And what's so important we need a meeting, like businessmen or something?
Well, I don't really know where to start. My company are making people redundant.
I've managed to keep my job, but it means moving to Swansea.
- Where's that? Is it far? - It's in Wales.
- You must have heard of Swansea, Simon. - I haven't.
- And I'm not moving to fucking Wales. - Hey, mind your language.
I know it's a lot to take in, but please try and stay calm.
It's been an incredibly tough decision for us to make. I mean,
- I would have been out of a job! - Oh, it's all about you, isn't it?
What about me? What about my friends, my other relationships?
- Your what? - And my exams?
One minute, you're like, "Revise, revise, revise," the next you're moving me to Swansea!
We've spoken to the examination board and you'll be able to sit the same exams in Swansea,
- you'll just do them at a local college. - I'm not going.
How's that suit your fucking plans?
I'll get a flat with Jay. I'm 18, you can't stop me.
Me and Jay'll get a flat and Andrew can come and live with us.
No, thanks.
Boys, I promise I'll make this work for us all.
I love you both so much.
Oh, that's all right, then, well done!
Brilliant, you've effectively ended my life. Why not go the whole hog and just shoot me?
Or better still have me taken to the vets and secretly put down,
just like you did with Patch!
But after he'd slept on it, Simon was even more unreasonable.
He's a total selfish wanker! I don't understand why he doesn't just get another job!
It's not like he's even well paid. He's in his fucking 40s, his life is practically over.
- What is Swansea? Is it an animal? - It's a place.
- It don't sound near. - It's in Wales.
- Mate, they say it's well grim up north. - Yes, but Wales isn't up north, Jay.
Wherever, Michael fucking Palin, it's not round here!
No, but on the plus side, I've heard Swansea's quite nice.
- Really? Who from? - A friend of my gran's.
- Is that to make me feel better? - It's all I've got, I'm afraid.
That's pretty much it for me and Carli, then.
I don't know. Maybe you could still not have a relationship long distance?
Good one.
- Can we have a crack at her, then? - No!
- Don't be a dick. I'd love a go! - Think about that lovely snatch.
Fuck off, Neil, just fuck off! I'm having a nightmare here!
Calm down, you're not the only one with problems!
- Really? What problems do you have? - Bent old man, wants to fuck own sister,
- Mum did a legger. - Nah, none of them,
- I think I'm going to be a dad. - Neil, you have to fuck a girl for that!
I know. I did it with this bird from Asda and now she's pregnant.
- Congratulations. - Are you serious?
- No. Fucking. Way! - So you're not a virgin any more?
- Don't think so. - Nice one, mate!
I knew you'd lose your v-plates before these sad pricks! Welcome to the shaggers club.
Where only 50% of the members have had sex.
Let's back up 30 seconds. This is very serious.
- I've a couple of questions, Neil. - Yeah?
Well, what did it feel like?
- It was all right. - All right? Anything else?
No-one's expecting DH Lawrence, Neil, but did you think anything other than,
"This is all right"?
- My legs ached. - I give up.
- This a big deal, how did it happen? - We was both on the cheese counter
and she was being well saucy and that. And then we went back to hers at lunch break
- and did it and now she's pregnant. - How romantic. Are you sure she's pregnant?
Yeah, she texted me. Look...
"Did the test. It's positive. Thought you should know."
- Two dots and a diagonal line. - Worried smiley,
- dear God. - Why didn't you use protection?
She told me she couldn't have any more kids.
- Any more?! - Jesus Christ. How old is she, Neil?
I don't know, pretty old.
And have you told anyone else about this?
- Nah. I can't really talk to my dad. - What, cos he's never seen a woman's fanny?
Shut up! He's seen my mum's!
Well, that don't count, everyone's seen your mum's.
- Fuck off! - Till she ran off.
I think you need to talk to Gilbert about this. For all his flaws, he's not a bad bloke.
And his role as head of Sixth is pastoral as well as tutorial.
- He's what? - It's his job.
Then I pushed it in a bit, then out a bit, then in a bit, then my legs ached,
then out again, then back in, and then it went off, and now she's pregnant.
- OK. I think I get the picture, Sutherland. - Cool.
Look, isn't this exactly the sort of thing that Twitter
- or MySpace were invented for? - No, sir.
I was going to write to the Daily Star's problem page,
with the photos, but it takes a week to hear the advice.
OK. And this "encounter", did it take place on the school premises
- or with a fellow pupil? - Nah.
Good! Well,
what I think you should do is turn around, get out of my office
and we'll pretend this conversation never happened.
All right, cheers for that.
But, sir, what about your duty of care?
That Sutherland's managed to pass his genes on may be a disaster
for mankind, but it is not my mess to clean up.
But what about the oath?
Sorry to disappoint, McKenzie.
Teachers don't start each day by swearing allegiance
to the education fairies under a photo of the Queen.
It's not so much a calling these days, as a graveyard for the unlucky and the unambitious.
Between you and me, the only reason anyone teaches these days
is because they've taken a more relaxed view on police checks in recent years.
Goodbye, McKenzie.
They say the art of teaching is aiding discovery.
And Mr Gilbert helped me discover that he was a wanker.
Simon, God, my mum just told me about you moving away.
Oh, yeah. It's basically the end of my life.
It's so weird, I can't imagine us being that far apart.
- We're going to miss the bus. - Anyway, I've go to go. I'll see you soon.
No, I'll come with you, I'm just waiting for my change. It's £8.
- Where's my change? - Manners.
I'll see you.
I suppose I just always thought we might,
- you know... We might... - We have to go.
I've got to go, I'm sorry. I'll see you soon, Simon.
What? We might what? Say it! Come on!
Make love, was it make love?
Carli, make love?!
Where's my fucking change?!
Thank you.
So, it had finally happened: Carli had made Simon's brain explode.
That stupid ugly bitch just ruined it for me with Carli!
She been controlling your personality for the last 18 years?
- Brilliant, yeah, good one. - Anyway, Simon, I've been thinking,
we should do something for you before you leave.
What, like give him a makeover, sort his hair out and that?
Could do. I was thinking more of a camping trip to the countryside.
Pubs, long walks, no parents, no girls,
just the four of us, the lads, a tent and a load of beers.
Sounds like a bent version of Brokeback Mountain.
- Which would be a heterosexual version. - Is this a posho's tradition?
Did your mates do the same thing for you when you left Hogwarts?
- No, they didn't. - Oh, right.
Well, I'm up for it!
It'll do me good to get away, out in the country, get me head straight.
- Bring your old man, and get him straight! - Fuck off!
- I don't think I'd be much company. - Come on, Si. It'll be a laugh.
Although last time I went to the country, I had some bother.
- From locals? - Nah, a cow.
It charged me, so I had to knock it out. One punch.
Nice.
I had to leg it, though, cos its mates saw. No word of a lie,
they stood up on their hind legs and started firing milk at me from their tits.
- Udders? - Well, yeah, there were loads of them.
Right. What do you reckon, Si, fancy a weekend punching cattle?
No. No. I've got two weeks left here. And I'd rather spend them
trying to finally get together with Carli, than hanging around with you lot
talking shit about cows and fucking camping.
I'll put you down as a maybe, then.
That night, at 2am, I was lucky enough to be woken by a call
from a steaming drunk Simon.
- Will, it's me, Simon. - Yes, I know.
Man, you were right, I've got to make Carli believe in me,
make the sort of gesture she'll never forget.
That doesn't sound like me. Are you drunk?
I'm going in. This might be my last chance to see her, to kiss her,
- to maybe make love to her. - Fine! I'm coming to get you!
As long as you promise never to say "make love" again!
So, like a superhero, I went off to Simon's rescue.
A superhero in slippers and a dressing gown.
Simon!
Simon! Please!
Oh, Christ.
Carli, it's me, Simon.
What was it you wanted to say? Was it about making love?
- Daddy? - No.
- Sleep. - What's happening?
Just shush your little fucking mouth.
- You're not my daddy! - Oh, bollocks!
Mummy! Daddy!
Simon's intention was pure Romeo And Juliet.
Unfortunately, the execution was pure Crimewatch.
Yeah, cheers, Steve. There's no need to press charges.
Don't worry. Sorry again.
You're not going to shout at me, are you, Dad? My head really hurts.
No, I'm not going to shout. I think we need to have a talk, though.
I know this move's stressful for you and you might feel a little crazy.
Yeah.
But you can't go touching children. Not now, not ever.
- Not kiddies, Si! - Oh, God, no, no!
No, it wasn't that! I got the wrong bedroom,
- I wanted to touch Carli. - Really?
- Yes, yes! - Oh, thank Christ.
Thank God. I've been Googling chemical castration all morning.
I think you need to forget about her for a while. Go near that house, her dad will fuck you up.
- His words not mine. - Oh, God!
Maybe go to your nan's for the weekend?
- Will wanted to go camping. - Camping? Yeah, that sounds good.
Healthy, outdoors. No children around.
Dad, I've loved her for ages, I don't know what to do.
I totally understand, mate. There was a girl I was crazy about once.
- Really? - Yeah. She was gorgeous, funny.
My best friend in many ways. Nothing happened, as much as I wanted it to.
- Because you never told her? - No, she was frigid.
Yeah, her knickers were about as wet as August in the Sahara.
Then your mother came along. She was a real tomcat, let me tell you!
Didn't take me long to forget the Ice Queen with your mum around, if you get me.
Yeah. Get it all up, mate.
Simon's choices were simple: Stay home and lose more stomach lining
hearing about his mum's high sex drive or take us camping.
As we're near, I thought I'd run through the itinerary for the weekend.
- What's an itinerary? - Will's way of taking the fun out of everything?
No, it's just a schedule of what we'll do and when we'll do it.
Right, item one, get your shit off my side of the car.
It's not shit. It's essentials for everyone to make the trip more enjoyable!
Right, yeah, Monopoly? That'll make it a proper lads' weekend.
All we need is beer and johnnies and I've got plenty of both.
- Why have you brought a load of johnnies? - In case I get lucky.
We're camping by a lake near a wood. You hoping to pull a fish or an owl?
Listen, all these country birds love a bit of big city cock.
- You're not from the big city! - Anywhere with a train station
- and Morrisons counts as a city to them! - Neil, look at the map, please! Where is it?
It's round here somewhere. The next left or something.
And that's what Google Maps says, "The next left or something"?
Sorry, mate, my head's a mess. What if I have to go to the birth?
Can you imagine how grim that'll be, watching that baby getting squeezed out of her arse?
- Right, I've got some news, Neil... - Oh, here we are, Si. Turn in here.
Oh, Jesus Christ, it stinks. Is it near a pig farm, Neil?
Nah, sorry, mate, that was me. It just slipped out.
- Oh, mate... - What?!
- I can't believe that's the smell of your arse! - I can fucking see it! It's like a brown mist!
Despite Neil's anxious bowels burning our eyes and choking our lungs,
we made it. I'd researched this place online and it certainly delivered.
Secluded. Remote. Beautiful.
- So where do we shit? - What?
When we need to a shit, where do we shit?
Hang on, he's right. Where are we going to shit?
Well, usually, you'd place a trench at least 20 yards away, down stream, of course.
- What trench? - The toilet trench.
- Where you put the toilets? - No, where you do a toilet.
- I'm not shitting in a trench! - You've gone mental.
I'm not going near a hole filled with your shit!
- We each get our own trench. - That's all right, then.
- We're camping surrounded by shit? - No! No-one is shitting in a trench!
We'll have to drive to a pub or something. Shit there.
- Good idea. - Agreed.
That's decided, then, write that down, Will, item two.
Could do. Or you could remember to shit in the pub when we're there?!
- Let's get this tent up. - I need to go now, though.
- What? Just hold it in! - I can't, I get all emotional.
We only just got here, Neil! Camp first, poo second!
I don't think I can, I'm honestly getting teary, it feels like it's trying to
push its way back up into my stomach!
I need one now, too. What about that service station we've past?
- Oh, God, the snake's out the cave! - Fine. Everyone, back in the car.
So our camping trip was delayed while Neil left what he described
as "King Kong's finger" in the Welcome Break toilets.
Neil genuinely felt better about life after unloading a massive poo.
And now the car was unloaded, so did I.
First need to clear the ground, make sure the site is safe and then put up our tent.
Fuck that, let's just crack open the beers and build a fucking massive fire.
You can't just build a fire. It takes preparation.
I mean, have we even asked the landowner's permission?
I didn't come here for a refresher course in the Countryside Code.
I just want to get pissed and have a laugh. I won't be able to do any of this in Wales.
- What, cos there's no fields? - No, cos I won't have any mates.
You won't need mates. Welsh birds are total filth.
- Are they? - Yeah.
Pretty much all British porn stars are Welsh. Most of them don't even get paid,
- they just do it for cock. - Oh, OK, made-up sluts.
Now I'm glad I'm going to Swansea. Fucking hell, Swansea.
Fine, Simon, look if you really want, I'll build you a fire now.
You lot put the tent up, I'll go and find some suitable wood and kindling.
All right, Akela.
But remember, fire is an element, it must be respected.
Camping is all about self-reliance and teamwork.
And I knew I could rely on myself to create the perfect camp and my team...
to fuck it up.
What the fuck have you done?
All right, Will. Fancy a sausage?
Calm down. I just got it going and I didn't even need a fire gay's badge.
- Nah, just some petrol. - You put petrol on it?
Wait a minute. Is that my fold-out table on the fire?
- And my picnic basket? - I thought you said look for stuff to burn.
Wood, burn fucking wood, not my stuff.
Oh, fucking hell. Why have you done that?
Look, someone had to take charge of this weekend
or it was going to be all Monopoly and shitting in trenches.
Look, come on, sit down, have a beer, have a sausage. Just chill.
I'll chill when you stop burning my fucking possessions.
Oh, I thought they were for "everyone"?
Yes, for everyone to use, not to burn.
- What are you doing? - Fire's going down.
Stop burning my things.
All right, I forgot. Jeez!
We were barely an hour from home, but somehow that meant
that burning my possessions was not only OK, but hilarious.
Oh, come on, we're sorry. It was just a joke.
We'll do whatever you want to cheer you up. Anything you like.
- Game of Monopoly? - Oh, fuck off.
- Apart from that. - Look, if you want to play a game,
I've got a proper game, not a shit one.
Though thinking about it, you lot might be too pussy to play.
It's not that game that you used to play with your weird neighbour in his shed, is it?
- Well, that never happened. - Yeah, you told me about it years ago.
- Just after he moved away. - No, I never. Shut up, you knob.
Right, to start with, you all have to swap phones.
Now what?
Now you text someone in their phone book. So, like, you've got Will's phone, yeah?
So when you text someone, they'll think it's from him.
So does that mean I have to write it all posh and like all hurdy wurdy durdy?
The only rule is you can write whatever you like and no-one can stop you.
I just want to say, for the record, there's no way anything good can come out of this.
Ready? Go.
I've only got five numbers in my phone, and three of them are you lot, so do your worst.
Well, as long as one of the others is your mum, you're still in trouble.
Neil, come on, that's too much.
I think that is literally the point of the game.
Fuck.
Right, gays, finished? That's it, send 'em.
Right, so I wrote, from Simon's phone to Carli,
"Carli, I love you from the bottom of my cock."
"The thought of leaving you is making me cry."
Better.
"And I'm using those tears as lube to wank with."
Right.
Don't worry, Si, I texted Jay's dad and wrote, "Dad, I'm just thinking about you."
- Oh, that's all right. - "I'm in the bath and I'm hard."
- Fucking hell. - Neil?
Fairly standard to Will's mum. "Mum, it's been 17 years,
but I'd love to have another go on your big old tits."
No.
"Then I'd like to smash in your back doors (anus)."
So it'll come up that I've sent her a text, she'll think,
"Good, he's just letting me know he's got there safely," then she'll read that?
- Yep. - Right then, Si, what did you send to,
- I presume, Neil's dad? - You presume wrong.
I've gone for a slightly different flavour. I've written to the soon-to-be mother of his child.
- What? - At least that's who I guess
- Saucy Asda Karen is? - It is.
Good, cos I've written, "Karen, I love you
and love that you are to be the mother of my child. Marry me?"
- Fucking hell. - Brilliant.
I only met her a month ago. She smells of cheese most of the time.
What, cos of all the knob she's had?
God, I thought coming out here would take me mind off it,
but the countryside's really boring, innit? It's just a load of fields
and rivers and that. And they don't do nothing. They just sit there,
it's not like the London Dungeons where people jump out at you.
- He's right, it is boring. Shall we go back? - Oh, no, come on,
we could go for a swim? Skinny dipping?
Yeah, you're right, probably be a bit gay.
- Yeah. - Well, there's always Monopoly.
Fucking hell, fine, as long as I can be the dog.
- Why? - Reminds me of Benji.
This was great. Camping. Playing board games round the fire
as the sun went down. It was like I was back in Cub Scouts, but without...
the unpleasantness.
Park Lane, with a hotel, that's 1,500 you owe me, Top Hat.
Can I pay you after I pass Go? I'm nearly there.
- Nope. - Well, will you take one of my properties, then?
This is impossible. I can barely see.
I've not been able to see anything for fucking hours. Let's just stop.
OK, we'll call it a draw.
Fuck off, just cos I'm winning and all you've got is stations.
- I'm happy to call it a draw. - Course you are,
cos you were out four hours ago anyway, you fucking idiot.
You lot think I'm dumb, but I've got street smarts.
You got a woman from Asda pregnant in your lunch hour.
- I'll build another fire. - It's too dark to collect wood,
- and you've burnt everything I own. - Well, fine, I'll...
I'll get Si's car and shine the lights over here.
Here y'are, then.
This was embarrassing. I hadn't lost a game of Monopoly since I was seven.
And yet I was about to be beaten by Jay, a man who took pride in the fact he couldn't count to 100.
He really wants to win, doesn't he? I never knew he was so competitive.
I can't get enough of these sausages. I love 'em raw in the middle.
Right, sorted. Now you owe me 1,500.
Jay, my fucking car! Handbrake?
- Oh, shit, yeah. - Stop it.
- Jay, help! - All right, all right.
- It's locked. Jay, throw me the keys. - I gave them to you.
- No, you didn't. - Yeah, I did.
- No, you fucking didn't. - Brilliant, someone's gone
- and lost the fucking keys then. - Yes, you. You've lost them.
You must have locked them in the car. Oh, God! Oh, God!
- We'll have to smash a window. - Fucking hell, Jay, you're paying for that.
- It's not my fault. - It is entirely your fault.
I always lock my car like that, yours must be different.
- It's shitter, for one. - Thanks, Neil!
If my old man was here, he'd be able to get into it in two seconds flat.
- He used to jack Ferraris for the Mafia. - How is that total bullshit helpful?
OK, you two hold it. We'll go and find something to smash a window with.
Oi, why do me and Neil have to hold the fucking car?
Well, obviously, because you two are the strongest.
It's true, we are.
Fucking hell, why are there no rocks? It's the countryside!
Why aren't there any fucking rocks? What are we going to smash the window with?
Jay's face?
My arms hurt.
I don't know why they're bothering to get that rock. The way I look at it,
it's inevitable that the car's going to go in the lake.
I suppose it's nature. You can't fight nature.
Exactly. It's going in anyway,
my arms hurt, we might as well just let go.
- Do you think Simon will be annoyed? - How can he be? It's logical.
- We can't stop it. - We are stopping it a bit now.
It's inevitable, Neil, trust me.
- We'll let go after three, all right? - Gotcha.
One, two...
No!
Oh, God. Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God!
Oh, God!
- Why did you do that? - You said smash a window.
No!
No, no, no!
You arseholes. You total pair of fucking wankers.
It's all right, Si. We'll just wait for morning and rescue it when the tide's out.
It's a fucking lake, Neil, the tide isn't going out.
I've wasted my life hanging around with you fucking morons.
I can't wait to move to Swansea. I fucking hate you, fuck off.
Fuck off!
Come on, Si, come out the water and dry off, I'm sure we'll think of something.
You never think of anything. You've just got an accent that makes us think you're clever,
but you're not. You're just as much of a fucking idiot as these two.
- Bit harsh. - You wankers,
you total, total wankers.
Oh, God!
Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God!
Do you want a lager, Si?
Yes.
- Oh, shit. I did have the keys. - Probably wouldn't mention it.
So, Simon's shitty yellow Fiat was gone forever.
But on the bright side, at least Jay didn't beat me at Monopoly.
Which do you think burns better, Si, my rucksack or my sleeping bag?
Nice try, but this is now officially the worst weekend ever. Let's just go home.
- How? - Call your dad, Si.
If you think about it, it's sort of his fault we're here.
I can't face it. He's going to go ballistic about the car.
- What about your old man, Jay? - Nah. He's out,
private poker tournament with Danny Dyer and the Krays.
- Aren't the Krays dead? - No!
That's just a cover story cos they done a bunk from prison.
They're holed up in one of me dad's warehouses.
Of course.
Looks like your dad's taking a break from that made-up poker tournament, Jay.
- He's just texted you back. - Oh, shit. What does it say?
"You're sick, son. Your mum was right about sending you to that shrink."
What's he on about, the fucking wanker? Talking bollocks as usual.
You got a text, too, Neil. It's from your bird. Maybe you should read it.
- Oh, thank you, God. Thank you. - She said yes to the marriage proposal, then?
Much better. It says, "You dopey prick.
Not pregnant. Tested positive for..."
- What's that say, Will? - "Chlamydia."
Yes! Get in!
- What's chlamydia? - Well, how shall I put this, Neil?
You no longer have a child on the way but you do have an STD.
I got an STD! Yes, an STD! Whoo!
Go on, then, check mine.
It's from Carli. Let's have a little look then...
No.
- Well? - Brilliant.
- Shall we go to bed, then? - What did it say?
Simon was never this cagey. When it came to Carli,
he normally wore his heart on his sleeve and his boner in his pants.
Maybe he had other things on his mind.
So we had a light all along, then?
Oh, shit, yeah. Forgot about that one.
So, my car went in the lake for no reason.
I'm upset too, Si. I got my first hand job in that car.
Who's going to want to give me an hand job when I'm a dad?
- Your dad? - You're not going to be a dad, remember, Neil?
- Oh, yeah! - He'll probably still give you one anyway.
Look, even if we did get it out, mate, I doubt it would work anyway.
- I think the engine's flooded. - Is that supposed to be funny, Jay?
You'll get it on the insurance, though, I reckon.
Yeah, I've got third-party, fire and your mates rolling it into a lake, so it should be fine.
How was the trench?
- I had to wipe my arse with leaves. - Jesus.
And I think there were some ants in there, so I now literally have ants in my pants.
And soil, and some earwigs.
Do you remember that first time we slept in a tent in my back garden?
Yeah, we had to come in the house about midnight because Jay got scared.
Yeah, I was scared Neil's dad was going to come out and bum us.
And on that familiar note, it's good night. Sorry about your car, Si.
Doesn't matter. It was a shit car, anyway. Thanks for the send-off.
I suppose when I'm away from you lot... Jesus, that stinks, Neil, is that a fart?
Nah, a burp. It ain't great, though. I think it's them sausages.
Whatever. Good night.
Well, I'll get the fucking light, then, shall I?
Night, gaylords.
Si, I was wondering, when you're gone...
- Yeah? - What do you want us to do with Will?
- Like, look after him and stuff? - I'm not a stray cat, Neil.
- Yeah, but you do shit in a hole in the ground. - Brilliant.
- I just worry about you, that's all. - I think I'll be fine. Good night.
Thanks, though, Neil.
- Fucking hell, it's in my hair! - I think it's the sausages.
Oh, I've got to get out. I've got to get out!
Oh, God, the smell. It always makes me puke.
- Don't puke in here. - No.
- Oh, you have. - I don't feel well.
Oh, shit, the smell. Oh, God, doublepuke!
Get the fucking tent open, Jay!
I can't find the zip! I can't find the zip!
Great.
- Oh, my mum's texted me back. - She up for some back door action, then?
No, it said, "I love you too." It's a template.
If she is up for it, Neil should get to bum her, cos it was his text that got her frothy.
- True. - Obviously she's not up for it.
- How do you know? - Does it say that pacifically?
Specifically.
Are you saying she only likes it in her axe wound?
Seriously, we've got a long walk ahead of us, I'm covered in puke,
can we just drop the mum stuff?
- I'd like to drop your mum's stuff. - Oh, we can't.